Comings and goings

Two new arrivals to the island inspire memories of the past

This week, yet another television crew were visiting the island. Throughout the year a steady trickle of journalists, documentary makers and other media types come here to film, record or write about some aspect of life in Fair Isle.

Very often the subject matter is the island’s bird-life, and such publicity is very helpful in attracting much-needed visitors, particularly to the bird observatory. But sometimes the subject is the people themselves, and that can be a little more complicated.

While public interest in the island is, to some extent, understandable and inevitable, to be treated like zoo animals by the media is not. It is very easy in a small place to feel that your own space and privacy is being intruded upon, and so it was this week.

The “story” that brought them here was not really news at all. It was an update on the life of Tommy and Liz, the couple who moved here from New York State about nine months ago. The footage they shot will, I presume, become a short, light-hearted piece to fill the “and finally . . .” space at the end of a news bulletin.

There is an interesting story to be told here though, but I don’t imagine it will find its way into this particular television piece. The story I see is of the fascinating symmetry between Liz and Tommy’s move to Fair Isle, and the reverse westward move of so many Fair Islanders of the past.

Fair Isle, like much of rural Britain and Europe, lost large numbers of people during the peak emigration years, particularly during the latter part of the 19th century. The reasons were many: poor fishing seasons, crop failure, terrible living conditions, and, perhaps most significantly, massive overcrowding.

In the 1861 census there were 380 people living in Fair Isle. This, remember, on an island that now supports just over 70. It was clearly an unsustainable number, and the following year, on a boat called the No Joke, 135 people left the isle in a single day. Their journey would take them via Orkney, Leith and Glasgow, finally reaching New Brunswick in Canada five weeks later. It is said that on the day they left Fair Isle not a single fire went out; such was the level of overcrowding that every vacant home was filled immediately by those who were left behind.

Although that was the greatest single movement of people away from the isle, emigration continued, and by the turn of the century the population had fallen to less that 150 people. It continued to drop during the first half of the 20th century as well, eventually reaching such a low level that abandoning the island completely became, for a while at least, a very real possibility.

But that was not to be. The intervention of ornithologist George Waterston, who bought the island in 1948 and established the Fair Isle Bird Observatory, was to prove a turning point, not only opening the island up to visitors but also bringing enthusiasm and ideas that would help guarantee the continuation of life in Fair Isle.

Later, the National Trust for Scotland became the landlords, and they have also worked hard with the islanders to try to ensure that the population remains at a sustainable level. For some years now it has stayed at around 70, and finding willing islanders is no longer the problem it once was.

For Tommy and Liz to be emigrating from the United States to Fair Isle may be a quirky tale, but it also says much about the journey this island has made in the past 150 years. That is the real story.

Malachy Tallack is 26 and lives in Fair Isle. He is a singer-songwriter, journalist, and editor of the magazine Shetland Life.
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When Theresa May speaks, why don't we listen?

Not many Prime Ministers have to repeat themselves three times. 

Theresa May is the candidate of Brexit and market panic. She ascended to the highest office because, in the fraught weeks after Britain’s vote to leave the European Union, she represented a safe haven for nervous Conservative MPs, the dependable family mutual that remained open while all along the Conservative high street, her rivals were shutting up shop.

Her popularity, as revealed in high poll ratings outside Westminster, too, owes itself to the perception that she is a serious politician in serious times, happily installed atop the ship of state to guide it through the rocky waters of Brexit negotiations.

May’s premiership has been defined by market panics of a different kind, however. The first is in the currency markets, where sterling takes a tumble whenever she pronounces on Britain’s future relationship with the European Union, falling both after her conference speech on 2 October and after her start-of-the-year interview with Sophy Ridge on 8 January. The second is in the opinion pages, where May’s stock oscillates wildly from bullish to bearish.

In the first months of May’s government, she was hailed as an Anglo-Saxon counterpart to Angela Merkel: a solid centre-right Christian democrat who would usher in a decade of conservative hegemony. More recently, she has been compared to Gordon Brown because of her perceived indecisiveness and repeatedly accused of failing to spell out what, exactly, her government’s Brexit objectives are.

In a symbol of the splits on the right between the Brexiteers and Remainers, the Economist, that bible of free-market globalisation and usually a reliable tastemaker as far as Westminster groupthink is concerned, began 2017 by dubbing the Prime Minister “Theresa Maybe”. Though May’s Downing Street is less concerned with the minutiae of what goes on in the public press than David Cameron’s, the contention that she is indecisive was a source of frustration.

There is an element of truth in the claim that May still views the world through a “Home Office lens”. One senior minister complains that Downing Street considers the Ministry of Justice as a “rogue outpost” of May’s old stomping ground, rather than a fully fledged department with its own interests and perspectives.

Yet even the most authoritarian of home secretaries would struggle to secure a conviction against May on the charge of opacity as far as her Brexit approach is concerned. She has hit the same grace notes with the reliability of a professional musician: Brexit means freedom from the jurisdiction of the European Court of Justice and control over Britain’s borders, two objectives that can only be achieved as a result of Britain’s exit not only from the EU but also the single market. This was confirmed on 17 January in the Prime Minister’s Lancaster House speech in London.

David Cameron used to say that he would never have “a people”. Certainly, there is no Cameroon tendency in the country at large to match the generation of council house residents that became homeowners and lifelong Conservatives because of Margaret Thatcher and Right to Buy. However, there is, unquestionably, a Cameroon people or faction to be found at almost every rung of London’s financial services sector or at editorial meetings of the Economist, though it as at the Times and the Sun where the treatment of May is at its most noticably rougher than in the Cameron era. 

Michael Gove, her old rival, is not only employed as a columnist by the Times; he enjoys the confidence and admiration of Rupert Murdoch. That the Times secured the first British interview with Donald Trump was a coup for Murdoch, an old associate of the president-elect, and for Gove, who conducted it. It left May in the unlovely position of making history as the first prime minister to be scooped to a first meeting with a new American president by a sitting MP in modern times. It also attested to a source of frustration among May’s allies that she is, for all her undoubted popularity, still ignored or doubted by much of the right-wing establishment.

That condescension partly explains why her words are often listened to briefly, acted on hastily and swiftly forgotten, hence the pound’s cycle of falling when she makes an intervention on Brexit and rising shortly thereafter. The Lancaster House speech was designed to break this pattern. Downing Street briefed the most potent paragraphs at the weekend so that the markets could absorb what she would say before she said it.

As a result, the pound rallied as May delivered her speech, which contained a commitment to a transitional deal that would come into effect after Britain has left the EU. Some financiers believe this arrangement could become permanent, which once again demonstrates how much they underestimate May’s ability to enforce her will.

Being underestimated by Cameron’s people, in Westminster and the City, has the unintended effect of shoring up Theresa May’s position. A prolonged and sustained bout of panic would increase the pressure for a soft landing, but its absence makes it harder for Labour to oppose her effectively, although it has largely acquiesced to the Tory plan for Brexit, at least as far as membership of the single market is concerned. 

Yet for all the plaudits that the Prime Minister’s Lancaster House speech attracted, for all her undoubted popularity in the country, she is in the anomalous position of being a Conservative Prime Minister who has priorities on the European stage other than the preservation of the City of London and to whom Rupert Murdoch is not a natural ally.

As such, she may find that her deadlier enemies come from the right.

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.