Meet the nuclear families

Published on Saturday 9 May 2009 19:56

AS YOU wind your way round the far side of Gare Loch, shortly before you reach the hamlet of Mambeg, there is a parking bay where tourists can get out of their cars to take a photograph.

And right there – a quarter of the way down the Rosneath Peninsula in Argyll and Bute – it really is quite picturesque. Trees form a canopy across the road, while, at the water's edge, ducks huddle together on a rocky outcrop. Look across the loch, however, and you are greeted by swathes of grey – a sprawl of warships, cranes, storehouses and boatsheds all set against the rolling hills which shelter the inlet on the Firth of Clyde.

This dramatic view of Faslane, home to four nuclear submarines – Vanguard, Victorious, Vigilant and Vengeance – is the one that greets residents who venture out onto the balconies of their homes in Clynder. But they are not, on the whole, ones to complain about the eyesore – not even when a recently released confidential report suggested the submarines had suffered repeated incidents involving leaks of radioactive waste.

Close to the base, the famous peace camp, with its hotch-potch of multi-coloured caravans, is a testament to Faslane's reputation as a hotbed for rebellion against Britain's nuclear arms programme. For decades the base was synonymous with acts of civil disobedience, as protestors managed to breach its defences and commit acts of sabotage. Images of an eclectic mix of demonstrators, from Church of Scotland ministers to dreadlocked anarchists, being dragged away from the main gates by police officers are seared on the national consciousness.

But local residents have a more positive take on Faslane and the Coulport arms depot on the shores of Loch Long, which stores 200 nuclear warheads. There are those, of course, who do oppose nuclear weapons on principle; and there are those who dislike the way the military seems to own vast chunks of the countryside. But the majority see the base – which employs 6,000 service and civilian workers – as vital to the local economy. A vast number of those who live around Gare Loch have jobs there, or their partners do; while others, who own pubs and restaurants depend on the workforce for custom.

Last week, they listened with interest as Labour announced Faslane was to become home to all of the UK's nuclear submarines. Under its proposals, three Trafalgar-class submarines will move to Faslane from their current home in Devonport by 2017. And by 2021, the base will also house up to seven "astute-class" submarines currently under construction and capable of launching Tomahawk cruise missiles.

Perceived alternatively as yet another "sop" to Scotland at the south of England's expense, and an effective thumbing of the nose at SNP's anti-Trident policy, the proposal provoked controversy across the country. But in Labour-dominated Argyll and Bute it was seen as a cause for celebration.

Given opinion polls suggest four out of five Scots now oppose spending 20 billion on replacing Trident, the SNP is committed to scrapping nuclear arms and even senior Tories appear to be reviewing their position, there's every chance it will never happen. Yet for the locals, the promise of 1,000 extra jobs is worth clinging on to.

From Monday to Thursday, the Anchor Inn in Garelochhead is stowed out at noon, with Faslane workers on their lunch-break. This is Friday, however – half day for many at the base – and business is slow. A handful of regulars prop up the bar. One – a farmer and driver – starts muttering under his breath the moment Faslane is mentioned. Among his many gripes is the fact that local residents have been subjected to the sound of gunfire "24 hours a day. I won't give my name because my opinion's not popular," he grumbles. "But I've lived here all my life and I've just seen the place go downhill. The base isn't stopping shops and pubs closing down. But it is the reason we're not part of the National Park – which might have given us access to grants and helped tourism."

To Tracie McCullough, however, the base has long been a source of both reassurance and income. The chef, who cooked food for hundreds of police officers at the nearby army camp during Faslane 365, a year of blockades in 2006/7, was married to a sailor at the base, although the pair have now split up. "I am proud of our armed forces and I think it is very narrow-minded to suggest that it is unnecessary (now the Cold War is over] when there are still so many lunatics out there."

You might think that – with the spectre of Chernobyl still hanging over the nuclear industry – the thought of more submarines heading their way might make the locals a little uncomfortable, but most seem sanguine about the dangers.

Asked whether it worries him, Stuart McQueen, owner of both The Anchor Inn and Garelochhead Coaches, grins and says. "If something happens, we won't know anything about it."

McQueen, whose coach company has been used to ferry workers to and from Coulport, believes the base is helping to stave off the worst of the recession.

McQueen says for those who live in Garelochhead, the greatest inconvenience comes not from the base, but from the peace protesters, who regularly block the roads, making it impossible for children to get to school.

Sitting in the "tea room" of the Faslane Peace camp, Jimmy is reminiscing about his time as an "inconvenience." On the wall behind him is a satirical poster of Margaret Thatcher; on the floor wood shavings, a guitar and the box from the 16-inch pizza the campers devoured last night.

After living in a succession of London squats, the 19-year-old moved to the Gare Loch almost a year ago because he opposed nuclear weapons and wanted his voice to be heard. He stayed in one of the painted caravans, before moving into a boarded-up bus. The great thing about the Faslane peace camp, he reckons, is the way it engages with the community. "People are always dropping in here – they see us as they drive along and they come in to find out what we are all about."

Jimmy relishes telling stories about the bad behaviour of sailors from the base: there was the time, for instance, when three of them tried to break in and steal a mangle: "We shouted at them and chased them, so they jumped over the fence and one of them got caught and ripped his trousers, which was quite comical."

But on the whole he says the campers don't get much trouble. "Occasionally we will be on a bus and someone will start up: 'You're a bunch of hippies, why don't you get a job', or whatever, but there are also people who work at the base and still support us."

Although 25 years of protesting has done nothing to curtail Faslane's activities, Jimmy and his friend Samuel believe it's important to keep a presence. "It's good there's still a Jiminy Cricket niggling people's consciences," Samuel says.

Further along the road from Clynder is Rosneath. A village of just 300 people before the base took on its nuclear role in the 60s, its population now stands at 1,200. In the centre, butcher Robert MacIntyre is cutting up meat joints on a thick wooden tabletop. Chairman of the community council, he too has reservations about the expansion of the base – although for very different reasons.

MacIntyre believes the local community has had very little in return for its acceptance of the military presence. "You can see there is nothing for young people to do around here," he says. "Once upon a time, they were allowed to use the facilities on the base – a swimming pool, gym, badminton courts. Then they put a stop that for security reasons, but they didn't put anything in its place."

Over on the other side of the loch, though, Helensburgh tells a different story. To the outsider, the former spa resort appears to be a typical down-at-heel seaside town: along the front there are takeaways, charity shops, a scattering of To Let signs and the obligatory empty Woolworths. But it livens up at the weekends when workers from the base head there to take their fill. And – three or four times a year – when a visiting fleet drops in for a two-week naval exercise – it is transformed into a buzzing hotspot. "If it wasn't for the base, it would long ago have become a ghost town," McCullough says.

But the hard truth Argyll and Bute has to face is that even as Labour moves to expand Faslane – its future as centre of the UK's nuclear arms programme may be in jeopardy.

As Jimmy and the other peace campers take their customary place outside the main gates of the base on Wednesday, they may be closer than they've ever been to achieving their goal. But it will be ironic indeed if their dream of a nuclear-free Britain is realised, not as a result of quarter of a century's campaigning, but by a Tory government facing a recession and a 20bn bill it doesn't want to pay.