Michael Gove: Don't let Hebridean Gaelic culture go the way of the auk

Published on Saturday 19 September 2009 19:55

THE auk was the bird evolution passed by. The puffin's slower, heftier and more vulnerable cousin, it was the Rab C Nesbitt of the avian world. But its family kept an outpost of civilisation from starvation. For the inhabitants of the outermost Hebrides, and especially the most windswept of them all, St Kilda, seabirds were once an indispensable source of food and oil. They were the props on which island life rested.

The last auk ever to be sighted on any British isle perished in the 19th century, a casualty of history scarcely mourned at the time. At that time St Kilda, like all the principal Hebridean islands, was populated. A hardy people still clung as tenaciously as any fulmar or petrel to their Atlantic perch. But just as evolution, and man the hunter, conspired to kill the auk, so the march of civilisation, and man the improver, combined to strip St Kilda of its people. They were all evacuated in the last century, the fragility of their existence – on an island framed by sheer cliffs and inaccessible for days on end – no longer supportable in a modern world.

St Kilda has a population of sorts today. The Ministry of Defence maintain a base there, on the principal island, Hirta, which survives still thanks to a decision taken by the Government this week. Even as Gordon Brown was talking about the need to cut low-priority budgets and say goodbye to surplus expenditure, the Ministry of Defence confirmed that there would be no cuts in their Hebridean establishment. The dozen or so service personnel stationed on St Kilda, and the more than a hundred of their comrades at the allied rocket range on Benbecula, would be spared the axe. Jim Murphy was exultant. By keeping the MoD presence on Benbecula he had kept the island's economy afloat. The Scottish Secretary had fulfilled the role which history had allotted to all his predecessors – seeing off the pennypinchers at the Treasury and ensuring that public spending continued to keep jobs safe in seats which are marginal.

But is that really the best use of his time in the Cabinet? And, more to the point, of our money? While subsidies everywhere else are being cut, should we really be spending millions on a Cold War era military commitment which is widely viewed not so much as a means of defending our shores, but a way of shoring up island life? Yes, Benbecula is a unique community, close-knit, economically fragile, culturally special. But so were the mining villages of Fife and the steel towns of Lanarkshire. And we decided we could no longer subsidise them, any more than we could keep handloom weaving going in Paisley or maintain coaching inns and blacksmith's forges in every village along the M8.

And yes there is a rugged beauty to Benbecula which you may not find quite so easily in the pastureland where North Lanarkshire meets West Lothian. But rugged beauties have got used to making their way in the world over the years. Benbecula, you might argue, should be no different – it should rely on its many natural assets to prosper, not have to feel reliant on the state.

I can certainly feel the force of the argument that we should think again. There are now so many deserving recipients of public spending, and our debt is growing at such a rate, that the maintenance of our garrison strength in the Hebrides does not perhaps seem quite as compelling an investment as it might have done when U-boats menaced the Atlantic convoys or the Kremlin was dispatching Red October to run silent and run deep in the Western Approaches.

But, whatever the strength of the case for retrenchment, there are very good reasons why the government was right to keep faith with the rocketmen of the Isles. Ours is an age in which we've come to appreciate the importance of conservation. The idea that the law of the economic jungle should mean rainforests face devastation is no longer acceptable. And just as we accept that the natural environment needs to be protected, so we accept that cultural ecosystems need careful shielding too.

The culture, and economy, of the Western Isles require particularly careful attention, not just because geography has stacked the dice against the islanders. And not just because globalisation has made it more difficult to stand out against the tide. The Gaelic culture and language of the West is one of Scotland's most precious inheritances. Our nation has become a warm home for many peoples over the years, but the foundations on which Scotland were built were Celtic. To allow that culture, and the communities in which it survived, to wither is more than just a betrayal of thousands, its a blow struck at Scotland's roots. The investment we make now in supporting Gaelic broadcasting, teaching and culture is as vital a part of maintaining our heritage, and ensuring it can be passed on to future generations, as any other environmental intervention. It is a crucial part of the battle against "global norming" – the reduction of all cultures to one homogenous whole.

Every time a language dies, or goes into intensive care, as with Cornish and Manx, we lose part of who we are and a cultural heritage, oral and written, of remarkable richness and depth. Every time communities who cleave to a different path are forced to change, and move into the same mode of living as everyone else, we lose the diversity which breeds resilience and creativity and is one of the glories of mankind. Let's not allow our island communities to go the way of the auk – passed over by history and mourned too late – let's instead recognise that we need to defend the Hebrides now more than ever.