Next year I will be marking my thirtieth birthday, and I don’t think I look particularly young for my age. (Please note: the picture on this page is four years old. I keep it here partly to flatter myself.) So it came as something of a surprise recently to be asked for identification when buying alcohol in one of our local supermarkets. It was, I’m afraid, the more ethically-challenged of the two.

As it was a fine day I had left my jacket at home, and my wallet with it. I had only a ten pound note in my pocket, and no means of proving that I was old enough to use it. The man at the checkout assured me that he was only doing his job (what awful crimes this world has seen, and so often excused with these same words). I could speak to the manager, he said, but I would be told the same thing.

My gut reaction was to be annoyed. Here was a man who was clearly abusing the responsibility that he had been given, I thought, and losing his employer money in the process. “We have to ID anyone who looks under 25 now” he explained, sensing my irritation. I tried to counter that, while on a good day I might just about pass for 25, it was patently obvious to both him and the increasing queue of customers behind me that I was not 17. But it did no good. I just left, and I took my ten pound note elsewhere.

This was not, I should add, an isolated event. I have a friend who, shortly before this incident, had been asked for identification when buying . . . wait for it . . . a tiny bottle of vanilla essence. Now, I am quite sure there are people out there so desperately addicted to alcohol that a bottle of vanilla essence might, in some dark and dreadful moment, provide an almost adequate alternative to the desired drink. But vanilla essence is not an alcopop. And unless someone is trying to walk out of the store with 53 bottles of it, I don’t think it’s really worth asking questions. After all, what exactly are we trying to achieve with this rule?

Shetland has a big problem with alcohol. It is a problem that it shares with many other parts of Scotland, and it is one that is passed, inevitably, onto younger generations. Much work needs to be done to improve the situation, and that work needs to be taken far more seriously than it has been up until now. But the root of the problem is cultural, which makes it difficult to tackle. It is propagated behind closed doors, where the fingers of the law find it hard to reach. So instead of well considered cultural policy, we are offered token gestures and expected to welcome them as progress.

Putting up signs warning that anyone under 25 will be asked for ID does have a useful purpose. It discourages teenagers from taking their chances at the till, and it will probably catch out a few older-looking teens. But the man at the ethically-challenged supermarket knew fine well that I wasn’t underage. He admitted that as he spoke to me. He was asking me for identification not because he thought I might be too young, but because I looked like I could, possibly, be under 25. So a rule that should be applied with discretion and common sense was instead being applied in a ludicrously inflexible way, thus turning the entire exercise into little more than a farce.

If shopkeepers really wanted to assist in the fight against underage drinking then there are things they could do that would make a big difference. For a start, they could refuse to sell alcopops, Buckfast and other such drinks, which are targeted at youngsters and which virtually no one over 18 actually wants to consume. But that, of course, wouldn’t be good business. And so we are left with irritating, pathetic tokenism.

Malachy Tallack

Spending your summer scouring through archives for nuggets of political information isn’t generally high on anyone’s agenda, but for one student, this was certainly the case.

James Stewart, a final year student of politics at Aberdeen University, passed his summer days compiling an online database of every election result recorded in Shetland.

The quest for historical accuracy began after Stewart, originally from Lerwick, discovered the records in Shetland weren’t quite up to scratch.
“This summer I worked with Alistair Carmichael at Westminster and he asked me to get some election related data,” he said. “When I contacted the council I discovered that they had insufficient historical records, so when I got back to Shetland I popped into the archives to discuss my idea with Brian Smith – whose interest in politics and vast knowledge of Shetland became immensely useful throughout the project – who sorted out the financial side of it, as he is experienced in obtaining grants for archival purposes. With a council grant secured, I began my work around the second week of June.”

The database’s timescale spans from 1818, the year of the first Lerwick Town Council election, to the 2009 European Parliament elections, and the task of researching such a vast collection of data was tough for Stewart, but he was adamant he would complete it. “I didn’t realise how much work it was going to be actually. Some days I would be at the archives from 10am to 4pm, then return home and update the online database until the early hours of the morning,” he said. “When I reached the last of the 1960s and The Shetland Times grew to around 30 pages it certainly seemed like I would struggle, especially as the only place I could access the information was in the archives and library, which are only open during the day. Hard as the project was, I was absolutely determined to complete it, even if did mean working longer hours.”

His mentor in Westminster, Shetland and Orkney MP Alistair Carmichael, was suitably impressed with Stewart’s work. “Politics in the isles is unique and here are the hard facts to prove it. As a self-confessed political anorak I thought it was fascinating to work through it,” he said. “James was a star in the London office. His analytical skills are very good but more importantly he has a freshness and enthusiasm for politics. He was a breath of Shetland fresh air in Westminster.”

It is perhaps the fact that this project was lead by a 21 year old that is the most surprising. In times when politics – in the eyes of many young people – comes across as arbitrary and untrustworthy, to see a young man launch head first into politics belies the stereotypes. “For me, politics has always been something of interest, regardless of whether I’m being disillusioned or hugely inspired by it. Although I don’t necessarily agree with all their politics, I have voted Liberal Democrats at any election I have been able to and I have always thought that they would be refreshing change in politics. I’m sure they would ignite change, but people have good cause to be disillusioned sometimes.”

Carmichael however believes that the younger generation do indeed play an important role in politics and are concerned with issues just as much as their elders. “The supposed lack of interest in politics is one of the media’s favourite stories and in a sense it then becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I have never found it to be true. No-one who attended the rally in the Clickimin that kicked off the Shetland For Sakchai campaign a few years ago would have left thinking that young people were disinterested in politics,” he said. “I still find that young people are at least as concerned as people of any age when it comes to thinking about political issues. In the case of some of the really big and important issues such as climate change I would say that serious engagement is greater amongst the young than it is amongst the middle aged and older people.”

Why Shetland for this study? The islands float hundreds of miles from the two homes of its main political parents, Holyrood in Edinburgh and London’s Westminster, and its small, rural population is a tiny blot on the UK’s map. “Shetlanders do like their politics, and given that we are a small isolated island, I was interested to see if politics was different than down on the mainland,” said Stewart. “There were quite a few instances I found when reading through the council minutes where the council had received a letter from London instructing them to enact a new law parliament had set, but often the council would dismiss some of the more frivolous pieces of legislation as not necessary for Shetland. I would imagine that due to the lack of communication links, no-one was checking up on them. It was a learning experience for me and I hope that the Shetland public and wider world can get as much out of the database as I have,” he added. “I have found relatives of mine who were councillors and indeed one of the first ‘uses’ of the database was to help a family who were researching the name surname Goodlad.”

Despite its location, Shetland does indeed hold relative political and historical significance; Orkney and Shetland is perhaps the longest recognised constituency in Britain, with its boundaries officially recognised in 1702, and the isles also holds the UK record for longest single-party representation, as residents have voted Liberal candidates into Westminster consistently since 1950.

Stewart’s database also reveals a number of significant moments in Shetland’s own political history. The results of the 1935 council elections shows Charlotte Nicol being elected as Shetland’s first female councillor, whilst, for example, you can also browse the results of the inaugural Scottish Parliament election in 1999, in which Liberal Democrat candidate Tavish Scott gained a resounding 54.5 per cent of the votes.

A future in politics is certainly a consideration for Stewart, who dipped his toes in the political whirlpool of Westminster this summer, shadowing Shetland’s MP Alistair Carmichael. And for Stewart, it highlighted just how much work the bustling politicians have to put in to represent their people. “After working with Alistair Carmichael this summer I can assure you that Westminster is not a golden palace where the MPs have an easy time of it,” he said. “Although I was working with Alistair he seldom had time to be at his desk as he was always rushing off to attend debates, meet delegations and participate in the Commons discussions. Alistair may be an exception to the rule, but he definitely restored a little bit of faith for me that there are hard working individuals in parliament who represent us the best they can.”

Stewart told me that he was interested in possibly undertaking a post-graduate course in America once his time in Aberdeen is up, and despite a political career potentially in the pipeline, his seemingly insatiable appetite for the study of politics is set to continue. And amidst all the numbers and statistics in his database, and also the grand social narrative of the demise of the younger generation, this is perhaps the most pertinent issue here. “I love learning,” he said, “so I’d like to be education for years to come.”

Chris Cope

James Stewart’s political database can be accessed at www.shetlopedia.com/politics

In the last years of the eighteenth century, a young man came to Shetland to work as tutor to the family of John Scott of Scalloway. He was to spend the rest of his long life in the island as a highly respected minister, but he was also to suffer a series of personal tragedies.

John Turnbull was then in his early 20s. He’d been born at Ancrum, near Jedburgh, on 26th May 1775. Working as a tutor was a common way for a young man to earn his way through further study.

John Scott and his third wife (his cousin Clementina Scott, of Melby) had seven children, aged from 12 to infancy. John might have done some teaching of the older girls, Catherine, Mary and Elizabeth, but his particular charges would have been nine-year old John, and seven-year old Charles.

Turnbull wanted to become a minister, and presumably Scott encouraged him in this for he was licensed by the Presbytery of the Church of Scotland on 5th March 1800, and ordained as assistant to the Reverend Thomas MacFarlane, minister of Bressay, in 1805. He got his chance at a parish of his own on the death of the Rev. George Sands in December 1905; he was presented to the elders and congregation early the following year, and formally admitted to the charge of Tingwall parish on 11th September 1806.

George Sands had left a widow and seven grown-up children; the youngest, Wilhelmina, was not quite 19 when her father died. Perhaps she met the young Turnbull then, as she was leaving her home and he was entering it. They were married six years later, on the 26th December, 1811. He was 36 and she was in her early twenties when she returned as his bride to the manse which still stands by Tingwall loch – the house she’d grown up in.

Their first child, William, was born in August 1813. He was only a year old when they had an important visitor from south: Walter Scott, who was in Shetland researching his latest novel, The Pirate. John Turnbull had been down to the mainland on church business earlier that year and had returned on the lighthouse yacht Pharos along with the author. Walter recorded his visit to the Turnbull’s in his diary:

“Mr Turnbull is a Jedburgh man by birth, but a Zetlander by settlement and inclination. I have reason to be proud of my countryman – he is doing his best, with great patience and judgment, to set a good example both in temporals and spirituals, and is generally beloved and respected among all classes. The people around him are obviously affected by his example. He gave us an excellent discourse and remarkably good prayers, which are seldom the excellence of the Presbyterian worship. The congregation were numerous, decent, clean, and well-dressed.”

Over the next 20 years, John and Wilhelmina had six more children in a neat boy – girl – boy – girl pattern. William was followed by Elizabeth, three years later, and James the following year; then, in 1823, when James was six, Grace was born, then Robert, Barbara, and the last, John, in 1831, when John senior was 56 and Wilhelmina 44.

Life in Tingwall wasn’t totally peaceful. John bought the estate of Gott, and in July 1827 he was involved in a lawsuit against Adam Smith from Cunningsburgh, now living in Gulberwick, and Elizabeth Erikson, daughter of Erick Adamson, of Blosta, Cunningsburgh, for taking away John’s cattle. In 1832 he was involved in another lawsuit, this time a summons against Peter MacLaren, Islesburgh, Northmavine.

The eldest son, William, left home to study medicine at university in the early 1830s. James too might have gone in the autumn of 1836, when he was 20. Elizabeth had met and married a suitable partner, William Paterson, the missionary at Whiteness.

Winter set in early that year, with a heavy fall of snow and unusually thick ice. Perhaps the children were in the habit of playing on the frozen loch, or perhaps Tingwall Loch had a reputation for underwater springs that made the ice thickness vary in places. However it came about, something gave Morgan Laurenson, a merchant at Lochend, Northmavine, a particularly vivid dream concerning them; so vivid that he wrote to John, warning him to take precautions with his family as to the ice on the loch. John replied that he did not believe in visions of the night.

John and Wilhelmina celebrated their last Christmas together with their children. In those days, it was not as important as now. The Church of Scotland regarded it as a Popish festival, and for many people it was a normal working day. Boxing Day was their 35th wedding anniversary. On the following day, John had to go down to Dunrossness on church business. He was to spend some days there with the Reverend David Thomson, then aged 78, and in poor health.

The 28th was a bonny winter’s day, with the moon shining in the afternoon. The manse servant woman took little Barbara and John, then aged eight and five, out for some air. They stayed out playing so long that Wilhelmina became anxious, and went out to call them in. When she joined them on the frozen loch, her added weight was too much, and the ice beneath the little group broke. Their calls for help were heard immediately, and neighbours hurried to pull them from the freezing water, but it was too late.
Eleven-year old Robert and 13 year old Grace watched in horror as the bodies of their mother, brother, sister and the servant were carried into the house and laid out in the front room.

The little group of crofters gathered there had, in the absence of their minister, to act as best they could. There were no near neighbours of sufficient social standing who could come to be with the distressed children and break the news to their father when he returned. John’s farm man was sent as a messenger to Dunrossness; some kindly neighbour took Grace and Robert away. She did not feel up to remaining in the minister’s house with them, but whether it was fitting or not to have the manse children in a croft house, she wrapped them in shawls and coaxed them away to the only night they would ever spend in a box bed.

At Dunrossness manse, the man requested John Turnbull to return immediately to Tingwall, then galloped off again without giving any reason. John set off at once, and after the anxious ride along the moonlit track, he came into the dark house. He lit a candle and went from room to room, searching for his family. It was not until he entered the front room and saw the bodies that he realised what had happened.

News of the tragedy reached Lerwick that same evening. Francis Heddell recorded it in his memorandum book, now in the Shetland archives: “This evening the distressing news of Mrs Turnbull, her son John and her daughter Barbara and a servant woman being all drowned in the Loch of Tingwall (the ice having given way) reached town. An awful warning.”

John acted with movingly deep faith. It was Thursday night. On Sunday, his congregation was uncertain as to whether there would be a service, and many of them stayed away. Others were there to support their minister as he took his place in the pulpit as usual, and preached from the text of Ezekiel, chapter 24, verse 18: “So I spake unto the people in the morning and at even my wife died and I did in the morning as I was commanded.”

The funerals took place during the next week. The following Sunday his text was from the Book of Job, Chapter 5, Verse 7: “Yet man is born into trouble as the sparks fly upwards.” You hope his example of fortitude comforted his bereaved children, dressed in mourning black and staring mutely up at him from the manse pew.

It was after this that the tragedy struck home, and he suffered what we would today call a nervous breakdown. His daughter’s obituary says that “for a time grief drove him frantic, and his reason tottered, but he recovered, although he was never the same man as he had been before the accident.”

The tragedy was recorded in the Shetland Journal of February 1837: “At Tingwall, the 8th [28th]of December, by the breaking of the ice while walking on the loch, Mrs Turnbull, lady of the Rev John Turnbull, together with Barbara the daughter, and John, youngest son of the same.” The paper added its condolences: “Our obituary records an event which has filled us with heartfelt sorrow. To have so many of the dearest ties which link us to earth severed as it were in a moment, is indeed a severe trial, and the bereavement of the respected pastor of Tingwall claims the deepest sympathy of every feeling heart. May that beneficent Being who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb give him fortitude to bear up under his heavy afflictions.”

John was never to spend a night away from home again, whatever the inconvenience.

That tragedy was to be followed by another. In the following year John’s oldest daughter Elizabeth and her husband William decided to take advantage of the free passages to Australia. Perhaps she was not coming to terms with her triple loss, and her father and husband felt she needed a new start. She was not to get it; the boat was shipwrecked en route, and she died soon afterwards. William no longer had any heart for the “new world”, and he returned to Shetland where, less than three years later, he remarried.
You wonder how the grieving family at Tingwall felt about that; John and Grace, at least, summoned up their courage to befriend the new bride, for her younger sister came to stay with them in Tingwall during 1851. His new wife was Jessie Spence, sister of the author Catherine Stafford Spence, and they moved to Cockburnspath shortly after the marriage. Their second daughter was called Elizabeth Turnbull Spence.

The sea had not finished with John’s family yet. His son Robert went into business in Scalloway, perhaps connected with hosiery, for the next we hear of him is in July 1844, in company with Edward Standen. Standen was from Oxford, and one of the first people outwith Shetland to take an interest in selling Shetland knitting down south. He held exhibitions of hand-made goods in Oxford and elsewhere. The young men had been visiting Skeld, and were on their way back to Scalloway when the boat sank, and Robert Turnbull and both boatmen were drowned. Robert had celebrated his 21st birthday only two months earlier.

There was one final tragedy in store. William, the eldest son, was now an army doctor, serving in India. The news of his brother must have reached him by letter, as much as a year later; maybe it influenced his decision to come home. His health, however, had been damaged by the Indian climate, and he died at sea on 14th October, 1846. His family at the manse, John and Grace, learned of his death in February, through a paragraph in a newspaper.

John served out the rest of his life as the minister of Tingwall Parish. He died on 9 February 1867, aged 92. His remaining child Grace lived with him until his death, and then she came to live at the Old Manse in Lerwick. In the 1870s she inherited the liferent of the estate of Massater, in Orkney, from a Stewart kin of her mother’s, and thereafter was known as Miss Turnbull Stewart. She remained involved in church affairs, teaching a girls’ class in the Sunday school and being a power in the Women’s Guild. She was also involved in a scheme for educating girls in the domestic arts. Her obituary said, “she invariably set the example herself of leading a devout, pious life. In private life she was a charming, accomplished lady, and those who knew her most intimately were loudest in her praise.”

* * *

In researching the story of the Turnbull family, I encountered a number of problems and contradictions, outlined below. My historical sources were the 1907 obituary of Grace Turnbull Stewart in the Zetland Times, George Nelson’s account in The Story of the Tingwall Kirk (1965), Francis Heddell’s memorandum book in the archives, and the information on Bayanne’s website. Tony Gott and Angus Johnson helped me with extra research, though the conclusions I’ve drawn from it are my own.

1. There is some uncertainty over the number of children in the Turnbull family. The 1907 obituary of their fourth child, Grace, says there were eight, but Bayanne says only seven. There is, however, a six year gap between the third and fourth, which might suggest a missing child – perhaps the Catherine recalled in the obituary.

2.  The son James seems to disappear from the records. I’m sure if he, too, had died tragically it would have been remembered, but he must surely have been dead by 1853, as in that year Grace was the only child left to inherit the Massater estate.

3. There are alternative dates given for the first tragedy. Nelson gives Christmas Day, 1838. The year is certainly wrong, as shown by Heddell’s Memorandum book. Even in the pre-phone days, it seems likely that news of such an accident, taking place in the late afternoon (before the bedtime of such young children) would have reached Lerwick that same evening.

4. There is some confusion over the next tragedy. John’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth, married, and she and her husband planned to emigrate to Australia. There was a shipwreck on the way, and Elizabeth died. Bayanne gives her husband’s name as William Peterson, and her death as “before 1853”; the 1907 obituary however gives the daughter’s name as Catherine, and the husband as Reverend W McLaurin. The obituary goes on to relate how McLaurin then married a sister of Miss Catherine Stafford Spence, the author and teacher, and was given the parish of Cockburnspath. Reverend McLaurin certainly married Martha Jane Spence in 1853; in 1851, she’s registered as living at the manse, Tingwall. Their marriage was in Cockburnspath, but they lived in Shetland for 13 years before moving to Galashiels. However, an older sister, Jessie Hay Spence, married a William Paterson, minister at Whiteness from 1834, and in Whalsay from 1843.

They married in 1843, and went to live in Cockburnspath – where, perhaps, Reverend Paterson married his sister-in-law, Martha, to his fellow-minister McLaurin. Given the name of their second child, Elizabeth Turnbull Paterson, I think it’s likely to be the same man. In that case, as I’ve conjectured here, he and Elizabeth must have left for Australia in the late 1830s, perhaps as a consequence of the first tragedy, and John lost his daughter only two or three years after the drowning of his wife and youngest children.

Marsali Taylor

Things can get very, very confused when councillors discuss ethics in Lerwick Town Hall. In the last two years alone, sitting with charitable trust bonnets regally atop their heads, they have between them expressed the following views: although smoking kills around one Shetlander a week, we should still try to make money out of tobacco companies; thank goodness we have shares in BAe Systems (a major manufacturer of lethal armaments) because they stop wars and deaths; we should not put investors in the position of feeling burdened by any moral considerations.

Deliberations on the apparently thorny topic of ethical investment can be quite revealing for observers of council/trust business. Amid avalanches of planning applications, capital projects, working groups, grant requests and the like, it is one of the few occasions when the political beliefs and philosophies of our elected members come to the fore.

Last month saw the latest overwhelming rejection of any notion that Shetland Charitable Trust should invest in a more ethical manner. The trust invests the bulk of its oil-derived reserves on the stock markets worldwide, with roughly 90 per cent of the £59 million invested in the UK held in shares in companies listed on the FTSE100 index of leading shares. A further £59 million is held in overseas shares and £47 million in government bonds.

Around £25 million is held in local investments through subsidiary companies such as property company SLAP and SHEAP. Many trustees believe that other local investment opportunities like Viking Energy and paying for and leasing the new Anderson High School back to the council could prove a more stable source of income in the future.

But in the meantime, at last week’s prices the fate of much of that £200 million of our money lies in the hands of the maneuverings taking place in the world’s financial capitals. Because a “market tracker” portfolio of shares, designed to match the performance of the stock market, is used, the money is effectively managed by a computer and so the trust indirectly holds shares in any and every company on the FTSE all-share list of around 600 firms.

For a small number of trustees that is a matter which rests uneasily with their conscience. It means Shetland is profiting from the activities of companies including BAe Systems, now the subject of another corruption investigation by the Serious Fraud Office (after the last one was abruptly halted by Tony Blair in 2006). One of several allegations being investigated is as follows: at the start of this decade, BAe sold what former international development secretary Clare Short described as a “completely useless” £30 million military radar system to the Tanzanian government, with an alleged bribe of £6.1 million paid to the Swiss bank account of a middleman in the deal. The impoverished African country does not even have an air force.

Other firms with shady ethics on the FTSE100 include mining company BHP Billiton and another weapons company, United Technologies Corp. It is argued that making money out of such firms – BAe makes nuclear submarines – directly contradicts the SIC’s status as a nuclear-free local authority. Gussie Angus and fellow trustees Rick Nickerson and Jonathan Wills have been vigilantly, but to little avail, trying to persuade their peers that they cannot simply divest themselves from the moral consequences of how they choose to invest.

They got a long-awaited report on the matter from investment consultant Hymans Robertson at last month’s trust meeting. His advice – far from binding, it should be noted – was that avoiding, for example, investing in tobacco firms could lose the trust up to £100,000 per annum. If you want to quantify that loss, it points to a status quo whereby we are earning £2,000 for each death of a Shetlander from lung cancer and other smoking-related diseases. As Mr Angus pertinently asks, is “killing our beneficiaries” really in the greater interest of the trust?

Hyman Robertson’s representative included the caveat that past events are “not necessarily a guide” to the future, but that seemed to elude the ears of most trustees. In the absence of Mr Angus and Dr Wills that day, Mr Nickerson was unable to find a single supporter for his very timid proposal for a report on the feasibility of testing a “small amount” of the funds on an ethical portfolio for a five-year period.

Mr Angus told this magazine he would make no apology for continue to press for a change of tack, though he generally restricts his advocacy to speaking out against tobacco. “I feel strongly that when NHS Shetland produces figures which show smoking-related illness kills a Shetlander per week on average, we have a civic duty to respond to that empirical evidence differently than we do. I’ll make no apology for continuing to plug away at this at every opportunity.”

The trust deed stipulates that trustees must act in the best interests of the inhabitants of Shetland, within the bounds of charity legislation. Trustees’ latest annual report states that trustees expect their fund manager to use investment criteria as the “primary consideration” but that “social, environmental and/or ethical considerations will be taken into account . . . to the extent that their assessment shows that they will benefit the shareholders financially in the long term”. But legal advice from lawyers Turcan Connell is that trustees can pursue an ethical investment portfolio so long as they “follow the law, put aside personal preferences and take proper advice”. It does not stipulate how one is to simultaneously put aside personal preferences and make moral judgements.

The biggest problem with the majority of trustees’ stance on this matter is a craven lack of moral equivalence, arguably the result of an excessively inward-looking mentality. Imagine a hypothetical scenario. A mining company is found to be dumping toxic waste off the coast of West Africa; presumably we would happily carry on profiting from their activities. What if the toxic waste was being dumped off our own coast? Surely no-one would seriously believe that there would not be an uproar, followed by an immediate severance of any ties with the firm in question.

Critics of investing ethically argue that the trust’s fund only exists because of proceeds from the oil industry. But is money really the only consideration for a modern, forward-looking community in the 21st century? Do the 18 councillor-trustees accurately represent constituents’ views? If the views of both sides in the debate on Viking Energy’s proposed windfarm are to be taken at face value, islanders harbour a great deal of concern about the environmental consequences of what is potentially the charitable trust’s biggest money spinner yet.

Perhaps more importantly, where is the concrete evidence that investing ethically does not pay in 2009, and particularly that it will not pay in the future? Take Norway’s sovereign wealth fund (admittedly a good bit bigger at £259 billion, and they don’t draw on it at an unsustainable rate, either). As the biggest equity investor in Europe, they hold a great deal of clout and are using it to push climate change onto the agendas of big energy and utility companies.

Of course, the charitable trust can never expect to have that kind of influence. But the Norwegian fund’s chief executive Yngve Slyngstad has been pursuing a rather more selective approach than the stewards of our reserves, blacklisting some 30 firms purely on ethical grounds. The oil fund does not invest in companies which are involved in activities including violating human rights, producing nuclear weapons or other armaments, using child labour and labour policies which are not up to scratch. And its reserves are very healthy indeed.

Mr Slyngstad is clear that companies which engage with issues like climate change, and those who behave more ethically, will prove to be much more profitable in the seismic and turbulent years ahead. “We are an investor with a 30-year horizon,” he said recently. “We think that in the long run the profitability of companies will be affected by how these bigger issues are handled. This is straight in line with maximising the return of the fund.”

The past two years of turmoil on the market would also seem to suggest that trustees who talk of not investing ethically because of the “high risk” it would pose to Shetland’s oil reserves have not got it quite right. As environmental campaigner Vic Thomas pointed out in a strongly-worded letter to The Shetland Times last month, the ethical Co-operative Bank goes from strength to strength and has performed admirably well during the banking crisis.

Mr Thomas described comments by Betty Fullerton, Allison Duncan (responsible for the remark last year that he thanked God for companies like BAe Systems because they prevent wars) and Laura Baisley during last month’s trust meeting as “appalling”. He accused them of expressing little or no conscience and deduced that they “clearly support animal and human cruelty, bullying, murder, pollution, human rights abuses, torture and a host of equally despicable activities carried out around the world”.
Mrs Fullerton – whose stance was particularly surprising to some as she is a former chairwoman of Shetland Health Board, which actively campaigns against smoking – had opposed any move towards ethical investment because it would be “wrong to pursue personal interests” and “we should not be prepared to accept high risks for the trust”.

She is one of several trustees who argue that there would be so many difficulties inherent in deciding what is, and is not, “ethical” that it would be impossible to reach a consensus. Mrs Fullerton says she is “personally against smoking and companies who exploit children” and therefore would like to see less investment in those areas, adding that “others abhor those companies who use animals in research, build arms and missiles or destroy our environment to name but a few”.

However, she fully accepted the advice that trustees should not put their personal views before the need to achieve the best financial returns for, or be in the best interests of, the people of Shetland. “I still believe that, but if the subject is debated again and evidence shown that ethical investment can bring the same returns I will listen,” she told Shetland Life. “So despite what some may think the whole question is not straightforward and, although we can play with our own investments in the pursuit of our own opinions on ethics, I cannot accept that we can do so as trustees of Shetland’s money.”

But an increasing number of financial analysts are now arguing that sustainable and ethical investments are in fact a much safer bet – a thesis backed up by recent research from Experts in Responsible Investment Solutions (EIRIS). Ninety per cent of wealth managers surveyed reported that their portfolios of responsible investments have been performing “either the same or better than” their other portfolios. The study’s findings have been all over the pages of financial publications this month.

You might say such an organisation would have a vested interest in such a finding, but you might equally say that asking someone from the non-ethical sector – as the charitable trust did last month – is even more likely to skew the picture. Chief executive of UK Sustainable Investment and Finance Penny Shepherd said recently: “Some people pick green and ethical investments just because this makes good financial sense in today’s changing world. But more and more investors also want their investments to make a positive contribution to society and the environment.”

Set against that, trustees’ refusal to even consider a modest experiment with a tiny portion of their funds in an ethical fashion – when they have been content to lose more than half of the £3 million which was invested on the winners-and-losers playing field of the currency markets – seems quite staggering. The fact that you can comfortably count on one hand the number of our elected representatives willing to even countenance such an idea is a depressing one indeed.

Neil Riddell

I grew up in a North Glasgow housing scheme called Cadder where all the streets were named after places in Shetland. I grew up on Vaila Street; my best friend lived on Tresta Road; I went to school on Herma Street. So it was strangely fitting that I ended up here. And with a name like Nelson, and a childhood obsession with my Norwegian heritage, I slotted right in. In fact last month at Baltasound Hall I performed at a show where everyone in the first act was called Somethingson: Johnson, Adamson, Nicolson, Sandison, Jameson, Nelson.

I often return to Glasgow to work, at least once a month in fact, so I am constantly reminded of how Shetland is indeed its own thing. The mess of contradictions is fascinating. When you first arrive it’s a straightforward, “Who are you, why are you here and what do you want?” Then as soon as you have explained yourself it’s “Yes that sounds reasonable. Come on in, how can I help?” Perhaps the sharp contrast of summer and winter influences this seesaw attitude.

When we arrived here last year the storm around Mareel was still raging. Even after the building was given the go ahead in a close-called democratic election, people were calling for recounts, shouting of how they were avowed to overturn the decision. Many vociferous words were exchanged.

“Wow”, I thought, “What kind of building could invoke such hue and cry? A maximum security prison? A nuclear waste refinery? An Al Qaeda training camp?”

“It’s a cinema”, I was told.

“What?”

“It’s a cinema and concert hall with a rehearsal room.”

“Like a picture house?”

“Yes.”

”Where people sit silently in the dark sharing a bon huer with a touching storyline or a rollocking blockbuster?”

“Yes.”

“And a concert hall with a state of the art sound system to attract world class musicians?”

“Yes.”

“And a rehearsal room with a sprung floor for peerie lassies to go to dance class and couples in their thirties go to do salsa lessons?

“Yes.”

“???”

Whether or not you will rejoice in Mareel or obstinately refuse to enjoy it once it’s built, you can be assured that this is the kind of debate that is lacking down south. Shetlands propensity to ask questions and make noise ensured that the Sumburgh departures are the only flights in FlyBe’s entire fleet that offer a piece of hold luggage and a refreshment in the ticket price.

And of course we cannot ignore the huge furore surrounding Viking Energy. Even those who are completely in favour of building a wind farm are asking question after question, making sure that what they get is what they want and that they are not palmed off with any old system.

From what I observe that wouldn’t happen down south. A Glasgow conversation could go like this:

“Excuse me, pal, we want to build a motorway slip road through your kitchen.”

“Uch, that’s ridiculous!”

Then they would sit back smoking their fags blaming asylum seekers, teenage neds and “they idiots in Brussels” rather than use that energy to question those who actually have the power to make the decisions that affect their lives.

Perhaps Shetland has always been like this. Certainly, in the 70s, Shetland asserted itself as the only council in the UK to benefit from oil revenue.
Shell even regarded the council’s chief executive, Ian Clark, as more difficult to deal with than Colonel Gaddafi.

I think it goes deeper. It’s the Scandinavian in you. As a regular visitor to Sweden I have noticed that young and old are in touch with socio-political goings on at all levels. Shetland even looks like a Scandinavian country – wheelchair and pram access properly built; pothole free roads; the arts and leisure taken seriously; a proper reliable public transport system. (Really – that’s the truth! I’ve seen it from all sides. If there’s a cancellation up here it’s because the bus or boat cannot physically operate. Down south it could be a snowflake on the line and all is lost.)

Now of course Shetland does have its downsides, which I would be foolish to discuss in my first column for this publication, lest my effigy appear at this year’s Up Helly Aa (he said, flattering himself). But it is the Cartesian habit of questioning everything that impresses me, and takes me back to my 1980s youth, when people shouted loud.

So as a result of last winter, my wife and I go into this winter with our first child on the way.  That’s the kind of winter I like.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sandy Nelson is a writer and comedian from Glasgow, now living in Unst.

Me an my Meenie differ in opinion ower Guy Fawkes Nicht. I canna wait for da 5th o November, an Meenie canna wait for hit tae be ower wi. Hit’s da fireworks: I love dem an Meenie is fairt.

Noo, I canna gie awa whaar we bide, but wir near whaar a splendid community firework display is set aff. We bide in whit is kent as da official “faa oot area” whaar da fireworks land. Whit I laek aboot hit best is humans ir banned. We can enjoy da fireworks in paece. Weel, aabody idder as Meenie. She lies undergroond fairt. Her an da rabbits. Feth, even da polecats lie low.

An dis year wis laek ivery idder. Me an Meenie fell oot ower da faa oot.
“Dunna tak da bairns furt, Tushie,” she pleaded. “Human fokk bide aff da hill for guid reason. Hit’s dangerous. Een o yon muckle rockets is enoch tae kill a trow!”

“Du does spaek bruck, Meenie,” I telt her. “A trow is far mair able tae spoot oot o da wye dan a human.”

Meenie shook her head.

“An ir trows no supposed tae be risk takers?” I axed her. “Do we no hae a parental duty tae bring wir bairns up tae be risk takin citizens?”

“Du mebbe has a point,” soched Meenie.

So me an da bairns riggit on wis an Meenie sat by da fire in a snöd. Hit wis a splendid nicht for hit; cowld, clear an crisp. Gutteryaggle, Snurtysleeves, Uggledlugs an Muttontief huddled aboot me tae keep waarm.

Suddenly da sky lit up wi fiery reds an waarm amber. Da bairns een wir glansin. Da colours fell laek a fountain an faded awa. We jamp as a pink explosion filt da sky wi an almighty bang. Nixt scriechin green swirls took ower an Gutteryaggle held her lugs. Den rockets soared trowe da darkness laevin a trail o silver stars ahint dem afore giein an explosion dat I kent wid hae Meenie hoidin.

Whit happened nixt will bide wi me for ivermare. We hed nae warnin, hit came fae naewye. A muckle rocket wi flames lickin oot o da tail wis headin richt for wis.

“HELP!” roared Snurtysleeves an Gutteryaggle gied a fairt scriech. We aa dived different directions intae da hedder tryin tae save wirsels.

I felt a terrible dunt on da croon o my head an wis awaar o flames lickin aboot me. Richt abune me lay da rocket. “Run! Hit’s still lowein!” I roared.
Da bairns jamp laek flechs an ran. I tried tae keep up ahint dem.

I hirpled intae wir howe lippenin Meenie tae geng aff laek a firework.

Gutteryaggle wis on Meenie’s lap greetin. Da tree boys wir solemn an white faeced. Muttontief wis midstream o telling his midder whit wis ton plaece.
“Dad got a richt dunt on his head, I hoop he’s aaricht,” he said.

Meenie caught sight o me.

“Tushie! Whit’s been going on? Is du aaricht?” she demanded.

“Da dunt o yon rocket mirackled me an den I wis nearly brunt alive! But tankfully A’m here tae tell da tale,” I said, liftin my claa fae my head.

Aa five o dem gied me da wance ower. Slowly dir worried broos unfurled an gied wye tae smeegs an sneesters. Gutteryaggle’s greetin aesed an she grippit her belly an gaffed.

“Whit’s sae funny? A’m lucky tae be alive!” I said indignantly.

“Da, yon rocket’s scoodered dy hair,” sneestered Uggledlugs.

I rexed tae see in da lookin gless abune da fire. My tick hair stood oot fae da sides o my pointy lugs as usual but da tap wis brunt awa laek some een wis geen ower hit wi a sye.

“Less a less!” said Meenie smugly. “If du mirackled dysel du might hiv got a grain o sympathy. But a bad hair day gits dee nane!” she gaffed.

I’d hed enoch fireworks for een day so I joost held my tongue.

Caa canny on Guy Fawkes,

Tushie Truncherfaece x

Where should the extension to Lerwick Central School be sited? That’s a problem exercising the minds of architects and local authorities at the moment.

At a recent meeting of the Property sub-Committee of the Education Committee, the county architect forwarded a reply he had received from Mr R.E. Moira, the town planner, in which reference was made to a development plan of the burgh regarding the Central School.

The plan stated: “The Central School will remain in its present location, and the island site bounded by Union Street, King Harald Street, Scalloway Road and Burgh Road will be acquired for future school use, to provide a site of just under four acres (including the site across King Harald Street).

“The acquisition of the whole site will be generally undertaken property by property, as and when each becomes available, but certain properties on the west side, such as Irvine’s and Brevik Cottages, will be acquired compulsorily or by agreement at an early stage, in order that any new classrooms could extend in that direction and face south.

“Over the ensuing period of years certain of the other properties will be acquired, such as Ordgarff, Nos. 1 and 3 Burgh Road, and Bayview.
Ultimately the remaining properties, Seaview and Johnston Cottage in Scalloway Road, will be acquired, making a compact working site, together with the infant school ground, by which time it might be necessary to rebuild existing buildings to new standards, and the whole island site will be available for this purpose.”

Mr Moira indicated he was strongly of the opinion that it was quite impracticable to split up the Central School into two buildings widely separated, because of the administrative difficulties involved. He advised that the proposals in the development plan for the Central School be closely followed, and that the difficulties of acquiring ground adjacent to the school be faced up to, so that in the future the school will remain a homogeneous unit in the centre of the population.

The director of education expressed the view it would be bad educational policy to divide the present Central School still further by building a new secondary department on an independent site (South Lochside has been suggested), as this would mean in effect, that five schools were being established in Lerwick for approximately 1,200 pupils.

The county architect agreed that the area referred to in the development plan would have been the correct development if the site could have been readily acquired property by property but he was rather hesitant about the matter if the extension to the school became dependent upon compulsory acquisition of the site.

The correspondence was referred to the working party appointed to deal with the site question.

At a meeting he had with the Town Council, Mr Moira emphasised that his original proposal was still the best possible planning.

It was pointed out, however, that the policy of acquiring properties surrounding the existing school was a long-term project, and no action had yet been taken to implement the plan in this respect. The Education Committee were faced with an immediate need for further accommodation, and an early solution must be found.

The Council agreed that the Education Committee should be asked to call Mr Moira to the meeting at which the question of siting the school was to be considered.

WIR Cooncil niver seems tae mak much haedwye wi dir development plans so I tocht I wid drap you a line aboot a gude live bisniss proposition dat I’m heard aboot. Hit seems tae be a most splendid bisniss an I hae nae doot du’ll tak a lively interest in it. Im sent a letter tae wir Director o Development aboot it an I tocht you wid laek tae ken aboot it tu. Da Cooncil shurely his plenty o money an I wis hoopin dit dey wid soobscribe tae da formation o dis new company.

Dir’s various places aroond Shetland noo lyin empty fur wan raeson ir anidder. Fur instance, startin at da Sooth end o da Isles we hae yun Virkie Terminal. Dan at da Quandale junction wi hae yun Industrial Site dan at Broonies Taing dir’s yun gret empty oil base. At Lerrick dir’s da Hayfield Hotel and da Inchcape Base. Aa dis is lyin empty whin you’re gyaan at biggin “industrial sites” at, nae doot, gret expense an lakely naebudy tae pit athin dem.

Da oabject o da company is tae operate a gret big Cat Ranch athin Shetland whaur laund can be purchased chaep fur dis purpose. I see yun isle o Vaila is fur sale – dat wid be a fine place tae start operations becase dir’s a gret big mansion hoose dere dit da Cooncil man cood bide in ir mibee da soothmoother, dat wid obviously hae tae be brocht up tae run it aa, cood bide dere tu.

Tae start we, we waant aboot a hunder thoosand cats. Every cat a’ll shorley average aboot twa ketlins a year. Da skins run fae 50p for da Tabbie eens tae £2.50 fur da pure blacks.

Dis wid gee wis 12,000,000 skins a year tae sell at an average price o £1.50 each making wir revenue aboot £4930 a day. Noo a man can skin 33 cats a day at aboot £8 a day an it’ll tak a hunder men, ir weemin, tae run da Ranch so da profit wid be £4130 a day.

We’ll feed da cats apu rats and we can start a Rat Ranch as weel. Yun Hayfield Hotel wid du tae start wis aff. Da rats multiply fower times is fast as da cats. If we started wi 100,000 rats we wid hae fower rats tae a cat a day and dan we’ll feed da rats apu da carcases o da cats dit we’re already taen da skins fae, geeing each rat wan wharter o a cat.

So, du sees, da bisniss is self-supportin an automatic aa da wye troo. Da cats’ll aet da rats and da rats ill aet da cats and we’ll get da skins.
So lat me ken as shune as du can becis dirs a lok o fokk interested becase dae want tae git rich whick.

Yun’s aa eenoo,

Tirval,
“Tirvaltoon”,
Wastower,
Shetlan.

P.S. Eventually we’ll cross da cats wi snakes, an dan dae’ll skin demsells twice a year and dat’ll save da man’s pey fur skinnin an also we’ll git twa skins. Distance nae problem idder becase we hae plenty o airports aroond eenoo. – T.

Christ Stout and Catriona MacKay in action at the Town Hall on Thursday night. Click on image to enlarge.

A councillor launched a scathing attack on the Scottish government’s record for spending on the arts as a new four-year cultural strategy for Shetland was launched on Friday.

Lerwick South member Gussie Angus made his feelings known to official Angela Saunders, who was attending the launch at the museum and archives of “On the Cusp …”, which spells out how the isles’ burgeoning cultural sphere might develop in the future.

In her remarks to a gathering of those who had been involved in devising the plan and invited guests, Ms Saunders said culture made a “massive difference” to people’s lives and praised Shetland for its strong emphasis on culture. She went on to say that she had been impressed by the live performance the previous evening of musicians Chris Stout and Catriona Mackay at the Town Hall.

That provoked Mr Angus to retort that Mr Stout was an “example of the investment this council makes in instrumental tuition”, adding that the government had failed to make similar necessary investment.

“I’m disappointed to see the Scottish government has cut funding to the Royal Scottish Academy. They’ve been demonstrating on the streets of Edinburgh about it. It’s to the detriment of students all over Scotland.”

He said arts students struggling to find places and tuition in Scotland were heading south of the border to Newcastle instead.

“The Scottish government’s not funding Newcastle. They are cutting money all over the place from arts and culture, and it’s bound to have an effect.”

Ms Saunders, who leads a team in the culture division at the Scottish government, said her brief did not cover education, but pledged to take Mr Angus’ concerns back south with her.

Mr Cluness reiterated his intention to retire at the next council election in 2012, adding that he did not believe a majority of councillors wanted him to quit before then.

His remarks came after councillor Gary Robinson called on BBC Radio Shetland for the convener to “consider his position” in the light of the way the council has handled recent events.

Mr Robinson was referring to council chief executive David Clark, who was absolved of threatening violence in a phone call to councillor Jonathan Wills, and Willie Shannon, whose job of assistant chief executive Mr Clark tried to “delete”.

The convener, vice convener Josie Simpson, Mr Clark, deputy chief executive Hazel Sutherland and head of legal Jan Riise reported Dr Wills to the Standards Commission for an alleged breach of the councillors’ Code of Conduct. That has already attracted the ire of Mr Robinson and other councillors who say they were not consulted over the move. Attempts are being made to bring Mr Shannon, who is currently on garden leave, back to work.

A senior councillor, who did not want to be named, has told The Shetland Times he believes there are between four and six councillors who want the convener to resign, although he had not heard “any serious mention of a vote of confidence”.

Speaking at the launch of the council’s new culture strategy on Friday, Mr Cluness said: “I had always decided this was my last spell [on the council], so I really have no intention of standing down before then.

“There are ways of going about this. If a majority of councillors wanted me to stand down, I’m a democrat, and I would do that, but I don’t get any sense of that at all.”

With regard to the decision to report Dr Wills, a close ally, to the commission Mr Robinson said: “I was really disappointed entirely with the way that was handled and I think it’s really made the situation worse. There [are] serious issues of trust and confidence in our community because of the way that and other things have been handled of late. The council has set bad example in this instance. We must try and draw a line under this.

“I think there needs to be an element of truth and reconciliation that there have been mistakes made. I think it’s time they were owned up to and I think that’s the only way we can possibly move forward and I think that we maybe do need to look at changes in the leadership as well.”

He added: “I do think quite clearly that the only way that we can actually put this behind us is for a restructuring of the council as it is now. At this moment I would stop short of calling for the convener to resign, but I do think he needs to consider his position.”

Speaking on the same programme, councillor Gussie Angus said: “I share Gary’s concern and I, equally, am disturbed about the way this has been handled. To be fair to the council leadership, they’ve sought legal advice and acted on that advice. I think some of the councillors could have given them wiser council.

“There are lots of private conversations going on as you might imagine. There are a number of us concerned about what we can do to draw a line under this and I think there are some steps that might be taken that might mitigate against the intervention of ACAS and other agencies and I think we have to explore that.”

He said he did not share Mr Robinson’s view about Mr Cluness. “It was me that proposed Sandy as convener and yes I have confidence in the convener. He’s pretty isolated but in defending Sandy he has taken the very best legal advice that the council was able to buy, and that’s quite expensive advice. It’s very difficult in the circumstances he is in to fly in the face of that, but the situation is far from resolved.”