North of Scotland

Never forget

Mick North

Two days after Christmas, on a seasonal trip to relatives, we decided to visit the Dryfesdale Cemetery in Dumfriesshire. Despite having driven close by on many occasions it was the first time I'd been there. Here in the cemetery, just off the road from Lockerbie to Lochmaben, is a monument in memory of those who died when Pan Am flight 103 was blown out of the skies over southern Scotland killing the 259 passengers and crew on board and 11 people on the ground when part of the plane ploughed into Sherwood Crescent in Lockerbie.
     The timing of our visit seemed appropriate. The Sunday before Christmas had been the 20th anniversary of the Lockerbie disaster. The memorial wall, listing all the names of those who died in the terrorist outrage, is a stark reminder of the scale of the tragedy. For me its likeness to a war memorial reflected the coldness of the act which robbed them of their lives rather than the warmth of those lives. I am sure that warmth is commemorated elsewhere. In the vicinity of the wall there are some individual plaques and memorial stones, though I was left wondering whether they represented a hierarchy among the victims at a place where all should be remembered equally.
     Public anniversaries are something I have become all too familiar with since tragedy impacted on my own life in Dunblane in 1996. They are important occasions, but are always approached with mixed feelings by the bereaved, the local community and others involved in the tragedy. For the bereaved they can be just another day to remember, one of 365 each year, and some prefer that this should be a private time. For others outside the families media attention is also something best avoided as 'things have moved on'. Yet it is essential that the impact of events such as Lockerbie is not forgotten, though expressing it thus highlights one of the tensions that exist around remembering a disaster through the name of the town where it happened. No community wants to be known solely for a disaster, yet it would be impossible to uncouple the name Lockerbie from this act of terrorism.
     For me there was a familiarity in words from a former Lockerbie councillor, who said that there is more to Lockerbie now than just the disaster, but she was careful enough to acknowledge that 'we live in the real world and know that this is a national and international event'. She also spoke about the town having moved on fairly rapidly but that there always being time for remembrance at this sort of anniversary. An anniversary should be a time for a wider community to reflect, perhaps only briefly but reflect nevertheless, on the shock we felt at the time it happened and on what has happened since.
     The ceremonies in Lockerbie were all low-key 'in accordance with the wishes of the community' but those covered by the media all reflected the apparent necessity of remembering through a religious service. I am surely not alone in wondering why in this secular and predominantly non-churchgoing age the churches always get the central role in acts of remembrance.
     Much of this was rather familiar from my experiences of Dunblane anniversaries. What I had not anticipated were the comments of Lord Fraser of Carmyllie, Lord Advocate at the time of Lockerbie, in which he suggested that one of those bereaved by the disaster was behaving as if he was suffering from 'Stockholm syndrome', a condition in which victims of terrorist outrages take up the cause of those who have attacked them. In letters to the press his remarks were described as alarming, ill-judged and intemperate, but they were also incorrect.
     Dr Jim Swire, whose daughter Flora was a passenger on the plane, was being accused of getting too close to Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi, the Libyan who was convicted of the bombing and remains in prison awaiting an appeal. Jim Swire is not alone in believing that al-Megrahi was not responsible, indeed that the whole Libyan connection is in doubt. I have not had the privilege of meeting Jim Swire in person, though we did participate in a Radio Scotland programme together, albeit in different studios, but I have friends who have confirmed my impression of him as a man of utter integrity. His pursuit of the truth appears to be driven not by obsession or a desire to find someone to blame but by a genuine human need to understand as much as possible about what led to the death of his daughter.
     He has clearly not been satisfied by the version of events which convicted al-Megrahi, not through getting too close to him, but because that version does not fit with the information he has acquired over many years. Unlike the political and judicial establishment Jim Swire has wanted more than a convenient truth. In doing so he has not had the support of many of the other families for various reasons, not least the patriotic faith among many American families in their own government's version of events. Bereaved families who speak out and question official versions of events or challenge the status quo are vulnerable to accusations of being over-emotional or seeking revenge. True, they don't get everything right, some campaigns can be misguided especially when based on seeking revenge, but by coming at things from a different perspective, one that can be more objective than that of the authorities, they can expose flaws in official versions. Bereaved families have nothing to hide. Jim Swire has not been asking us to believe him about al-Megrahi's innocence because he has got to know the man who has been convicted of killing his daughter, he would want us to believe him because he has methodically and meticulously studied all the relevant information.
     Lord Fraser's remarks reflected something else that many of us have experienced – an attitude by some in authority that bereaved families are an inconvenience who should suffer their loss in silence. But, 20 years on, the doubts still surrounding Lockerbie are a reminder that bereaved families may also be right.