By Neil Bruce
What is the article about?
It considers how the local community and in particular the Ardkenneth parish priest, Fr John Morrison responded to the government’s announcement that it intended to build a rocket range, base and associated housing on Uist.
What drew you to the topic?
Researching the Long Island estate when owned by Emily Gordon, later Lady Gordon Cathcart, I became interested in how the state’s decisions increasingly intruded into the power dynamic between herself, land managers and tenants. These interventions included widening public participation in local decision-making, and legislation concerning crofters and crofting land. The first, the Crofters Holdings (Scotland) Act 1886, gave crofters security of tenure.
Emily Gordon Cathcart died in 1932, the Long Island estate was sold and inevitably, my research broadened as I considered the longer-term impact of her proprietorship on the Long Island. In 2019, a call was made for papers to be given at the conference, The 1919 Land Act – a celebration one hundred years on. My proposal was accepted, and I delved into the estate when owned by Herman Andreae, focusing on the rocket range development. The government’s announcement of its intended rocket range came shortly after the Crofters (Scotland) Act 1955. The act changed the statutory protection from the crofter to their croft holding, allowing land to be resumed for public benefits, but did not explicitly include the national interest.
What did you find?
Initially, the proposed rocket range development was welcomed as offering employment and the government thought that islanders understood its necessity, albeit reluctantly because of its impact on their lives. However, as the scale and proposed locations looked likely to occupy a considerable swathe of croft land, resistance grew. Fr John Morrison became ‘Leader of the defence movement’ and a spokesperson for the local community, though opposition to the range was not unanimous. The government’s plans were changed several times and information was not readily shared: it took two years for an official statement to reveal which other sites had been considered. The campaign attracted diverse support from elsewhere, and there were parliamentary questions and debates.
It was a newsworthy story: The Scotsman took an editorial position against the development, quoting scripture on more than one occasion to reflect what islanders might lose. When compensation was promised to crofters, the paper quoted how Naboth responded: ‘The Lord forbid it me, that I should give the inheritance of my fathers unto thee.’ Neal Ascherson in the Manchester Guardian queried whether local resistance was a ‘storm in a quaich’. Fr John knew a good quote too: he described the development as an ‘octopus whose tentacles are beginning to crush the life of the island’, while threatening to lead his parishioners in emigrating rather than living alongside a rocket range. The proposal by the chair of the Scottish Land Court, Lord Gibson, that it only grant resumption of croft land to the Air Ministry if the latter guarded the range with Gaelic-speaking tartan-wearing guards couldn’t be bettered by Sir Compton Mackenzie in the satirical novel he penned to poke fun at the government.
There’s another context, though?
Yes. Concerns were raised about the impact an influx of service personnel and families would have on the island’s way of life and language. Fr John had a strong sense of place and people: he was local and as rooted in the island, its heritage and faith as the largely Roman Catholic community. Recognising that older ways of life were disappearing, he collected artefacts which reflected the island’s cultural heritage. These subsequently formed the core collection of Kildonan Museum.
In 1952, Fr John obtained permission to give the Virgin Mary a local persona by referring to her as ‘Our Lady of the Isles’ or Moire ro Naomh nan Eilean. He and his parishioners in response to the Marian year of 1954, created a number of public shrines to demonstrate their devotion. These shrines were placed at township road junctions and crossroads where military personnel and contractors would also pass. These and the sculpture of ‘Our Lady of the Isles’ high on Rhueval, designed and created by Hew Lorimer in 1954, have become an integral part of the popular narrative of the rocket range as symbols to project and protect local culture.
Any final comments?
One voice heard, but seldom listened to on the Long Island estate was that of the local Roman Catholic clergy. This very gradually changed, but not without resistance from those who held positions of power locally. One of Fr John’s achievements was his success in bringing the island’s cultural heritage and the faith of most of its inhabitants to wider attention.
Read the full article, ‘The priest, the crofters, and the Uist rocket range’, in the latest issue of The Innes Review
About the Journal
The Innes Review is the journal of the Scottish Catholic Historical Association. It promotes the study of the history of Catholic Scotland, covering all aspects and topics related to Scottish history and culture. This includes ecclesiastical, cultural, liturgical, architectural, literary and political history from earliest times to the present day.
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About the Author
Neil Bruce graduated MLitt. in the History of the Highlands and Islands from UHI. His main academic research focus was and continues to be the Long Island estate of the Gordons of Cluny, and Lady Gordon Cathcart.
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