For three years, it’s leather, I’m told. Still, I can’t see balaich an Trust presenting me with a designer Italian handbag. I am much more likely to get a bròg.
(Yes, just the one).
Facebook has had a lot to say about the Stornoway Trust this last wee while, none of it very nice and most of it the product of fevered imagination. The fantasy version of the organisation that seems to preoccupy a small number of the electorate doesn’t actually exist in the real world beyond social media. Still, when you are largely unaware that there IS a real world beyond social media, that point is liable to be lost on you.
The most recent thing that Facebook had to say about the Trust was this morning, when it reminded me that, on this day three years ago, I was elected to serve a six-year
sentence term. After a thoroughly unpleasant campaign, it felt like a dubious reward. Yes, I had entered the fray willingly, but I had not – given the low stakes – expected that people would target me so viciously. Again, this was social media, and not the real world. Indeed, the real world looked on aghast and many, I suspect, voted for me simply in order to show their solidarity with common decency against mob rule.
In any service that we give, it’s important to reflect upon why we’re doing it. The halfway point of my term gives me pause for consideration: is this how I wish to spend a sizeable portion of my time; and if so, why?
Well, the reason I stood in the first place is the same reason that I remain. I believed that I could contribute something to the running of the Trust – not as a maverick grandstanding for social media approval, but as one part of a team. Trustees function within the Trust as individuals, but outwardly as part of a homogenous entity.
We are – and many will love this comparison – like the tinker encampments of old; free to quarrel amongst ourselves, but always presenting a united front to the world. A lot of our meetings are spent debating and disagreeing, but consensus must eventually be achieved and that, then, becomes Trust policy. On Trust policy, and Trust action arising from it, we speak as one: Trustees and staff are a single body with no prospect of divide and conquer. Anything else would be wrong.
It is this that some more vociferous elements in the community cannot accept. They try to raise individual trustees up on a pedestal, folk heroes for the masses, who have been elected to stir the pot and (hilariously) ‘sort things out’.
No one person could – or should – sort anything. It is a team effort. If you want to be that kind of hero, I’d suggest you look elsewhere to win your spurs.
What the Trust needs and, in large part, has been successful in attracting, is reasonable, committed people with a desire to put something back into their communities. Those who crave drama and dissent do no justice either to the historic organisation of which they seek to become a part, nor to the wonderful community it encompasses.
More concerning, however, than the pedestal-building, is the bullying.
During my three years, I have witnessed some disgusting displays by members of the public. One recently suggested that I simply cannot handle dissenting voices; he rapidly thought better of his comment and removed it, because he knows as well as I do that I could name and shame those who have been guilty of quite reprehensible conduct. No, correction, I probably couldn’t shame them because what they have said is so abhorrent that I believe them to be beyond the reach of shame. I can handle disagreement and, for that matter, abuse for I’ve received plenty. It shouldn’t be a question of ability to take it, though, should it?
Is this how we want to treat people in public life? Is this the side of our community that we want to show forth?Do we seriously want to make public service an endurance test where we try to break spirits and destroy reputations? I think that everyone deserves better than the low mud-slinging melee that social media has become in the hands of the few.
The problem, however, is not with the Trust. In three years, I have learned a great deal, and I have – I hope – forged lasting friendships with people that I respect and admire. It has been absorbing and rewarding. Yes, I have much still to learn, but that’s the exciting thing about it. We deal with such a varied portfolio of activity that you never know what a day will bring.
That sounds like a ringing endorsement, doesn’t it? Yet, I cannot in all conscience recommend to anyone that they seek a seat on the Stornoway Trust. Or the Comhairle. Or Bòrd na Gàidhlig. Or the Crofting Commission.
Or any public office that the Facebook bullies have in their sights.
We can say what we like about wanting better representation and talk a good game about more women and more young people . . . but the bullying has to be addressed. I wonder how many decent, capable people are put off making a contribution to their communities because of this rot at the heart of things.
Three years on, I cannot say that the standard of discourse on social media Is better. Indeed, I think it’s far worse. They have learnt nothing.
Nonetheless, let’s strive for something a little higher than personal attack; let’s bring back respect and honesty – and the ability to disagree with grace. Anything less demeans us all.