The Isles are Full of Big Noises

September 2014

After five years in the Marines, Fogarty worked for security firms and the fire service. He describes himself as "stroppy, awkward and intolerant", hints at a violent past and tells me of his diagnosis for post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which precipitated his move north. He has brought up two children: his daughter is in business in Aberdeen and his son crews a lobster boat. His wife works for the Orkney health service and he devotes himself to sculpture, currently of Viking warriors frozen in acts of violence, which have proved popular with ex-servicemen and fellow Orcadians who value their Norse roots.

"One of the reasons I came up here," he says, "is that I didn't like the way things were south. It suits me here where my nearest neighbour is away down the hill. The best Yes argument for me is immigration. That's the beauty of Scotland — there aren't the numbers here. If the Scots had more control over their borders I think it would remain that way. A lot of English people have come up for the same reason. It's a good way of life, property is cheap, you get free prescriptions and there are no tuition fees."

Fogarty drives me to Stromness, Orkney's second town, facing west to Kirkwall's east. It has more picturesque winding streets and harbour-front bars than the capital. In an estate agent's window I note that a three-bed house on Shapinsay is £53,000, and the entire island of Hunda, including farmhouse, is up for sale at £600,000. I run into the SNP Minister of Culture, Fiona Hyslop, answering public questions at the community centre. She bats away concerns about the pound, assuring the 20 or so members of the audience that "there will be fiscal union — it's our pound" and that the government in Westminster was all about "vested interests and power". She says independence will "stop us going into illegal wars". I suggest it's like divorce and wonder how as Culture Minister she proposes to divide up the record collection.

"It's quite simple," she says. "In terms of our share of UK assets, we either take a population share, or we take a historical share of what we've contributed. Culture knows no boundaries, but in terms of the galleries, exchanges will take place as they always have done. In other areas, broadcasting for example, we will have our own broadcasting company SBC which will go into joint venture with the BBC. We'll have an additional music channel, radio station and TV channel. The output in Scotland will rise from 2,000 to 4,000 hours."

Employees of the state broadcaster give the festival clout. The BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra performs Walton's Belshazzar's Feast in a brand-new school gym. The principal percussionist tells me the independence issue has split the orchestra, with the Yes voters claiming the moral high ground as "true Scots" and the Nos fearing for their jobs should Britishness and Scottishness become mutually exclusive. The London-based BBC Singers are less concerned and give a moving concert in St Magnus Cathedral of works by the 79-year-old Maxwell Davies, who founded the festival after moving to the islands 43 years ago. Schoolchildren sing his songs in the school's theatre. "I think Scotland will eventually become independent," Sir Peter says, "although perhaps not now. There's a feeling everywhere for small countries achieving independence. The propaganda from London has been pretty silly. I think I could have done better than just trying to scare the pants off the Scots. Of course, there's even an independence move from Scotland here. It's all quite, quite difficult."