Aberfan

Yesterday, in the Assembly, we marked the 40th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster with a minute's silence, after the moving words spoken by my colleague, Huw Lewis, AM for Merthyr Tydfil and Rhymney:

Huw Lewis: I thank you, Presiding Officer,
and my fellow Assembly Members, for
allowing me to speak for the Assembly this
afternoon.

The week leading up to the anniversary of the
Aberfan disaster is always a time of trial for
my community. This week should be a time
purely for remembrance and not for politics. I
would therefore like to say just a few words
of tribute to those local people and friends of
Aberfan, many of whom have worked
through their personal grief again this year,
and helped yet again to mark the upcoming
anniversary in a simple and dignified way.

The disaster that occurred on that October
day 40 years ago was shocking in its
brutality—like all mining disasters—but it
held a deeper resonance of horror because its
victims, in the main, were the children of
Aberfan. It was because it was children in
their classrooms who bore the brunt of the
truly industrial scale of man’s stupidity that
Aberfan became a tragedy of global
dimension.

The tenacity and determination of the rescue
workers on that day showed heroism—and
they saw things that no-one should have to
see. The living daily courage of the bereaved,
the survivors and the wider community in the
long days, months, and years that followed
showed us something beyond the heroic
deed, which is something that is also worth
remembering. Their burden of grief returned
day after day, but this also galvanised the
community to share sorrow and to build
futures for those who survived and those who
came after. There was also the dailyexhibition of dignity despite near-intolerable
heartache. These were, and are, human
qualities of a community with incredible
strength.

Seneca said, long ago, that there are times
when it is an act of courage merely to live.
The courage of Aberfan was wholly special
and remarkable, but then I believe that these
people always were special and remarkable.
The disaster did not make them that way;
they were already strong in their community,
sharing and dignified. The great Welsh social
scientist, Raymond Williams, once said that
the community culture created by Welsh
mining villages was the greatest achievement
of the British working class. I grew up in one,
and I agree.

Perhaps the only indisputable thing that all
human beings have in common in their lives
is that they will all face sorrow and loss. If
that is true, it follows that all else is for us to
create. That includes our response to loss.
Forty years ago, the community of Aberfan
looked into an abyss of loss, but the abyss did
not dominate; Aberfan’s response was deeply
courageous. That response was slowly but
surely to turn to life and to the future.

From the perspective of one such as me,
whose childhood encompassed the aftermath
of the disaster, it is important to understand
what happened after that October day.

The name of Aberfan once only conjured
images of tragedy, disaster and, of course,
courage in the face of adversity. However,

slowly and surely, Aberfan has reclaimed
notions of strength, confidence and hope for
a bright future for today’s children. Forty
years on, let us join to reflect not just on
yesterday’s but on that hope for
tomorrow.