Orkney’s ancient civilisation has always reimagined itself, to forge a brighter future for the next generation…

Born to the wintery archipelago in the North Sea, Orkney will always draw me back home. The wild landscapes change with a gust of wind. Mornings can feel like a new world from the night before, as the island transforms itself from a summer paradise to a stormy fortress. Here, you realise that the natural world belongs to no one. As you walk through the purple heather hills, your eye falls upon an ancient ruin, small and uncommanding, that remind you of the island’s enduring presence throughout time. Be it a Neolithic Settlement, or the remains of World War II naval ruins scattered from coast to bay, you can see that the Orkney Islands have been ever transforming throughout their ancient history.
Living amidst the wild and serene lands, it is no wonder Orkney’s small population has bred so many talented artists, writers, and musicians. As a bairn, I was lucky enough to witness the fading legacy of the island’s old custom of storytelling, singing and folklore. The old culture came alive at Hogmanay, where families took to foot and visited their neighbours right across the island to take in another new year. As time passes, the lights in the host houses turn off. Today, folks still go first footing, but the numbers dwindle with every passing year and the songs of old are forgotten. A symptom of our declining population – especially amongst young people. As the population falls smaller, greater problems arise.
Youth depopulation is signalled as an acute issue that threatens the future of our island communities. Already, islands such as my own home, are deemed fragile. Ranked in the top 10% most deprived of access to essential services in Scotland, outer islands, like Hoy, need support in confronting these challenges. Orkney has the highest level of fuel poverty, nationally, despite being existing in the North Sea: declared Europe’s heart of renewable energy. Alongside the rest of the country, food bank usage has amplified in recent years, especially during COVID19. Houses are becoming a rarer prospect for the island’s youth. An issue that has only amplified during the pandemic. Such realities are difficult to digest. But, we must confront them head on, in the light of day, because for many, these issues are everyday realities. My own future living on the islands is unknown, as I don’t have secure housing. I am one of the many young people who face the prospect of leaving my home, due to a housing shortage – and lack of affordable homes to meet my income. With people leaving, in search of hope, loneliness enters the lives of many. When my granny looks out from her window, she sees an empty field that stretches toward the still bay, where one fishing boat gently glides without competition. A stark contrast to the vision of army barracks, in their hundreds, camped in her father’s field below the farmhouse, and a pool of naval activity in the restless bay – an everyday vision of her youth. Two worlds apart. Granny is one of many, with a fascinating story to tell. In small communities, it is essential to create and sustain spaces where the community can come together. Luckily, we have a community hall on the island, where brilliant volunteers spare their time to brining folks together over a coffee and a story. For all of the brilliances of these islands, we do a disservice to the people who live here, to wash over the truths that many experience.
Today, we have both cause for alarm and celebration. But, if you look back, the history of the islands tells us that we, as islanders, are capable of reimagining our world for the needs of the future generation.

Kieran Sinclair