John Pugh (Southport, Liberal Democrat)
I begin by congratulating, on behalf of, I think, all of us here today, Steve Rotheram.
None of us can hope to match his eloquence, passion, persistence and,
frankly, the raw emotion he has displayed today. I first knew him as a
very effective mayor of Liverpool city council, and he has today proved
to be a very effective champion of his area and of Merseyside as a
whole. I want to thank him for associating me with his efforts in making
the all-party applications; this has been an all-party endeavour. I
also want to mention the hon. Gentleman’s predecessor, Peter Kilfoyle. Even though he was a lifelong Evertonian, he did a lot of work for this cause in the House.
I should declare an interest. I am a Liverpool FC supporter.
My entire family came from Liverpool, and I grew up there, although I
had the misfortune originally, as a child in a city that was oozing
football success, to be taken every Saturday to Knotty Ash to
watch our one and only rugby league team get beaten repeatedly week
after week—thereby amply preparing me for life as a Liberal.
I
think I understand the Liverpool character as well as most. A history
that has often been quite brutal has endowed that character with two
marked traits. The first is a profound emphasis on social solidarity.
People have learned to depend on each other—on family and neighbourhood.
That was beautifully summed up by Bill Shankly in the following quote, of which I have a copy in my office:
“the
only way to live and to be truly successful is by collective effort,
with everyone working for each other, everyone helping each other, and
everyone having a share of the rewards at the end of the day.”
The
second major trait has also been forged by a hard history. It is a lack
of reverence—a suspicion and questioning of authority and all the
pomposity and cant that often underpins it. That is the reason why
Liverpool produces so many comedians. It is a feeling that the world is
not necessarily on our side—and, indeed, often it is not, especially for
those who spend their time questioning authority, and the pomposity and
the cant underpinning it.
Hillsborough
was a terrible tragedy for Liverpool. At the time I was a councillor in
Sefton, and we outside the immediate Liverpool area lost many people.
Afterwards, there was an opportunity to show that things could be
different, but what happened? As expected, there was a massive, deeply
impressive show of solidarity, and it continues, confirming that this is
the city where the way forward is not “walking alone” and where social
solidarity is important. The people were, however, let down by the
powers that be: the national media, including The Sun,
about which much has been said today; those in the legal system, about
which we have not said as much as we ought to have done; and the
police—we have mentioned Duckenfield—who tried to shift blame. Some—but
not all—of them perpetuated, relied on or were diverted by prejudices,
not just about football supporters but specifically about Liverpool
football supporters. That was the case both knowingly and, sometimes,
unknowingly, and explicitly and implicitly. Unsurprisingly therefore,
there has been no closure. The narrative not only of what happened but
of how different people told—or tried to tell in order to fix—that
narrative has never been fully before us.
I
genuinely believe that we get better inquiries and inquests if the
people running them are prepared to look at their limitations and flaws.
We get better reporting if the media at least acknowledge their
failings. We also get better policing if the police openly account for
their wrongdoing and the error in their own ranks. Truthfulness at all
levels is the path to improvement.
