Tuesday 11 September—two days ago—marked the 45th anniversary of the vicious right-wing coup that brought General Augusto Pinochet to power in Chile. That was the start of a reign of terror that lasted for far, far too long. Before the 1973 coup, Chile was a democracy. In 1970, the country had elected as its President Salvador Allende, the leader of the Popular Unity coalition. President Allende appointed Augusto Pinochet as commander-in-chief of the military in 1973.
Within weeks, the coup was launched, with heavy attacks on the presidential palace by the Chilean Air Force, using Hawker Hunter fighter jets. The elected Government was overthrown, President Allende died, and democracy and civilian rule were ended, with the suspension of Congress and the advent of dictatorship. Socialists, leftists and political critics were persecuted. Thousands of people were killed, and tens of thousands more were tortured or jailed for political reasons.
Some of us who are in the chamber today remember the horror of watching events unfold on our televisions. We remember being aware of the political activists, artists, intellectuals and workers who had fled Chile with their families. For me, the starkest image is that of Santiago stadium, the Chilean national football stadium, being turned into a concentration camp and execution centre. I remember discussing the horror of that with my father, with the disbelief of a teenager that such events could happen in a world that was supposed to be civilised. What was worse, as time went on, was the realisation that, despite the horror, cordial relations with the man who had instigated all that were established with Governments across the world.
It is thought that around 500 Chilean exiles ended up in Scotland. Many Scots campaigned and showed solidarity with their Latin American contemporaries through demonstrations and fundraising, in friendship and in song. One notable song was “Blood Upon The Grass”, by Adam McNaughtan, which was about the Scotland football team going to play in Santiago stadium.
The Chile solidarity campaign had membership across the United Kingdom. I understand that, in one example of solidarity, a group of Chilean workers was sponsored by Cowdenbeath’s mining community.
At the time, East Kilbride was home to the Rolls-Royce factory that repaired and maintained the Avon engines that powered the Hawker Hunter jet, one of the UK’s most exported military aircrafts. That is the subject of “Nae Pasaran!”, the film that tells the story of East Kilbride’s heroes. Two of those heroes are here with us today in the public gallery: Bob Fulton and Stuart Barrie. [Applause.]
In 1974, a few months after Chile’s coup, engine inspector Bob Fulton arrived at work at the factory. The note of his next repair job said that the engines were from the Chilean Air Force. Bob realised that the engines would be from the planes involved in Pinochet’s attack on democracy—and, no doubt, in the on-going abuses of the Chilean people. He was anxious and upset, and he made a decision: he was not working on those engines.
Bob’s colleagues backed him. The workers in the Rolls-Royce factory in East Kilbride boycotted the Chilean Air Force engines. They kept the boycott going for four years, and the engines were left to rust. However, one night, the engines mysteriously disappeared. The workers were told that their actions had been meaningless.
Years and decades passed. Bob Fulton and others moved on and retired. Some of the workers are no longer with us. Meanwhile, the son of a Chilean exile, film maker Felipe Bustos Sierra—he is also in the gallery, I am glad to say—was growing up hearing rumours about the Rolls-Royce workers’ act of solidarity. Felipe was fascinated by the story and determined to find out whether it was myth or reality. The start was turning up to speak to Bob Fulton some 40 years after the Rolls-Royce workers’ action. That was the beginning of the making of the film “Nae Pasaran!”.
The first project was a short documentary—an excellent short film—and, following that, successful crowd funding enabled the full-length feature to be made. That full-length film premiered at the Glasgow film festival earlier this year to rave reviews from critics and the public, and indeed our Cabinet Secretary for Culture, Tourism and External Affairs. I have been privileged to see the film a few times, and it is truly marvellous—in its story, its investigation and its interviews with key players, in Felipe Bustos Sierra’s research in unearthing this fascinating story, and in the quality of its production.
The stars of the film are four men, four ordinary chaps, who worked at Rolls-Royce in EK in 1974 and who, with others, potentially put their jobs on the line to stand up for their principles—Bob Fulton, Robert Somerville, John Keenan and Stuart Barrie. That could not have been easy, not just in the workplace, but in everyday life. Bob Fulton admits in the film that he was feart to go home to his wife Lottie and tell her what he had done.
So what had they done? It is simple: Bob, Robert, John, Stuart and their fellow workers did what they knew to be right. What they did not know was the effect that it had, or that Felipe Bustos Sierra would turn up decades down the line to let them know about that effect. What they did not know was that, during the making of a film about the Rolls-Royce engines, they would meet Chileans who were persecuted during the Pinochet regime—fellow workers, incarcerated, tortured and afraid of execution—who told them that they took some comfort from the fact that they knew that, way over in a place called East Kilbride in Scotland, there was a bunch of workers who refused to repair Pinochet’s jet engines.
There is so much more that I could say about “Nae Pasaran!”—the excellent representation of the situation at the time, the filmed interviews and the politics not just of Chile but of the United Kingdom and other western Governments—but time limits me. People really have to see the film.
I end by recognising—as I do in the motion that I lodged—the achievement of Felipe Bustos Sierra in making the film, and the determination of all those workers in the Rolls-Royce factory in East Kilbride in the 1970s who took part in the boycott of Pinochet’s jet engines. They took a stand against fascism in defence of the democratic rights of the Chilean people. It is a film that depicts a remarkable piece of Scotland’s industrial history and illustrates an admirable act of solidarity between Scottish workers and the Chilean people. It is a film that, once seen, will not be forgotten.
East Kilbride is extremely proud of its heroes who said “Nae Pasaran!” [Applause.]