Elsewhere on the island, a young couple are the only residents in a hamlet of over a dozen houses, the rest are holiday homes; while recently, on the adjacent island, an old friend who was born there, and who has returned with his wife and family to run a business, bid on a house for sale and was promptly outbid by people who live very far away.
This isn’t personal; it’s just the way of the property market, and who would dare to challenge that?
This month, the Isle of Eigg celebrates 25 years of community ownership. It wasn’t the first community buy-out, but it has been one of the most high-profile and inspiring, in part because of the circumstances leading up to its sale: the toxic ownership of Keith Schellenberg, the weird sideshow of Maruma, the German ‘artist’ with dubious credentials who briefly took possession of the island; and then there was the public campaign to raise funds for the buy-out, which itself highlighted the debate about land-ownership in Scotland. Since 1997, the islanders have provided a dynamic example of how small, remote communities can come together and figure out best practice for housing, power generation, job creation, land stewardship. The island is now thriving, its population growing.
Last year a small cottage was up for sale on Eigg. It was priced at offers over £65k, but the Isle of Eigg Heritage Trust stipulated that they wouldn’t simply be accepting the highest bid. Instead, they would seek a buyer who wanted to live full-time on the island, to make home there and be an ‘active contributory member of the community.’
Self-determination isn’t always easy, but it does empower and encourage people to make decisions in the interest of their community; and it turns out that, thus empowered, and in simple, sensible ways, there are those who dare to challenge the property market. Imagine if all our island and rural communities were modelled on Eigg; imagine if our urban communities were!
In her autobiography, All God’s Children Need Travelling Shoes, Maya Angelou writes beautifully about the ‘ache for home’ and how it lives in all of us, describing home as ‘the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.’ My wife and I are very lucky, we’ve a roof over our heads and we’ve some savings; we’ll eventually find that ‘safe place’. But for so many people now, who ache for home, often in the place where they are from, or in the community they’ve become a part of, it is simply no longer possible. This is the property market – untrammelled Capitalism just doing its thing – and it’s destroying communities throughout Scotland.