Living In a Shadow

I have frequently tried, unsuccessfully, to write an article about the Aberfan coal disaster of 1966. Without doubt, its one of the most tragic disasters to recount, and perhaps this is why it is so difficult to write a neutral and balanced article about it? Recently I have finished reading the brilliantly insightful ‘Wilful Blindness’ by Margaret Heffernan, which ‘nudged’ me to finally complete this blog. Throughout the book, without actually referencing Aberfan, there are examples immediately recognisable to the conditions that led to that fateful day in 1966. Aberfan was a disaster so great it scarred a community still felt today and wiped out an entire generation of children. 

There are seminal moments in time that are so significant they scar your memory with your location and what you were doing when you first heard the news. Tragic, or triumphant, they become ingrained in memory. The Twin Towers, or the assassination of JFK. England winning the world cup, or Andy Murray winning Wimbledon, they become psychological watersheds in your timeline; for better or worse. The Aberfan coal disaster is such an event.

For over 50 years the National Coal Board (NCB) deposited millions of cubic metres of colliery waste on Merthyr Mountain above the village of Aberfan. These ‘slag heaps’ lay on porous sandstone rock, which in turn contained multiple natural springs below ground, and streams above. Villagers and miners had expressed their concerns about the natural springs that lay beneath the nearly 800ft high waste tip for years. These concerns were dismissed by the NCB who reassured the local community what they were doing was safe practice. On the morning of 21 October 1966 after days of continuous rain a process called thixotropy occurred beneath the slagheap, this released around 40,000 cubic metres of unwanted coal and rock drenched in rainwater onto the village below. Before reaching the Pentglas School it destroyed 20 houses and a farm. The children of the School were taking part in the morning assembly, while singing ‘All things bright and beautiful’ the rumbling of the fast approaching landslide was heard. On this terrible morning 28 adults and 116 children between the ages of 7 – 10 were killed.

This abhorrent wilful blindness and callous hubris from the NCB management, and in particular it’s Chairman Lord Robens, created a ticking time bomb of unimaginable proportions.

The tragic irony of the wilful blindness exhibited by many involved in the months leading up to the disaster was the transparency of the problem. The dangers were clear for all to see, and furthermore many villagers and miners intuitively knew this practice would sooner or later fail. Transparency is a good thing within any risk managing industry, with transparency comes accountability. Often in the presence these conditions people do the ‘right’ things; without it present the opposite can occur.  There is a paradox of transparency with the Aberfan disaster however. On one hand there can be nothing more openly visible and transparent than an 800ft slack coal heap, lay on springs and clearly marked on OS maps of the area. On the other hand, the information known by the NCB was concealed within the shadows, both before and after the tragedy. Large human factor accidents are rarely the work of criminals, more likely repeated examples of human fallibility and misadventure, or at worst gross incompetence by few. The leadership and management of the NCB came in for scathing criticism during the Davies inquiry and subsequent report, particular blame was attributed to Lord Robens who had shown a complete lack of honesty both before and after the disaster. Amongst the worst acts of dishonesty, Lord Robens denied knowledge of the springs beneath the tip; this infuriated the villagers who knew this not to be true. He also claimed they were not to a contributing factor to the disaster. Lord Robens also staunchly refused to pay the £150,000 needed for the removal of further tips, adding further distress to the grief stricken community. Eventually this bill was paid by the disaster relief fund set up to give financial aid to the village, this would be a heinous wrong that would remain so until the incoming Labour government of Tony Blair, in 1997, instructed the money be paid back. Press intrusion in the aftermath further increased the suffering and distress felt by the villagers who were placed under an intrusive media spotlight. Claims by some of the villagers that a journalist had been heard encouraging a child to cry for her lost friends to enhance the drama of a photograph were appalling, to say the least.

This was contrasted by the public outpouring of sympathy for the grief striken community, which resulted in nearly £1.6 million being raised. To place this into context this would be over £21 million today without the Internet, social media or constant news coverage.

There were many lessons learnt after Aberfan. The Davis Enquiry was rightfully scathing of the management and leadership of the NCB and particularly Lord Robbens. Incredibly, however, Lord Robens kept his job and its perhaps his conduct after the tragedy that draws the most criticism. Most of all there was an incredible lack of transparency displayed by the NCB leadership. Transparency is a wonderfully honest quality, when behaviour is transparent it is usually honest and correct. Even when the behaviours are wrong, they are more often unintentional and can be corrected without serious reprimand. Consider this, can you ever recall getting caught doing something wrong. The instant reaction is to cover up and conceal the truth, human behaviour tells us people don’t conceal or cover up their actions when they’re doing the ‘right’ thing.

I can’t help but wonder that had there been more transparency in 1966 we may have been able to avoid one of the most tragic events of the 20^th century?