Orcadian Column, 5/2/2026

Jim Wallace was my boss, my mentor and my good friend. His sudden death last week due to a complication following surgery came as a profound shock, and one that has left me, like all who knew him well, absolutely devastated.

Even amongst those whose interactions with Jim were perhaps rare and fleeting, there has been a sense of great loss. I’ve taken great comfort from the messages I’ve received over recent days, as well as from reading the outpouring of affection for Jim online and in the media. Irrespective of the source, the reflections are the same: testifying to Jim’s decency, humility and warmth. I know Rosie and the family have drawn strength from these messages too.

I first encountered Jim during the 1983 General Election, when he and the other candidates took part in a hustings for pupils at Kirkwall Grammar School. In the old dining hall, Jim spoke with conviction but also humour, cutting through the wall of teenage indifference in the room. Or it did for me, and thankfully a sizeable majority of voters in that election. Seven years later, he gave me my first job out of university, as his researcher at Westminster, ensuring I was ‘hooked’ on politics, for which I later told him he had my forgiveness. 

My time working in the House of Commons gave me a ringside view of the commitment and sacrifice involved in representing the Northern Isles at Westminster, particularly with a young family. It was tough. Long periods away from home, late night sittings and alternate weekends in Orkney and Shetland. All this in a pre-FaceTime age. 

Yet Jim and Rosie felt well-supported by our community, something for which they have always been grateful. In turn, constituents responded to Jim’s approachability and tireless efforts on their behalf, even if some of what he did went unnoticed. By way of illustration, a constituent admitted to me at the weekend that recent media reports provided a helpful reminder that Jim was so much more than simply an excellent constituency MP and MSP, albeit that was always his number one priority. 

Former BBC Scotland Political Editor, Brian Taylor observed something similar, reflecting that references to ‘just Jim’ seriously underestimated the influence and impact Jim had on politics and public life in Scotland, and the wider UK. Ten years as Scottish Liberal Democrat leader, six as Deputy First Minister and three spells as acting First Minister in addition to a pivotal role in the Convention that paved the way for the Scottish Parliament’s re-establishment in 1999. He was a serious ‘player’ and one often under-estimated.

To some extent, that mis-reading of Jim’s influence was a consequence of his approach to politics. He was loathe to claim credit, certainly on a personal level, for achievements that he recognised were almost always a collective endeavour. His less adversarial style also meant he could ‘fly under the radar’ for journalists and the public. Yet, it allowed him to develop relationships, build alliances and deliver outcomes for people, communities and the country. It’s a style of politics that also helps explain the affection and admiration expressed by so many of Jim’s political contemporaries over recent days and one that feels desperately needed right now. As one political opponent commented at the weekend, “Jim gave politics a good name”.

In fairness, Jim routinely underestimated himself too. He certainly experienced self-doubt, notably in the run-up to a key speech, whether in the parliamentary chamber, at party conference or some high-profile event. It seemed astonishing for someone so experienced and adept at public speaking, but perhaps it helped keep him on his toes. 

That ‘imposter syndrome’ was very real though when he assumed the role of Church of Scotland Moderator, despite never having been an ordained minister. Indeed, it peaked as he prepared to address newly-elected MSPs and other dignitaries in St Giles Cathedral during the Kirking of the Parliament in 2021. Needless to say, his speech was perfectly pitched while his time as Moderator proved an undoubted success, notwithstanding the impact of Covid.

Faith was fundamentally important to Jim, shaping who he was, his principles and his politics. However, he never forced his faith on others, nor sought to claim that he had God ‘on his side’. Rather, it was the source of his humanity and empathy. And for all his self-doubt, Jim was fiercely intelligent, although he wore it lightly. It wasn’t just his forensic grasp of detail, allied to an elephantine memory, but a wisdom borne of judgment, insight and humility. 

Above all else, for me Jim was good fun. Time spent in his company was enjoyable and rarely without laughter. I have so many wonderful memories of plotting, planning or just gossiping, often well into the wee small hours, at venues too numerous to name, but including Northwood House in Tankerness. We developed the strongest of bonds, which allowed me to forgive him his misguided allegiance to Rangers FC. In return, Jim forgave me for ‘arming’ him with the legendary ‘goat joke’ for a speech at the Orkney Rugby Club ‘Stag Do’, an invitation to which, for good reason, struck terror into his heart for weeks in advance. 

I’m painfully aware these brief reflections do a serious injustice to who Jim was and what he meant to me as well as so many others whose life he touched in some way. It will take time to come to terms with the fact that he is no longer around at the end of a phone or for a pint and catch up in Orkney or down in Edinburgh. At the same time, I feel so privileged to have counted him as a good friend and so grateful for the profound influence he has had on me and my life.

To Rosie, Helen and Clare, as well as the wider family, I offer my heartfelt condolences. They have lost a husband, father, son, brother, grandpa and uncle. The rest of us have lost what former First Minister, Lord McConnell described as “the best of men”.