Goodbye to my friend, Alex Salmond

“He was one of those rare politicians with both enormous charisma and genuine conviction, who always held the room. No matter your own point of view, you could not help but stop and listen to his every word.”

Posted on X by the former prime minister, David Cameron, this was one of the most generous and perceptive tributes to Alex Salmond following his death. Alex’s power to “hold the room” was indeed an extraordinary gift. It didn’t matter if the room was a packed conference hall, a briefing with his advisors ahead of FMQs, or the local sweetie shop – all eyes were on him, the first box-office politician of the devolution era.

He combined natural authority with an approachability which meant people wanted to speak to him, share their stories, and ask his advice. I witnessed this repeatedly during the 2011 Scottish Parliament election as part of the team writing speeches, developing media lines and preparing for debates and TV appearances.

One incident stands out in my memory. Alex was invited to participate in BBC Question Time, then still hosted by David Dimbleby and broadcast from Liverpool. The panel included Michael Howard, the former Conservative leader, and Peter Hain, who had served in the cabinets of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown. 

There was nothing apologetic or cowering about Alex Salmond. The Scottish cringe took a beating when he became first minister

During the warm-up, the audience was reminded to steer clear of very local issues as this was a UK-wide show. The instruction was completely ignored by a couple of angry Scousers determined to share their views – at length – on a controversy pertaining to Liverpool Football Club.

As I recall, the protest was directed at the club’s owners and how a proposed redevelopment at Anfield Park might affect the surrounding community. The programme was filmed “as live” ahead of broadcast, meaning it could be halted or cut if things got out of hand, as was the case that evening. Dimbleby was not amused and the noisy audience members were teetering on ejection.

Calm was restored when Alex took control. As the Westminster politicians sat in silence, he spoke directly to the agitated audience members, promising to discuss matters after the show to see what he could do. Quite how the first minister of Scotland could resolve a dispute about Anfield is a mystery, but he was true to his word.

As soon as the show stopped, he made a beeline for the protesters and spoke to them until the lights went down and the studio emptied. Knowing how he operated, he would have made calls and sent letters afterwards to try to get them a result.

On camera he also stole the show, and someone called for him to be Mayor of Liverpool. In Scotland, the appearance marked a tipping point in a campaign already going the SNP’s way. Journalists conducting a vox pop in Glasgow’s West End the following Saturday were struck by how many people had watched Question Time and how proud they were that Alex “wiped the floor” on network TV.

He acknowledged he had a “Guid Conceit of Himself” and, like his hero Robert Burns, saw that as a compliment. His self-belief translated into supreme confidence in the country.

Alex came from modest beginnings, growing up in a council house like the majority of Scots in the post-war period. But he was never afflicted by the fashionable condition called “imposter syndrome”. There was nothing apologetic or cowering about Alex Salmond. The Scottish cringe took a beating when he became first minister.

In private, there was another side to him. He would play the fool, send himself up. He was extraordinarily kind, knowing he had the power to brighten someone’s day with a card or call. He was always behind schedule because he genuinely loved meeting people and hearing their stories.

Despite every personal and political setback, Alex the optimist kept on going

The word ‘irrepressible’ was made for him, and optimism was the fuel which drove him – alongside Tunnock’s Caramel Wafers. For the 10-year anniversary of the referendum in September, he hosted an event called ‘The Ayes Still Have It’ in Glasgow’s Imax cinema. Featuring journalists, young people, politicians and bloggers, it was non-partisan and conversational – quite possibly the first serious reflection on 2014 and its aftermath. 

This event was followed by a series of interviews on his internet TV show, Scotland Speaks, imagining how things might look today, had the Yes vote prevailed. He was in his element, exploring ideas and imagining a better, alternate future.

I saw him just a few weeks ago, having participated in the show. Afterwards, four of us went for a bowl of Cullen Skink. He clearly wasn’t well, but laughed off expressions of concern, joking that he was losing weight by giving up Lucozade.

Three weeks later I got a call from a journalist while I was in a supermarket queue. He told me Alex had died, and would I like to write something?

It was one of those moments when the world shifts into slow motion. You try to speak but no sound comes out. 

I will miss him, as will so many others whose lives he touched. Despite every personal and political setback, Alex the optimist kept on going, refusing to give up on the cause which drove him and the country he loved. He will hold the room for a long time to come.