Tributes: Lord Wallace of Tankerness

Baroness Smith of Basildon Excerpts

Tuesday 3rd February 2026 Lords Chamber

[Lord Purvis of Tweed (LD)]

My Lords, many of us aspire to be a good politician, to do good and to be a good person. More times than not, we fall short. Jim Wallace was a good man who saw it as his role in life to do good things. He did, and they will last. With great sorrow, we have been denied the opportunity of hearing a valedictory speech in this House from Jim. He would have been characteristically modest. We can perhaps be a little immodest on his behalf for a now profoundly missed absent friend.

After his early political days in the lowlands of Scotland, he triumphed in its most northerly part. When he was elected, many said he was the MP for Jo Grimond’s seat, but in short order we referred to it as Jim Wallace’s Orkney and Shetland. As MP, MSP and Peer, he saw serving in Parliament as the means by which good things can be done, not the end in itself. He was what a parliamentarian should be.

When speaking in Parliament Hall on the day of the opening of the Scottish Parliament in 1999, Jim was achieving his ambition and the dreams of many in delivering what Gladstone could not a century before. He said to all those newly elected MSPs:

“As the people’s representatives we should never forget the hopes kindled by this historic opportunity”.


He approached his role to meet those hopes as the first Liberal in office since the Second World War with zeal: land reform, law reform, social reform, education reform, prison reform—radical but workable—and all have endured, none reversed. Jim was a reformer, but he knew that for reform to last, it had to be done well. He said of the new Holyrood:

“Our Parliament must be open and inclusive—willing to consult and willing to listen”.


That sentiment embodied his own approach to politics.

Jim could be exceptionally partisan, though, but only with football. A determined Blue Nose—supporter of Glasgow Rangers—he was dutifully, but distractedly, carrying out one of his last duties as Deputy First Minister before being succeeded by my noble friend Lord Stephen in May 2005 at the launch of the Promoting Unst Renewable Energy project, on a day ironically too windy for anything to work. He was distracted, as it was unknown to him who was winning the Scottish league. But as his then private secretary subtly gave the thumbs up during the non-switching-on event, Jim then became, in the words of his private secretary, “the happiest I’ve ever seen him”.

Jim was a very confident Liberal, but very comfortable with others who were not. He felt that co-operating with others did not diminish his position or dilute his beliefs. Rather, it allowed progress to be made for the better end. Agreement with others, for Jim, was to get traction and longevity. We all knew that reaching agreement was Jim’s strength, but he approached it always from a granite set of principles. I once discussed a tricky time in the Scottish Parliament on a controversial law reform measure, and he said to me, “The test is when you defend the human rights of the people you hate”. Although that word was never associated with Jim, his words have become my test.

When he gave the first Charles Kennedy Memorial Lecture, he mourned the loss of a great friend prematurely. In the lecture, he remarked on their close friendship that

“there was much camaraderie, much political discussion and analysis, even intrigue—and much fun”.

The same for us with you, Jim.

Jim was literally admirable, with a political determination tempered by real kindness, and a seriousness of purpose sweetened by wry humour. Jim would tell of his period as Justice Minister in 2002, when Nelson Mandela visited the Lockerbie bomber in jail and, at a global press conference, criticised the way he was being kept, and by extension Jim himself. On hearing the rather worrying condemnation of Jim by the world’s most venerated man, his teenage daughter said, “Did Nelson Mandela just attack Dad? That’s cool!”

Engaging in a policy discussion with Jim was a thrilling and quite often intimidating experience. He had a prodigious intellect, phenomenal memory, confidence of argument and the ability to deploy cutting wit, like a sharpened sgian dubh. You needed to be on your game or your game was lost, as I learned on too many an occasion. I would start off fully confident with my argument and not long after accepting an early defeat, I would just pour us lots more whisky, enjoy the man and admire his abilities so comfortably worn. Those in law, civil service and politics would see the same. He excelled in company, while never dominating it. For those of us who knew him well, his ability to doze off mid-discussion, awaken and display his remarkable acuity as before was a skill to behold.

Jim loved serving as Moderator and said that he was more in awe in addressing the Kirk’s General Assembly than any of the three parliamentary Chambers he had mastered. On taking office as Moderator, he said:

“At all levels, and not least in our upper echelons, we should be ready to take risks to do what is right”.


For Jim, the risk would be calculated, prepared for, researched and tested, but that preparation did not dent the determination for boldness of thought and action. He led my Scottish party; he led government, he led the Kirk and in law. He also led these Benches, not by diktat—Jim knew this to be a futile exercise for a group of Liberals—but through intellect, argument, respect and a reasoned, methodical approach. We were lucky to have a colleague we admired, but one who made it easy to love him too.

John Buchan wrote of another great Scot words which are also appropriate for Jim:

“perfectly honest, perfectly fearless, and perfectly true”.

I grieve for Rosie, Clare and Helen and the grandchildren, who will have so many years ahead without Jim, but I say with love that we are ever so grateful that you allowed us to share Jim in our lives. Jim was a good politician and a good person who strove for and did good. The country is better, and lives are improved as a result of what he did. He was the best of examples of how politics can and should be the most honourable of callings. His faith was deep and he knew that, when his time had come, he would be going to a good place. That time is the wrong time—far too soon a time—but that place is now extremely lucky to have him.

[The Lord Privy Seal (Baroness Smith of Basildon) (Lab)]

My Lords, I think the noble Lord, Lord Purvis, made a very powerful, heartfelt tribute. In his words, we all pictured the man that we grew to admire in this House. Paying tribute to friends and colleagues who have passed is never easy. When their passing is so sudden, unexpected and before their time, our sense of loss is profound. We had no idea that, when Jim spoke in the House last December, it would be the last time we heard him here. Lord Wallace was widely respected and held in great affection, and his loss is acutely felt.

Early last year, he spoke on the House of Lords (Hereditary Peers) Bill. As a long-standing elder and a former Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, he played an active, helpful role in the Church of Scotland (Lord High Commissioner) Bill. One was a controversial Bill, and the other had the support of the entire House; yet his approach and tone were exactly the same in each—thoughtful, level-headed and wise. Indeed, in that great way Jim had with words, he ended his contributions on the Church of Scotland Bill with a reference to the historic stain that the Bill removed, allowing Roman Catholics to hold the office of High Commissioner. He was looking forward to playing an active role as a member of the Joint Committee on Human Rights, where his legal background and sound judgment would have been a real asset.

A true believer in devolution, as we have heard, he was always willing to work across party boundaries and engage more widely to make progress. The noble Lord, Lord Robertson of Port Ellen, spoke with admiration of how they worked together to meet the challenge of bringing the Scottish Constitutional Convention to a consensus—no easy feat. The disparate nature of the various parties, churches and civil society meant that this was not going to be easy, and Jim’s acute political and legal skills, alongside his gentle, engaging manner, made for a formidable combination. They succeeded because they were of one mind, and I am told that they even decided the size of the Scottish Parliament over the late Lord Campbell of Pittenweem’s dinner table.