![]() | 'Scotland will miss her integrity, her intelligence and her contribution to political life.' Brian Taylor, BBC Scotland political editor, 21 st March 2006. | ![]() |
When I think of Margaret Ewing, the word that comes to mind is balance.
She was droll and witty - but an intellectually serious politician.
She was passionately partisan for her political cause - but widely respected by other parties.
She was entertaining social company - but dedicated and hard-working.
She was a scion of the Ewing dynasty, married to MSP Fergus and daughter-in-law of Winnie.
But she was very much her own woman too: vigorous, iconoclastic and thoughtful.
For me, she was perhaps at her best in the Commons - where I first practised my trade, watching from the Press Gallery.
When the Speaker called the name of Margaret Ewing, the Chamber - and ministers - tended to listen.
That was because she was free from bombast, shorn of piffle.
She would get right to the point - whether it was a constituency plea or a complex issue of international aid.
She always seemed to be concerned with outcome rather than show.
Her political work ranged from defending hospital services in her own constituency to fighting for health care in Malawi.
She could be equally passionate about either.
By the time a Scottish Parliament arrived, she was perhaps past her political best as she confronted persistent ill health.
Still, though, the chamber listened intently when the MSP for Moray spoke.
Margaret Ewing was born in Lanark at the close of World War II.
Parliamentary leader
After graduating from Glasgow University, she worked as a teacher and social worker - preoccupations with the caring services that were to persist into her later political life.
She won the Commons seat of East Dunbartonshire in 1974 with a minuscule majority: one of a squad of 11 Nationalist MPs returned to Westminster that year.
That majority vanished in 1979 as the Nationalist tide ebbed.
But she returned to Westminster in 1987 for the Moray constituency, serving as the party's parliamentary leader.
In 1990, Gordon Wilson stood down as the overall convener of the SNP.
Margaret Ewing was heavily tipped to win but, in the event, was defeated by Alex Salmond.
At the time, Margaret Ewing was widely identified as the representative of what is loosely called the "fundamentalist" wing of the SNP.
In truth, the label scarcely fitted or, more accurately, Margaret Ewing was a much more subtle politician than such a label would suggest.
She was a fervent Nationalist, certainly.
She took the view that Scottish independence was a "given", a natural state of affairs which would eventually win through.
But she was utterly free of the rancour and internal squabbling which afflicted some of her colleagues.
She believed in "having a go" at her party's opponents - but she balanced that with droll humour and a recognition of the need to convince voters rather than hector them.
That droll humour came to the fore in perhaps the finest political heckle Holyrood has witnessed to date.
Henry McLeish was first minister - and speaking from the Scottish Executive front bench.
Choosing his words with delicacy, he said that a particular policy reminded him of an unparliamentary term which he disdained to name but which began with H - and ended with Y.
Instantly, Margaret Ewing filled in the gaps - as she suggested: "Henry!"
The chamber roared with laughter - and the first minister offered a submissive grin as if to say: "I'll give you that one". The word he meant was, of course, "hypocrisy".
A label nobody would attach to Margaret Ewing.
Scotland will miss her integrity, her intelligence and her contribution to political life.
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