Diolch, Lywydd. Nine-fifteen a.m., Friday 21 October 1966—the terrible events visited on Aberfan that day reverberated around the world. On the last day of the school term, one small mining village lost 116 children and 28 adults. Nothing would ever be the same for Aberfan, for Wales, for the world. Just one day later, just one hour earlier, things would have been so different.

Aberfan was the first major disaster seen by the world through the lens of a television camera, and the impact was immediate. The sight of endless streams of miners, volunteers, emergency workers and the military fighting tirelessly to find survivors, and recover those who perished, is emblazoned in the memories of anyone who was around at that time. Despite these heroic efforts, no-one was found alive after 11 a.m.

As a small child, not living in Aberfan, or even in Wales, at that time, this was the first news story that I have a memory of. Such was its impact that the horror of what happened on that day has stayed with me all of my life, as I recall so vividly my parents thanking God that it wasn’t me or my brother who had gone to school that day never to come home. Their sorrow poured out for people who they didn’t know and they would never meet, but, as young parents themselves, these were people with whom they had complete empathy. At that time, everyone felt the pain of Aberfan.

It was, of course, the day that the community of Aberfan changed forever. Survivors would never know the normality of life without tragedy. Families lost sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, parents and grandparents—lives that were torn apart under the mountain of black sludge. The guilt of survivors who lived when their friends perished, the guilt of parents whose children survived when many were left childless, the parents of children lost, unable to visit their graves, or alter a child’s bedroom, teachers killed doing their job—the unspoken trauma that we know stays with so many even now.

No-one was unaffected by those terrible events, but the community gave each other comfort and strength to come through it. As we commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of the disaster, it gives us all time to reflect on lives lost, families broken, survivors tormented. But it also allows us to reflect on a community’s resilience and the courage shown in the face of the most terrible of tragedies.

What happened that day shows us that the price of coal, in a place whose only reason for existence was to dig for it, was too great a price for any community to pay. But coal had also created these mining communities, whose values of solidarity, comradeship and community spirit were rarely seen elsewhere. That spirit has lived on well after the last coal was cut in Merthyr Vale, and that spirit has been such a credit to the people of Aberfan, enabling them to rebuild their lives and their community, and to look forward with courage, dignity and hope.

That dignity has been so apparent as the people of Aberfan have come together to make arrangements to mark this anniversary, and I pay tribute to all of you, not just this year, but every day of every year, for everything you do for each other, and for the memory of those who were lost. I’ve worked with many of you in the recent months and weeks while we’ve been discussing these events, and it has been my privilege to get to know you and to now call you my friends.

While it’s difficult to talk about positives when contemplating the scale of suffering visited on this small mining community, there is perhaps some comfort in recognising that it did result in the eventual removal of all coal tips across the country, ensuring that there could never be a repeat of the Aberfan disaster. It led to improvements in health and safety at work, particularly in heavy industry, and resulted in the effect of the experiences of people in Aberfan finally being recognised as the medical condition of post–traumatic stress disorder, so that those who needed it could receive treatment for the traumas that they suffered. So, while these anniversary commemorations will undoubtedly bring back terrible memories for many, it is also a time for the whole country to come together to support Aberfan and let them know that those lost will never be forgotten. This community will grow and become stronger as each year passes and as new generations build their futures and become their new hope.

In closing, I must acknowledge that whatever sympathy and empathy we express, only those directly involved can know the true impacts of the effects of 21 October 1966. But we, as the National Assembly for Wales, on behalf of the people of Wales, and so many people beyond, can hope that our acts of commemoration will offer some continuing support and comfort to the community of Aberfan.