My hon. Friend is right about that. I will go on to say why this debate is happening today, and that is one of the reasons. This issue has not gone away, and even more colleagues are now aware of it.
Since the Archer report there has been some positive recognition by the state of its responsibility. Over the years, efforts have been made for financial provision,
but a complex and incomplete patchwork has been the result. Some people have been left behind—those bereaved and dependants in particular. Treatments for the severest infections have improved markedly, which has, in general, of course, been good news, but they also bring their own ironic consequences in giving longer life to those with originally no expectation of it and not always a quality of life for which we would all hope.
Efforts by the state to redeem itself have been hampered by a chronic inability to admit the past, to ensure that all the material was available for public scrutiny, and to give an opportunity to family members to ask the question that any one of us would need to ask: why and how has my loved one died? Its evasion of a public inquiry, the loss of key papers, the slow drawing out of what paperwork there was, and the failure to submit to questioning have left a mark of suspicion that lasts to this day.
Before I turn to the why-now question, let me dwell a moment on the scale of this tragedy. One of the most moving speeches heard in this or any other Session of Parliament was when the hon. Member for Liverpool, Walton (Steve Rotheram) read out, unforgettably, the names of the Liverpool 96. He did so to let the world know that behind the tragic statistics that the 96 had become were people with names, lives and hopes. Consider this: for me to do the same would mean that I would be reading out nearly 1,800 names. We will hear some of their stories today, but I ask the House to reflect on the scale of this. In terms of death toll, this is the 15th biggest peacetime disaster in British history in which the black death, at 3.5 million, is the worst. The awful Aberfan, the name of which we all know, is but the 142nd, with 144 lives lost. Contaminated blood has killed 12 times more.