Graeme Thomson, the man at the helm of Scotland’s most scrutinised shipyard, has issued a stark rallying cry: Scotland’s maritime heritage will vanish without an urgent, massive injection of young talent.
In an exclusive interview from his office in Port Glasgow, the Ferguson Marine Chief Executive Officer didn’t mince words. For Thomson, the survival of the Clyde’s shipbuilding legacy isn’t just about steel and government contracts; it is fundamentally about passing the torch to a new generation of apprentices before the flame goes out entirely.
From Shop Floor to Top Floor
Graeme Thomson’s workspace tells you everything you need to know about his leadership style. There is no mahogany desk or intimidating glass walls here. His office, tucked away on the first floor of a nondescript, bright modern block, feels more like a startup hub than the headquarters of a nationalised industry giant. It is refreshingly modest—a functional space designed for work, not status.
“I started as an apprentice electrician,” Thomson says, leaning forward, his passion evident. “I know what it means to walk through those gates at 16, unsure of yourself but ready to learn a trade that can last a lifetime.”
His background gives him a unique moral authority. Unlike career politicians or distant board members, Thomson has stripped wire and welded steel. He sees the shipyard not as a line item on a government budget, but as a living community of skills that are dangerously close to being lost. His message is personal: if he could rise from the shop floor to the CEO’s chair, so can today’s youth—but only if the opportunities exist.
The Pipeline Problem
The call for more apprentices comes at a precarious moment for Ferguson Marine. The yard is currently finalizing the MV Glen Rosa, a vessel plagued by well-documented delays and budget overruns. While the shipyard’s workforce remains “cautiously optimistic” about the future, Thomson admits that recruitment is paralyzed by uncertainty.
“You cannot hire an apprentice if you cannot promise them work for four years,” Thomson explains. “We need a pipeline. Young people are smart; they see the headlines. We need to show them that shipbuilding on the Clyde isn’t history—it’s the future.”
The “pipeline” he refers to is the critical flow of future contracts. Without confirmed orders beyond the Glen Rosa, the yard faces a Catch-22: it needs fresh talent to remain competitive and modernise, but it struggles to recruit that talent without the security of long-term projects. Thomson warns that if this gap isn’t bridged, the institutional memory of the yard—the tips, tricks, and mastery held by older workers—will retire with them, leaving a void no amount of funding can fill later.
A National Skills Emergency
Thomson’s concerns echo a wider alarm ringing across Scotland’s engineering sectors. Recent data from Skills Development Scotland highlights a worrying trend: while there is a hunger for STEM careers, the number of completed apprenticeships in heavy industry has struggled to bounce back to pre-pandemic levels.
The Current Landscape:
- Declining Numbers: Trade bodies like SNIPEF have reported a significant drop in employers taking on apprentices due to rising costs and economic uncertainty.
- Aging Workforce: The average age of a skilled shipbuilder is rising. For every retiree leaving, there isn’t always a junior ready to step up.
- Global Competition: Yards in Poland and Turkey are aggressively training their youth, widening the productivity gap.
“We are in a global race,” Thomson notes. “It’s not just about building ferries for the Hebrides. It’s about having the capacity to build wind farm support vessels, naval frigates, and the green maritime technology of tomorrow. We need the hands to build them.”
Fighting for the Future
Despite the challenges, the mood on the ground in Port Glasgow is shifting. Since taking the reins in May 2025, Thomson has focused on stabilizing the ship—both literally and metaphorically. He has been seen regularly walking the shop floor, engaging with third-year apprentices like Teigan McShane, and prioritizing a culture of pride over the shame of past failures.
“It was great to hear that Graeme’s priorities are to make this a place where people are proud to come to work,” McShane said recently.
The yard is also pivoting toward modernization. Thomson is pushing for investment in automated panel lines and advanced welding procedures to make Ferguson Marine attractive to a tech-savvy generation. He argues that modern shipbuilding is as much about digital systems and precision engineering as it is about heavy metal.
“This isn’t the shipyard of the 1970s,” he asserts. “It’s a high-tech environment waiting for the right minds to unlock it.”
The stakes couldn’t be higher. If the Glen Rosa is delivered successfully and new contracts are secured, Thomson envisions a renaissance where the yard hums with the energy of hundreds of new apprentices. If not, the silence on the Clyde could become permanent.
For Graeme Thomson, the former apprentice turned CEO, failure is not an option. He is betting his tenure on the belief that Scotland’s greatest natural resource isn’t wind or oil—it’s the potential of its young people.
What do you think? Does Scotland do enough to support trade apprenticeships? Share your thoughts in the comments below or join the conversation on social media using #ClydeBuiltFuture.
