SCOTS MYTH

I remember, nearly thirty years ago, reading Hugh Trevor-Roper's essay in a book called 'The Invention of Tradition.' Unfortunately, the reputation of Trevor-Roper (or Lord Dacre, as he was then called) took a bit of a knock when he authenticated the Hitler Diaries. Still, he raised some interesting points about Scotland in his essay on the invention of tradition in Scotland.
 
After the 1745 Rebellion, Highland dress was outlawed in Scotland. Military forts were established up north to ensure that the natives behaved themselves. Not that the lowlanders had any qualms about this; to them the Highlanders were 'The Irish' and almost a different species to themselves!
 
Come the end of the 18th and into the 19th Century, however, attitudes changed. Interest in the Highlands of Scotland was given a filip with the publication of the first translation ever of the poems of Ossian. The works of Ossian were lapped up all across Europe and even Napoleon was said to have carried a book of his poems around with him. The 'translator' of these epics became a celebrity, feted by the great and the good everywhere he went. Of course, the whole thing was a fraud.
 
This did not stop the Ossian phenomenon giving rise to other reinterpretations of Highland society, most notably by Walter Scott. His writings perpetuated the myth of a happy, prosperous, feudal society in the Highlands. The myth took on special significance when George IV visited Edinburgh. Scott stage-managed the whole thing, dressing the fat, German king in royal tartan, with flesh-coloured tights to disguise the ravages of gout. Soon everybody wanted to be seen in tartan.
 
Given Scott's myths about the close family ties of the clan system, everyone wanted to be a member of a clan and wanted their own clan tartan. Unfortunately, there was no such thing as a clan tartan; they had to be invented on an ad hoc basis. Tellingly, all new tartans had to be registered in London, which was still the case until only a few years ago. Those that did not have a Scottish name could claim links to one and wear the appropriate tartan. Scottish lords jumped on the bandwagon, desperate to be seen as clan chiefs.
 
It was the Lowlands, not the Highlands, which led the way in this new fashion. Edinburgh fell over itself, and still does, to pander to this myth. The rich sauntered about in 'full Highland dress' and rich tourists did, and do, likewise. Strangely the rush to be 'Scottish' and dress like a 'Highlander' did not extend to actually visiting the Highlands; that would come later in the century.
 
Even though everyone was pretending to be in love with the Highlands, it was an ancient, mythical Highlands that they loved. Comtemporary Highlanders were still called 'The Irish.' Thousands of them perished in the 'Irish' Potato Famine of the 1840s, but nobody cared. A few shillings might be given to a relief charity but that was about as far as any concern for the Highlanders went.
 
Trevor-Roper's essay tends to be totally disparaged these days; often being accused of being unionist propaganda. I, however, always thought the opposite. It was as if the English upper class had decided that Highland dress was acceptable again; but on their terms. Nobody cared about the real Highlanders or their dress; it was all about inventing something expensive and elaborate that only the rich could afford. In the actual Highlands themselves only the Anglicised lairds could affford to wear this 'Highland' garb.
 
Scottish soldiers were dressed up in this finery as well, looking absolutely nothing like real Highlanders. They went abroad with the Empire, giving the whole world the impression that this was how Scottish people dressed.
 
Everybody knows about the Highland Clearances but not everybody thinks about the lairds, dressed in their 'Highland' regalia, representing some mythical idea of the Highlands, while the real Highlanders were thrown out of their homes. The English huntin', shootin' and fishin' parties also dressed up in 'Highland' gear when they stomped over the erstwhile homes of the Highlanders in pursuit of stags and pheasant.
 
What I gleaned from Trevor-Roper, therefore, was that what people nowadays think of Scottish National Dress is a badge almost of slavery. Highland dress did not develop into what we see today; it was imposed on Scotland by upper-class Englishmen. Just look at some of the photos of people dressed up in 'Highland' dress for weddings and the like; does anyone think that such clothing is a real representation of old Scotland? Even the folk that try to be 'authentic' and wear a plain kilt with a lace-up, baggy shirt, look like nothing more than a dancer on The White Heather Club.
 
Think about it. Isn't it time we were a modern nation with our own history, instead of a history we're 'allowed' to have?

 Can you honestly see somebody running through the Highlands dressed like this?

THE PRESBYTERIAN CONUNDRUM

In 1558, John Knox published in Geneva a book entitled, 'The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women.' This was a clear broadside against Mary Tudor, whom Protestants named 'Bloody Mary,' even though she killed less Protestants than her father or even John Calvin did! Rather unfortunately, Knox did not differentiate between Catholic women and Protestant women. Instead he railed against any kind of female ruler, quoting the Bible at length to prove his point that men should not be ruled by a woman. As events turned out he would have been better saying nothing at all.

Mary Tudor died prematurely and was succeeded by her half-sister, Elizabeth. When their brother, Edward VI had been on the throne, Knox had been a leading light in the Church of England, helping to direct it on a Reformed path. Any chance that he might do the same under Elizabeth was blown out of the water by his ill-conceived book. Elizabeth, like her father, was a firm believer in the divine right of monarchs and no jumped-up ex-priest was going to change her mind!

Elizabeth was in rather a precarious position. The Pope had condemned her as a bastard and not entitled to the throne of England. He had made it clear that Catholics in England were not obliged to obey her and would not be condemned for getting rid of her. This had the effect of making English Catholics automatically untrustworthy and potentially traitorous. Unfortunately, Knox's book was equally a threat to Elizabeth and Presbyterians were viewed with just as much suspicion as Catholics.

This distrust of Presbyterians continued into the Stuart dynasty. There was an attempt to bring the Scottish Church to heel and to bring the churches of both countries under the Episcopalian mantle of the Church of England. Of course, the Presbyterians resisted this. Many were sent out of the way to the 17th Century equivalent of Botany Bay: Ulster.

These Presbyterians fared no better in Ulster, having no rights in law unless they submitted to the authority of the Anglican Church of Ireland. And then came 1690. The Catholic James II raised an army in Ireland to win back his throne from William of Orange. When he attacked Ulster every man was needed and the Scottish Presbyterians were there to stand against him and defeat him.

Of course, when the emergency was over, these Presbyterians were no longer needed and went back to their old position of being persecuted. Many of them fled to America to escape this persecution, their descendants living in America to this day.

They were needed again in the 19th Century when Irish Nationalism gradually became predominantly Catholic. By the end of the century they were being courted by the likes of Joseph Chamberlain, who saw Gladstone's proposed Home Rule Bill as threatening his dreams of empire.

The Presbyterians were needed yet again when Home Rule was once more on the agenda under Asquith's pre-First World War government. This time they were needed to fight again and arms were smuggled to them from Germany of all places!

After the war, when Irish independence came into being, the Presbyterians were relied upon to provide a majority when Ulster was gerrymandered into  six counties to ensure Protestant rule. Since then they were encouraged to see themselves as 'the masters' in the province, while their cousins in Scotland were encouraged to support them with their drums, flutes and sashes and by voting for the Conservative and Unionist Party.

In modern times things have changed a bit. The Establishment became embarrassed by the rampant bigotry shown by Ulster Presbyterians and there has been a lot of work to achieve some kind of equality and power sharing. Also, voting in Scotland tended to be along class lines, rather than religious; a fact acknowledged when the 'Unionist' element was dropped from the Conservative Party's name.

There remains, however, a hard core of these Scottish Presbyterians, both in Scotland and Northern Ireland, who are opposed to any changes. The call to arms has gone out again. The old name has been dusted off and David Cameron was to be seen recently beside a background poster that read, 'Conservative and Unionist Party.' Of course, as they have always done, the hard core of these Presbyterians have heeded the call.

Why are they needed this time? The threat comes from next year's vote on Scottish independence. And if you don't believe me abut how these people are being used then take a look at some blogs ostensibly devoted to Rangers. Day in, day out, there are folk on these blogs claiming that the call for Scottish independence is a Catholic conspiracy. Just as on every occasion in history, those in charge know exactly which buttons to press to manipulate these people.

So a call to the Presbyterians of this country. Are you going to think for yourselves or are you going to let yourselves be used as you have always done? Look back and see what rewards you received for your compliance in the past: none! Let's forget any supposed religious aspects to this vote and decide purely on practical and pragmatic grounds.

Vote YES.

THE MYTH OF NORTH BRITAIN

At the end of the 18th and into the start of the 19th Century Scotland was a hotbed of intellectual activity. The Scottish Enlightenment was in full swing and Scottish thinkers were internationally renowned. People like David Hume and Samuel Johnson led the way in the fields of philosophy and even lexicography. Yes, Scotland was at the forefront of European intellectualism, but, strangely, the people that were driving this great movement did not see it this way.

All the leading lights of the Scottish Enlightenment never mentioned the name of Scotland in their conversations and writings. They spoke instead of 'North Britain.' Scotland was an anachronism and its future lay in being part of a united Britain; hence their new name for their country.

Just like they were all taken-in by the Ossian fraud, however, these intellectual giants were also deluded in seeing 'North Britain' as being an equal partner in the Union. There were plenty of geniuses in England too at this time but not one of them ever spoke of 'South Britain.' In fact, nobody in 'South Britain' ever used this expression. It was England, pure and simple. Indeed, many in England never even used the term 'Britain.' If you look back at speeches or newspaper articles of the period you will find that England was at war with Napoleon, not Britain. Equally they spoke of the 'English' Empire, the 'English' monarch, the 'English' Government etc etc. Looking back now it seems that David Hume and his contemporaries were living in a wee fantasy world of their own making.

And this sort of thing is still going on. We all get told how those in favour of Scottish independence are  'racist' and blame the English for everything. What we are not told, however, is how racist many English people are towards the Scottish.

At the last election many English newspapers used disgusting, racist language to describe Gordon Brown. 'A one-eyed Scotch git' was one epithet. Why should the English be governed by a Scotsman?' was the cry.

Equally there was condemnation of the way that Labour relied on Scottish MPs to push through laws that affected the whole of the UK. There were many comments about how England was having laws imposed on it by 'Scotch' MPs. Of course, no mention was made of how Scotland had been used as a testing-ground by the predominantly English Thatcher government! It seems that scenario is totally different.

So, essentially, what these newspapers and commentators were saying was that it was okay for Scotland, as part of the UK, to have laws imposed by English MPs, but it was totally unacceptable if it happened the other way round! Of course, none of this was published in the Scottish editions of these newspapers!

So what we have is a Union that is not really a union at all. England is to dictate what goes on in Scotland and, indeed, Wales and heaven forfend that the 'Celtic Fringe' should act as equal partners by having MPs that dare to vote in legislation that might affect England as part of the UK!

This is just one of the reasons I'll be voting YES to independence next year. North Britain and South Britain never existed; all that matters to England is England and it is about time we felt the same about our country!

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

Just talking the other day about words and phrases that have changed their meaning over the years or mean different things in different areas. For example, back in the early 70s, when I was about ten, I used to take a tranny to bed with me at night. My parents were well aware of this and nobody would have batted an eyelid. Nowadays I'd have a team of social workers at the door!

Then there's the old Glasgow word 'dogging.' This meant skiving off school and was used by the teachers as much as by the pupils. If you did not produce a note after being absent the teacher would shout at you that you had been 'dogging.' If a teacher accused a pupil of 'dogging' these days he'd have to have a damned good solicitor.

Even in Glasgow there were differences. In Castlemilk 'smoking the beef ' meant smoking a cigarette all the way down to the filter. When I lived in Springburn 'smoking the beef' meant something entirely different. I'll leave it to your imagination to figure out what!

I'm sure there must be more!

BIG BRO BORE

Happy New Year! So that's it. It's all over for another year. Christmas and New Year festivities are over and the shops are stocked up with Easter eggs. It also means that it's time for Channel 5 to wheel out Celebrity Big Brother. As usual, they take a very wide view of what it means to be a celebrity and the house is filled with folk, most of whom we've never heard of. 

I would probably avoid watching it altogether but marriage, or living together, among other things, means that a man has to watch what his wife watches. Escaping into the bedroom to watch something else brings accusations of not wanting to spend time together. So, like it or not, I'll have it on the TV in front of me and will find it hard to escape.

This got me thinking; why don't they put folk in that we know would hate each other on sight? The usual rules would still apply; ie no fighting or violence, but the arguments and tantrums would be great! How about this for a line-up:

Abu Hamza, Roy 'Chubby' Brown, Gary Glitter, Esther Rantzen, Jeremy Clarkson, Peter Tatchell...

I'm sure there could be more but I can't think of any at the moment. Any ideas? You decide!

Oh, I'd throw Julie Burchill in as well. She'd have a breakdown trying to remember who she's for and who she's against this week!

A CAUTIONARY CHRISTMAS TALE

I suffered toothache over the Christmas period and had to take painkillers until I could get treatment. I managed to get an emergency appointment at the Dental Hospital, where the offending molar had to be removed. I went home, took more painkillers, and had a sleep to get over things. I awoke to a pain-free mouth and all my troubles over; or so I thought.

I realised that, during my invalidity, I had not made my customary visits to the lavvy. I won't go into details, however there might have been a Christmas Number 1 this year, but no Number 2! An examination of the packaging of the painkillers I'd been taking, Co-Codamol, elicited the fact that one of the drug's side effects was constipation.

Now, I thought I had suffered constipation in the past but this was on a whole new level. I drank tons of water to help alleviate things, which it eventually did. This did not stop me, however, from grunting and squealing like a stuck pig and at one point screaming out for an epidural! A huge load finally off my mind, I thought that was that.

Now, however, I feel as if I have been gang-raped by a herd of elephants and have to walk gingerly and not make sudden movements. Even coughing makes me feel like I'm suffering a prolapse! Part of me longs for the good old days last week when I had the toothache.

The moral of the story? 
Read the packet BEFORE you take anything!

NO MORE MAGIC!

Like a lot of other people, I'll be watching Doctor Who on Christmas Day. No doubt I'll enjoy it as usual but, somehow, it's just not the same as the good old Doctor Who of days gone by. 

What I used to enjoy about Doctor Who was that it was all science-based. The Doctor would not heed the superstitious ramblings of those around him and usually proved that there was a perfectly logical explanation for everything that was happening. True, the monster was usually some guy dressed in tin-foil or bubble-wrap but that was compensated for by great stories and good scripts. 

I stuck by the programme even during the terrible days when Peter Davidson was the Doctor. The stories were getting worse and the characters were dreadful; for example, some old geezer with a seagull slapped on his napper called The White Guardian. I stuck with it and things improved when Colin Baker took over. Then it all started getting silly when Sylvester McCoy became the Doctor and the stories started to get so that you had no idea what was going on half the time!

Anyway, through it all the Doctor clung to his belief in science and that was what the programme was all about. Not like nowadays. Practically ever series with David Tennant involved some kind of 'prophecy,' whch began to get a bit boring. On top of that we've had the Devil, masonic Daleks, magic spells bringing The Master back to life and changing The Doctor back from the tiny thing he had been turned into. To be honest, some of the storylines belong in a pantomime rather than in Doctor Who!

Yes, it looks better nowadays with CGI monsters instead of a lump of plasticene but they really need to stop being so lazy with the stories. Like I said, The Doctor always used to use science and logic to sort things out. Nowadays something magical happens, which is just lazy writing. 

So I'll be watching on Christmas Day but I'll be hankering for the good old days of Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker!