Lesley Riddoch: Should Labour engage with Scottish patriotism?

Published on Sunday 28 December 2008 20:36

JIM Murphy's account of Scottishness (Scotland's strength lies in Britain's unity, 28 December) makes compelling reading. The Scottish Secretary admits that "Labour's reticence about the symbols and emotion of patriotism enabled the SNP superficially to conflate patriotism and separatism".

It's quite a revelation, and comes hard on the heels of the admission that aversion to British patriotism may have helped to "create a vacuum for Mrs Thatcher to fill".

Prepare to see Jim Murphy face-painted for his next appearance in the Chamber. But is his theory correct and can Scottish Labour hope to touch traditions previously seen as the preserve of the Nationalist foe? Attractive though the theory and indirect apology sounds, I'm not sure it's a runner.

Certainly Donald Dewar appeared wary of "Scottishness". The (very] well-rehearsed argument about the location of the Scottish Parliament suggests he rejected the Calton Hill site as a "Nationalist shibboleth".

It's hard to see what that might ever have meant. Almost every building on Calton Hill dates from the Enlightenment – a period when Scottish luminaries referred to themselves as "North British". Greek architectural references abound – the National Monument is based on the Acropolis and the Royal High School has Doric columns based on the Temple of Theseus. Would such a location tilt a nation towards introversion and petty nationalism? What of the Royal High School itself, converted by Jim Callaghan's Labour government at a cost of millions to hold the debating chamber after Scotland's first devolution referendum. Nationalist shibboleth? Hardly.

Perhaps it was Calton Hill's very suitability for a parliament that bothered Donald Dewar? Pedestrianising the wide, elegant streets around Calton Hill (whose un-revolutionary character can be guessed at with names like Waterloo Place and Regent Road), a Calton Hill parliament would have had "a magnificent historic setting in an accessible city-centre location: one which would be highly visible, adjacent to the Scottish Office, approachable through a civic space comparable with other European capitals, and without causing any major traffic problems".

Without realising it, this advocate probably sealed the fate of Calton Hill with the words "comparable with other European capitals". In the eyes of Labour, its devolved parliament was to be a workaday place – a big parish council, not a small national parliament. Devolution could have created a fabulous British building on a hill studded with British architectural gems. But in case it became a central, physical focus for Scots, behaving like a tartan army not a nationless proletariat, the obvious site could not be chosen.

Of course, this is just conjecture. But if such fears did influence Donald Dewar, it doesn't say much for Labour's early confidence in devolution. It's as if Holyrood's architects believed any symbol, building or artefact that wasn't physically constrained would be inflated and re-purposed by silver-tongued Nationalists. As it was, Labour created a parliament building without great symbolic value, but with a huge emotional and financial price tag.

But that was then. By contrast, Jack McConnell engaged heavily with "the symbols and emotion of patriotism". Henry McLeish had plucked at the emotional heartstrings of modern Scots with a joint Irish bid for the Euro 2008 football championship, before McConnell set the wheels in motion for the rival to London's Olympics – the Commonwealth Games 2014. Finally, the Year of Homecoming 2009 saw Jack confidently engage with the MacDaddy of them all – the Bard himself.

Yet I'm sure even the decision to celebrate the 250th anniversary of Burns's birth was frowned on by Labour's Stalinist wing. National cultures, in their eyes, have always been revisionist, regressive and sentimental, emotional attachments devised by capitalism to create cannon-fodder in times of war and pacified peasants in times of peace.

Exactly the kind of observation made by Burns himself. What's not to like about the Bard? There would need to be something shrunken or simply ignorant about those who maintained Burns's vast repertoire had nothing to hand them across the centuries – nothing to say about their highest ideals and earthiest passions.

But Scottish Labour has contained such philistine critics. Despite defying them, Jack McConnell got little thanks at the ballot box – much like Tory Scottish secretary Michael Forsyth, who tried to woo Scots by bringing the Stone of Destiny to Edinburgh Castle – wrong location and (probably) wrong stone. The lack of public exhilaration must have made Forsyth wonder what a Tory grandee could do to please the Scottish electorate, except leave. Correct there at least.

Muscling in on America's Tartan Week was another controversial McConnell decision intended to "fly the kilt" on a continent where almost ten million claim Scottish descent. Organised from a Scottish Office with vestiges of a foreign embassy, Americans were stirred by the sight of 7,000 pipers marching up 6th Avenue. Another Labour man, Edinburgh Lord Provost Eric Milligan, was at the helm. McConnell also made a brave but ill-fated attempt to combine old and new with his now infamous pin-striped mini-kilt. But, like Dewar and the parliament building, the First Minister appeared to have more of an aversion to Scottish tradition than a firm grasp of modern dress sense. No-one could say, though, that Jack didn't try.

Perhaps politicians of all persuasions have been too quick to ascribe mythical power to the ancient symbols of Caledonia. Younger Scots were just as likely to be watching Doctor Who or Wallace and Gromit on Christmas Day as young folk south of the Border.

Should Labour engage with the "symbols and emotion of patriotism" or leave the poisoned chalice well alone? Hugh MacDiarmid observed the Scots are very fond of contradiction. So perhaps – when it comes to Scottish cultural icons – we can all just pick'n'mix. And enjoy it.