The William Wallace cult has gone too far

Published on Wednesday 24 August 2005 01:06

ONE of the features of working within the Palace of Westminster is the regular flow of ceremonies, services and memorials that are held here, as the parliamentary complex fulfils its role as a national focal point and meeting place. Each brings a different set of people, a different memory, a different tone, and the depths of summer are no exception.

Arriving at Westminster on Sunday, I encountered some of those attending the 60th anniversary of VJ Day, many of them veterans burdened with years and laden with medals from those desperate days.

Little I can write here would be adequate tribute to their service, or the quiet dignity with which they marked what all agreed will be the last such anniversary. And make no mistake: there was no rancour there, no stoking of old grievances. The time for anger against old foes was gone. Those who fought were there on Sunday to remember friends lost in a fight that has ended. Those who didn't fight were there simply to honour the living and the dead.

Yesterday, the ancient Westminster Hall was the stage for another memorial for an event far further in the past, yet one whose devotees clearly believe is at least as relevant to our lives today.

Pipes were played. Candles were lit. Chests swelled. Cries of "Freedom" rang from the rafters to mark 700 years since William Wallace's condemnation. Under the auspices of the Scottish National Party, the crowd was told that Wallace was a symbol of Scotland's "unfinished business", before setting off to Smithfield, the place of his death.

I don't question the sincerity of the emotions on display yesterday, but it's tempting to wonder if the event was less a 700th anniversary than a tenth. It's more or less a decade since Mel Gibson's Braveheart first appeared, and no matter how much the purists may lament it, the little Australian-American has done more for the cult of Wallace than any Scot living. Certainly, some of the outfits on show yesterday seemed to owe more to Gibson than Blind Harry.

And among the crowd yesterday were a remarkable number from north America, some by their own admission seeking some connection to "the Old Country" but lacking much acquaintance with modern Scotland. They certainly weren't inclined to accept that the Flower of Scotland they sang so lustily in honour of their hero was written more than 650 years after his death.

Perhaps I should declare an interest here: I'm from Northumberland, and the soldiers of England and Scotland for centuries marched over and around the hills where I grew up, usually making time for a bit of pillaging along the way. I've often toyed with the idea of seeking damages for all those stolen cattle, but frankly, I wouldn't know who to sue first.

Nonetheless, I've studied, worked and lived in Scotland. I like to think I know a little about the country, past and present. I'm proud to work for Scotland's national newspaper. So I'll chance my arm by saying it bluntly: the cult of William Wallace is bad for Scotland, and has gone on too long.

Part of the problem with hero-worship is simply that it makes for bad history. Too often, the subtleties of the past are reduced to a storybook view of Wallace as avatar for a monolithic Scotland brought low by perfidious England. The making of a hero leaves little room for inconvenient details - such as the seething divisions within Scotland that were the original cause of Wallace's death, Wallace's early support for the pro-English John Balliol, or the vital role of his fellow guerrilla, Andrew Murray.

But I don't intend to quibble much about the precise details of Wallace's life and times - as this newspaper's letters page proves daily, we enjoy an admirably knowledgeable and erudite readership, most far better qualified than me on this topic.

No, my objection to the ceremony in Westminster Hall yesterday is not to a celebration of Scottish history per se, just that venerating Wallace is celebrating the wrong history.

For one thing, Wallace's achievements beyond his tactical glories were hardly spectacular in the context of the last seven centuries. He effected little, if any, change in the nature of Scottish society. The country's leadership remained spectacularly fragmented and ineffective. The strategic cross-Border balance was not altered, and English interference in Scottish affairs was unabated.

He may have been romantic, but that doesn't necessarily make him significant.

Then there is the matter of focus. The passionate intensity of the light that is shone on William Wallace sadly seems to leave so many other Scottish heroes shrouded in shadow and ignorance.

Scottish history is studded with heroic figures whose contributions to the country and the wider world far outweigh Wallace's, and whose influence in our lives today is far more keenly felt. If only their names were hallowed as his is.

It's a little fanciful, but imagine a country where crowds hoisted flags in tribute to David Hume, where people painted their faces in homage to Adam Smith, where James Clerk Maxwell's name rang around pubs and football grounds as a roar of pride and passion. It doesn't have to be the relatively unworldly fields of philosophy, economics or science either.

IF IT'S an icon of freedom you're after, what about Alexander Hamilton? The story of the Scot who fought alongside George Washington, helped write the US constitution, served as the first US Treasury Secretary and passionately opposed slavery is surely deserving of some of the attention Wallace gets.

Sadly, though, these and countless other luminaries languish in relative obscurity, familiar to a few but hardly backed by the political and commercial marketing machine behind William Wallace. The consequences of that disparity go far beyond book sales and dinner-party conversations. How a nation sees its past is vital to how it sees its present and its future. One of the most admirable things about the way the Republic of Ireland has changed, with its recent economic growth spurt, the waning of violence in Northern Ireland and its growing confidence as a full member of the European Union, is the emergence of a new cultural and intellectual dimension to Irish national life.

Today's young Irish do not define themselves through their relationship with Britain. Brussels and Boston are at least as important as London. The history of the struggle for home rule is increasingly just that: history. British and American tourists to Dublin are far more likely to visit the shrines to Michael Collins et al than the locals.

A nation's independence begins in the minds of its people. How can the SNP ever hope to bring "freedom" to Scotland if it insists on presenting an image of the country refracted through the prism of rivalry with England?

Tomorrow is the anniversary of the death in 1776 of David Hume, but I suspect the Braveheart tendency won't spend much time thinking about his contribution to Scotland. And what odds the SNP will choose instead to celebrate the date's other auspicious event, the birth of Sean Connery?

William Wallace's story undoubtedly resonates with many in Scotland and beyond. His life is unquestionably worthy of tribute. But to raise him so high is surely mistaken. It's been 700 years since Wallace's death, and ten years since Mr Gibson's film. By either measure, it's surely time to stop wallowing in sentimental semi-myths and mawkish tales of national persecution. If those who lived through the Second World War can put that hellish history in its proper proportion, surely we whose experience of Wallace's times is limited to celluloid imaginings can do the same.

William Wallace is part of Scotland, but the story of Scotland is infinitely deeper, wider, richer and more exciting than his, if only politicians and filmmakers will open their eyes to see it.