No Problem Here E-Book

• Herausgeber: Luath Press
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 439

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Does Scotland have a problem with racism? With its 'civic nationalism' and 'welcoming' attitude towards migrants and refugees, Scotland is understood to be relatively free of structural and institutional racism. As the contributors to this book show, such generalisations fail to withstand serious investigation. Their research into the historical record and contemporary reality tells a very different story. Opening up a debate on a subject that has been shut down for too long, No Problem Here gathers together the views of academics, activists and anti-racism campaigners who argue that it is vital that the issue of racism be brought into the centre of public discourse. Scotland's role in maintaining and extending slavery across the British Empire is finally beginning to receive the attention it deserves. Yet there is much more that needs to be said about racism in Scotland today.

Leseprobe

First published 2018

ISBN: 978-1-912147-30-4

The authors’ right to be identified as the authors of this book under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 has been asserted.

The paper used in this book is recyclable. It is made from low chlorine pulps produced in a low energy, low emission manner from renewable forests.

Printed and bound by Bell & Bain Ltd, Glasgow

Typeset in 11 point Sabon by Lapiz

© the contributors

Contents

Acknowledgements

Introduction: Understanding Racism in Scotland

NEIL DAVIDSON AND SATNAM VIRDEE

PartI: The Historical Legacy of the British Imperial State

CHAPTER 1Nationalism and Scotland’s Imperial Past

MINNA LIINPÄÄ

CHAPTER 2‘Britishness’, theUKState, Unionism, Scotland and the ‘National Outsider’

ALLAN ARMSTRONG

PartII: Anti-Irish Racism and Sectarianism

CHAPTER 3The Irish Experience in Historical Perspective

JIM SLAVEN

CHAPTER 4The Contemporary Position of Irish Catholics in Scotland

MAUREEN MCBRIDE

CHAPTER 5The Trouble with Sectarianism

ALEX LAW

PartIII: Contemporary Racisms, Anti-racism and the Policy Field

CHAPTER 6What do we know aboutBAMESelf-reported Racial Discrimination in Scotland?

NASAR MEER

CHAPTER 7Cultural Racism and Islamophobia in Glasgow

PAUL GOLDIE

CHAPTER 8Sites, Welfare and ‘Barefoot Begging’: Roma and Gypsy/Traveller Experiences of Racism in Scotland

COLIN CLARK

CHAPTER 9Racism and Housing in Scotland

GINA NETTO

CHAPTER 10Changing the Race Equality Paradigm

CAROL YOUNG

CHAPTER 11Race, Ethnicity and Employment in Scotland

JATIN HARIA

Conclusion: No Problem Here?

MINNA LIINPÄÄ AND MAUREEN MCBRIDE

Bibliography

Acknowledgements

THERE ARE MANY PEOPLE whom the editors would like to thank. First, all of the contributors for their enthusiasm for this project, as well as for their patience as the book was being finalised. For the chapters which are based on empirical research, we are extremely grateful to all participants who gave up their time to engage in their respective projects. We hope that we have done you justice.

As the idea for this collection came about following a conference entitled ‘Racism: From the Labour Movement to the Far-Right’ held at the University of Glasgow on 5-6 September 2014, we would like to thank everybody who helped with the organising of the conference and all who attended and participated in discussions. Your insights undoubtedly helped to shape our thinking and our approach to the collection. We are extremely grateful to the Economic and Social Research Council (award number ES/K002198/1) and the then Dean of Research of the College of Social Sciences – the late Andy Furlong – for the generous financial assistance they provided to hold the conference.

Neil DavidsonMinna LiinpääMaureen McBrideSatnam Virdee

Introduction: Understanding Racism in Scotland

Neil Davidson and Satnam Virdee

IN CONTRAST TO ENGLAND, there has been relatively little public discussion about the historical or contemporaneous structuring power of racism in Scotland. Over many decades, this silence has come to be interpreted as an indication of its absence by much of the Scottish elite, including its political parties, helping to consolidate a now powerful myth that there is ‘no problem here’, that in that memorable Scottish phrase ‘We‘re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns’. We contend that this narrative of an absent racism in Scottish history has become even more entrenched in the course of recent developments (such as the rise of the SNP and the independence referendum) because it is able to nest so comfortably within the new common sense of Scottish politics, the dominant story that has been forged, by the SNP and others – that the Scots are in some sense different from the English – more egalitarian, more likely to place an emphasis on collectivism over individualism and on government intervention over self-reliance. And the regular public statements made by successive First Ministers welcoming increased migration in contrast to the increasingly shrill pronouncements emanating from party leaders in Westminster seem only to have further reinforced the myth that Scotland does not have a serious racism problem.

On one level, such elite rhetoric is welcome, particularly when contrasted to what is unfolding today across large parts of Europe in relation to the refugee crisis. However, this mainly SNP-led re-imagining of Scotland as different (and arguably more progressive) than England has been crafted in such a way that the historical role which Scotland played in Atlantic slavery and colonial conquest has been consigned to what George Orwell referred to in Nineteen-Eighty Four as the ‘memory hole’, thereby giving the impression that it never happened. Or, on those rare occasions when such episodes are forced out into the open, they are implicitly projected back onto a reactionary British/English establishment. This suggests not only a degree of intellectual dishonesty but an unwillingness to confront the legacies of empire and racism in which Scotland is implicated.

Further, those broadly sympathetic public statements made by elite politicians in Scotland about migration and the ‘new Scots’ – are too often taken at face value – including by parts of the Left – and this carries with it the danger of underestimating and thereby disabling the contemporary struggle against racism that is required. It is crucial to remain alive to the disjuncture between elite discourse on migration and the lived reality of racialised minorities in Scotland. Everyday racism remains a deeply structuring force distorting the lives of those we know as the ‘black and brown Scots’.

From racist harassment in the community, to systematic discrimination in the workplace, these so-called new Scots remain a class apart – one that is seen as somehow not quite Scottish. And on occasions – just as in England – this failure to imagine this group of Scots as ‘truly Scottish’, as ‘unhyphenated Scots’ can lead to violence and sometimes murder. From the racist killing of Surjit Singh Chhokar just prior to the advent of devolution in 1998 – a murder which required three trials before a conviction was finally achieved in October 2016 – to the death of 31-year-old Sheku Bayoh while being restrained by 15 police officers in Kirkcaldy during May 2015, racism remains a significant on-going problem in Scottish society, irrespective of the other more progressive transformations that are currently on-going.

In this volume, we wish to dig beneath the conventional ‘race-blind’ narratives that Scotland and its elites have crafted over many years, to perhaps unsettle them a little, so that we might begin to open up a space for writing a historical sociology of racism in Scotland, a historical sociology that might help us to uncover and perhaps finally come to terms with this hitherto occluded underside of Scottish history? The essays that follow were first presented at an international conference organised by the editors and held at the University of Glasgow in September 2014 (Davidson, Liinpää, McBride and Virdee, 2015). That event successfully brought together academics and activists of various sorts – although we are obviously aware that these are not mutually exclusive categories – to discuss racism in Scotland and related issues. The authors included here are about half of those who gave papers on the day and represent the full range of approaches taken by the speakers. The book consists of three parts.

Part I situates the discussion of race within the broader historical context of Scottish and British national identities. Scotland’s disproportionately large role within the British Empire, particularly in relation to slavery, is gradually becoming more widely known. In Chapter 1, Minna Liinpää surveys this historical record before analysing how these aspects of the Scottish past are played down in official discourse of ‘civic’ nationalism – a category which she in any case regards as problematic – expounded by the SNP and the independence movement more generally. In Chapter 2, Allan Armstrong shifts the focus from Scottish to British identity, and the way in which versions of the latter can be found virtually across the spectrum of political opinion, including even some aspects of Scottish nationalism. In what is the most directly political intervention here, Armstrong links the notion of Britishness as an identity to the political project of Unionism and defence of the UK state from the era of ‘Home Rule all round’ to the present.

Part II is concerned with one very specific aspect of Scotland’s imperial past: the Irish Catholic presence in Scotland. Quite apart from its intrinsic importance, this issue reminds us that, however different the specific circumstances today, current debates over race and migration need to be informed by the long-term history of these issues. In Chapters 4 and 5, Jim Slaven and Maureen McBride respectively deal with historical and contemporary aspects of the Irish Catholic experience, the latter drawing on her own field work. Both authors reject as misleading the notion of ‘sectarianism’, not least in the way it draws a false equivalence between the attitudes of Protestants and Catholics; both are equally clear that the actual issue here is racism towards people of Irish Catholic descent and that this was an indigenous Scottish development rather than one imposed by the British state. The revival of Orange and Loyalist rhetoric by the Conservative and Unionist Party in the British General Election campaign (which took place after the chapters had been finalised for this book) indicate that this issue is certainly not a purely historical one. In Chapter 5, Alex Law is as sceptical about the notion of ‘sectarianism’ as Slaven and McBride, but from a different perspective. In effect, Law argues that, whatever may have been historically the case, in contemporary Scotland ‘sectarianism’ functions as the basis for a classic middle-class moral panic, focused on the behaviour of male, working class football fans, who require to be subjected, not merely to Elias’s civilising process, but to a veritable ‘civilising offensive’ embodied in the Offensive Behaviour at Football and Threatening Communications (Scotland) Act (2012).

Whether or not the type of racism directed at people of Irish Catholic descent is now entirely historical in nature, it is clear that other racisms are very much present in Scottish society. Part III consists of three case studies of groups which are subject to racism, followed by a further three of what racism means in important areas of social life, explicitly addressing policy questions. In Chapter 6, Nasar Meer discusses what we can learn about racial discrimination in Scotland through examining the self-reporting of Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic communities. There is no doubt that, among these communities, the cutting edge of racism in Britain today is experienced by Muslims: in Chapter 7, Paul Goldie draws on his own field work to highlight the situation in Glasgow, in part through interviews with non-Muslim ‘white’ Glaswegians which explore their attitudes to Muslims and reveals the type of deep seated but rarely-recognised problem of racism to which we have already alluded. The situation of Muslims is at any rate fairly widely discussed, that of Roma and Gypsy/Traveller people, far less so. In Chapter 8, Colin Clark attempts to rectify this absence, building on his own previous work on the subject, but also shows how even very specific forms of racism have features in common with all others. The situation of Roma and Gypsy/Travellers is also discussed in Chapter 9, where Gina Netto discusses the issue of housing, like Clark building on her own earlier research. But this chapter, along with the two that follow, is primarily concerned with the general effects of racism rather than its impact on specific racialised groups. Chapters 10 and 11 are both the work of individuals active in the Coalition for Racial Equality and Rights (CRER), with Carol Young focusing on the difficulties of achieving racial equality in the public sector and Jatin Haria dealing with the effects of racism on access to employment.

Finally, a concluding chapter by Minna Liinpää and Maureen McBride reviews the themes discussed in the book from a vantage point in early 2017, three years since the original conference at which the majority of chapters were first delivered. In particular, they note that the difference in voting patterns in Scotland and England during the Referendum on membership of the European Union has encouraged the very complacency about racism in Scotland that the book seeks to address.

The chapters which comprise this book vary in approach, but even the most empirically based give some consideration to conceptualising racism and even the most theoretical have some implications for policy. We believe that this three-sided approach involving theoretical understanding, empirical data and policy formation is likely to be the most effective in tackling the problem of racism, which as the contributors demonstrate, is assuredly present in Scotland.

PartI:

The Historical Legacy of the British Imperial State

CHAPTER 1

Nationalism and Scotland’s Imperial Past

Minna Liinpää

Introduction

ALTHOUGH MORE ATTENTION has been paid to Scotland’s role in managing and profiteering from the British Empire’s slave economy than before – and the current movement to remember this part of Scotland’s history is gaining ever-increasing momentum – there is still a long way to go in terms of recognising and addressing this part of Scottish history. Human rights activist and Professor Emeritus in the School of Life Sciences at the Heriot-Watt University, Sir Geoffrey Palmer, for example, has called for more robust teaching with regard to Scotland’s role in the Empire at schools (Denholm, 2014). Furthermore, Scotland’s violent history has received growing media attention recently as numerous newspaper articles have sought to highlight Scotland’s role in the slave trade (e.g. BBC, 2009; Wade, 2014; Leadbetter, 2014; McKenna, 2015; Ross, 2016; McLaren, 2017; Campsie, 2017; Garavelli, 2017).

History matters, especially for nationalism studies, as nationalist narratives often rely on origin and other myths to legitimate nationalist rhetoric in the present. The Scottish National Party (SNP) and its leading figures routinely appropriate historical events and figures that suit their political needs and agenda. Of course, it is nothing new that political elites make use of historical myths or common ancestry to forge a feeling of commonality (Kearton, 2005) or an ‘imagined community’ (Anderson, 2006). However, what is of interest is the question of which myths are remembered and who is included in this perceived ‘common ancestry’. That is, not every historical event is drawn on when composing the ‘national story’; rather, there is a selective and fluid process of remembering. Indeed, Kidd and Coleman (2012: 62) note the ‘fickleness’ of Scotland’s myths – that is, they have much less staying power than the nation whose putative ‘enduring essence’ they are meant to represent. Consequently, the myths appropriated today are different from those appropriated in earlier centuries (Kidd and Coleman, 2012: 62). Additionally, not all people were (or currently are) included in the historically constructed ‘national community’. Indeed, in the late 18th and early 19th centuries an independent Highland tradition was created and imposed on the whole Scottish nation (Trevor-Roper, 1983: 16); thus, a synthetic vision of Scotland was created via this Lowlands appropriation (Mackenzie, 1993: 730).

Although the SNP has repeatedly professed to a so-called ‘civic’ imagining of the nation and, indeed, many academics seem to share this vision of a civic-minded Scottish nationalism, this chapter seeks to interrogate, and ultimately challenge, this understanding of the inclusiveness of Scottish nationalist narratives. In particular, it will seek to uncover some of the ways in which certain episodes of Scottish history have long been absent in the public domain, and consider how such ‘national amnesia’, as Tom Devine would call it, affects ideas around, and the relationships between, ‘Scottishness’, belonging and nationalism. This chapter will, firstly and briefly introduce Scotland’s connections with the British Empire and the slave trade, focusing especially on the Caribbean. It will then move on to consider the ways in which history plays a major role in nation-building processes, especially focusing on the rhetoric used by the SNP. By way of illustrating this, the Scottish independence referendum will be used as a case study to highlight some of the narratives that key SNP figures have used in terms of referring to history. It will be argued that the SNP focuses on very specific strands of history at the expense of more uncomfortable episodes in Scotland’s past. Furthermore, the ways in which history is appropriated in political discourse gives us an indication as to where the SNP imagines the nation’s boundaries to lie; of who belongs to the ‘national community’? The Homecoming franchise and the idea of ‘Scottish diaspora’ will be discussed as an example of the SNP’s tendency to selectively appropriate history, as well as a case in point of arguing against the predominant view of Scottish nationalism as wholly ‘civic’.

Before moving on, I want to point out that when referring to ‘nationalism’, my intention is not to reify the concept. There is sometimes a tendency in nationalism studies to refer to nationalism in ways that suggest that nationalism is a ‘thing’ in and of itself, i.e. that nationalism is an active agent capable of ‘doing’ and ‘acting’. Naturally, nationalism does not lead a life of its own detached from people; it is a phenomenon which stems from and is created, changed and reproduced by people on both macro and micro levels. Thus, I use ‘nationalism’ as a short-hand expression, and my intention is not to ignore the active processes that make and re-make nationalist narratives. I have also taken the decision to mainly focus on the SNP and the ways in which they tap nationalist rhetoric. Although the SNP is by no means the sole proprietor of nationalist ideas in Scotland, they are nonetheless the most visible and audible in public life.

Scotland’s role in the British Empire

Before the 18th century, Scots had mainly travelled to Europe to pursue economic, educational and other interests; subsequently, however, the British Empire became the principle outlet for aspiring Scots (Hamilton, 2012: 429). After the failed attempt at founding a colony called New Caledonia on the Isthmus of Panama in 1695 (also known as the Darien Scheme), the Scots redirected their efforts into the emergent British Empire (Hamilton, 2012: 424). Following the Union and the ending of formal institutional barriers of the Empire in the Atlantic, Scots quickly seized opportunities as migrants, doctors, plantation owners, soldiers, slave traders, merchants and appointed imperial officers and governors within the British Empire (Hamilton, 2012: 426). Scots played a central role in the managing and running of the Empire; indeed, they were disproportionately represented in the imperial endeavour when considering the size of the population. For example, between 1784 and 1785, while only one tenth of the population of Britain were Scots more than 47 per cent of the appointed writers, 49 per cent of the officer cadets and over 50 per cent of the assistant surgeon recruits in Bengal were Scots (Devine, 2003: 250-1). Furthermore, when the East India Company (EIC) issued their free merchants’ residence permits – which allowed trade within the East as long as goods were not exported to Britain – between 1776 and 1785, 371 merchants were awarded the privilege, of which 60 per cent were Scots.

By 1813 there were 38 prominent private merchant houses in Calcutta, 14 of which were dominated by Scots. The Scottish officer class also had a dominant position in India because of the high proportion of Scottish regiments serving there: 14 Royal regiments garrisoned the Indian and EIC provinces between 1754 and 1784, and seven of these were raised in Scotland (Devine, 2003: 251). Scots also flocked to the Caribbean sugar colonies such as Jamaica, Grenada, Dominica, St Vincent and Tobago in their thousands (Hamilton, 2012: 429). However, Scots did not feel confined to the British imperial endeavour, but sought advantage in other European empires as well (Hamilton, 2012: 424). From the 18th century Scots had established powerful mercantile communities in India, the Far East, Canada, Australia and New Zealand while maintaining close links with the home country by trading with its cities, buying vessels from its shipyards, and bringing out new employees (Mackenzie, 1993: 724).

As mentioned in the introduction, the focus of this chapter will be on the Caribbean. In the 18th century, Adam Smith – although critiquing the colonial system – noted the West Indian colonies’ importance to the imperial economy (Devine, 2003: 221). For example, sugar consumption in England and Wales increased about twenty-fold in 1663–1775 (mainly due to the newfound enthusiasm for tea drinking), and, in 1700, British islands accounted for about 40 per cent of all transatlantic sugar assignments, a figure which subsequently rose to 60 per cent by 1815 (Devine, 2003: 221). Thus, Caribbean sugar production became crucial for the British economy, and the production was built on two key foundations; firstly, on the evolution of the plantation system and, secondly, the use of black slave labour (Devine, 2003: 223). The Caribbean islands were ‘slave societies’ in that they depended on un-free, forced labour as without the slaves it would have been impossible to run the sugar economies, and by 1850 about 85 per cent the British West Indies’ population comprised of black Africans (Devine, 2003: 224). Devine notes how the Caribbean was ‘known as the graveyard of the slaves’ as the suffering of the slaves was especially horrendous – for example, on the Codrington plantations in Barbados, between 1741 and 1746, 43 per cent of all African slaves died within three years of arrival (Devine, 2003: 224).

As mentioned previously, Scots came to the Caribbean in great numbers, and they were highly visible due to their positions in the white communities as plantation owners, merchants and their employees, clerks, bookkeepers and overseers (Hamilton, 2012: 429). Scots also served as attorneys, managing the estates for absentee landowners and thus occupied key positions of responsibility and wielded enormous power over the enslaved Africans (Hamilton, 2012: 429). Because there were hundreds of thousands of slaves, an increasing number developed artisan skills which meant there was little demand for white labour in the 18th century West Indies; instead, it was a destination for well-capitalised or literate and numerate Scots with connections to potential employers (Hamilton, 2012: 430). Those who left for the Caribbean were mainly young, single and male as the West Indies were not regarded as a place for families: the goal was to make money and return home (Hamilton, 2012: 430). Scots’ success in the Caribbean was dependent on the regular supply of labour from Africa (Hamilton, 2012: 430). Although relatively few slave voyages originated from Scottish ports, there was nonetheless money to be made in slave trade, and Scottish investors, captains, surgeons, merchants and crew all worked to make the slave trade profitable (Hamilton, 2012: 430).1

Importantly, what took place was not merely an outward projection of Scottish capital, people and ideas: Scots brought the Empire home and, thus, Scotland was influenced by overseas engagements (Hamilton, 2012: 424). Not only did the Empire have an effect on Scots’ lives abroad, it also featured and left a mark on the society and life back in Scotland. The Empire was about accumulating wealth for many Scots who traded in colonial commodities such as tobacco, sugar and slaves, which led to the proliferation of big companies – such as Houston and Company of Glasgow who imported sugar – and the so-called ‘tobacco lords’ (Hamilton, 2012: 433), the names of whom can be seen on street signs around Glasgow’s city centre, and the Merchant City area especially. Consequently, this chapter of Scottish history is ever-present, and we are surrounded by it in our daily lives – as statues and signage. Even if we may not consciously reflect on it, we continue to speak the names of Glassford, Buchanan, Dunlop and Ingram in our everyday lives.2 Thus, Glasgow played host to an increasingly powerful mercantile community which grew ever richer and provided employment opportunities for Scots (Hamilton, 2012: 433). However, the Empire did not only provide opportunities for importing, but presented an export market for Scottish commodities as well: between 1765 and 1795 there was a tenfold increase in exports of linen to Jamaica as coarse cloth was needed for clothing for enslaved Africans, and the slave economies also increased demand for Scottish herring (Hamilton, 2012: 436). In addition, during the 18th century, some slaves were also brought into Scotland to work as servants for wealthy families (including the Glassfords).3

The Scots’ close relationship with the slave economy carried additional as well as financial consequences. When Janet Schaw travelled to Antigua in 1774, her letters to home were subsequently published as the ‘Journal of a Lady of Quality being the Narrative of a Journey from Scotland to the West Indies, North Carolina and Portugal in the Years 1774 to 1778’ (Devine, 2003: 240). In her letters she noted how the single men who predominated as estate managers and overseers often took younger slave women as mistresses. Dr Jonathan Troup, for example, arrived in Dominica in 1789 and discovered two of his Scots colleagues had six children each with slaves (subsequently, Troup soon had a string of mistresses as well) (Devine, 2003: 242). Therefore, to this day, there is a large Caribbean population with a direct link to Scotland. Indeed, many carry Scottish surnames, such as Campbell, Lamont and Grant, which were forced upon their enslaved ancestors by their Scottish slave masters. There were also black people of Scottish descent living in Scotland – one of the most famous black Scots being Robert Wedderburn, a radical anti-slavery advocate and son of a Jacobite Scot in Jamaica – which leads Hamilton (2012: 437) to note how notions of a previously ‘white country’ are misplaced with regard to the current controversy about non-European migration. Furthermore, many ordinary people of African, Indian and Scottish descent lived and worked and were educated across the country, the presence of whom ‘challenges historians to think carefully about who they regard ‘Scottish’ in the late eighteenth-century Scotland’ (Hamilton, 2012: 437). These connections are especially important, and should be kept in mind with regard to the discussion on Homecoming Scotland.

Finally, it is important to also note some Scots’ contribution to the plethora of ideas which, alongside evangelical convictions and economic change, worked towards ending the slave trade in 1807, and led to the final emancipation in the British Empire in 1833. For example, in the 1791 address to the inhabitants of Glasgow, it is noted that ‘the circumstances attending the African slave trade, must fill with horror, every person of common humanity’ (Pinfold, 2007: 314) and that chattel slavery ‘is a system so contrary to every sentiment of humanity and religion, that it must be rejected with abhorrence’ (Pinfold, 2007: 322). This group of abolitionists is not representative, however; as Devine notes, the vast majority of Scots in the West Indies favoured the slave system and worked it for their advantage (2003: 248). Nonetheless, Scots who had served in the Caribbean (such as Rev James Ramsay, James Stephen and Zachary Macaulay) became key figures in the anti-slavery movement, and their views were fuelled by the abominable scenes they witnessed in the Caribbean (Devine, 2003: 248).

Nationalism and the uses of history

History plays a key part in nationalist narratives and processes of nation-building – it is, thus, important to consider what is (not) remembered and who is (not) remembered, as well as how history is understood and represented. Indeed, silences can be as revealing as – or, indeed, even more revealing than – the events, people and places that we choose to incorporate into our national stories. Ernest Renan has famously argued that ‘forgetting, I would even go so far as to say historical error, is a crucial factor in the creation of a nation’ (1990: 11). Thus, political and national projects use and remember history selectively ‘to bolster contemporary political aims’ (Kearton, 2005: 25). What is more, this is not a passive process of reflecting on the past but rather drawing on history to help actively shape ‘a particular sense of national tradition and continuity’ (Kearton, 2005: 25). And as Smith (2005) has argued, ‘myths, memories and symbols’ from a nation’s pre-modern past have an important role to play in their nation-building projects. Renan goes on to say that ‘a nation is a soul, a spiritual principle’ and that there are two things that constitute that soul, ‘one lies in the past, the other in the present’: ‘one is the possession of a rich legacy of memories; the other is present-day consent, the desire to live together, the will to perpetuate the value of the heritage that one has received in an undivided form’ (1990: 19). Therefore, he points out of how history and shared memories contribute towards the feeling of togetherness today. In her wonderful essay, Himani Bannerji notes that the writing of history is not a transparent affair, but entails issues of representation which, in turn, entail issues of epistemology and ideology (1998: 287). She goes on to elaborate that ‘representation’ has a double-edge to it:

By claiming to re-present someone, some moment in time, some situation – in fact all three, all at once – through our reporting, recording, or narration, ‘representation’ implies both epistemological and (re)constructive responsibilities (Bannerji, 1998: 287).

Bannerji points to how remembering history, or representing the past (be it people or events), has a normative element to it; historical memories, which are often misrepresented, can serve specific political and ideological ends. Moreover, when she talks about ‘responsibilities’ she highlights the burden that those in powerful positions have with regard to representing the past in a fair and truthful manner.

As mentioned in the introduction, appropriating history to bolster political claims is by no means a rare occurrence. However, the ways in which the SNP and its key figures make use of history challenges the ways in which Scottish nationalist narratives are often branded as ‘civic’. Although there is not enough space to go into great detail, it is important to note the tendency in nationalism studies to divide nationalisms into different ‘types’ – thus, they are often understood and conceptualised via dualistic categorisations; be it cultural or political, Eastern or Western or, importantly for this chapter, ethnic or civic. Furthermore, these dualisms are closely interlinked – while civic nationalism is often depicted as political and Western in origin, ethnic nationalism is seen as cultural and Eastern. According to Ignatieff, the core idea behind civic nationalism is ‘that the nation should be composed of all those – regardless of race, colour, creed, gender, language, or ethnicity – who subscribe to the nation’s political creed’ (1993: 8) while, in contrast, ethnic nationalism veers toward authoritarianism as it ‘presupposes an inherited commonality that must be imposed when it is not otherwise forthcoming’ (Xenos, 1996: 215). Therefore, civic nationalism is characterised as ‘liberal, voluntarist, universalist and inclusive’, and ethnic nationalism is characterised as ‘illiberal, ascriptive, particularist and exclusive’ (Brubaker, 2004: 56). Civic nationalism is thus seen as being ahistorical and acultural; a voluntary association of culturally unmarked individuals for whom nation-membership is a chosen and not a given. This is in contrast to ethnic nationalism whereby membership is understood to be based on ethnicity (Brubaker, 2004: 59-61).4

Scottish nationalism has been portrayed as demonstrating civic characteristics not just by the SNP and its key figures but by various academics and political commentators alike. As Kearton notes, the civic conception of Scottish nationalism is prevalent in academia (2005: 26). She goes on to highlight Tom Nairn’s comment that the ‘national movement [is] conducted exclusively in political terms – political, and indeed quite self-consciously civic and pacific terms’ (cited in Kearton, 2005: 27). TC Smout (also cited in Kearton, 2005: 27) argues: ‘Modern Scottish identity is much more firmly allied to a sense of place than to a sense of tribe.’ Similarly, for McCrone ‘Scottishness falls at the ‘civic’ rather than the ‘ethnic’ end of nation-ness’ (in Kearton, 2005: 27). Thus, as Hamilton notes (cited in Leith, 2008: 83), there emerges a consensus in much academic writing seeing Scottish nationalism as civic and inclusive, and the SNP as ‘resolutely civic in [its] orientation’ supporting a Scotland ‘where membership is a legal concept and not one based on ethnic exclusion’.

During the referendum campaign, for example, the SNP sought to evoke a sense of belonging to the national community based on ‘non-ethnic’ characteristics such as descent or place of birth. In the SNP’s White Paper on Independence – or the Future of Scotland as it was officially called – (then) First Minister Alex Salmond made the often heard argument during the referendum campaign of how voting for independence is about democracy; it is about ‘the power to choose who we should be governed by and the power to build a country that reflects our priorities as a society and our values as a people’ (2013: viii). The referendum was also framed through the idea of social justice.5 (Then) Deputy First Minister Nicola Sturgeon, for example, said in her spring conference address in 2013 that ‘if we are to build a better, more democratic, just and prosperous country for our children to inherit, then let me tell you this – Independence is not optional. Independence is essential’. Thus, both Salmond and Sturgeon sought to steer away from identity politics by suggesting that the fundamental meaning behind the referendum – and the fundamental reason for voting yes on independence – were to do with advancing social justice (i.e. building a more equal and socially just society) and democracy (i.e. taking political decisions locally). Furthermore, there was a strong suggestion that regardless of where you come from, you should be able to take part in making this decision, as highlighted by Alex Salmond in an interview with a Polish expat magazine:

There is, I believe, a universal law, which is that the people who live and work in a country are the best ones to decide its future. It’s nothing to do with background or origin (Macguire and Bator-Skorkiewicz, 2014: 27).

Similarly, Nicola Sturgeon emphasised the role that all ‘people of Scotland’ have in taking part in the process of building Scotland’s new chapter: ‘My case for independence is based on confidence, it’s based on belief, it’s based on hope and it’s based on an unshakable knowledge that we in Scotland – all of us, regardless of where we come from – if we work together, we can build a better country’ (Sikh Channel, 2014). Furthermore, belonging to Scotland was defined in terms of residence and commitment to the country: ‘I believe in independence because I believe it will be better for all of us if decisions about Scotland are taken by the people who care most about Scotland – the people who live and work here’ (Salmond 2013: ix). Indeed, Salmond goes on to spell out his vision of the independence project in clear terms: ‘…our current democratic journey provides a helpful context – as we decide our future in a context based entirely on consensual, civic, non-ethnic and peaceful principles’ (Glasgow Caledonian University Speech in New York, 2014). Consequently, Scottishness is routinely framed as an open and all-encompassing identity in official political discourse:

And all this nonsense about repatriating English – we value, absolutely value English people in Scotland, they’re part of the community and it’s perfectly satisfactory for people to be English and Scottish, Irish and Scottish, Pakistani and Scottish – it’s one of the great things about Scottishness: it’s a nonexclusive identity. And every single person who’s part of our community will have equal status as a citizen, and equal rights and deserves equal respect (Alex Salmond, ‘Morning Call’, BBC Radio Scotland, 29 August 2014).

However, Kearton notes how ‘ethnicity comes in through the back door of history’ as ‘a predominantly forward-looking civic conception of community is anchored around a historically grounded ethnocultural core’ (2005:39). She, thus, argues that ‘while Scottish nationalism is clearly further towards the civic end of an ethnic-civic spectrum, the understanding of Scotland as a civic nation is not unproblematic’ (2005: 30) and ‘while the Scots civic identity is inclusive in that (in theory) anyone can join, some of its recurring tropes have particular ethnic and cultural origins’ (2005: 39). Curiously, however, the SNP use history in a way that the ‘ethnic core is used to project an inclusive, forward-looking vision of the nation’ (2005: 25). Thus, the multi-ethnic roots of medieval Scotland – consisting of Picts, Britons, Scots, Anglo-Saxons and Norse – are drawn upon as a rhetorical device to legitimise the contemporary claim of Scottishness being an open and inclusive identity, and of Scotland being an ethnically diverse nation (Kearton, 2005: 27-28). Kearton notes how Salmond cites a chronicle from the 12th century which shows how the various ethnic groups fought in the Scottish army at the Battle of the Standard in 1138. Subsequently, he goes on to talk about the civic nationalism of the contemporary multi-ethnic Scotland (Kearton, 2005: 27-28). Similarly, in the run-up to the referendum, Salmond refers to two of the most talked about Scottish historical figures, Robert the Bruce and William Wallace, and uses their ethnic origins to argue for an inclusive vote in September:

The two greatest heroes in Scottish history are Robert the Bruce and William Wallace. Firstly, Robert de Brus, his family were of Norman extraction. William Wallace, William le Waleys, means William the Welshman. His family came from Wales. So this is nothing to do with where you are from, this is about where you are. That is the argument, which will carry the YES vote in September (Macguire and Bator-Skorkiewicz, 2014: 27).

While there is nothing unique with Scotland’s mixed origins, the key thing is that these are used in an attempt to legitimise contemporary ethnic diversity ‘rather than glossed over in a nationalist narrative stressing the authenticity and continuity of the Scots ethnic group (Kearton, 2005: 27-28). Nonetheless, a very specific history is drawn upon, while some – more sinister chapters – are forgotten. Thus, the political project that uses history relies heavily on amnesia as well. While Salmond contends that he is ‘happy to be the representative of a country whose most celebrated figure, Robert Burns – with the third most statues of any secular figure across the planet – is not a soldier, but a poet’ (speech at Glasgow Caledonian University New York campus, 7 April 2014), he conveniently chooses never to mention that Burns came very close to moving to West Indies in order to take on a job as a book-keeper on a Jamaican plantation in 1786 (Morris, 2014).

‘Homecoming’

Closely related to the ways in which Scottish history is used in nation-building, is the Homecoming franchise. The first Homecoming Scotland event – which spans across an entire year – took place in 2009 with the second Homecoming taking place in 2014 at the same time as the referendum. The events were run and managed by VisitScotland and EventScotland (which is part of the former), and were supported and funded by the Scottish government. Homecoming features a mixture of cultural and sporting events ranging from highland games, the Shetland Nature Festival to food and drink events. The themes that ran through the events in 2014 were ‘active’; ‘creative’; ‘food and drink’; ‘natural’; and ‘ancestry’, with the following ‘products’ listed under the last theme: ‘Commonwealth’, ‘history’, ‘diaspora’, ‘anniversaries’ and ‘ancestral tourism’ (About Homecoming Scotland, 2014). Thus, there was a great emphasis on so-called ancestral Scots ‘to come home’. While the event website notes that ‘contemporary Scotland blends a rich array of cultures from around the world’, it nonetheless singles out ‘several icons considered uniquely and recognisably Scottish’ (Visit Scotland, 2014). Unsurprisingly, these turn out to be kilts, bagpipes, tartan, Highland games, the national flag and Gaelic. As such, Scottish culture is to a great extent framed through ‘Highland culture’. Scotland’s tourism relies on heritage (Bhandari, 2013: 3), and the objects of heritage in Scotland have the power to confer identity (McCrone, Morris and Kiely in Bhandari, 2013: 3). Of course, as mentioned before, it is not until fairly recently that Highland culture came to be quintessentially Scottish or represent ‘Scottish heritage’. This entailed the ‘invention of tradition’ (see Trevor-Roper, 1983) whereby ‘(mostly) imagined and false Highland “traditions” were absorbed freely by Lowland elites to form the symbolic basis of a new Scottish identity’ in the 18th century (Devine, 2012: 233). Sir Walter Scott, especially, was at forefront of advocating for ‘Highlandism’ and orchestrating the ‘cult of tartanry’ (Devine, 2003: 354). This culminated in King George IV’s visit to Edinburgh in 1822 as Scott stage-managed a series of pageants with a Celtic and Highland flavour (Devine, 2003: 355).

As Mycock notes, the main focus of SNP-led government initiatives, such as the 2009 Homecoming, have been to encourage (affluent) Scottish diasporic communities from countries such as the US, Canada, New Zealand and Australia to ‘come home’ (2012: 63). While the term ‘Blood Scots’ was originally used in connection with the 2009 event, there was a swift change to ‘ancestral Scots’. Thus, Mycock argues that the SNP’s focus with regard to Homecoming is ‘instructive in determining how Scottish nationality is understood by the SNP’ (2012: 63). While the marketing of Homecoming 2009 was firmly directed towards Canada, the USA, New Zealand and Australia (Mullen, 2009: 9), other parts of the Commonwealth which are intimately linked with Scotland and its historical legacy – notably the Caribbean – were forgotten about. Indeed, Sir Geoffrey Palmer pointed out how no Jamaicans were officially invited to take part in the events even though many Jamaicans consider themselves to be part of the Scottish diaspora (Mullen, 2009: 9). Thus, there has been a lack of engagement with diasporic communities which relate to the violent legacy of Scottish colonialism as well as with the biggest Scottish-born diaspora in England ‘who highlights links with the Union and a shared Britishness’ (Mycock, 2012: 63). Following Homecoming 2009 the event was, however, subsequently framed in a more all-encompassing way with Alex Salmond arguing that the events ‘captured the imagination of people around the world who have links to and ties to Scotland and more widely people who simply love our country’ (Homecoming Scotland 2010: 2). While Homecoming is directly linked with Scotland’s imperial past in that it urges Scots from the Commonwealth to ‘come home’, the more sinister chapter of Scotland’s history connected with slave trade and plantations has been, to a large part, absent from public rhetoric. The SNP has not actively engaged with Scotland’s imperial legacy in its constructions of an independent nation-state and there is ‘scant acknowledgement of [the colonial legacy’s] potential contribution in shaping contemporary Scottish national values or identity’ (Mycock, 2012: 62).

Bhandari notes how genealogical tourism can advantage nationalist sentiment by offering an experience that reinforces the common cultural affinity to their ancestral land (Bhandari, 2013: 2). Thus, it is premised on the idea of embracing ‘commonness’, and the aspiration of ‘root tourists’ is the search for familiarisation and identification with others (Stephenson in Bhandari, 2013: 2). Via homecoming, the SNP are demonstrating what Brubaker terms ‘homeland nationalism’ by which he means nationalism which is:

…directed ‘outward’ across the boundaries of territory and citizenship, towards members of their own ethnic nationality, that is towards persons who ‘belong’ (or can be claimed to belong) to the external national homeland by ethnonational affinity, although they reside in and are (ordinarily) citizens of other states (1996: 111).

Such constructions of the nation do, however, bring the civic-ness that the SNP claim to propagate into question. What transpires through events such as Homecoming is that Scottishness is not solely an identity based on residency or on one’s choice to live and work in Scotland but that ancestry – but only some ancestry – plays a key part in being Scottish as well. There is a sizeable population living in the Caribbean with direct familial links to Scotland. However, there is a selective view of Scotland’s diaspora (Mullen, 2009: 8) which has led Sir Geoffrey Palmer to term those Caribbeans with a connection to Scotland as the ‘forgotten diaspora’.6 Consequently, Mullen notes with regard to Homecoming 2009 that ‘the Scottish government has severed itself from the complexity of the nation’s past and shown how it is keen to adapt a romantic Disney-like charade based upon the denial of historical evidence’ and that ‘for a country which has a long imperial past, a peculiarly white vision has been authorised and publicised’ (2009: 10).

Considering the Homecoming franchise is revealing because it portrays the government’s vision and understanding of Scottish history and heritage. Importantly, Hall urges us to think of heritage as a discursive practice: ‘it is one of the ways in which the nation slowly constructs for itself a sort of collective social memory’ (2007: 89). By storying their turning points into a single, coherent narrative, nations construct identities by selectively binding their chosen high points and memorable achievements into an unfolding ‘national story’. This story, then, serves as the nation’s ‘tradition’ (Hall, 2007: 89). Building on Raymond Williams’ idea of ‘selective tradition’, Hall argues that ‘like personal memory, social memory is also highly selective’ and ‘it highlights and foregrounds, imposes beginnings, middles and ends on the random and contingent’. Thus, social memory ‘foreshortens, silences, disavows, forgets and elides many episodes which (…) could be the start of a different narrative’. Hall goes on to argue that the ‘process of selective “canonisation” confers authority and a material and institutional facticity on the selective traditions’ – this, in turn, makes ‘it extremely difficult to shift or revise’ (2007: 90). Drawing on Benedict Anderson, Hall argues that ‘even so-called “civic” states (…) are deeply embedded in specific “ethnic” or cultural meanings which give the abstract idea of the nation its lived“content”’ (2007: 88-89; emphasis added). Consequently, national heritage is a powerful source of such meanings and ‘it follows that those who cannot see themselves reflected in its mirror cannot properly “belong”’ (2007: 89). Thus, heritage – or what is constructed as heritage – serves as a powerful link between history, nationalism and belonging.7

Encouraging steps

More recently, however, encouraging steps have been taken with regard to remembering and acknowledging Scotland’s history more fully. Since 2001, Coalition for Racial Equality and Rights has co-organised Black History Month, which has included talks, debates and other events highlighting Scotland’s links to transatlantic slave trade. During Homecoming 2014, the Scottish Government funded a conference entitled ‘The Global Migrations of the Scottish People since c.1600: Issues, Debates and Controversies’ which featured a panel on ‘Scotland and Black Slavery’, for example (The University of Edinburgh, 2014; see also Mullen, 2017). The Commonwealth Games which were held in Glasgow in summer 2014 provided a convenient arena for thinking and discussing Scotland’s role in the Empire in public fora. Over the period of about two weeks, people from all over the Commonwealth gathered together in the ‘second city of the Empire’. Before the games started, Humza Yousaf – an SNP MSP and the then Minister for External Affairs – noted that there are many reminders in Glasgow of ‘Scotland’s role in the UK’s dark past throughout the city’ (2014: 11). Furthermore, he went on to say that:

I see the 2014 Commonwealth Games as a chance for us to learn lessons for our past, and look forward to a new relationship with the Commonwealth, which includes a large proportion of African and Caribbean countries. This new relationship will be built on partnership and collaboration, rather than a relationship where one country is superior to the others (2014: 11).

He concluded by saying that he hoped that by acknowledging this particular part of Scottish history, ‘Glasgow’s Commonwealth Games will allow us to move towards a more positive future and a relationship with Commonwealth counties which is a partnership of equals’ (2014: 11). In addition to Yousaf, former SNPMSP and MP Anne MacLaughlin used her Westminster maiden speech to support reparations to the Caribbean (Mullen, 2017). In his conclusion, Yousaf also mentioned the Empire Café as an example of the cultural programme that took place during the games and was aimed at examining Scotland’s links with the slave trade ‘over tea and cake’ (Duffy, 2014b).

The Empire Café was an idea of author Louise Welsh and architect Jude Barber, and it was open for a week during the Commonwealth Games. The café which was based in the Briggait in Glasgow’s Merchant City hosted readings, films, art installations and discussions around the theme of Scotland and slavery (Duffy, 2014b). In addition to the café, a street-theatre play entitled Emancipation Acts also took place during the games. This series of plays explored Glasgow’s role in Caribbean slavery, its abolition and current calls for reparations (What’s On Glasgow). Graham Campbell (activist and now SNP Councillor), who curated Emancipation Acts, noted that ‘it is important for Afro-Scots now, as a lot of people are relatively new to this city, and knowing their ancestors played a big part in building the city from a long time ago, and that they really do belong, it is an important thing to tell them’ (Duffy, 2014a). There was also an exhibition in Glasgow’s Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum entitled How Glasgow Flourished, 1714–1837. Although the exhibition focused on Scotland’s thriving economy, it nonetheless featured items relating to slavery, and the Glassford Family Portrait, which famously includes a black boy in the background – thus hinting to Scotland’s role in the Atlantic slave trade – was prominently displayed, for example. Furthermore, in the opening ceremony of the Commonwealth Games, Pumeza Matshikiza, a South-African soprano, sang ‘Freedom Come All Ye’, an anti-imperialist song sung in Scots and written by Hamish Henderson in 1960.8 As such, this choice of song seemed very symbolic in the context of holding the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow.

These events and discussions seem encouraging, especially following the controversy that surrounded the (then) Scottish Executive’s booklet published in March 2007. The booklet marked 200 years since the abolishment of slavery in the British Empire, and it focused on Scotland’s involvement in slave trade industry, and was especially aimed at primary and secondary school children. Paula Kirching, the main author of the booklet, noted how this part of history is not widely taught at schools, and when it is, there is a tendency to focus on London, Liverpool and Bristol (Money, 2007). However, the two original researchers who were awarded the funding to write the book by the Labour-Liberal Democrat Scottish Executive – Rev Iain Whyte and Eric Graham – were later dismissed from the job. It was reported that there was disagreement with regard to the content and style of the booklet, and Whyte commented by saying that in his view ‘they wanted a particular slant that was not historical’ and that he ‘felt that they wanted certain stories that weren’t possible to produce, to change the text in certain ways’ which he was not prepared to do, and that ‘the government always has a certain agenda and they felt that what we were producing wasn’t what they wanted’ (Money, 2007). Consequently, anti-racism groups, such as the Glasgow Anti-Racist Alliance (now known as CRER – Coalition for Racial Equality and Rights), criticised the publication for not going far enough with regard to discussing the current issues affecting black communities in Scotland (Money, 2007). Thus, the recent attention being paid to Scotland’s role in slave trade is a promising step forward, but more remains to be done.

Conclusion

This chapter has traced Scotland’s and Scots’ imperial journey, and highlighted how parts of this history have remained largely absent in nationalist narratives which otherwise rely heavily on the past. While the SNP is often hailed as exemplifying civic nationalist ideas in practice by its members, political commentators and academics alike, this view can – and should – be challenged. Although the SNP and its key figures do often steer away from identity politics in order to extend the boundaries of the nation to include those not born in Scotland or those without familial ties with the country, ethnicity does, in Kearton’s terms (2005), enter through the backdoor of history. The Homecoming franchise, especially, acts as a case in point. Moreover, there is a selective view of the ‘Scottish diaspora’, which leaves a considerable group of people – many of whom are from the Caribbean – outside the confines of the ‘diaspora’. Even though progress has been made in terms of remembering and acknowledging Scotland’s violent history within the Empire via media attention and cultural and political events, for example, this is only the beginning.

An idea that has been suggested with regard to acknowledging Scotland’s role in the Empire and the slave economies is to establish a permanent memorial devoted to Scotland and slavery. Michael Morris (from Liverpool John Moores University), for example, has argued that such a feature is long overdue, and suggested there should be a museum or a series of public artworks in those areas of Glasgow where the traders’ wealth is especially obvious. He notes that ‘it would stand in the best traditions of this city to fully acknowledge the enormous debt it owes to Atlantic slavery, and to seek ways that we might begin to repair an old wound that has never been allowed to heal’ (Duffy, 2014a). Furthermore, there have been other ventures such as the Multicultural Homecoming events organised by BEMIS – Empowering Scotland’s Ethnic and Cultural Minorities which aimed to celebrate Scotland’s heritage beyond bagpipes, kilts and highland games. Thus, there is momentum and desire behind a movement towards a more all-encompassing representation of the past – and it is crucial to keep that momentum going. History matters, as do the ways in which it is remembered and appropriated: how we remember the past affects the contours and the content of the nation.

1 Ships carrying slaves mainly originated from Liverpool, Bristol and London.

2 See Smith’s (2014) accessible blog post on the Empire and public spaces.

3 See, for example, this newspaper advertisement in the Edinburgh Advertiser from 1769 (National Library of Scotland): http://www.nls.uk/collections/topics/slavery/pop-ups/slave-advert-1769.

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