Great Scot!

Stop making a gimmick out of Scottish culture

Like students, shops in St Andrews come and go with the seasons. Of course, there are some staples. The Keys Bar, founded in 1858, has been a feature of the Market Street landscape for almost two centuries. Coming in a close second is South Street’s Criterion Pub, a steak-and-ale-pie-scented haven for the rabble of students, locals, and tourists that come through its doors. Most of our town’s shops and cafes enjoy a relatively short shelf life. In my three years here, I’ve seen many a trinket shop, coffee house, and clothing emporium fold under the pressures of existing in such a small town. Yet there is one establishment that springs back upwards no matter how many times you attempt to uproot it: the so-called ‘Scottish Shop.’

On the surface, my reasons for disliking these establishments are relatively selfish. Land is a precious commodity in a town with three streets, and the shops take up space where there is none. While a new cafe could provide a much-needed caffeine fix for the exhausted student on their way to a 9am, or a pub the means of relaxing after a hard day at the library, the ‘Scottish Shop’ offers little but a chance to fritter away precious funds. Yet there is another, perhaps deeper reason to dislike these establishments. Their attempts to bottle Scottish culture into magnets, postcards, t-shirts, and tartan-clad teddy bears makes a gimmick out of the country’s proud history and ancient traditions.

Of course, this accusation exists within reason. There are numerous St Andrews establishments that show a genuine respect for Scottish culture. Some offer fittings for kilts that are handmade in store. Others give the low-on-funds student a chance to hire out traditional tartan attire for an evening’s ball or dinner party. Nor is the problem isolated to St Andrews. Edinburgh is filled with ‘Scottish Shops’ stocked with memorabilia from franchises that have little or nothing to do with Scotland. Harry Potter wands and Game of Thrones goblets may reflect some of the brooding melancholy of an Edinburgh High Street, but should in no way be presented as symbols of Scottish culture.

Nor is this phenomenon a novel one. From the Victorian Era, nations such as (but not limited to) England have shown a fascination for all things Scottish. Queen Victoria herself was pivotal in the setting of this trend, purchasing property in Aberdeenshire that would become the favoured holiday retreat of Royals to this day. So too was she a fan of Highland dress, encouraging her husband and children to wear tartan kilts throughout their stays there. Though her appreciation for the Highland landscape and dress is commendable, it likely stemmed from a desire to commodify all things Scottish. Since Victoria, Scotland has become an increasingly popular holiday destination, with Scottish land being bought up by wealthy Brits desiring a country getaway far from the bustle of England.

Before Victoria, treatment of Highland Scotsmen and women reflected this romanticisation of the country. While Lowlanders, close to the influence of the border and speakers of the ‘Queen’s English,’ were treated as de facto Englishmen, Highlanders were exoticised as rugged savages, personifications of the untameable Scottish landscape. Though this romanticisation is in no way so extreme, parallels can be drawn between nineteenth century presentations of Scotland and those of the modern day. Both show a desire to put the country on display — commodifying its traditional dress, cuisine, and even national heroes as a means of trapping tourists and generating funds.

In many ways, my condemnation of these shops is hypocritical. Like them, I too enjoy indulging in Scottish traditions while not being from the country myself. On 25 January, you will find me at a friend’s candle-lit dinner table, stuffing myself with haggis and toasting the greatness of Ayrshire’s Robbie Burns. To me, if a person is willing to take a few moments out of their day to read some of the poetry, perhaps the biography of the man they are celebrating, I believe they are entitled to a feast of neeps and tatties later. Stopping the appropriation of Scottish culture does not mean one must do away with it completely. Instead, it must be celebrated in a way that shows genuine interest, passion, and ultimately, respect.

Image from Wikimedia Commons