A campaign, insidious in its stealth, has been under way for some years to make Scottish people feel significantly happier and more content than we actually are or truly want to be. As a nation, we are in dire peril of being engulfed by waves of unbridled optimism and it’s not a pretty sight. This is not what we signed up for and, quite frankly, it diminishes us all. Dark forces are spending a great deal of poppy to engender feelings of dazed and sloppy wellbeing among us. It is about as convincing as drunk Uncle Tam doing Gangnam Style at Sadie’s wedding.
Hardly a month goes by when some part of Scotland has not been voted the happiest or most desirable place in the known universe. The latest neighbourhood to have been revealed as the most ebullient on God’s Earth was the Outer Hebrides. Apparently, its islands scored 8.24 out of 10 in the UK government’s national happiness survey.
A few years ago, Aberdeen was rated one of the three most joyful locations in the UK (in a survey conducted by the accountancy firm PWC). I bow to no one in my admiration for this stalwart granite fastness, but even Aberdeen’s mother would never describe Aberdeen as a beacon of happiness. Glasgow is regularly patted on the head and told that it is one of the friendliest cities on Earth by assorted international travel firms, while Edinburgh, the city of the wasted 4am licence, was rated the best place to live in the UK for three consecutive years.
Shetland has also been accorded best place to live in its time, while Lewis and Harris was once accorded the accolade of Europe’s top island by TripAdvisor. Just to ensure that Dundee and Inverness didn’t feel left out, they were each thrown a wee bauble to stick on their mantelpiece. The capital city of Tayside can now boast of having the “best young university in the UK”, while Inverness is one of the world’s top emerging destinations on a list compiled by a major European travel agent. It shares its placing with Kazakhstan, which is also one of the most ecstatic countries in north central Asia.
If any of this stuff was true, it would suggest that not only is Scotland brimming with joy and happiness, but that the whole world wants to come here and mate with us. It is heady and dangerous stuff and makes me feel a little queasy and uncomfortable.
It’s not that my heart doesn’t do a somersault whenever fair Caledonia triumphs at something or even just gives a decent account of itself. It’s just that, well… disaster is never far from befalling Scotland whenever we begin to get carried away with ourselves.
My adolescence and young adulthood were blighted by Peru, Iran and Costa Rica. It was an exemplary lesson and ever since then I’ve only allowed myself to become mildly exercised when the rare prospect of unexpected victory in any endeavour looms like a pestilence.
There is a good reason why Scots soldiers have been prized warriors in every European theatre of war since the Treaty of Westphalia: the Scots know where danger is coming from and never allow themselves to charge ahead just because they prevailed in a minor strategic skirmish. They always see the bigger picture and thus are neither blinded by the dazzle of victory, nor paralysed by the sting of defeat. There is good reason, too, why Scotland embraced craggy and honest Presbyterianism and eschewed emotional and flashy European Catholicism. We are at our best when we value rectitude and reticence and reject jocundity. A few years ago, a shallow and worthless credo was allowed to take root among an assortment of opportunistic Scottish academics based around confidence and wellbeing, especially when word got round that there was Scottish government money available to disseminate this mince.
A fiction materialised from this that asserted that too many Scottish children suffered from a lack of confidence and that what was required was for us all to be more positive in our thinking: to grasp the nettle and all that carpe diem malarkey. It didn’t seem to occur to the people who swallowed this simple formula: children from disadvantaged neighbourhoods who start life three goals down are less confident than those born into privilege.
It also failed to understand that the world values Scottish caution and reticence. When a Scot answers “no’ bad”, instead of “doing great”, to a query about his health or all-round state of wellbeing, he is not being gloomy or pessimistic – he just knows how fleeting and temporary worldly success can be.
You don’t have to look far to discover the authors of all this artificial feelgood nonsense with which Scotland is being love-bombed. It’s very obviously the dark forces of the British establishment and their fellow grandmasters in the Bilderberg Group and the Brandenburg Concerto who are responsible. Very probably, they all have shares in those marketing companies that say that Scotland is not just the best small country in the world, but the best country full stop and no messing about.
Their purpose couldn’t be clearer or more sinister. They are hoping lots of us will pause and ask ourselves: “Why do we need independence when Scotland is quite palpably as happy as Larry?” And even if you’re feeling a bit shite, owing to small things like long-term unemployment, substance addiction and early death, then pull yourself together because everyone else in the country is walking down the street caring not a jot. Yes, even Dundonians: “Sorry, Angus, to hear that your wife had her disability payments stopped because she hasn’t committed suicide yet. But look on the bright side – we’ve got one of the best young universities in the world.”
It won’t work, though, all this manufactured merriment and reported glee; Ruth Davidson and Kezia Dugdale will see to that. According to them, Scotland has a junk economy and the nation will descend into violent, civil chaos if another independence referendum takes place. We are Greece on speed, Afghanistan on steroids and we must be perpetually monitored lest we do harm to ourselves. Thank God they are here to warn us about the perils of getting carried away.
