Who knew there were so many vexillologists in Scotland? The stramash over whether or not — and if so, when — the Union Jack should be flown from Scottish government buildings was so perfect you could be forgiven for thinking, that if it had not existed, it would need to have been invented.
As of course, in one sense, parts of it were. Well, not invented perhaps, but reported incorrectly. For, contrary to reports in various newspapers, Nicola Sturgeon had not decreed the Union Jack should only be flown on Remembrance Day. New guidance had been issued but this, it transpired, took account of a change of policy dating back to 2010. Nobody had noticed, because few people spend their days inspecting government flagpoles.
In any case, it was Alex Salmond who suggested the Lion Rampant might be flown on those occasions, such as the Queen’s birthday, when in previous years government buildings had proudly displayed the Union Jack.
Be in no doubt, however, that this rumpus has pleased diehards on both sides: nationalists had their suspicions about the media bolstered; unionists’ conviction that the SNP are always on manoeuvres received an equal boost. We cannot afford a flag gap, you see.
Nevertheless, the episode revealed something else — the manner in which it is often unionism these days that displays a fierce attachment to symbols. There is a portion of unionist sentiment that has not got over the 2014 independence referendum. Victory was a relief, not a joy, but that curdled into resentment as it became clear that the referendum settled less than unionists demanded.
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That helps explain why unionism is increasingly politically assertive, even as it finds itself culturally beleaguered. If you suspect these twin attitudes might be linked, you would be correct. Unionist opposition — at Westminster and Holyrood — to the SNP has hardened, and last year’s election result has emboldened opponents to say no to the SNP’s demands for a second independence plebiscite before 2021.
If unionism sometimes feels shrill, it remains the case that not all unionist suspicions are entirely misplaced. As soon as Salmond was in power, he rebranded the Scottish executive as the Scottish government. This was both reasonable and revealing. The SNP would run a more active and ambitious administration than its Labour-Lib Dem predecessors, but Salmond also wanted to send a message.
That process continues. Since the awkward referendum result in 2014, the SNP has resolved to carry on as though the result was a mere blip. It would comport itself as though it were the government of an independent state. Theresa May might be prime minister, but Sturgeon is Scotland’s political leader and representative on the world stage. Delegitimising (I use the term as neutrally as possible) Westminster is a core, if often unspoken, nationalist goal.
Failing that, the SNP would walk and talk as though the UK was a federal state in which major decisions required the approval of all its constituent parts. The framing of the Brexit referendum result confirmed as much: Scotland is being “dragged out” of the EU “against its will” so Scotland should have a bespoke Brexit deal because anything else disrespects Scotland and makes a mockery of unionist talk of Britain’s “unique partnership of nations”.
In point of fact, of course, there was no distinct Scottish Brexit vote, it being part of the larger, British, vote. The blurred lines of British identity and the UK’s constitution each complicate this picture, but nationalists frequently make a kind of category error, assuming that Scotland and the UK are distinct places that rarely, if ever, overlap. Sometimes this, too, reaches absurd heights of delusion, as during the 2012 Olympics when Salmond, again, tried to draw a distinction between what he termed “Scolympians” and the wider Team GB — a reminder that nationalism can be naff.
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I suspect zealots on both sides forget that most Scots are capable of, and comfortable with, slipping between Britishness and Scottishness.
The flag brouhaha merits consideration, however, for what it reveals about how nationalism and unionism evolve. For decades and even centuries, the essence of Scotland — which is to say, Scotland’s identity as a distinct place with a sense of itself — was protected, often zealously, by Scottish unionists who had no need to think of themselves as such because there was no prospect of, nor any enthusiasm for, political independence.
The Victorian enthusiasm for the cults of Wallace, Bruce and Burns reflected a Scotland that was comfortable with being both Scottish and British, but was determined to be something rather more than just north Britain. Unionists could celebrate Bannockburn for the manner in which it ensured that union, when it came, was just that, and not an English takeover.
Thus, as far back as 1806, Sir Walter Scott rebuked enthusiasts for court reforms that would bring Scottish procedures into line with their English equivalents, arguing “’Tis no laughing matter; little by little, whatever your wishes may be, you will destroy and undermine, until nothing of what makes Scotland Scotland shall remain”.
Which leaves us with this paradoxical inheritance: independence is only feasible — as a concept, let alone in practice — because of the achievements of unionists. Their achievement was ensuring Scotland would remain a nation, not a province, even as part of another country.
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Now, though, with the SNP in power for a decade, one longstanding convention has been reversed. There is a palpable sense in some diehard unionist circles that Britishness is threatened by an assertive — and sometimes uncompromising — Scottishness that denies the British component of Scotland’s story. If 2014 was a question of defending Scotland’s place in Britain, unionism now feels it must defend Britain’s place in Scotland. Hence the importance given to symbols. And what is more symbolic than a flag?
The extremes on either side need, and feed off, one another. The more Sturgeon talks about a second referendum, the more she encourages diehard unionists to build bigger and better bunkers for themselves. In that respect, the Tories see little downside to last week’s flag rumpus. It helps consolidate their core vote just as keeping the referendum dream alive helps Sturgeon with hers.
If you despair of these culture wars, I am afraid you should prepare yourself for worse to come. They are not ending any time soon.