A Scottish Vision of America
It may seem odd to learn more about your home country from a trip abroad, but that is exactly what was in store when a historically-interested American (me) traveled around Scotland. I was in that beautiful country for just over two weeks, driving from the capital Edinburgh, to Inverness in the Highlands, Thurso on the far northern coast across from the Orkneys, Ullapool on the rugged northwestern coast, and Stirling, a city between Glasgow and Edinburgh. I study British history as a career, so being able to see so many places in person which I had researched from afar was a fantastic experience. But what were even more incredible were the connections I saw between Scotland and the United States, ranging from historical, economic, and political, to social and cultural. Much is made (justifiably so) of the linkage between England and the US, but Scotland must not be ignored in that conversation. If anything, we as Americans owe more of our idiosyncratic culture to the Scots than to the English. A sojourn around Scotland’s cultural and historical sites hammers that home for any American visitor who knows where to look.
At the most basic economic level, we are living in a deeply Scottish world. The capitalist economic system which characterizes the United States – and much of the rest of the world – was largely the product of an 18th century genius from Edinburgh: Adam Smith. Smith is most famous for his pioneering economic treatise An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, published coincidentally in 1776. The Wealth of Nations details the core tenets of the capitalist system and economic theory, from market dynamics, to individual choice, to price mechanisms. Smith’s work revolutionized the way people and governments thought about markets and trade, laying the foundation for our modern prosperity and interconnected global marketplace. He was not only a father of economics, but also an important moral philosopher. His Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759) was a major advancement in the field, laying out the idea that social psychology was more important than reason in determining human moral action; this theory played a key role in his later understanding of market dynamics and human economic behavior.
Smith is commemorated across Edinburgh, most prominently in his statue outside of St. Giles Cathedral in the heart of the Old City. In the US, his ideology has been widely influential across the political spectrum, from the founding to today, and he is often as associated with the US as with his native Scotland. In fact, Smith argued for American independence at the time, seeing a voluntary British withdrawal as a way to create an empire based on free trade with a stronger partnership as ally nations than with Britain as colonial master. His prescience on the subject – and many others – is astounding, and is evidenced by the world we live in today. As much as anyone, this is Adam Smith’s world.
Scotland has made just as large a political impact on the US as it did an economic one. Since the days of the Roman Empire, the Scots have been viewed as a fiercely independent people who would fight anyone to retain their liberties. There’s a reason that the Romans built two walls across the north of Britain, after all, and it wasn’t to keep their subjects in. Scotsmen fought and died for their national freedom again and again over the centuries, perhaps most famously at Bannockburn in 1314. In that battle, situated just outside of the modern town of Stirling, Scottish armies under Robert the Bruce ejected the English under Edward II from Scotland, giving it back its de facto independence. This martial action was followed up by an even more powerful rhetorical one: the 1320 letter from Scottish magnates to Pope John XXII known as the Declaration of Arbroath. This letter, asserting the eternal independence of Scotland from its English neighbor, speaks in startlingly modern language about the essence of national liberty and personal freedom. In its most stirring passage, the Declaration states:
“Yet if he [Robert] should give up what he has begun, seeking to make us or our kingdom subject to the King of England or the English, we should exert ourselves at once to drive him out as our enemy and a subverter of his own right and ours, and make some other man who was well able to defend us our King; for, as long as a hundred of us remain alive, never will we on any conditions be subjected to the lordship of the English. It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.”
This idea of the necessity of revolution to enforce national independence and protect the liberties of the people would be consciously echoed in the founding documents and ideology of the United States. One can hear echoes of Arbroath in the Declaration of Independence, although it is unknown if Jefferson or his compatriots had encountered their precursor declaration before. The Arbroath letter was recognized by both the US Senate and the House of Representatives as a key document in American history, celebrating its signing on April 6, Tartan Day. It is still possible to visit the town where the Declaration was composed – a short drive up the coast from the capital – as well as to see the lone surviving copy of the letter at the National Archives in Edinburgh. Both are worth the trip.
The Declaration of Arbroath was not the final word in Scotland’s obsession with freedom; it was merely one chapter of a very long book. During the 1600s, Britain was roiled by religious and factional conflict, as was much of the Continent. Although the crowns of England and Scotland had been united by the accession of James VI and I in 1603 and both nations were Protestant, the cultural and religious divide between the two kingdoms was stark. Scotland was more localist and less centralized than England; this came across in politics and religion. Scotland’s Kirk (or Church) had a presbyterian structure, where local groups of elders would elect their leaders, whereas England’s monarch appointed bishops in a hierarchical structure. The relative ‘federalism’ of Scottish politics of the 17th century – where clan leaders had immense power in local territories and could inhibit central control – was vastly different than the absolutism of Stuart monarchs in their English lands.
These conflicts came to a head in the 1630s, when King Charles I attempted to bring Scotland more in line with England in both religious and political domains. Scottish leaders who resented the diminution of their prerogatives came together to draft what became known as the National Covenant, a document which built on the foundations of Arbroath. In the Covenant, it was declared that Scotland would hold fast to its religious particularity and refuse Charles’s attempts at altering its religion or governance; in short, it put the onus for politics and religion on the people at large, not the monarch. The National Covenant was replicated throughout the country and was signed by a massive number of community leaders across the land; several of these copies (and a whole lot of other amazing stuff) reside in the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh. The National Covenant, in its ideology and its popular adoption, was a significant precursor for the approach and rhetoric of the American Revolution. The covenantal approach would become a national tradition in the United States – both due to the preponderance of Scotsmen in the country and the appeal of the ideas itself – and played a huge part in our federalist structure and national culture. Even the 19th century sage of American politics, Alexis de Tocqueville, saw the importance of this covenanting style, even if he did not make explicit the Scottish connection.
The signing of the National Covenant helped spark the series of wars which are now categorized under the banner of the English Civil War. Those conflicts over religion, politics, and power would not fully be settled until the end of the Glorious Revolution in 1689 and the replacement of the Stuart dynasty with the Protestant Dutch stadtholder William of Orange (William III). In what may seem like an odd turn of events, the defenestration of the Stuarts – the absolutist foes of the National Covenant – became a rallying cry for yet more Scottish rebellion against English suzerainty. Throughout the period from 1689 to 1746, Scottish Jacobites (the supporters of the former Stuart King James II) would wage campaigns against the new government, the predominance of England over Scotland, and the marginalization and destruction of traditional life in the Highlands. Their overarching goal was to replace the reigning monarch – either William III, Anne, George I, or George II – with their Stuart version – first James II, then his son James III – but that goal was intertwined with the national liberty of Scotland itself.
These campaigns met with varying degrees of success, but were ultimately defeated each time they cropped up. The evidence of those wars and rebellions is scattered across the Scottish Highlands, from the ruins of Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness, to the battlefield of Culloden, to the impressive fortifications of Fort George. The three places mentioned here are all within a short drive of Inverness, the capital of the Highlands, which is itself only about four hours from Edinburgh. Urquhart Castle, built initially in the early 13th century, was the site of repeated conflicts, from its capture by Edward I during the Wars of Independence, to near-constant raids from rival Highland clans, to its final stage during the aftermath of the Glorious Revolution. During that conflict, the castle was garrisoned by forces loyal to William and was besieged by Jacobite Highlanders. After holding off the siege for some time, the commander of the forces within realized that the castle was untenable and decided to destroy it in a massive explosion; the castle remains as ruined as it was that day in 1692.
Culloden, the battle that ended the Jacobite rebellions as a factor in British history, is a must-visit battlefield and has an excellent museum that is extremely well-organized and presented. Fought during the Jacobite rising known colloquially as The 45 (from its beginning in 1745), Culloden was the last gasp of the independent Highland culture that aligned itself so closely with the Jacobite cause. The 45 was quite successful at first under the leadership of James III’s son Charles Edward Stuart (better known as Bonnie Prince Charlie) and the Duke of Atholl, George Murray. Victories at Prestonpans and elsewhere grew the Jacobite forces and surprised the British, who were already engaged in the War of the Austrian Succession on the Continent. As they gained momentum, the Jacobites broke down in infighting over strategy and goals, with disastrous results. The forces of the British monarchy, led by King George II’s son the Duke of Cumberland (an excellent military commander), outperformed the Jacobites in logistics, tactics, and strategy as the war moved into 1746. That April, the British forces attacked the Jacobites at Culloden and, in only an hour, nearly wiped them out. Thousands of Highlanders were killed, wounded, or captured, with very few casualties among the British.
Culloden effectively ended the Jacobite cause as a real danger to Britain, but it also had other legacies. One was the total devastation of the Highlands and the way of life which had been traditional in the region for centuries, if not millennia. Clans were disarmed, disbanded, and sometimes even outlawed and prosecuted. Tens of thousands of tenant farmers were unceremoniously kicked off their ancestral lands and forced to move to cities or abroad in a process known as the Highland Clearances. Remnants of the Clearances remain today, in open fields that were formerly tilled by tenant farmers under organized clan structures. A large number of these Highlanders left Scotland for the American colonies, a figure which exploded after the defeat at Culloden. Those Scots would become major cultural influences in their new home: the highlands of North Carolina and the Appalachians. To enforce the Clearances and forever shut down the Jacobite threat, the British built an enormous fortress, Fort George, just outside of Inverness. This imposing structure, built on the most cutting-edge designs at the time, still stands as a British military installation, having never seen a shot fired at it in anger.
After the final defeat of Jacobitism and the full incorporation of Scotland into the United Kingdom, the fighting spirit and fierce independence of the Scottish people turned to less martial outlets. Scotland became a major influence in education, culture, and science, with inventors like James Watt and writers like Walter Scott at the top of their fields. Scotsmen also turned to parliamentary politics, especially after the radical reforms of the 19th century and the expansion of the franchise. In this embrace of politics, Scotland also proved a model for the nascent United States. In fact, Edinburgh is the birthplace of the modern political campaign and rally; we have the Scots to thank (and blame) for that. William Ewart Gladstone, the extremely effective Liberal politician of the Victorian era and multi-time Prime Minister, engaged in the first modern campaign for office when he ran for Parliament in the Midlothian constituency in the 1880 election. Gladstone barnstormed around the constituency by rail, making speeches at various stops and denigrating the government under his rival Benjamin Disraeli. His focus on campaigning directly to the people and rallying large groups for his speeches was novel at the time, but is now the norm across the free world. Nowhere has embraced that tradition of modern campaigning like the United States, for good and for ill. Just like so many other features of our political world, this one comes back to Scotland.
Cultural and social links between America and Scotland are just as strong and equally as prevalent as their economic and political counterparts. These links are seen across the US, but are especially prevalent in Appalachia. As described earlier, many Highland Scots emigrated from their native land to the foothills of the Appalachians, particularly in the uplands of North Carolina. These folks would play important roles in settling the frontier of the new nation, as well as fighting to gain that nation’s independence in the first place. Their culture of self-reliance and independent initiative provided the basis for American frontier culture, specifically in the Early Republic period. One particularly intriguing commonality comes in the realm of familial or clan conflict. The Highlands were infamous for their blood feuds, with rival clans often attacking one another, raiding each other’s farms, and fighting to the death. Tales of clan massacres are present throughout Scottish history and across its geography. Those conflicts are echoed in the Appalachia of the 19th century, with the famous Hatfield-McCoy feud being the most well-known. These sorts of clan battles were not generally replicated in other regions of the United States, lending credence to the idea that they were something of an offshoot of Scottish Highland culture.
Another Scottish link to Appalachian and broader American culture is in one of our shared national spirits: whiskey. Whiskey was largely developed as a spirit in Scotland, made in small batches by (mostly) illegal distillers. Modern scotch is a descendant of that original spirit, and is one of the major draws of the Highlands for any dark-liquor drinker. Distilleries abound, with smaller options like Balblair just a few miles from corporate juggernauts like Glenmorangie. Most regions of Scotland have distilleries, all of which vary depending on location, climate, and production process; I had the pleasure of visiting the Speyside region outside of Inverness. One could spend several days touring and tasting scotch where it is made, as well as learning more about the fascinating process. Artisans are not only at work producing this elixir, but also various products which make the tasting even better, including handmade drinking vessels (one of which now sits on my home bar).
That artisanal, yet populist, culture traveled across the Atlantic with Scottish immigrants and rooted itself deeply in the United States. Our own variety of whiskey – one very different from the traditional scotch – is bourbon, a spirit which was made in much the same way as was scotch. The American tradition of illicit moonshine-making is not all that different from its Scottish progenitor; both sought to avoid taxation or prohibition and hid distillation tools and finished products in the rural hinterlands. The ties between bourbon and scotch in the modern day are still strong. Most scotch producers in Scotland utilize American bourbon barrels to age their whiskeys, imparting a subtle bourbon sweetness to the final product. These barrels, usually made of American oak, complete the cycle and cement the link between American and Scottish whiskeys – and our drinking cultures.
Entertainment and sport are similarly shared between the US and Scotland. One of America’s most popular sports, golf, was invented in Scotland. Nearly 10% of Americans play golf, and professional golfers are some of the most well-known names in sports. Courses abound in the US, with a whopping 16,752 spread across the country (51 courses per million people); Scotland comes in with a much more modest 614, but that equates to 112 courses per million people. You will encounter myriad courses traveling across Scotland, so playing a round is a must on any trip there, even if you (like me) are not very good. Other Scottish sporting events are reminiscent of their American equivalents, especially in the local character and community spirit on display. I had the pleasure of attending the Glenurquhart Highland Games, a local gathering outside of Inverness where people from the region and across the country competed in traditional events: track & field, heavy events (including the amazing caber toss), dancing, bagpiping, and tug of war. These games brought together local vendors and groups from the community in a celebration of Scottish culture and athletics. In many ways, it was reminiscent of what one might see at a high school or college athletic event, where people from across the area come together to watch athletics, enjoy each other’s company, and showcase their local pride.
The cultural ties between the United States and Scotland, including the love of freedom and liberty which manifests in the political realm, are long-lasting and omnipresent. They are so vast and widespread that they are taken for granted as merely being American culture; after all, fish do not notice the water in which they swim. Culturally, our water might as well be scotch.
There is almost nowhere on Earth outside of the United States where an American can get a better understanding of his own history and culture than in Scotland. The density of historic sites and cultural experiences – in a region that is famously sparse in population – is unparalleled. All you need is a rental car, some bravery (for driving on the wrong side of the road), and a map for an experience like no other. All of the sites discussed in this piece are within a few hours’ drive of Edinburgh along some of the best roads in Europe. It is well worth the journey for anyone who loves American history and culture and wishes to see more of where it came from. And next time you buy something, watch a modern political speech, play a round of golf, or celebrate American freedom and individualism, raise a glass to the Scots.
Cool article, thanks for posting.Report
Maybe an 18th century Scottish version of America with generous misinterpretations and highly selective quoting of Adam Smith (let’s ignore all the proto-welfare state parts of the Wealth of Nations!!!) The Scots have moved on from an 18th century yeoman farmer fantasy definition of liberty, so can we and so should we.Report
I’ve been across Scotland once – from Edinburgh to Oban, just south of the Highlands. Beautiful country. I know that history is more complicated than this, but I remember seeing the Edinburgh Castle for the first time and thinking “wow, the Scottish must be terrible soldiers, because the people who occupy that castle shouldn’t ever have been defeated”. Everyone I know wants to go to Ireland, but I’d love an excuse to go back to Scotland.
I’m curious if you’ve ever read “Black Rednecks and White Liberals” by Thomas Sowell. You wrote about the feuding culture of the American South being transferred over from Scotland, and it went along with Sowell’s analysis. I’m not sure about the second half of his thesis, but the first half makes a lot of sense to me.Report
“We rarely hear, it has been said, of the combinations of masters, though frequently of those of workmen. But whoever imagines, upon this account, that masters rarely combine, is as ignorant of the world as of the subject.”
“The masters, upon these occasions, are just as clamorous upon the other side, and never cease to call aloud for the assistance of the civil magistrate, and the rigorous execution of those laws which have been enacted with so much severity against the combination of servants, labourers, and journeymen.”
Where did such socialism come from? Adam Smith of course! But it is an accurate description of our 21st century bosses, same as the 18th century bosses.Report
This is weird. It’s like, the contents of the article didn’t bother you as much as that the article wasn’t about what you wanted it to be.Report
Is Marijuana legal in Scotland?
No. It is not.Report
Because the “high land” jokes would grow tiresome.Report
Most people who actually read Smith, or pre-WWII/Cold War Hayek, are very surprised.Report
I’ve never read him. My understanding is that, as an opponent of government intervention, he goes into specifics about when government intervention would be acceptable, and thus the modern reader can be surprised how much of The Wealth of Nations is about government intervention. Another misconception is due to context: the modern reader thinks of government intervention as supporting the poor over the rich, so Smith’s fans and opponents assume that anti-intervention = supporting business. In point of fact, government intervention at the time looked more like the East India Company.Report
An opponent of certain kinds of government intervention. He opposed extremes of mercantilism and the things that came with it like high tariffs and trade restrictions. Probably worth noting that when Smith and Ricardo wrote, international trade was self-limiting because there was a limit on wealth reserves that backed things up. He believed that speaking broadly, firm profits should be low because competition, and labor wages should be high because skilled specialization. The government ought to educate everyone to increase the supply of skilled labor.
I suspect Smith would have supported one of Cain’s Laws™, the one that says, “Every situation where it is easier to become wealthy by shuffling financial assets than by managing the production of the underlying goods and services will end badly.”Report
Hayek is fun too. Consider this quote from The Road to Serfdom:
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I mean, this doesn’t surprise me at all, and I suspect it wouldn’t be surprising to most people who recognize the name “Hayek”. It’s only a caricature of libertarians/classical liberals to think that they’re good with people starving in the streets. But there’s a huge gap between this “pity-charity” approach and the tenets of modern US liberalism.Report
Now, now, we’re not supposed to talk about all that technical gobbledygook. The real meat is where he says that if we don’t cut marginal tax rates for the top bracket by 4% the economy will blow up so bad a ball of white hot energy will incinerate the surface of the country and appoint Jimmy Carter dictator of the ruins that remain.Report
It seems perfectly reasonable to comment on the myopic (in its theoretical form) and facile (in its popular form) American conceptions of freedom and liberty in an article suggesting that another country shares these conceptions. Pay no attention to the peanut gallery.Report
I usually do.Report
I’m pretty sure that if we wanted to start arguing about the modern equivalent of the factory owners who call for the government to intercede on their behalf, we’d quickly find ourselves in a strange and topsy-turvy conversation.
But if we want to talk about Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos and, yes, Elon Musk, I suppose we can…
But I think we’d find ourselves confused as to who would line up where.Report
I don’t know why we’d be confused.Report
It’s always weird when you see who is defending “the masters” and who is defending “the workmen”.Report
I dunno; I’ve been around long enough that it doesn’t surprise me, even when the same person switches between contexts (or with the political winds).Report
“Should we import more labor to help deal with rising labor costs?” and that sort of thing is always fun.
Why, it’d be immoral to *NOT* give Perdue cheaper workers!Report
“Should the government force the masters to pay more to the workmen?” also gets a lot of weird alignments.
When “weird alignments” happen, its usually a sign that people are bullsh!tting about what they really mean.
Like valorizing a Scottish economist who almost no one has actually read and trumpeting an abstract economic theory only when it aligns with their real desire.Report
Don’t pick on Saul like that. I’m sure he didn’t mean to valorize Smith just for his own political point, even though that’s exactly what he did, so yeah, maybe picking on him a little is ok.Report
I’m surprised that we haven’t done a better job of arguing about Davis-Bacon.
Maybe we should have a post about that.Report
Or maybe we should enjoy the article about Scotland.Report
I enjoyed the essay. If there had been room for more, I would have included a reference to David Hume, whose writings were highly influential in the Federalist Papers. Hume experienced convulsive changes in Scotland from 1720 to 1750 and was in a position to contemplate a new type of governance.
In particular, Hume’s thoughts were influential on faction, the various kinds, and the harms they produce. From Hume, the notion was derived that a larger republic is superior to the small, because the power of “intrigue, prejudice, and passion” of faction is defused by the remoteness of power. By subsuming governance into larger institutions over larger territories, a great variety of factions must coordinate to wield power, thus limiting the harms from faction. There is no attempt to end faction, that is seen as impossible without despotism and even then faction isn’t truly destroyed so much as concealed.Report
Ah, is that why the original presidential election system worked so badly, that its creators assumed the US as a while was too large for there to be two national parties?Report
Are there two factions (parties), or are parties just associations of very different factions that don’t like each other very much but dislike the other association much more?
If the latter, Hume was mostly rightReport