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A man with
murder in his heart will find it easier to fulfil his ambition if he
has a gun, a fact obvious to all except His Royal Highness of
Edinburgh who, memorably, saw equally lethal properties in cricket
bats. Just as with individuals so also with states or groups or
organisations, all of which have to suffer the pangs of frustrated
homicide if they are unarmed. The fact that we live in such a violent
and threatening world is because the powerful decision makers in the
world, for half a century now, have armed themselves to the teeth,
lavished weapons upon their proxies, and sold them to villainous
regimes which lack armaments industries of their own. Every time
bloodshed follows, abandoned weapons are harvested from battlefields
by grateful bandits who thus enjoy a sudden
increase in their political influence.
We all know about these
follies, and most people take it for granted that those who govern
will have a monoply of armed forces. Only in America, where an
irrational fear of government inspires belief in some that they are
justified in keeping guns in order to defy their own rulers, is this
monopoly rejected.
Even when the proper, legal,
elected authority has control over all weapons, there remains the need
to ensure that that control is exercised properly. In our own case the
armed forces are the forces of the Crown. The officer corps, in spite
of two generations of concentration on specific expertise and
professionalism, is still markedly aristocratic or at least drawn from
a wealthy class background, if not in all its personnel than certainly
in its traditions and ethos. That such a body should obey elected
authority might be more reliably guaranteed by Queen Elizabeth than by
President Thatcher or some such figure.
So, have you planned your
Jubilee party yet? Last time round, in 1977, Neal Asherson, driving
southwards across the border, reported "at Longtown, Jubilee hit us
like a wall". In the Scotland which he had just left, public interest
was focussed upon football at Wembley, and Jubilee was greeted in a
frenzy of indifference. Will it be so again?
English tendency to respond to
such occasions with watery eyes and quivering lips has its origins in
a kind of myth of monarchy.
There was a time when monarchy was seen as having a close link with
divinity and sovereign was in place by God’s will. It is hard to
understand why this belief in a magic, supernatural monarchy survived
the events of 1688-9 after which monarchs were
merely superior magistrates holding their powers by
the will of Parliament.
Perhaps the myth of monarchy
might usefully be tolerated, as a Scotland on the verge of
independence might be facing a Unionist Parliament willing to order a
military response, like the Soviet leaders in Budapest and Prague. A
monarch then might teach wisdom and restraint to soldiers.
We do find pleasure in mockery,
whether of royal pretensions or posturing in uniforms. Stage comedies
have encouraged contempt of Chocolate Soldiers, Ruritania and so on.
President Nixon did not enhance his reputation when he busied himself
designing new livery for the White House sentries, and Fascist love of
dressing-up lessened the impact of the message.
Once upon a time a well-known
figure in our Party suggested that the SNP should institute its own
honours system, with due decoration and ceremony. His hearers were at
first at a loss. They were not sure if he was serious or not. When it
became sadly apparent that he was, it was Mrs Elma Campbell Gibson who
hit upon the best answer to the embarrassing proposal. She responded
with innocent enthusiasm. Why not our own order of chivalry? It could
have some sort of insignia if not uniforms. Yes indeed, replied the
originator of the idea, pleased to find such encouragement. We could
invest new members with bowler hats, said Mrs Gibson, worn sideways
and with a St Andrew’s Cross on the front. No more was heard of the
proposal. |
