Let’s reflect for a moment or two on the phrase "I kent his faither"; a phrase so often uttered that it has been suggested as a suitable national motto for us Scots. It certainly testifies to one of our most obvious characteristics and a grudging reluctance to concede distinction or too readily to acknowledge authority. It is, in its more attractive aspect, an egalitarian war-cry, rallying all who resent some person who seems to be getting above himself.

But this "I’m just as good as him" message is not the whole significance of the phrase. Sometimes it, or something like it, is spoken in irritation by someone who possesses particular information or knowledge to which the general public seems to be indifferent or uninterested. Their indifference in turn allows false tales, unsound judgments and inaccurate reports to dominate the record of our times.

Every so often I have stood in civil silence, born of a desire not to give needless offence, while being told by some shining-eyed and throbbing-voiced innocent about the wonderful and crucial service given to the SNP by good old so and so. The truth very often is that so and so did not do a hand’s turn, and in many instances was not even a member of the Party. Or again some persons publicly identified as Nationalists have indeed been very prominent, but unfortunately so, as their prominence has gone hand in hand with a high degree of eccentricity. Their public identification has thus been, as one might say, counter-productive. And so, many of us could offer alternative estimates or at least qualify some of these ill-informed but deep-rooted myths about the events and personalities of our collective past. On every occasion when the Party’s inner workings and inner circles have come under scrutiny by outsiders we have all tended — or the loyal among us at least —to stay silent and wait for it all to blow over. This tactic has the merit of keeping the period of damaging publicity as brief as possible, as in the absence of a flaming row the Press will more speedily lose interest. But, as a result, untruth and misrepresentation are left in possession of news columns and the judgement and memories of those who have read them. It is then that those of us who, as it were, "kent their faithers", find it hard to refrain from seeking to offer correction. We feel the urge to tell the public what some personalities we have known were really like; or, at least, how they behaved before journalists became aware of their existence. The urge rapidly dies down as we remember that the true story cannot compete with legends rooted in thousands of unchallenged column inches. In this, as in so much else, people tend to cling to myth rather than to evidence and analysis.