Brian Taylor: On this St Andrew’s Day, just how Scottish do you feel?

This is not for the want of endeavour by those whose task is to promote all things Scottish. The Visit Scotland website promises “a varied programme of events and festivals, featuring uniquely Scottish line-ups of music, dance, culture and more”.

Within that list, there is apparently to be a “Dundee Hooley”. I think I may have inadvertently attended such events in my distant youth.

But there is more. I found listed “Fun Facts” about St Andrew himself. Including details about his crucifixion on a diagonal cross.

Enough, Brian, enough. This information is aimed at inquisitive visitors, not at those lucky enough to live here. It is Caledonia light, a tentative glimpse through the curtain of our curious history.

However, it started me thinking. Scottish identity is real. Scottish patriotism exists, however modulated. But just how are these phenomena displayed? And what relevance do they have?

I am aware of St Andrew’s story. The legend that relics of the apostle were brought to Fife, engendering the cathedral that now bears his name. As a student there in the Middle Ages, this was a familiar, faintly Gothic narrative.

I am also alert to the other legend: that the Pictish king saw a cloudy saltire in the sky, the image derived from St Andrew’s cross. He duly defeated the Saxons in battle and adopted the saint and his banner in gratitude.

Yet still St Andrew’s Day is neglected. It was made an official holiday by Holyrood statute nearly 20 years ago. But relatively few observe it.

As a display of common identity, it does not remotely compare with American Thanksgiving which was also celebrated this week with fun and fervour. (Not, of course, extending to the indigenous peoples who still find little for which to express delight on the day.)

But back to Scotland. Where lies the Scottish patriotic spirit? Not, it would seem, with St Andrew. Perhaps, under the historic, enduring influence of the Reformed Kirk, some of us are faintly wary of sanctity.

Perhaps we feel we should be marking a specific development in our national story. Just as the French do on the 14th of July, their Fête Nationale commemorating the fall of the Bastille.

Or perhaps it just does not matter enough. Perhaps, as a nation who voted to remain within a wider state, we are conflicted about identity.

To be frank, I would dispute that. If anything, I believe that Scottish identity, a concept of commonality, is more firmly founded than previously.

For the avoidance of any lingering doubt, that sense of identity is not confined to those who endorse independence. It is very definitely shared with those who believe that Scotland’s future continues to lie within the United Kingdom.

Yet it sometimes seems to lack focus, to lack expression. Not St Andrew’s Day. How about Hogmanay? Perhaps – although, as a festival, it can veer between the manic and the maudlin.

Burns Nicht then. Down the decades, I have delivered countless Immortal Memories. I admire the poet’s insight. But are the celebrations always wholly inclusive? Are they not, still, too frequently male?

Perhaps we can find a shared bond in culture more widely. In music, literature and the arts. For example, I rejoice at the discovery of a new portrait of the poet Robert Fergusson. Burns called him “my elder brother in misfortune, by far my elder brother in the muse.”

I think it likely that there are links to be found in culture although, again, these may not be universally shared. That need not remove their value.

Can we discern commonality in language? In Gaelic, whose defence I champion. Well, up to a point, Lord Copper. However, it can never be the language for all of Scotland. Certainly not for much of the east coast, the Borders and the northern isles.

Scots, then? Not really, no. All power to those like Billy Kay who promote its use. But it is too late for it to be Scotland’s lingua franca, uniting disparate communities.

Perhaps we find our common identity on the sporting field. I once sat alongside a polished, urbane MP at Murrayfield who warned the company that he was about to behave “like an extra from Braveheart” for the next 80 minutes. He was as good as his word.

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Just witness the way the crowds there and at Hampden belt out Flower o’ Scotland. Is that not patriotism? Is that not national identity?

It is, yes. Even although there are curmudgeons who dislike the words, calling them sentimental or bloodthirsty. Do they know the lyrics to La Marseillaise?

Ah, the Tartan Army. Smiling even in adversity. Forming a cheerful conga line with the local gendarmerie, wherever they chance to be. Perhaps they are our true ambassadors? Perhaps.

Let us not forget that, in the past, the very notion of Scottish identity was challenged. Gaelic and Highland dress were suppressed. We were instructed in school to avoid the use of Scots idiom.

There were even sporadic attempts to talk of “North Britain”, rather than Scotland. (A concomitant attempt to call England “south Britain” swiftly withered.)

But the North British Hotel in Edinburgh is now the Balmoral. And the usage, more generally, has vanished beneath a persistent revival of Scottish identity.

(Image: Flower of Scotland)

The kilt and tartan, once reviled as emblems of the rebellious Highlands, are now universal Scottish symbols, tracing back to Sir Walter Scott’s somewhat ludicrous pageant welcoming King George IV to Edinburgh in 1822.

And so identity matters. But pragmatism matters more. Just look at how our political leaders are marking St Andrew’s Day.

The First Minister urges consensus in preparing for next week’s Holyrood Budget. The Scottish Secretary launches Scotland the Brand in south-east Asia, stressing Scottish products within the ambit of the UK.

Scottish identity is now a given. But a genuine choice remains as to how we exercise that identity. Happy St Andrew’s Day.

Brian Taylor is a former political editor for BBC Scotland and a columnist for The Herald. He cherishes his family, the theatre and Dundee United FC