I have been falsely

accused of belittling

the Holocaust

 

Sophie Cooke

 

Stuart Kelly's unpleasant personal attack (8 November), published in response to an essay of mine on Scottish writing which mentioned his name once, left me feeling profoundly depressed about the state of open debate in this country.
     Rather than engage with ideas that are different to his own, Stuart Kelly has preferred to misrepresent them: to set up false arguments in their place, ones he feels more able to knock down. It was not a pretty sight, to watch someone I used to respect as a critic fighting with himself in the mirror when he could have been contributing to an important national debate. He is a well-read man and it would be interesting to hear what he thinks about the actual points I was making.
     I am undecided over how to respond, for an argument made in response to a false or misrepresented argument is always going to be somewhat beside the point, and responding to it in turn may well only add to the absurdity. I would vastly prefer to spend my time responding to Stuart Kelly's thoughts on my actual ideas, rather than what he thinks of how he has dressed them. Leaving aside his lovely visions of state-funded experimental plumbing, therefore, I think there are only two of his points that I really must address. 
     The first of these is his sickening accusation that I have in some way belittled the Jewish Holocaust. Here is my original statement: 'In its combination of loss and guilt, I would say that the emotional impetus behind "Scottish writing" is again not a unique identifier – the same force informs much "Jewish writing", given the tragedy of the Holocaust and the complex issue of the occupation of Palestine – it is, though, a deep underlying motor'.
     According to Stuart Kelly, one can not say that the Clearances and the Holocaust both left a deep sense of loss in the cultures concerned, without being accused of saying they were exactly the same thing. Would he really argue that saying bicycles and cars both have tyres means you think a bicycle is a car, or vice versa? It seems so.
     Here is Stuart Kelly's misrepresentation of my argument: 'Ms Cooke then asserts that the psyche created by the Clearances (and subsequent efforts of Scots for imperialism) in fact is not unique, and a parallel might be found in Jewish writing. The Clearances were a vicious moment in the history of Scotland. The Shoah was a stain on civilisation. To attempt to co-opt one to the other is a shameful piece of intellectual legerdemain; akin to saying to an amputee that you yourself once suffered a hangnail; and I hope Ms Cooke thinks long and hard before making such a tasteless comparison again'.
     How utterly revolting. It is not I who have co-opted one of the world's greatest tragedies into anything at all. I did nothing but point out the obvious fact that the Holocaust left a deep sense of loss in Jewish culture – as did the different tragedy of the Clearances in Scottish culture. At no point did I suggest that the two tragedies were of an identical type or scale: simply, that they shared the property of having left an enduring sense of loss, and that this in turn may be reflected in the writings of each culture.  

 

     Why misrepresent my argument, rather than address the real and valid point I was making – which is that Scottish and Jewish writing may have a shared property? I can not understand his behaviour, for my essay had not been a personal attack on him. It was simply laying out some groundwork for a way of looking at Scottish writing, and for making connections between it and other literatures (including Jewish writing among many others).
     Is no one but Stuart Kelly permitted to express an opinion on the subject of Scottish writing without being threatened with false accusations of belittling the Holocaust – accusations which Stuart Kelly himself must, given his undoubted intellect, know to be false? A cultural commentator should be happy to foster debate and diversity of opinion.
     I imagine it goes without saying how greatly this particular accusation shocked me. If I had not had the support of several Scottish Jewish writers – who had already read my original essay, and enjoyed it – then it would have truly upset me.
     I could write at length about the years I spent living in Berlin, and about how very familiar I am with the enormous scale of the Holocaust; I could write about my long-standing interest in Jewish philosophy, or how moved I was by the singing in the Neue Synagogue, and how saddened by the need for security checks at the entrance – a friend had kindly introduced me to the rabbi there, or I would not have been able to attend the service; but really, I shouldn't need to do all this – for I said nothing offensive or ignorant in the first place.
     The second point I feel I should address is Stuart Kelly's belief that only the genetic descendants of the Clearances, or those who now live in the locations that were cleared, may be affected by that tragic event in Scottish history or identify with it. I do admire his knowledge of literature, but I suspect he may have a little less knowledge where social sciences are concerned. As I have a masters degree in social anthropology, it might help if I give some background on the social theory of identity. 
     A group of individuals all have individual identities. Together, they also have a collective identity. When the group experiences something, the individuals within the group identify with this experience: that is to say, they adopt it into their own experience and identity. This is why football fans can feel they have won or lost a game without actually playing in it themselves: it is because they are part of an identity group which includes the football team. I think this is one of the most fascinating social mechanisms. It is documented so widely, and is so entirely uncontentious, that Stuart Kelly need only speak to any lecturer in any social science subject at any university in the world in order to receive confirmation of the point. 
     If someone identifies with the group 'Scotland' as their national identity, then they also identify with the experiences of that group. Whether or not they also have personal experience of the event concerned is not essential. In the same way, a football fan can feel that she has won or lost a game without personally playing in it, or even without personally attending the game – or even without watching the game on television. She might hear about the game afterwards from someone else. (I trust Stuart Kelly is able to appreciate the simple analogy I am making here, and will not accuse me of saying that the Clearances were a football game, with oranges at half-time.)  

 

     One of the things that is most interesting about this mechanism is its ability to create connections. The football fan, while feeling the victory or defeat as a personal experience, does not say 'I won' or 'I lost', but 'we won' or 'we lost'. Note too that anyone can join the group. Yet while the football team identity shows us how powerful group identity can be as a bonding mechanism, and how inclusive group identity can be, it also shows us how dangerous it can be if individuals identify with the group too completely. The result of forgetting our identity as individuals can be violent; sometimes fatal. I would like to explore my personal view of the centre ground a little more here, and move on from Stuart Kelly's unhelpful remarks. 
     On the one hand, our collective national identity helps us empathise with the other members of our nation, and also creates social cohesion. By reassuring us that we all have at least one thing in common (our nationhood), it encourages us to be unafraid of other difference within the group. That strong shared identity means that the group can incorporate immigration and religious difference without feeling that its greater identity is threatened.
     The more secure the group's identity, the more tolerant of inner difference it becomes. An overly weak shared identity can result in fear and violence within the group. It has resulted in sectarianism, homophobia, Anglophobia, Islamophobia, anti-Semitism, and the rise of the far-right. In the worst-case scenario, it develops into a total collapse of the weak overall group identity into sub-groups, one or more of which may then victimise the other. This has resulted in horrific genocides across the world. 
     On the other hand, an overly strong shared identity can prevent us from also being able to identify with members of other groups outside our own. This is the mechanism at work, in an extreme form, when group members designate members of other groups as 'non-human'. It can result in hatred and violence between the group and other groups outside it. It is also at work when a group believes that its own interests must take precedence over the rights of others. Throughout history, it has resulted in wars across the world, and campaigns of empire-building. 
     What is most desirable is probably a shared national identity which is secure enough to contain inner difference without fear or conflict, yet which never subsumes us. In fact, the more secure the group feels, the less it needs our conformity. In countries as well as in individuals, the bullying of citizens who dare to differ from the accepted rhetoric is usually an expression of insecurity.
     A secure group identity creates a more just and tolerant society. It also enables its members to have strong and divergent individual identities, which can act as a brake on the worse excesses of group behaviour, and which also creates individual connections with other groups (for example, many of us have family connections overseas). At the same time, as an overall group, we can identify with other overall groups: always seeing what we have in common with other groups, and forging bonds. This is not difficult to do, if once we begin to look for points of connection rather than points of difference. I do not think there is any group of people in the world with whom we have nothing at all to share.  

 

Sophie Cooke is a Scottish novelist, short story writer, and poet. She is the author of the novels 'The Glass House' and 'Under The Mountain', and was shortlisted for the Saltire First Book of the Year Award