Dear God, I sound like a nationalist troll

Usually, there isn’t too much common ground on big political issues between the artists, writers and performers who inhabit the cultural world. The nature of intellectual endeavour suggests that these creative types are individualistic, edgy and hard to dragoon behind an established position.

However, the marathon referendum campaign in Scotland turned such an assumption on its head.

Scotland’s writers and performers were overwhelmingly in favour of independence, at least the ones who spoke out. 2,000 of them flocked to join a ‘National Collective’ of pro-independence ‘creatives’.

This is the introduction to an article by Tom Gallagher. He goes on to quote Chris Deerin, the Daily Mail journalist who made himself notorious for conflating political opinion with personal insults during the referendum campaigns.

First of all, here's my full disclosure. I am neither a member of National Collective, nor do I support any political party - I am sympathetic to The Greens, but have suspicions about their leadership and await a more mature manifesto from them. 

The only political campaigns that interest me are ones that focus on compassion, or Wessex Regionalism. 

However, I have a few disagreements with Mr Gallagher. 

Usually, there isn’t too much common ground on big political issues between the artists, writers and performers who inhabit the cultural world. 

Nope, that's not true. Artists tend to share a general left of centre consensus (hence the number of political plays about asylum seekers, socialist politics and so on). Even before the referendum got going, there was a lack of 'right wing' playwrights in Scotland. Even with my soppy liberal values, it distressed me that so little was being written by the 'other side'. The majority of Scottish artists have always shared ideals - which tend to reflect the 'soft' socialism of the Scottish people.

a ‘National Collective’ of pro-independence ‘creatives’.

Any reasons for the scare quotes? 

As for this picture: it is not a picture of the National Collective - and while I do not wish to dismiss the opinions of the man with his top off, it is hardly an image of a typical Scottish creative. I remember Alan Bissett threatening to strip off in his show about Andrea Dworkin (the audience persuaded him that this was not necessary, thank you), but he was hardly the Scottish version of the techno viking.

While I can't say that I have any time at all for Chris Deerin - he is worried about Scottish Independence, but consistently conflates it with the SNP (which, again, isn't true - there are plenty of supporters of independence who are going to be voting Labour or Green in the next election) - I am interested in James MacMillan. I adore his compositions, and have been consistently moved by his ability to use Latin text within a choral context, interpreting the words profound and spiritual beauty through cascading layers of sound. 

‘The last time I saw him was at a post-devolution party at the National Museum of Scotland; the kind of lavish event where the Scottish liberal elites gather to exult in one of their regular self-congratulatory orgies of entitlement and privilege. He looked at me, with tears in his eyes and said falteringly “Look at all this James; we are now the new modern Scottish establishment.” Something snapped in me that night, and I've never been the same since…’

This is MacMillan talking about Pat Kane. The article references MacMillan's article on celebrities preaching politics, and rejects the idea that they are any use as a foundation for making a choice at the poll-booth. Gallagher points out that a Herald journalist then called him a hypocrite, as if this was an act performed by a cabal of nationalists trying to censor MacMillan.

I'd call it a media debate... and argue that MacMillan's warning is perfectly sensible (think for yourself and be suspicious of any establishment figure, even Pat Kane) but does not constitute a fear of the National Collective. 

Articles like this, however, are an attempt to stir up an argument when a debate is possible. And what the hell is the point of banging on about a referendum campaign after the results have all been counted?

I am testing my freedom of speech with this piece. Let's see who retweets, and who doesn't.

The Cumnock Tryst

Scottish Opera takes revenge...

One of the best things about the prophets and patriarchs of the Torah is the way that they are constantly arguing with G-d. If they aren't running away from their sacred mission, they are complaining about justice, or questioning the divine will. Both contemporary fundamentalists and their atheist opponents frequently forget that The Bible refuses to present a monolithic notion of the holy. From the book of Genesis, where two competing creation myths are laid out for consideration, scripture is all about the dialogue.

James MacMillan has never been shy about his Catholicism: Clemency unsurprisingly uses a story from The Bible to question the nature of vengeance. Better known as an icon by Andrei Rublev, the meeting between Abraham, his wife and three angels is a prime example of how Judaism's relationship with G-d is anything but simplistic.

In collaboration with regular librettist Michael Symmons Roberts, MacMillan updates the story, giving the angels the feel of three terrorists. The hints of middle eastern music in the score, and the extended justification of the angel's behaviour, draws explicit parallels to the activities of certain Islamic groups. The great moral rage of the trio might be deliberately timeless, but it acts as a handy condemnation of modern excesses, whether metaphorically or literally - the details could come from any journalist's description of war zones or invaded nations.

The triptych stage set consciously pulls the opera back into the grand tradition of religious art: the costumes update the story, much in the way that Renaissance artists would do to Biblical stories. The message is clear that far from being irrelevant, Biblical stories retain a mythological meaning and are not to be mistaken for historical truth.

And so, Scottish Opera's New Opera season does something rare: religion has not formed the foundation of opera in the same way as it has for visual art, or symphonic compositions. It's a lovely irony that a company so keen to woo a younger audience (great deals for the youth here) has presented an opera that moves from the form's mainstream into an area that, on the surface, is deeply unfashionable.

There is a slight awkwardness in the libretto, since huge philosophical ideas are flung down in a mixture of prosaic and hyperbolic language. The angels' justification for their murderous intentions (they are off to destroy a couple of towns which have strayed from the path of righteousness) and Sarah's contemplation of her promised child have a stand alone beauty and power that could get them some nice Classic FM airplay. Yet it is the intensity of MacMillan's score and Symmons Robert's brooding questioning that give Clemency a bite.

By the end, when Abraham panics, realising that the angels are unlikely to find the necessary five good souls that would save the towns, or when Sarah ponders the world her child might inherit, the problems of holy rage and deserved retribution have been sketched out for further discussion. Atheists might notice that the angels provide an example of how the divine will can be used to justify some pretty vicious behaviour, just like the G-d that Dawkins doesn't believe in. Believers might be unsettled by the implications of a patriach like Abraham doubting the will of G-d. But Clemency updates the myth, and remains true to its difficult, argumentative nature.