When I was at Edinburgh University a decade ago, a girl with a thick Surrey accent stopped me as I walked back to my room in halls. ‘Rah, have you been to the reeling society?’ she asked. ‘What makes you think that?’ I replied. ‘You’ve acquired a slight limp.’ ‘It’s the cerebral palsy, luv.’
They’re very forward, these English, I thought. Last week, Peter Mathieson, principal of the University of Edinburgh, claimed that Scots students were facing snobbery from the English. An alumnus, Dr Neil Milliken, had asked what Edinburgh was doing about ‘racial discrimination and class ridicule by self-perceived superior English incomes against native students’. He sounds jolly.
Mathieson responded: ‘There is definitely unacceptable behaviour among student populations. We felt, and still feel, that this is a problem that we are conscious of.’ His comments came as university guidance was amended to warn students ‘Don’t be a snob!’ and to stop acting ‘surprised or shocked if people’s knowledge is different from yours’.
On the first night of Freshers’ Week, I found myself at an after-party made up entirely of Old Harrovians. As the conversation dried up – nervous 18-year-olds not being the chattiest – everyone burst out laughing as I got my phone out. ‘I’ve never met someone who has an Android,’ chortled one of them.
A few days later, I was rather chuffed to be adopted by another posh-southern girl. Over an Amber Leaf rollie, we got talking about our education. ‘Did you go to Fettes then?’ she asked. ‘No, just the local comp.’ ‘Wow, you must be gifted. If you’re from a state school, there’s basically no chance of you getting to university.’
When I was there, Edinburgh certainly had a snobbery problem. But mostly, it wasn’t the few Scottish undergrads who were on the receiving end. The only real abuse I witnessed was directed at the English or quisling Scots. I started my undergraduate studies in the days before the 2014 independence referendum. On polling day, an elderly nationalist campaigning outside halls called me a cunt.
In a Scottish Studies lecture covering the nation’s political history, a contingent of SNP members – not enrolled on the course – sat at the back of the David Hume lecture theatre monitoring the content. (The theatre has since been renamed, because of course Hume is a nasty imperialist.) That was the prevailing atmosphere at the time – I doubt much has changed.
The anti-English tone I witnessed at the University of Edinburgh was set by the government. When Alex Salmond introduced free tuition for Scots and Europeans, he went to court to ensure the English wouldn’t be included. On his last day as first minister, a stone was unveiled in the grounds of Heriot-Watt University with a Salmond quote inscribed on it: ‘The rocks will melt with the sun before I allow tuition fees to be imposed on Scotland’s students.’ It has since been removed as it was causing offence to international students.
The only real abuse I witnessed was directed at the English or quisling Scots
The truth is that Scottish universities are increasingly reliant on English, Chinese and American fee-payers: they need the cash to make up the shortfall from the measly £1,800 they get for Scots-born students. Universities don’t want to take more than the minimum number of domestic applicants. This is where the only real anti-Scots discrimination exists.
The prevailing attitude of exploiting non-Scots and rubbing their noses in it – as Salmond did – mixed with a sometimes-jokey, sometimes-vicious view that Edinburgh is an English enclave. Friends from the city were often reluctant to go to uni pubs because they’d be overflowing with English, especially when the rugby was on. It was Scots who didn’t want to mix with southerners, not the other way round.
Sure, my uni anecdotes are funny, but they’re not offensive. And yes, I’ve heard of Burns nights with no Scots in attendance, instead replaced by ‘Surrey Highlanders’ whose attempts at the local accent almost made me believe that cultural appropriation was a thing. But any Scot who genuinely feels oppressed by such incidents is either lily-livered or a liar.
The greatest experience I took from my time at the University of Edinburgh was the exposure to people from all walks of life: from Indian billionaires, minor royals and insufferable poshos to locals and comp kids like me. For anyone lucky enough to find themselves in and amongst it, they should see it for the gift it is – not moan and whinge about it.
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