Marching Into the Past

Do Reform and Kate Kennedy go hand in hand?

Despite the chorus of different accents around our streets reaching an unheard forte in recent years, the rattle of “traditional values” has, at long last, echoed up to Scotland’s oldest university. The long shadow of Reform has ironically crawled into the country’s most diverse university, with the St. Andrews Reform Society gaining provisional affiliation last month. Marching alongside the cultural fanfare, Kate Kennedy held their annual procession last Saturday. Whilst not explicitly in the shade of current nationalism, a pang of déjà vu coursed through my body as hooves clattered alongside the smug stomp of public school boys. I saw the same veil of culture which smothers Reform UK’s stance on defending British values, hanging across the procession. I could even make out a resemblance in what lay beyond the veil: a hungry mouth gorging itself on the most self-aggrandising parts of history available at time’s buffet.

The shock horror with which I hear people address the emergence of a Reform society in St Andrews seems ridiculous when considering the lack of outrage at the many other odious things beneath our noses. The callous machismo that lies at the heart of the political party, which seeks to other those not within their specific frame of the world, is reflected in the exclusivity of so many events in this town, best epitomised by the Kate Kennedy Procession. The bustle of Market Street is mandated by the council to be frozen for today's guffawing elite to prance through, as we lowly commoners are granted the liberty of ogling while the upper class of today impersonate the upper class of 600 years ago. A highly manicured image of the past is presented before us by a group of people whose picture of university life adheres to a posh fantasy, drawing on the ancient mythos of an old boys’ club. It’s built on the same foundation which Reform uses to attract supporters far and wide: invented patriotism for a time long gone — a time which never existed. 

The scandals associated with the society are as archaic as the figures spotted in the procession; 2020 saw a barrage of reports coming from anonymous women about alleged sexual misconduct. Meanwhile, the club only started admitting women in the early 2010s. Yet despite these controversies, the club continues to grow as society’s most marginalised boarding schoolers unite.

The appeal of membership in Reform or an exclusive club like Kate Kennedy comes from the same place of insecurity. Much like the party, the exclusive club offers a place of belonging for those proving an identity separate from the rest. The issue is that the identity is held up by nothing more than their separation. Without the exclusivity, the club itself lacks any sort of substance beyond their elite secondary school education. Like the procession, the club seems hollow in its tired aesthetic. Not all in the march, however, belong to the controversial club, as town and gown unite in celebrating St Andrews’ most iconic alumni. 

For one afternoon, the Great Men (and also women) of St Andrews march out of the textbook, in an attempt to glorify and engage with the town's past. Ex-scholars, such as French revolutionary and journalist Jean-Paul Marat, walk side by side with the First World War’s most notorious British General, Field Marshal Haig. Behind them walks Mary Queen of Scots. Then an arctic explorer. The list goes on. Whether or not this is an effective engagement with the culture of the University is questionable.

Marching these figures through the streets is not about historical understanding. Instead, the procession makes a spectacle out of history. Gilded outfits weave together the mythologised cast of heroes as St Andrews’ most romanticised alumni. People who led messy lives are cut out of the history book like a line of paper dolls and led through town. Haig, named the “Butcher of the Somme,” is turned into nothing more than another sequin on the bedazzled tapestry of history that Kate Kennedy presents us. Marat, a man who ignited massacres for the sake of anti-monarchist revolution, is placed beside medieval princesses.

So what then does any of this have to do with Reform? Well, Kate Kennedy flaunts history in the same sanitised way Farage does. For one day, we cheer on a parade of noble heroes from a time past. People we ought to revere for nothing more than the ornate crowns on their heads, rows of medals and glowing silhouettes. To know what lies under this veil is unimportant. It is instead about belonging. Knowing that the place you call home has a glorious past worth celebrating. The ugly face beneath it all, from the club organising it to the supposed heroes we cheer on, is hidden by a veil too tightly knotted around this town to be pulled off.

Illustration by Vera Keganskaya