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you name a small, mountainous country, primitive and backward, ruled
by shifting coalitions of tribal leaders until a band of fundamentalist
religious zealots came to power and proceeded to outlaw every form
of enjoyment and to destroy priceless religious icons?
You might think
of Afghanistan. I have in mind the country my ancestor Thomas Boaz
left in 1740 — Scotland.
The analogy
first occurred to me after September 11 when I began reading about
prospects for a loya jirga in Afghanistan — a gathering
of tribal leaders, perhaps presided over by the exiled king, to
choose a new government for the liberated country. It sounded primitive
in some ways, but also very familiar. Self-government in Europe
had its origins in such gatherings, from Runnymede field to the
new medieval cities of Germany, where men (yes, always men) chose
one of their number to rule. Later, of course, those early assemblies
grew into elected city councils and national parliaments. While
Afghanistan might be some centuries behind Europe in the development
of representative government, a loya jirga sounded very much
like the gatherings of nobles and barons and clan chieftains —
that is to say, tribal leaders — in old Scotland. Indeed, if
a loya jirga led to a stable nationwide government, Afghanistan
would be one up on medieval Scotland, where "kings" often
ruled in name only.
The analogy
gets further support from a new book, How
the Scots Invented the Modern World, by historian Arthur
Herman. The subtitle of the book is The True Story of How Western
Europe's Poorest Nation Created Our World and Everything in It
— an exaggeration, no doubt, but one that reminds us of the
possibility of progress.
Despite the
romantic image of Scotland — Bonnie Prince Charlie, colorful
tartans, misty castles — early modern Scotland was a pretty
dreary place. In his book The
Scotch-Irish: A Social History, James G. Leyburn writes,
The squalor
and meanness of country life around 1600 [or 1700] can hardly
be conceived by a person of the twentieth century. A cluster of
hovels housed the tenants and their helpers. . . . A home was
likely to be little more than a shanty. . . . Floors were of the
earth itself, and mud from the farm-yard was tracked into the
house to compound the filthiness. Since sanitary arrangements
were wholly lacking and since animals slept in the same fetid
room, vermin abounded.
Moreover, the
Reformation beginning in 1559 did not just sweep away what the austere
Scots saw as the corruption of the Roman Catholic Church. John Knox
and his allies set out to impose God's rule on the whole society.
Gambling and theater were banned. No working, dancing, or music
was allowed on Sunday. Traditional celebrations such as Carnival,
Maytime, and Passion plays were banned. Blasphemy and adultery were
punishable by death. Knox's followers even smashed stained-glass
windows, saints' statues, and other priceless works of art because
they were marks of idolatry. As late as 1697, an 18-year-old student,
Thomas Aikenhead, was hanged for reported blasphemy.
One should
be careful about comparing anyone to the Taliban, but the Scottish
reformers seem to have set quite a standard for religious fanatics.
And yet, even
as young Aikenhead swung from the gallows, a new Scotland was growing.
Literacy was spreading. The universities were opening to new ideas.
The Act of Union with England in 1707 made the Scots part of a larger
and more advanced nation.
Within just
a few decades the Scottish Enlightenment was underway. The Scots
pioneered the social sciences: the scientific study of history and
human nature. By the late 18th century, the most important books
in Europe were Scottish books, beginning with Francis Hutcheson's
System of Moral Philosophy and Lord Kames's Sketches of
the History of Man and going on to Adam Smith's Theory of
Moral Sentiments and Wealth of Nations, David Hume's Treatise
of Human Nature, Adam Ferguson's Essay on the History of
Civil Society, and more.
And not just
books: the inventor James Watt, the architect Robert Adam, the road
builder John MacAdam, the bridge builder Thomas Telford, and later
Scots such as Alexander Graham Bell and Andrew Carnegie demonstrated
the practical side of Scottish philosophy.
So what does
all this have to do with Afghanistan? Just possibly it offers hope
to Afghans who want to build a modern society. That project can't
be done instantaneously. It was almost 200 years from the rise of
John Knox until the first books of the Scottish Enlightenment. But
the transformation from 1700 — when Scotland was still poor
and backward — to 1758, when the son of a British prime minister
could say "Scotland is the most accomplished nation in Europe"
and Voltaire could note that "it is to Scotland that we look
for our idea of civilization," was swift and remarkable.
And with modern
technology and communications the process could be faster. Certainly
economies can grow faster these days; from 1780 it took England
58 years to double its wealth, while a hundred years later Japan
did it in 34 years and another century later it took South Korea
only 11 years.
The idea of
progress was crucial to the Scottish theory of history, and Scotland's
own progress in that era was a great illustration of the possibility.
May Afghanistan know the same history.
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