Scotland Goes Polyglot: Gaelic Is Dead, Long Live Gaelic

Now, let’s be clear: no one’s actually against preserving cultural heritage. I like a good ceilidh as much as the next man, provided the next man isn’t wearing interpretive tartan and reciting Rabbie Burns like he’s found a time machine in a bottle of Buckfast. But what we’re looking at here isn’t cultural preservation. It’s heritage cosplay, sponsored by Holyrood and starring Kate Forbes as Deputy First Minister of Linguistic Guilt.

According to the latest census – a document compiled once every decade by people who believe lying about your yoga routine counts as data – 130,161 people in Scotland claim “some skills” in Gaelic. “Some skills” presumably including recognising it on a road sign and saying “slàinte” at weddings. That’s up 43,105 from 2011, which is either a triumph of cultural revival or the result of a particularly enthusiastic Duolingo owl with a chip on its shoulder.

And then there’s Scots – spoken, allegedly, by 2.4 million. Yes, 2.4 million. Which is about the number of people who also believe they’re “fluent” in sarcasm. Scots, to be fair, is just English with a hangover and a better sense of humour. You don’t learn it, you inherit it – usually through exposure to a grandmother who can skin a rabbit while quoting Billy Connolly.

The Official Language of Confused Road Signs

Because English just wasn’t confusing enough on the Isle of Mull.

Making Gaelic and Scots “official languages” is the kind of performative governance that says: We’ve no idea how to fix the NHS, so here’s a new plaque in Lochaber. It’s the political equivalent of ordering scented candles while your house is on fire.

Next will be “linguistic significance areas” – which sounds like a euphemism for where you go when you want a council grant and a bilingual composting workshop. These areas, presumably, will be marked on maps with the same enthusiastic vagueness as the Loch Ness Monster, and will include two speakers, three cultural advisors, and a man in Tobermory who once translated “Game of Thrones” into Gaelic for a dare.

The Revival That Refuses to Die (Because It’s Funded)

Two decades of Gaelic legislation and still no word for ‘efficient’

Let’s not forget – it’s been twenty years since the Gaelic Language Act. Twenty. That’s longer than most Scottish Government IT contracts last. And in that time, Gaelic has gone from “almost extinct” to “slightly less extinct but now with dedicated signage.” Progress, if your benchmark is the dodo.

And while we’re officially recognising languages, can we throw Latin a bone? Or the King’s English? After all, if we’re embracing historical tongues barely anyone understands, we may as well go the full Boris and demand conjugations in Caesar’s mother tongue.

Cultural Pride or Just Another Budget Line?

All the romance of poetry, with the administrative flair of pothole reporting

Kate Forbes says this will “accelerate growth.” A bold claim for a language with the economic viability of a Borders wool mill. The truth is, Holyrood loves a linguistic policy because it sounds progressive without requiring measurable outcomes. It’s like net zero – aspirational, symbolic, and largely dependent on grants.

So yes, by all means, teach Gaelic. Put it on the signs. Have it in schools. But let’s not pretend this is anything more than a nationalist vanity project in sensible shoes. Because when the ferry still doesn’t arrive on time, the bins aren’t collected, and the GP’s closed till October, it won’t matter if your complaint is in Gaelic, Scots, or Morse code – no one’s listening.

But hey, at least now you can be ignored in three languages.