Many reasons have been advanced for the traditional refusal of Glaswegians to be seduced by the Edinburgh festival. Almost all are based on tired and false assumptions that gather around the premise that Glasgow is simply jealous of the bunting and baubles that get draped around its little sister to the east all year long.
There’s also an assumption that Glaswegians indulge in little acts of reverse snobbery by snubbing what they regard as a jamboree for the affluent that disappeared up its own fundament a long time ago.
The real reasons are a lot more straightforward. Glasgow is a city of culture all year round, where access to world-class performing arts is part of the normal cycle. It doesn’t display its cultural credentials like tinsel; nor does it permit itself to become a boutique destination where it dances to the whims of the international play-set.
Even so, in recent years, there has been an increase in the number of Glaswegians visiting the festival. Before 2012, only 5% of tickets were bought by Glaswegians, before someone at the festival had the bright idea of installing a ticket booth at the city’s Queen Street station. I’m one of those who has recently begun to pencil in a day or so at the festival each year, enchanted by the dusk-til-dawn bacchanal that annexes Edinburgh throughout August. However, to derive maximum enjoyment from these days, it’s probably best not to dwell too much on the wider social impact of the festival on its permanent citizens.
Edinburgh also hosts what it likes to think is the world’s best Hogmanay party, an event that seems to become a little more stretched and all-encompassing with each passing year. Soon, I fear, a major events company will be tasked with filling in those gaps in the year when Edinburgh doesn’t have some kind of themed pageant going on.
Earlier this year, Scotland’s culture secretary, Fiona Hyslop, announced that she would be hosting a summit at the festival to discuss the issue of international artists who are being refused entry to the UK as the Westminster government rehearses some of its lines for a hard Brexit. If you were being downright curmudgeonly, you might also ask if she would be willing to chair a similar summit aimed at enabling more of Edinburgh’s citizenry to derive some benefit from Edinburgh’s festivals.
First on the agenda could be the issue of residents effectively having a curfew imposed during the Hogmanay period and being told to pay to get back into their own city centre.
She might also wish to discuss issues raised by the Fair Fringe campaign, which is asking the city council to deny licences to venues at the fringe that participate in exploitation and profiteering. A report by the group cited many allegations of exploitative practices and an ever-increasing reliance on “volunteers”. Poor working conditions at several fringe venues were also highlighted.
Fair Fringe shares some common ground with the recently launched Citizen group in Edinburgh. The group, which represents several concerned cultural and community bodies, is seeking to rescue the city from the scourge of gentrification, unhindered property development and what it regards as the privatisation of public space. It is also concerned by the way in which the impact of Edinburgh’s festivals (12 and counting) and excess tourism is transforming the city’s fundamental character.
These people have been portrayed by some as joyless counterculture warriors seeking to clip the wings of an event that will always be a major driver of Scotland’s vital tourist economy. They are anything but. Many are enthusiastic supporters and participants in the festival who are proud of their city.
Edinburgh is Scotland’s most culturally important city, as well as being its most naturally beautiful. It shouldn’t need to work too hard to sell itself and certainly not at the expense of its soul. They simply believe that a point exists where a magnificent and historic place is in danger of being reduced to the status of a party destination for the world’s demimonde. That point, they believe, was passed some time ago.
Citizen wants the council to “reimagine the city as a sustainable place for people to live in, one of social justice and equality, not just a space for consumption and profit”. It fears that large parts of Edinburgh have suffered a hollowing-out effect, in which the centre of the city is being divested of its essential character (and many of its citizens) to make way for a theme park for affluent global box-tickers.
The effects of this have been evident in the rise of Airbnb and short-term lets, a phenomenon that has grown at an astonishing rate as the city’s festivals get bigger each year. There are reported to be more than 12,000 of these types of dwellings, one for every 42 residents. Thus, the city’s old and new towns, together a designated Unesco world heritage site, are becoming a mere holiday camp, the ancient grandeur turned into something temporary and shifting as the city is swamped each year by an army of itinerants.
It’s good to be in Edinburgh at any time of the year. Lately, though, it’s become difficult to glimpse the city’s essential splendour beneath all the rouge, cheap jewellery and powdered hair.
• Kevin McKenna is an Observer columnist
