History, Witchcraft, Slam Poetry and the Banality of Evil—Or Maybe Not?
‘What is history, but a fable agreed upon?’
That is a rendering into English of words allegedly spoken by Napoleon Bonaparte. Or so I was told as I waited for Biff Smith to begin his reading at the Coach and Horses—Biff was the headline act at the most recent Poets and Pints event.
The sentiment thus expressed may possibly have some bearing on the fact that the story of the poet Robert Fergusson’s visit to the Coach and Horses in Dumfries has become a familiar—indeed, celebrated detail—in the introductory rituals of Poets and Pints.
Fergusson walked from Edinburgh and, beginning at the Coach and Horses—so the story goes—began a three—or was it four—day period of intoxication, before returning to Edinburgh to die at the age of just 24 years old. We are reminded of how Fergusson’s influence on Robert Burns strengthened his belief in Scots as a language of poetry. No one in Dumfries needs to be reminded that Burns, for a short period, resided at 11 Bank Street—the ‘Sanghoose O’Scotland’—just around the corner from the Coach and Horses, before settling in Mill Street—as it was then called.
Of course one doesn’t just go to Poets and Pints for the performances. There is also the chance of conversation with others attending or reading. One of those conversations last Thursday was, I think, worthy of a small digression.
Following the mention of Napoleon’s view that “history” may be more a narrative of myth and legend than of truth, it was remarked that settling the content of a history curriculum to be taught in Scottish (or any) schools is an impossible task. What should be kept in? What should be left out? What even can be agreed as fact?
Well indeed—but the impossibility of that task was an opportunity to express my own current enthusiasm for the idea that the much neglected subject of Scottish witch trials should be a contender. My awareness of the significance of witch trials is really a consequence of my attendance at the recent Kirkcudbright Fringe Festival, where I heard Claire Mitchell and Zoe Venditozzi speak about their podcast and book, both of which explore this theme.
Their book, How to Kill a Witch tells a very shocking story, hitherto kept well hidden from general view. No doubt the patriarchy carry responsibility for burying the story but I would guess, also implicated, are the churches and their ministry, many of whom colluded with witch prickers and agents of the law to torture, strangle and burn hundreds of women accused and ‘found guilty’ of being witches.
But enough of witch strangling and burning for the moment and back to the main event.
In 2025 Biff Smith won both the Scottish Poetry Slam Championship and the World Cup Poetry Slam Championship in Paris. In October he will travel to Durban to defend his title at the 5th World Poetry Slam Championship. These seem like significant achievements. Whatever misgivings I might have regarding poetry as a competitive performance sport, I was intrigued.
In a previous life Biff Smith was the lead singer and songwriter for the Glasgow-based band A New International. Allegedly, he began writing and performing poetry as he ‘was attracted by the idea of not having to carry a guitar.’ Well, I suspect there may be some licence of a poetic kind in the framing of that small piece of history. But whatever, he gave a spellbinding performance, expressive and animated. As he said in his poem, Tell it Like a Song:
Keep dancing,
keep dancing,
you will be harder to shoot that way.
His commitment to his art is expressed with particular eloquence in Overture, the opening poem of his debut pamphlet, dance with the silence. The poem discusses the jeopardy of performance:
Will we fly
or will we fall?
Will we fall
and crash
and burn?
Well then,
if we fall, may the arc be graceful;
if we crash may it be into a million shining pieces
and if we burn, let it be brightly
and just long enough to light up a room.
Biff Smith, on this occasion, did not fall or crash or burn, but he certainly did light up the room.
As is usual at Poets and Pints, the second half of the event was taken up with an open mic session. I am going to single out just one reading for a special mention, not a poem as it happens, but a short story, written and read by Claire Deans.
It was, I thought, an extraordinary piece, telling a shocking tale of a vulnerable young person having his hair set alight by a small group of his peers. Particularly striking was that the imagined narrator of this story was the main perpetrator of the crime. The vulnerable young person was first described in a primary school context as a kind of cute talisman. However, in the transition of both perpetrator and victim to adolescence—where authority and its conventions can so easily become the enemy, and the vulnerable, fair game—this benign objectification was gradually transformed into something malign. A brilliantly observed metamorphosis.
On reflecting on the story later I thought of Hannah Arendt’s famous reference to ‘the banality of evil.’ I have heard it said recently in a podcast discussion that she regretted the phrase and the ways in which it has so often been quoted. Indeed, it seems a harsh judgement to call the act of a young and not fully formed person ‘evil’ but there is, I think, banality in much cruel behaviour—as a cat plays with a mouse.
On the other hand, the conduct of those who, on the basis of tittle-tattle, tortured women into confessing to witchcraft can hardly be described as banal.
Evil seems a much more accurate word for that.
Endnotes
Poets and Pints—generally the last Thursday of the month—check the Southlight Facebook page for updates.
Robert Fergusson Wikipedia Entry https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Fergusson
How to Kill a Witch: A Guide for the Patriarchy—available from Abe books.
Forward Arts Foundation About Biff Smith
dance with the silence—Biff Smith—available from Foyles
Podcast—Past, Present Future–The Lives of the Philosophers: Hannah Arendt
A Night at the Coach and Horses
History, Witchcraft, Slam Poetry and the Banality of Evil—Or Maybe Not?
‘What is history, but a fable agreed upon?’
That is a rendering into English of words allegedly spoken by Napoleon Bonaparte. Or so I was told as I waited for Biff Smith to begin his reading at the Coach and Horses—Biff was the headline act at the most recent Poets and Pints event.
The sentiment thus expressed may possibly have some bearing on the fact that the story of the poet Robert Fergusson’s visit to the Coach and Horses in Dumfries has become a familiar—indeed, celebrated detail—in the introductory rituals of Poets and Pints.
Fergusson walked from Edinburgh and, beginning at the Coach and Horses—so the story goes—began a three—or was it four—day period of intoxication, before returning to Edinburgh to die at the age of just 24 years old. We are reminded of how Fergusson’s influence on Robert Burns strengthened his belief in Scots as a language of poetry. No one in Dumfries needs to be reminded that Burns, for a short period, resided at 11 Bank Street—the ‘Sanghoose O’Scotland’—just around the corner from the Coach and Horses, before settling in Mill Street—as it was then called.
Of course one doesn’t just go to Poets and Pints for the performances. There is also the chance of conversation with others attending or reading. One of those conversations last Thursday was, I think, worthy of a small digression.
Following the mention of Napoleon’s view that “history” may be more a narrative of myth and legend than of truth, it was remarked that settling the content of a history curriculum to be taught in Scottish (or any) schools is an impossible task. What should be kept in? What should be left out? What even can be agreed as fact?
Well indeed—but the impossibility of that task was an opportunity to express my own current enthusiasm for the idea that the much neglected subject of Scottish witch trials should be a contender. My awareness of the significance of witch trials is really a consequence of my attendance at the recent Kirkcudbright Fringe Festival, where I heard Claire Mitchell and Zoe Venditozzi speak about their podcast and book, both of which explore this theme.
Their book, How to Kill a Witch tells a very shocking story, hitherto kept well hidden from general view. No doubt the patriarchy carry responsibility for burying the story but I would guess, also implicated, are the churches and their ministry, many of whom colluded with witch prickers and agents of the law to torture, strangle and burn hundreds of women accused and ‘found guilty’ of being witches.
But enough of witch strangling and burning for the moment and back to the main event.
In 2025 Biff Smith won both the Scottish Poetry Slam Championship and the World Cup Poetry Slam Championship in Paris. In October he will travel to Durban to defend his title at the 5th World Poetry Slam Championship. These seem like significant achievements. Whatever misgivings I might have regarding poetry as a competitive performance sport, I was intrigued.
In a previous life Biff Smith was the lead singer and songwriter for the Glasgow-based band A New International. Allegedly, he began writing and performing poetry as he ‘was attracted by the idea of not having to carry a guitar.’ Well, I suspect there may be some licence of a poetic kind in the framing of that small piece of history. But whatever, he gave a spellbinding performance, expressive and animated. As he said in his poem, Tell it Like a Song:
His commitment to his art is expressed with particular eloquence in Overture, the opening poem of his debut pamphlet, dance with the silence. The poem discusses the jeopardy of performance:
Biff Smith, on this occasion, did not fall or crash or burn, but he certainly did light up the room.
As is usual at Poets and Pints, the second half of the event was taken up with an open mic session. I am going to single out just one reading for a special mention, not a poem as it happens, but a short story, written and read by Claire Deans.
It was, I thought, an extraordinary piece, telling a shocking tale of a vulnerable young person having his hair set alight by a small group of his peers. Particularly striking was that the imagined narrator of this story was the main perpetrator of the crime. The vulnerable young person was first described in a primary school context as a kind of cute talisman. However, in the transition of both perpetrator and victim to adolescence—where authority and its conventions can so easily become the enemy, and the vulnerable, fair game—this benign objectification was gradually transformed into something malign. A brilliantly observed metamorphosis.
On reflecting on the story later I thought of Hannah Arendt’s famous reference to ‘the banality of evil.’ I have heard it said recently in a podcast discussion that she regretted the phrase and the ways in which it has so often been quoted. Indeed, it seems a harsh judgement to call the act of a young and not fully formed person ‘evil’ but there is, I think, banality in much cruel behaviour—as a cat plays with a mouse.
On the other hand, the conduct of those who, on the basis of tittle-tattle, tortured women into confessing to witchcraft can hardly be described as banal.
Evil seems a much more accurate word for that.
Endnotes
Poets and Pints—generally the last Thursday of the month—check the Southlight Facebook page for updates.
Robert Fergusson Wikipedia Entry https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Fergusson
How to Kill a Witch: A Guide for the Patriarchy—available from Abe books.
Forward Arts Foundation About Biff Smith
dance with the silence—Biff Smith—available from Foyles
Podcast—Past, Present Future–The Lives of the Philosophers: Hannah Arendt
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About Stephen Shellard
I am a retired College lecturer, having worked originally in supported programmes but latterly having taught social science subjects, Psychology and Politics, though my degree was in Sociology. I am from Newry in Northern Ireland, but now live in Dumfries in South West Scotland. https://carruchan.wordpress.com/about/