The sex factor: How Scottish politics was startled by post-war sexual revolution By JANET CHRISTIE Published on Sunday 13 May 2012 00:00 AS A new book traces Scotland's sexual awakening in the post-war era, Janet Christie looks at the pioneers of change and the battles they fought I'm telling my nine-year-old daughter about a friend who was adopted because her mum was just 16. She says it's the saddest thing she's heard in her whole life, taking a tiny baby away from its mum just because she wasn't married. She points out that I'm not married, that her own family is spread over two houses and we're perfectly happy. She simply cannot understand the mentality. This conversation wouldn't have happened in Scotland 40 or 50 years ago. It would have been obvious why an "unmarried mother" would have been separated from her child, deemed better for everyone all round to pack the baby off and say no more about it. Today, however, we live in a very different country to the one studied by Edinburgh University academics Roger Davidson and Gayle Davis in their book, The Sexual State: Sexuality And Scottish Governance, 1950-80. Aiming to give a new perspective on the sexual politics of Scotland and the role of the state in such matters, it focuses on how the government behaved with regard to sex education, prostitution, family planning, abortion and homosexuality, shining a light on whether policy makers reflected or shaped society, and the effect on the lives of ordinary men and women. So did the permissive legislation of the 60s and 70s redefine the relationship between the state and the moral domain of the private citizen? Back in the 60s and 70s, Scotland was a country where books such as John Updike's The Couples were to be found hidden away in library annexes so you had to ask for them, and as for The Joy Of Sex, don't even go there. We can be sure that beardy man and his equally hirsute paramour in Alex Comfort's best-selling 1972 sex manual weren't getting it on in Gourock or Galashiels. While the sexual revolution rocked England, Scotland was 20 years behind; less Swinging Sixties than still swaying gently to the beat of the rhythm method. The clothes and music were less permissive and a lot of communities in Scotland were rural, where the church had more of a hold. In Edinburgh they tried to insist on vetting Film Festival films and banned anything too avant garde, often the ones winning prizes at the likes of the Venice Film Festival," says Davidson. Books that had won awards elsewhere were banned in city libraries. In 1967 the film version of Ulysses (never mind that the novel had been available since 1918) was vetoed in Edinburgh by the city fathers, but the determined could get the bus to racy Musselburgh and revel in the ripeness of Molly Bloom's soliloquy, since Midlothian council was more liberal, or maybe just more literary. Cultural concerns, however, were the least of the post-war population's worries. If they found themselves unmarried and pregnant or were gay, it wasn't just their literary tastes that were proscribed: life could take a nasty turn for the worse. Moral disapproval and medical coercion combined to produce a situation where gay men were given chemicals to make them vomit while being shown nude pictures of men. There was also a belief that people could be cured of homosexuality with electric shock treatment, for which those convicted of homosexual practices volunteered in return for a lesser sentence. While it is true that in Scotland conviction rates were lower for homosexual "offences" and prostitution, this isn't because our forebears were living in a more liberal society, simply that under Scots law the requirement of proof was higher and gay men were less likely to be prosecuted. In his research for the book, Davidson says the most shocking thing he uncovered was the practice of experimenting with oestrogen on sexual offenders when the effects were medically unknown. We quote a prison chief saying they don't know how it works and maybe aspirin would work better, but the practice continued anyway. Also, I found it appalling that girls going into care were inspected for VD until the 70s as there was a belief that they must be sexually diseased. It's clear that the government north of the Border in this era of huge social upheaval was less than progressive, but did the churches and MPs deliberately conspire to keep our sexual behaviour chaste and our morality in line? The shaping of policy wasn't democratic. It was imposed by a professional elite of medics, teachers, churchmen and politicians," Davidson says. People believed there was a separate [Scottish] mentality towards sexuality and the officials were keen to protect what they viewed as a distinct moral climate. They believed that Calvinist Scots had values that were likely to be eroded by what was going on in London in the 60s. The Broadcasting Council for Scotland definitely didn't want a metropolitan culture invading what they thought was a distinct moral culture north of the Border. This climate was reinforced very much by the power of the Church of Scotland and the Kirk, especially at local level, where the church continues to be influential for 20 years longer. As society became more secular in the 80s and 90s, we converged and became more like England. However it's a mistake to think that a disapproving church and unwilling politicians can block progress - as the example of the city of Aberdeen shows. You might not associate the Doric city with a progressive attitude to sexual behaviour and health but you'd be wrong. In the late 60s the Granite City became known as "Abortion City," thanks to the lead from gynaecologist and obstetrician Dugald Baird, who was appointed to the regius chair of midwifery at the university, and his wife May, a councillor and chairman of the health board. Under their influence the city pursued liberal sexual health policies. "The permissive Aberdeen model was admired countrywide and aspired to," says Davis. It cut down on mortality, illegitimacy, social services spending and children having children. They were very proud of what they achieved in socio-economic terms and it was cited as a beacon to others, including London. So was there a separate Scottish mentality towards sexuality? It's clear that sexual matters differed in Scotland to England because of two things: the power of the churches, both the Catholic and the Church of Scotland, with the Wee Frees acting as a shrill chorus warning of a Babylonian meltdown should sodomy and prostitution proliferate, and a legal system that allowed more medical discretion on abortion and made prostitution more difficult to prove and convict. But what the churches preach isn't what people do. People will respect their view but go against it when it when it suits them, oral contraception being a case in point. Catholic women were visiting the clinics early on and going for the cap. So, people might not argue in public, but their behaviour is very different," says Davis. The uptake of the Pill was phenomenal. As well as the machinations of the institutions, the role of individuals in shaping Scotland's sexual history cannot be ignored. As Davis says: "The history of great men and women is not very fashionable but in the history of sexuality there are individuals who made a tremendous difference. For example, Baird in Aberdeen, then the sea of women who were crucially important in the provision of family planning clinics to which women flocked in droves. It isn't just the great and the good who impress with their willingness to flout the disapproval of our moral guardians. "Pink van man" merits special mention, the putative sex supermarket owner who was so put out not to be granted a licence to open his sex shop in the Central Belt that he hired a rose-tinted van, filled it with sex toys, stormed up the A9 and distributed them round the Highlands. One can only imagine the hen parties of Inverness and its environs went with more of a swing following his visit. Then there was the indomitable Dora Noyce, Edinburgh's answer to Cynthia Payne, who ran a brothel in Danube Street, Stockbridge. When the aircraft carrier USS John F Kennedy docked in Leith in 1977, the women reportedly did £4,000 of business in one night and Noyce was keen to point out that after the Edinburgh Festival, her busiest period was during the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. Noyce openly defied the law and was charged 47 times by the police and finally put in prison at the age of 71. Apparently she had such good relations with the neighbours that when she retired they successfully claimed for a rate rebate because the new owners allowed clients to ring their bells by mistake. Other individuals who left a lasting legacy on our sexuality were MPs Robin Cook and David Steel who were keen reformers, unlike most politicians who are happy to give such vote-losing matters a body swerve. Cook's amendment to the 1980 Criminal Justice (Scotland) Bill partially decriminalised gay sex between men over 21 and eventually the age of consent was lowered to 16 in both England and Scotland; while Steel championed, through a Private Member's Bill, the Abortion Act 1967 which set out when doctors could carry out abortions. Robin Cook's contribution was that he persisted where other people had begun to give up. Even David Steel got exhausted with the struggle to legalise abortion, but Cook persisted in pursuing reform on the laws governing homosexuality and his reputation has been undervalued in this area," says Davidson. There was no political capital to be gained from it and a lot of other people were fighting hard too, but Cook was the politician who ran with it. So what of today's sexual climate? Is Scotland a better place as a result of the struggles of the generation of the post-war generation? "In the past the Church would have told us the family unit was everything and it has to be a married couple that has children," says Davis. But the idea of a family has changed radically. It's a loving, safe environment, traditional or otherwise, that's important, including those with two parents of the same sex or step-siblings. Instead of having to give away illegitimate children, young girls are supported. There are a lot of sorry tales behind the changes in society and those changes happened because people didn't want that society any more," says Davis. The Sexual State: Sexuality And Scottish Governance, 1950-80, Roger Davidson and Gayle Davis, £70, Edinburgh University Press. The book launches at Blackwell Bookshop, 53-62 South Bridge, Edinburgh, 31 May, 6.30pm. Free but ticketed, from Blackwell front desk