THE WHISKY, film and tourism sectors can’t afford moral theatre, nor a First Ministerial protester-in-chief. Scotland’s economy is on the line; Swinney can’t afford to indulge protest politics.
Donald Trump began his five-day visit to Scotland, declaring in advance he was “looking forward” to meeting First Minister John Swinney. The US President found time to boast that his Turnberry golf resort is “the number one course in the world,” where he will host dinner with His Majesty’s Prime Minister, Keir Starmer, before heading north to “the oil capital of Europe” — Aberdeen.
As a practising Christian John Swinney will doubtless take a shallow view of The Donald’s character. But as First Minister he doesn’t have the luxury of personal distaste. He needs this visit to go well — for Scotland’s sake.
The unpalatable truth for the ideological SNP cohort in Holyrood is that the 47th President of the United States holds the economic fate of key Scottish industries in the palm of his hand. Whether it’s whisky, tourism, or even film, one wiggle of Trump’s sharpie-pen can shift billions. The $100 Benjamins follows him wherever he goes, and where Trump goes, so too does his volatile blend of ego, grievance, and economic brinkmanship.
Yes, Trump holds the swagger of a man not told ‘no’ often enough in his life, and embodies the cliché “ugly American” — vulgar, vain, vengeful — but if the SNP insists on playing beyond its brief at international relations, here is the price. The Scottish Government is charged with protecting Scotland’s jobs and industries. John Swinney must roll out the red carpet, prepare to swallow his pride and serve up a generous helping of ego-flattery.
Scotland’s Vulnerabilities
Start with Scotch whisky. In 2024, Scotland’s whisky industry exported £5.4 billion globally. The U.S. alone accounted for nearly £1 billion of that. During the Trump-era Airbus–Boeing tariff war, a 25 per cent duty was slapped on single malt Scotch—resulting in over £500 million in lost exports and a 35 per cent drop in US sales in just 18 months, £1 million lost each day.
Suffice, this is no time to play to the never-Trump peanut gallery, the economic welfare of the nation is on the line.
The whisky industry cannot be left to suffer a market footprint loss on that scale again. The domestic whisky industry — its jobs, investment, and prestige — depends on careful diplomacy. Trump may, in the eyes of many, be morally bankrupt, but Swinney’s job is to stop him bankrupting one of our biggest export sectors. And that means managing the man, not moralising at him.
Then there’s film. In May, Trump threatened a 100 per cent tariff on Hollywood films made abroad, claiming the American movie industry was dying “a very fast death.” Should he follow through, that spells trouble for Scotland’s screen sector—an industry that added £627.1 million in Gross Value Added to our economy and supports 10,860 jobs across film, TV, and digital production.
Next up is tourism. Tourism employs 245,000 people – around one in every eleven jobs in the economy. One of six Scottish Government growth sectors, approximately 794,000 trips were made by American visitors to Scotland in 2023. They accounted for 6.9 million nights in Scotland, contributing a total spending reached £1.237 billion.
As US visitors made up around 20 per cent of all international trips, and contributed about 34 per cent of all international tourism spend in Scotland – Swinney should realise his job is not to tweet slogans or rile up a crowd. Rather, it is to quietly, effectively, and yes, sycophantically, argue Scotland’s case.
If the SNP government wishes to play on the world stage, it must embrace the responsibilities of diplomacy along with its photo ops. This is the cost of pretending to be a government of statecraft, not just slogans.
Failing the test of statesmanship
UK Scotland Secretary Ian Murray is doing his part to welcome President Trump — despite having voted as a backbencher in 2019 to block Trump’s visit. Some might call this a hypocritical volte-face. More reasonable observers, however, will recognise it as the sort of pragmatic maturity that comes with the responsibilities and burdens of high office.
Unfortunately, statesmanship seems to be in short supply in the governing SNP. Swinney has instead opted to play to the gallery, declaring that Trump’s visit is an opportunity to amplify Scotland’s voice “on war and peace, justice and democracy” to raise “the suffering we are witnessing in Gaza”. Laudable sentiments, but irrelevant to the task at hand. He is First Minister for Scotland, not Palestine.
Rather than quietly securing exemptions, access, and investment, the First Minister has been busy encouraging protests, calling on Scots to “do Scotland proud” and go forth to protest. That phrase, do Scotland proud, would be innocuous — were it not for warnings issued by Police Scotland that frontline officers could face “very real consequences on the ground” if events escalate.
The scale of the security operation – over 5,000 officers – speaks for itself. This is a moment that calls for caution, not showmanship. Statesmanship, not posturing to the usual suspects in the peanut gallery.
The truth is, Trump will leave Scotland next week as insulated from the chants of protesters as he typically is from moral consequence. But Scotland may be left nursing the economic fallout — if its First Minister fails to keep the bigger picture in mind.
Conclusion: leadership or grandstanding?
Welcoming Donald Trump is, understandably, a grim and thankless task. No one expects John Swinney to like him — nor to fake respect for a man with the morals of an alley cat. But leadership demands more than personal sentiment. It means putting Scotland first, even if that requires biting your tongue and playing diplomat to a figure you’d rather ignore.
The SNP has long enjoyed straying beyond the limits of devolution, posturing in the realm of foreign affairs. Now the bill has come due. If it wants the appearance of influence on the world stage, its politicians must also shoulder the burdens that come with it. That includes treating visiting heads of state — however controversial — with a degree of strategic civility.
There will be protesters, no doubt, waving Palestine flags and hurling slogans at the presidential motorcade. But Swinney must resist the urge to pander. Much of this performative outrage — equal parts Viva Palestina and pronoun-screeching moral theatre — is little more than Gen Z’s answer to the Che Guevara T-shirt: rebellious branding with little regard for realpolitik.
Statesmanship means smiling when it’s difficult. It means being diplomatic with difficult people from countries with which we have indispensable ties. If the Secretary of State for Scotland, Ian Murray, can find it within himself to welcome Trump — despite having once voted to bar him from a state visit — then so can Scotland’s First Minister.
Trump holds real leverage over Scotland’s economy. Swinney, for his part, holds the power to insulate the country from potential damage. The question is whether he’ll summon the maturity required to do so.
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