Ceitidh Campbell on the future of Gaelic poetry: 'languages are not rescued by nostalgia'

Translation isn’t an exact science. Rarely does a single word move between languages without losing some shade of meaning. In Scottish Gaelic, one such word is dàn.

Dàn can mean a poem, a song, a destiny or a fate. Few words could better capture the story of a language whose future has always depended on the stories its people choose to tell. It reveals something profound about Gaelic culture. Poetry was never intended to sit silently on the page but to be spoken, sung and remembered. It carries history, celebrates love, commemorates loss and challenges injustice. In Gaelic, poetry and song are not separate art forms but two expressions of the same tradition.

Every minority language – whether Welsh, Irish, Māori, Sámi or Gaelic – has at some point been fed the same lie: that it belongs in the past. Their speakers have been encouraged – sometimes forced – to abandon their language in favour of one deemed more useful, modern or popular.

Thankfully, that attitude is changing. Governments invest in revitalisation, schools expand provision and language policies grow more ambitious. All this matters. But legislation alone cannot make a language live. Culture can.

Long before dictionaries, examinations and Duolingo, there were bards whose words carried genealogy, politics and collective memory across generations. Their poems gave voice to communities, but every generation must write its own. If Gaelic is to thrive, it cannot simply become a language we preserve; it must remain a language we create.

That future is already emerging. Watching my former pupil, young Makar Elissa Hunter-Dorans, develop her own poetic voice has been the clearest reminder that a language flourishes when young people are trusted to make it their own. Her work demonstrates that Gaelic is not confined to history but continues to evolve through new voices.

In Gaelic, poetry has always been a way communities understand themselves. That understanding has never disappeared; it has simply found new voices. Younger Gaels deserve a language that speaks about identity, climate anxiety, friendship, social media, love and loss with the same confidence that it once spoke about kings and clans.

My postgraduate research into teaching languages through poetry reinforced what Gaelic culture has understood for centuries: poetry shifts the emphasis from perfection to expression. Learners who hesitate to answer a simple conversational question can suddenly write strikingly honest poetry because a metaphor gives them permission to say what a grammar exercise never could. One pupil described loneliness simply as “a boat without an oar”. For many learners, that’s when they stop studying Gaelic and begin using it.

Poetry reminds pupils that language is more than a set of rules. It is a creative space where they discover themselves. Rather than fearing mistakes, they begin to play with words.

In Gaelic, that relationship between language, poetry and song has never disappeared. Across Scotland, Gaelic choirs introduce thousands of people to the language through music. Many first encounter Gaelic in a choir, learning songs phonetically before becoming curious about the meaning behind the words. Understanding often follows singing, creating a deeper connection to the language and the culture that shaped it.

Mòds reflect this beautifully. While audiences naturally admire the singing, competitors know that vocal ability alone is never enough. Understanding and interpretation of the poetic text form a significant part of the marking. The words matter as much as the melody.

Gaelic has always understood that language connects most deeply through rhythm, imagery and emotion. Listen to a waulking song or a lively puirt-à-beul performance and it becomes obvious that rhythm is not simply decoration; it carries memory. Even learners who cannot yet understand every word instinctively feel the pulse of the language before they fully grasp its meaning.

This is not unique to Scotland. Across the world, speakers of minority languages are reshaping their cultures through poetry, music and performance. Māori poet Tayi Tibble blends whakapapa, pop culture and feminism with confidence, while Northern Sámi poet Niillas Holmberg explores environmental justice and Indigenous identity. Neither writes as though their language belongs in a museum. Both demonstrate that minority languages thrive when they are trusted to speak in the present.

Sometimes those who care most deeply about Gaelic become anxious about change. We debate English loanwords, code-switching and whether contemporary Gaelic is becoming less authentic. Yet every living language evolves. English itself is the product of centuries of borrowing, adaptation and reinvention. Gaelic deserves the same freedom. If we want young people to choose Gaelic rather than simply inherit it, they must be allowed to leave their fingerprints upon it.

READ MORE: Michael Mullen: 'the power of the Scots language lies in its diversity'

One of the greatest privileges of teaching is seeing that happen. Watching former pupils such as Raonaid Urchadan and Somhairle Gobhanach build careers in broadcasting, poetry and the arts is a reminder that education is about more than exams. It is about helping young people discover that Gaelic can convey their voice. Languages are not rescued through nostalgia. They are renewed through creation.

Minority languages will always depend upon political will, investment and educational opportunity. But they depend just as much on giving young people the confidence to believe these languages belong to them as authors of the future. Perhaps that is the deepest meaning of dàn after all.

The destiny of a language is written anew...

...in every dàn each generation chooses to create.

Ceitidh Campbell is appearing at two events at the Wigtown Book Festival. Dàn nam Ban, on 2 October, celebrates her first poetry collection; Beyond the Ben, on 3 October, introduces walkers to the meaning of the Gaelic names of Scotland’s hills and landscapes, see www.wigtownbookfestival.com. The Scotsman is the 2026 media partner of the Wigtown Poetry Prizes, see www.wigtownpoetryprize.com

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