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New Lanark: supply chain

Part II to my musings on a visit to New Lanark, a historic textile mill run by Robert Owen and arguably the originator of ethical capitalism.

New Lanark produced cotton fabric, from bale to bolt - first taking bales of raw cotton from the US and carding it (removing the seeds and stretching the strands out into long, soft tufts), then spinning it into threads that could be woven, and then weaving the fabric itself. That sort of raw-material-to-sellable-good supply chain in one location seems a bit rare and odd in the present day. A shirt, for example, could be manufactured in the US from raw materials from India or Bangladesh. A computer can hold raw ingredients from nearly every continent on earth with processing chips from Japan and Taiwan (and maybe the US) while still being manufactured in one Foxconn factory in China. The physical closeness of all these different elements of the production process seem to be a holdover from the hyperlocal pre-industrial supply chains - the sheep, the spinner, the weaver, and the tailor are usually within a few miles from each other due to poor transport options. The evolution from hyperlocal wool to my cup of coffee made in Brazil, Vietnam, Sacramento, and then SF seems incremental when you look at the evolution over time at spots like New Lanark.

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New Lanark: introduction

Textiles and women are inevitably tied to the history of labor automation and the future of work. 

I recently visited Scotland while on a trip to the UK and took some time to go up to New Lanark, a UNESCO world heritage site and a historic spinning mill founded in the late 1700s that remained in operation as an Actual Factory until the 60s.

I want to unpack a couple of observations I had when visiting New Lanark as a very eager tourist. 

Actual Physical Tourist notes:

We arrived via train from London to Edinburgh and then called a very bewildered Lyft driver to take us directly to New Lanark (about £60). The drive itself was beautiful and winding, going from the center of Edinburgh through the still-fairly-dense suburbs, past the big-box-store-land outskirts, into the countryside. Sheep, windmills, and rolling patchwork fields cordoned off by hedgegrows went by as I stared out the window, trying not to get carsick on the windy (and usually pretty narrow) roads. 

New Lanark had all these things that I love about Scotland. I can see my breath when I get out of the car and am struck by the actual temperature of Scotland in autumn (which is hella cold). The mill is situated on a winding river peppered with birds, foliage, and steep but pleasant hills. The Clyde Falls roar about a mile from the main mill building, and are just visible. Owen himself cut some of the trails around the area for his benefit and for the benefit of his workers:

“The ever changing scenes of nature afford not only the most economical, but also the most innocent pleasures which man can enjoy” - Robert Owen

While the falls were definitely a necessity for powering the mill itself via waterwheels, it’s a nice coincidence that the surrounding areas have such beautiful features that aren’t damaged by the use of the natural resource. West Virginia, for example, is really beautiful only where humans didn’t mine for coal - or eventually start to strip-mine.

                    A strip mine in WV, courtesy The Atlantic

The hotel itself is warm, cozy, and full of plaid furniture that’s not too fancy but well kept. It has the hallmarks of a small town’s ‘fancy place'. The bathroom is a little dated but super clean and comfy, and the toiletries are made by a local woman (you can buy bottles to take home at the front desk). The restaurant is untrendy but delicious - and they offer MULTIPLE vegan options. 

Many say that Scottish people are notoriously bad hosts (eg ‘you’ll have had your tea’). IMO, it seems more like an economizing attitude from a people who had a lot of famine and hard times over the centuries. I see it as a cousin of the upper-lower-class Midwestern habit of keeping furniture covered with plastic or a blanket. It’s not meant to short you of anything or come off as miserly, just as a conservation of resources for the inevitable Bad Times that happen in farming.

Nearly all the guests are grey-haired older couples that have serious Scottish accents, and everyone working at the hotel had big-time regional Scottish accents as well. Based on my interactions with other Scots, it seems like the accent fades as you go up the social ladder, so I’m assuming the staff and the clientele are both pretty regular folks from the area and not vacationing English monarchs. It felt like a blast from the past as an American - travel and leisure, as well as good community jobs, being open to nearly everyone rather than a wealthy few. There is an advertisement in the lobby for wedding packages starting at £3,000, and a cluster of business cards for hairstylists, kilt renters, cake bakers, and florists in Lanark. 

I always feel refreshed and taken care of when I vacation in Scotland - maybe it’s the fresh wild outdoors paired with the comfort of being able to retreat to a warm, cozy place.