“We don’t ride goats and we’re not connected to the Illuminati”

Coffee chats, rituals, and a raffle with the world’s oldest frat

“The scaffolding on South Street. Twenty past six. I’ll meet you there.” Euan Cameron, Worshipful Senior Warden of St Andrews’ Freemason Lodge, was dressed head to toe in black tie attire, with a bottle of wine in one hand and a wooden briefcase in the other. 

Wine? “I’m not an alcoholic, we just run a raffle every week,” Cameron said. “It’s part of the charity work we do.” Briefcase? Most of my questions were entertained that night. Asking about the contents of the briefcase was not.

This was my second meeting with Cameron — my second encounter with the charity, pomp, and mystery of the Freemasons. I found him on Facebook: after a quick call, we met for coffee with Alan Lockhart, Past Master of Lodge St Andrews 25, the local branch of Freemasonry. Do Freemasons run the world? Does Freemasonry entail animal sacrifice? And most importantly, “How do you get in? Where is the door?” Commenters on Cameron’s Facebook wanted to know and so did I.

A quick Google search will tell you the Freemasons are one of the world’s oldest fraternities — a social and charitable organisation that originated in the guilds of stonemasons. A longer internet deep-dive will tell you that they’ve been associated with all kinds of rumours. World domination, flat-earthers, assassinations, and shadow governments — name a conspiracy and the Freemasons have likely been tied to it.

Lockhart was keen to clarify. “We don’t ride goats. And we’re not connected to the Illuminati.” He told me he always finds books on Freemasonry in the “wrong” bookshop sections. “I always have a laugh when I see them in the ‘Occult’ section.”

Lockhart stressed Freemasonry is first and foremost a “safe space for men.”  It’s a chance to “meet a range of people from all walks of life and give back to the community through charity,” he said. Between the lodges based in Scotland, Freemasonry has raised over a million pounds for Prostate Scotland. Still, some charities have refused to take Freemason money. 

The main aim of Freemasonry, Lockhart explained, is to “make good men better”. Prospective applicants need three things: a clean record, high standards ("not a reckless fool"), and belief in a supreme being. It doesn’t matter which god — Freemasons just don’t want atheists. 

The key here is also that they are only seeking men. “I think men need men's company. Women are probably exactly the same,” Cameron said. “I enjoy women's company as well, don't get me wrong — but I enjoy the male bonding side of it.” 

The Freemasons have two sister groups for women: the Order of the Eastern Star and the Order of Women Freemasons. However, neither has a lodge in St Andrews. 

For men, joining the Freemasons starts with a coffee chat, followed by an application form. Applications are read out during meetings and then voted upon. Many people join out of curiosity. Some will find that it isn’t the place for them and leave after a few weeks. “For me, it's changed my outlook on life totally, for the good,” added Cameron. It’s a “rubber stamp on your character”. 

With a page full of notes and Lockhart’s business card, I left our first meeting almost sold on the ‘we’re not a secret society’ spiel. That was until our second meeting, when Cameron led me down a dark alley, through a fire escape, and up three flights of stairs to reach Lodge 25.

The lodge was far from the dingy basement cultish associations that Freemasonry evokes. We entered a room lined with frames — art, photos, and documents tracing the group's past. Surrounded by records of Freemason history, I met David Porter, the secretary of Lodge 25.

We sat in a lodge with records going all the way back to 1598. Porter added that it was this history that drew him to Freemasonry. “We're just custodians of the lodge at the moment,” he said. “This is something that has been here for hundreds of years and hopefully will still be here for hundreds of years.”

The group’s rituals go back to when their membership was majority medieval stonemasons. To make sure they were exercising their minds in addition to the manual labour of their daily tasks, they used to memorise sections of writing and scripture to recite “word for word” before their fellow workers. “There's a kind of tradition in that. You take pride in being able to learn long pieces of ritual and being able to put meaning into it as well,” said Porter.

This history goes beyond ritual and is embedded all across the town. Freemasons built the St Andrews Castle — in the Victorian times they laid the cornerstone of important buildings. Porter showed me a photo of the Freemasons’ Provincial Grand Master of Fife and Kinross laying the foundation of what is today the St Andrews Town Hall with the first stone. “You can see all the Freemasons gathered around at the laying of this foundation.”

The organisation has met in various buildings around town. If you look just near Zizzi's, you'll find their logo: the square and compass. At the top of Greenside Place is a white house with the symbol as well. 

Cameron was born and raised in St Andrews — he recalled how surprised he was walking into the lodge for the first time. “Oh, didn't realise you were a Freemason, didn't realise you were a Freemason.” 

These days, though, some members are open about their masonic ties. “If anybody asks me, I'm quite happy to tell them,” Cameron said. “There's nothing shameful about being a Freemason.”

Porter was more hesitant. “If someone were to ask me about it I would, but some people are quite opinionated about it, and so I wouldn't necessarily bring it up just in case it offended people.”

“We’re a society with secrets, not a secret society,” Cameron told me. These secrets are used to indicate levels of proficiency in the masonic craft. Today, they convey different levels of recognition. Porter pointed to a pin on his sash — each symbol signifies a different rank in the hierarchy. This pecking order is mostly ceremonial, though. Porter and Cameron emphasised the strong sense of brotherhood.

“Once we go through that door, we're all the same,” Cameron said. “You know, we're all equal, whether you're a millionaire or you clean the streets. And some of them are millionaires.”

Illustration by Holly Ward