There are new moves afoot to calm the savage Scottish breast. Never mind anti-sectarian legislation and antisocial behaviour orders (Asbos), Scottish executive researchers want chess to be introduced into primary schools, and Historic Scotland wants to teach children aged 7-11 the chivalric ideals of manners and morals taught to squires and wannabe knights in the Middle Ages.

Ah, the click of bishop on pawn. Oh, the scrape of armoured knee on ground.

Having failed dismally to make much of a dent in the knife-wielding violence that besets Scottish streets and is so prevalent in homes — the kitchen is the most dangerous place in Scotland, so a chief constable once told me — our masters are beginning to think “out of the box”.

The chivalric thing is a jolly gimmick, since if the executive really knew anything about chivalry, it would know it “cannot be divorced from the martial world of the mounted warrior” (as Maurice Keen, the eminent historian, wrote) nor from the aristocracy and a strictly hierarchical society, nor from religion. In other words, if they knew anything at all, they would surely ban Historic Scotland from even mentioning the word.

Chivalry is extremely politically incorrect. What is more, it is not about no violence, it is about controlled violence, with many believing the chivalric virtues were merely a gloss to hide the bloodiness of life.

In many ways chivalry has more in common with the Scottish executive’s manipulation of statistics than it ever could with Scottish society. And anyway, even when chivalry was all the rage, the native Scots were not noted for their adherence to the rules. Rather the opposite.

Still, I’m sure the pilot projects Historic Scotland is already running at Edinburgh and Stirling castles are fun and, frankly, anything that whets a child’s appetite for Scotland’s action-packed history can only be a good thing.

Chess, however, is tried and tested. Brought to Britain through trade and crusade, the very nature of the game is soothing, some might say soporific, although my son swears it is exciting.

Anyhow, whatever sacrificing a pawn does to the heartbeat, it is claimed that since a chess development programme was introduced into seven primary schools in an Aberdeen housing scheme in 2001, school attendance has risen, literacy and numeracy have been enhanced and classroom behaviour has improved. Whole families have become involved as they rediscover the joys of adult-child rivalry. Peter Hamilton, the council’s community learning and development manager, even claims that introducing the game has resulted in more “active citizenship”, although he does not say quite how.

Perhaps chess-mad children newly imbued with the knightly ethos from their chivalry lessons find themselves moving two over and one up — or should that be one up and two over? — when avoiding elderly people on the pavement and calling out “checkmate” instead of “See yous, pal?” If even half what Hamilton says is true, it is some achievement for 32 strange-shaped pieces, some feudally inspired rules and a chequered board.

Both projects are to be applauded. It is often from the most unlikely sources that behavioural breakthroughs emerge. Nobody thought the “broken windows”, or zero tolerance, approach to policing in New York would be a success. But from fixing the glass and obliterating graffiti, New York was transformed from one of the most dangerous cities in the world to one of the safest.

So, I think the idea of explaining basic chivalric values (modified for the 21st century, of course) is a good one, and while playing chess instead of football may do little for the dreadful levels of obesity among Scottish school children, that loss is counterbalanced by the fact that chess- players seldom descend into bigoted chanting or drawing knives.

Best of all, many immigrant children, particularly from eastern Europe, find that the language of chess not only has the potential to connect them to new friends when conventional language is difficult, but also that the game is something at which they excel, having played it from an early age.

With chess sets cheap and easily obtainable, what could be a better leveller? Indeed, far from scoffing at the idea of an executive-sponsored board game, it seems that promoting chess as a pastime in primary schools may have a threefold effect: it will do wonders for children’s behaviour; it will help ease racial and ethnic tensions and will also tie in nicely with Jack McConnell’s “gather all the nations to boost the Scottish gene pool” initiative. What more could a minister ask for? The truth is, that with more than 100 murders last year and rising levels of antisocial behaviour, Scotland cannot afford to ignore any ideas that might contribute to the creation of a gentler society.

Pictures of happy Scottish children listening politely to lessons on duty and responsibility from a man dressed as Andrew de Moray may look odd, and the idea that they might, afterwards, challenge each other not to a brawl but to a game of chess, might be more dream than reality, but we’ll never know if we don’t try. Let the tournaments begin.

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