Scots Rally Again as Trump Returns to Menie: Decades of Defiance, Dunes, and Discontent
Rohan Beyts first discovered the breathtaking dunes above the slate-grey North Sea in Menie, Aberdeenshire, as a teenager. Years later, she brought her own children to explore the vibrant stretch of wild dune slacks, teeming with butterflies and wildflowers.
By 2006, Beyts was no longer just an admirer of the landscape — she became a leading voice in a growing local resistance against Donald Trump, then a wealthy businessman with ambitions to flatten the legally protected site for his first Scottish golf resort.
“I’ve been in this fight for 19 years,” Beyts says, just before Trump’s expected return to Scotland on Friday evening. “What happened at Menie still disgusts me — and now he’s doing even worse across the globe.”
Despite years of clashes with environmental activists and locals determined to protect the dunes and nearby homes, Trump ultimately secured planning approval to build what he called “the world’s greatest golf course.” Back then, he pledged a £1 billion development, complete with sprawling courses, luxury homes, and high-rise timeshare towers — promises Beyts says have never been kept.
“Where is this grand project that was supposed to replace oil jobs?” she asks. “I just can’t fathom how politicians got so fooled.”
Beyts later won a moral victory in court after Trump’s staff photographed her while she answered nature’s call during a walk through the dunes. But she won’t be among the protestors this time.
“I absolutely support those who protest,” she explains. “But honestly, I fear it only feeds his ego unless it actually helps people in Gaza or Ukraine.”
David Milne, another longtime opponent, knows this fight well. Trump tried twice to buy his cliffside home, a former coastguard station Trump insulted as a “visual slum.” When that failed, he attempted a compulsory purchase order.
“Trump showed nothing but entitled arrogance — it was always ‘I’ll do what I want,’” says Milne. “But people here have a habit of saying, ‘Not likely.’”
On a past Trump visit, Milne flew a Mexican flag in protest of Trump’s anti-immigrant rhetoric. This time, the Saltire will be waving.
“Calling this a private visit is a joke,” he says. “We’re paying for massive police coverage while public services are being squeezed. It’s clearly a publicity stunt for his new course.”
While Beyts and Milne look back on the friendships formed through resistance, they admit others are worn out by the constant disruption and media glare around the Trump resort. Police have already visited Milne to warn of restricted access.
But Tommy Campbell, a local trade unionist hosting the upcoming “Festival of Resistance” in Aberdeen city centre, isn’t backing down. He says peaceful protestors will be out in full force on Tuesday morning, aiming to write messages in the sand at Balmedie beach before the tide returns — just as Trump is expected to open his new course.
“The world’s changed since Trump first came here,” says Campbell. “Some people gave him a chance, but now? He’s been exposed — and he’s not welcome.”
Campbell, like Beyts and Milne, is also frustrated that both Keir Starmer and Scotland’s First Minister John Swinney are expected to meet with Trump.
“They’re not representing the true voice of Scotland,” he insists.
On the west coast, residents near Trump Turnberry are grappling with roadblocks, tight security, and an influx of police. Metal fences now line the entrance to the luxury resort, and officers in hi-vis jackets stand guard on the beach — the same one where the late Janey Godley once famously held up her handwritten sign: “Trump is a cunt.”
Earlier this year, Trump labelled pro-Palestine protestors who graffitied the Turnberry greens with “Gaza is not 4 sale” as “terrorists.”
Locals are now facing a partial lockdown, and many are questioning the cost. “Why is the UK government spending on this security circus,” a pensioner asked, “when they’re cutting winter fuel payments for us?” Still, some acknowledged the jobs the resort has brought.
The new course at Menie is named in honor of Trump’s late mother, Mary Anne Trump, who grew up on the Isle of Lewis before immigrating to the US.
Back in Stornoway, the main town on Lewis, Sarah Venus has rehung a protest banner the local council forced her to take down in May. It reads: “Shame on you Donald John” — a motherly scolding over Trump’s treatment of Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelenskyy during a February press conference.
Now, the banner will tour the island, displayed in private homes as Trump’s visit unfolds. “This time, the protests are different,” Venus says. “People are connecting the dots — this isn’t just about one man. It’s a global battle against fascism. What happens there can happen here — and maybe we still have time to stop it.”