The Radical Nation

Published on National Collective 12/06/12

Scotland's 'radical' identity is imaginary. Thanks to a new and changing world of ideas, we've got a chance to make it real. 

During the unification of the Italian city-states in the 1860s, the novelist, artist and statesman Massimo d'Azeglio wrote: "Italy has been made; now it remains to make Italians." Italy remains deeply divided, and d'Azeglio's words have grown in power as a reminder of the complex relationship between statehood and identity. It's no surprise that politicians struggle to talk about it, as Ed Miliband did with concepts of Englishness and Britishness, because identity is a deeply subjective idea. As Mike Small of Bella Caledonia points out, if I want to describe myself as Scottish, English (I'm half-and-half), British or all three in a post-independence Scotland, it's entirely reasonable for me to do so. Americans have happily been Irish, Scottish or German for years despite having only the most tenuous of familial or geographical links with their chosen heritage, and it's only the most petty of geopolitical scrooges who seeks to deny them that pleasure. Identities are flexible.

But the derision that greeted Miliband's brave but clumsy attempt to define a left-wing English civic nationalism betrayed a complacency about our own national identity that is yet to be properly examined. Too many Scots still look to left-wing heroes like Keir Hardie, Jimmy Reid and James Maxwell as proof that we are a profoundly 'social democratic' nation, with a political culture far to the left of England's. The 'we're more left wing' argument remains the foundation stone of the Left's rationale for independence, and the SNP are equally guilty of propagating the delusion that independence is the magic spray that'll repel the bloodthirsty midge of Thatcherite Conservatism once and for all.

Anybody who's had the pleasure of dealing with those tiny carnivorous tyrants (midges, not Tories, though it works for both) will know that no matter how much you douse yourself in Avon Skin So Soft (trust me, it's the best there is), they still won't go away. There's no magic spray for the left, no easy way out for those who're sick of the Daily Mail and Theresa May and rampant consumerism and rocketing inequality and greed and banks and the monarchy and UKIP and Eton and Blairism and people who still use the phrase 'socialist yahoo' like it's an insult. With independence, those things aren't going to vanish. Sure, some of them would cease to be features of the UK and become features of whatever a post-Scotland entity would be called, but that doesn't absolve us of responsibility. Over the course of our coexistence with the British nations, we've played a significant role in shaping the nature of the union and we bear some of the burden of what we've created. We can't sweep Britain's shared challenges under the border and forget about them - regardless of whether you feel British or not, you should feel bound by the simple fact of your humanity to strive for a better life for those with whom you've shared a history.

In fact, some of those things would become problems that we would actually have to deal with ourselves, in our own parliament, putting trust - god forbid - in our own politicians. The idea that the Scottish people will automatically vote for the radical government needed to tackle the problems Scotland faces is a dangerous one. John Curtice and Rachel Ormston's paper 'Is Scotland More Left-Wing Than England?' tackles the issue head-on, using Social Attitudes Survey data to show that while Scots do display a slightly more social democratic mentality than the English, with higher levels of support for redistribution and greater equality, this has been in decline since devolution. More powers have not made us more radical. Those who believe that independence will automatically result in progressive, egalitarian policies should take note, now. The belief in 'magic spray' independence is an excuse to let the ends justify the means. I've argued before that a nation is forever defined by the nature of its creation, and we must not allow ourselves to follow the SNP down the road of appeasing small-c conservatives in order to win a Yes vote that would ruin our right to be radical. That's why the Greens are right to openly criticise the way Yes Scotland is being run.

Despite all the above, Scotland can be radical. The problems we face today can be boiled down to two things: concentrations of wealth, and concentrations of power. Throughout the 20th century, the ascendant theories of liberalism hoped to harness the deeply competitive side of human nature in democracy and economics. Through democracy and its checks and balances, sociopaths could no longer manipulate and cheat their way to absurd levels of power thanks to their own sheer disregard for ethics and their fellow humans; but through the modern, perverse reimagining of Adam Smith's free-market capitalism, opened up to pure competition, those same apostles of amorality could wield an equal or greater influence over the people they employed and the planet they destroyed. In his book 'What Money Can't Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets', the philosopher Michael Sandel argues that the free market encourages a degree of antisocial behaviour amongst its executives and elites that has been morally and socially damaging to a frightening extent. After all, it is profitable to use advertising to make people think that buying a big, gas-guzzling range rover will give them more status and happiness: those who can afford nice things get trapped into a spiral of unfulfilling consumption and environmental degradation, while those who don't have the cash become increasingly insecure about their own status as they see the material wealth of those happy, attractive and prosperous families in the adverts.

Thankfully, ideas are changing. At the end of the 20th century, the political scientist Francis Fukuyama proclaimed 'the end of history' as liberalism triumphed. By the end of the 2000s, 'liberal' markets and democracies across the west lay discredited and depressed. Across the political spectrum, concentrated wealth and its accompanying inequality is condemned, while the concentrated power of centralised governments and corporate lobbies is mistrusted. In Scotland, the Jimmy Reid Foundation's report 'The Silent Crisis' sets out a radical new vision for local government which has the potential to redistribute political and civic power from central government. It is also the UN's International Year of the Cooperative - an increasingly popular business model that redistributes economic power from dictatorial executives to workers and consumers. The emerging disciplines of behavioural economics and positive psychology show a new way of thinking about humans as complex, often irrational beings motivated by human interaction more than money. Decaying theories are being challenged by a paradigm whose time has come - one that says that we are people, not robots, and we work best when we work together.

Like it or not, Scotland has been central to that old, dying model of the western world. From Adam Smith to Fred Goodwin and Gordon Brown, we've been one of the leading lights of a discredited way of doing things. With independence, we've got the chance to redeem ourselves. There is a new way of doing things, one that is bubbling under the surface, looking for a vent through which to spill into the international political consciousness. In leaving the United Kingdom, we wouldn't be leaving just any old country - we'd be deliberately and determinedly withdrawing from one of the main offenders of 20th century psycho-capitalism and beginning again at a time when there are new, truly progressive ideas about what a nation is for and what it can do. Those ideas will be at their most powerful in the next few years, as Europe struggles and the UK sinks, and they will undoubtedly play a central role in the foundation of a new Scotland. The UK is chained to the past, and no matter how hard it tries, it won't be able to make it out of the last century before it's overtaken by other, nimbler states. An independent Scotland must chain itself to the future.

We may not be as left-wing as we'd like to be. We may not be as British, or as English, as Ed Miliband would like us to be. But we are in a unique position to reforge ourselves as a nation in the heat of a new and inspiring world of ideas about what we can be. On October 6th, National Collective will attend the Radical Independence Conference in Glasgow, where these ideas can be shared and developed among leading figures of the Scottish Left. It's an opportunity for us all to look at the radical national identity we've been imagining for decades, and do something with that energy. In our minds, a radical Scotland has been made; now it remains to make radical Scots.

Walking On Eggshells

Let's leave Yes Scotland to the politicians - It's time for an eggshell theory of independence.

Glistening in the eerie blue glow of the cinema screen behind them, the grinning ranks of Salmond's Scotterati linked arms and clapped along to 'One Great Thing', the 1994 hit from Dunfermline rockers Big Country. The song is fitting enough as a campaign anthem - the singalong chorus and the bagpipe guitars that defined the band's sound will add a patriotic backdrop to any events or TV spots from now on. The band, too, seem appropriate, although perhaps for the wrong reasons.

Pete Wishart, now the SNP MP for Perth and North Perthshire, played keyboard in an early incarnation of the band, before he and his brother were jettisoned after a disastrous reception supporting Alice Cooper on tour in 1982. Apparently Cooper's hardened heavy metal crowds didn't take too kindly to Big Country's new romantic sound, and the experience put the brakes on the band's momentum until they found mainstream success in 1984. That episode is by no means exceptional in the music business - early failures to launch are almost mandatory rites of passage for ambitious young rock bands - but the lessons Wishart learned before his career took off (with Gaelic rock legends Runrig, no less) could have saved the SNP a few blushes on Friday.

This is perhaps the first time that the Scottish press will find themselves collectively compared to a roaring horde of sweaty, leather-clad metalheads (and hopefully the last, for their sakes), but like Cooper's fans jeering the relatively quiet and considered sound of Big Country, there was a clear disconnect between what they expected to see at the Yes Scotland launch and what they got.

First of all, let's not forget that this was to some extent a re-launch. The unveiling of the SNP's referendum consultation exactly four months ago aimed to energise activists and sieze the attention of the national and global press. It was widely seen as a success, with even arch-unionists like Kevin McKenna announcing that 'in five years' time, the union will be no more', as campaign director Angus Robertson confidently set out his roadmap to independence. That was the SNP machine in full, glorious flow, sweeping aside silly notions of policy detail and ideological consistency with a juggernaut of technological wizardry and organisational nous.

The Yes Scotland launch, on the other hand, has been pretty widely condemned for its style-over-substance approach. In The Scotsman, David Torrance points out that while they certainly attempted to repeat their usual glitz n' glamour tactics (which arguably worked to great effect in 2011), the tried and tested routine has begun to look and sound a little stale. Their celebrity cast is impressive, and their message - which can be boiled down to self-determination, pure and simple - remains hard to challenge, but the delivery seemed all wrong.

The referendum launch in January was arguably no more substantive in terms of vision and 'policy' than this, but there was something distinctly and unexpectedly underwhelming about the spectacle of Yes Scotland. Perhaps it was the dim, sickly blue wash that was cast over all and sundry (I know I'm repeating myself there, but it did look awful on telly), or the vague and often irrelevant nostalgia of the celebrity contributions, but there was nothing there that seemed capable of firing up Nats, worrying the No campaign or - most importantly - persuading the media that this is a force to be reckoned with.

Had the SNP not earned themselves such a reputation for first-class organisation and campaigning professionalism on previous outings, and had they not made it so clear that Yes Scotland is largely dominated by their people, the press might have been more forgiving. This is now the second time in a month that the party has failed to meet expectations that they themselves have built, and I would be surprised if there is not some serious soul-searching going on now at the highest levels. However, Ian Bell's piece in today's Herald offers a bit of much-needed nuance to the post-launch reactions:

The important point is that in 2014 we won't be voting on, for example, an independent Scotland's relationship, if any, with the monarchy. We won't be deciding whether we can or should remain within Nato or the sterling area. The referendum is about the right to choose, not about the particular choices contained within anyone's "vision" of self-determination.

Maybe, amid all the song and dance, this was the point that the Yes Scotland launch was trying to make. Independence is not really something that requires any concrete 'policy', as has been demanded by so many commentators since May 2011 and earlier. First and foremost, the case for independence requires the confidence of the Scottish people to govern themselves. That kind of confidence is far better galvanised by our arts and culture than by perpetually distrusted politicians. If I want to feel comfortable with my identity and the ability of my people to advance our standards of civilisation, I'll look to the quality of the citizens we produce as a society rather than listening to the pandering pleas of pampered politicians.

Once we have that cultural confidence for autonomous self-rule, our options are pretty much open. Sure, with membership of NATO, the EU and sterling we might have to give up a bit of our freedom to have an exclusive say in all our decisions, but even that criticism betrays a misunderstanding of what independence really means. Independence is about the capacity to act autonomously - it means if the Scottish people want to be in Europe, we can be, and if we don't we can leave. It means if we want to create our own currency, we can elect a Scottish Government with the power to do just that. If, at any point after voting Yes, the Scottish people want to remove nuclear weapons from Scottish waters, we'll damn well vote for it and we'll damn well do it without anybody being able to stop us, thanks very much. It's ultimately about trusting ourselves to do what's right. The launch of Yes Scotland was an attempt to say yes, we can look after ourselves - it's that central logic that Brian Cox (sort of) summed up when he said:

I think Scotland has earned the right to its own nation status. It has earned the right to control its own destiny. And it will certainly make a better job of it than that parliament (Westminster) which has not the foggiest clue about Scotland's cultural, economic and social needs.

There's a problem, though, with Yes Scotland. In attempting to mix politics with culture, the SNP have blurred a line that they've spent decades trying to solidify. Since devolution, they've successfully cast off the stereotypes of tartan-clad braveheart-worship by proving themselves to be the most competent and sensible party of government. They (and, in some cases, other devolved governments) have brought a degree of confidence back into Scotland's political culture, proving that Scotland can make good and ambitious decisions for itself, while treating the artistic and creative community with respect but keeping their distance at the same time. Much of the scorn poured on the Yes campaign launch focused on the apparent recidivism of the event, as a campaign perceived to be dominated by the SNP slipped into the flag-waving sentimentality they've worked so hard to avoid.

The challenge for the leadership of Yes Scotland is a tricky one, because the choice they're asking people to make is going to be decided by two things that are often in competition: to put it crudely, the head and the heart. It's what behavioural economists like nobel prize-winner Daniel Kahnemann call the 'dual-process model' of the brain. We are driven by 'System 1' and 'System 2' ways of thinking: System 1 is fast, instinctive, non-rational and very difficult to control; System 2 is deliberative and slow, and we use it (or try to use it) for making difficult, complex decisions - but psychologist and moral and political theorist Jonathan Haidt argues that whether we like it or not, System 1 (or what he calls the 'elephant', while System 2 is the 'rider') tends to have the final say.

That's a pretty simplified explanation, but it sums up the dichotomous nature of most political campaigns. Politicians spend hours crafting policy and spending plans that will stand up to rigorous intellectual scrutiny, but spend millions of pounds on adverts and grandstanding events that set our pulse racing for when we eventually come to vote on what is often pure gut instinct. The independence debate, with its equal measures of intellectual nuance and patriotic emotion, is the finest example of this duality that there is in modern politics.

So far, Yes Scotland has had a clear focus on the emotional, instinctive side of their message - appealing to our cultural identity and our love of celebrity is not a rational argument for independence, and though the famous faces were often making smart, thoughtful arguments, that was really just an excuse to put them up there in front of the cameras. That is, of course, a legitimate course of action for the Yes campaign. As I've said, some basic self-confidence in our artistic and political culture is essential to making the Yes campaign and the independent nation that could follow it successful.

However, we also have an instinctive distrust of our politicians, and to see highly respected creative figures operating in apparent cahoots with our reluctantly elected representatives makes many people feel a bit uneasy. A star-studded cast is also a very effective way of making some pretty boring ideas seem a lot more exciting. Although my pulse quickened a little when Brian Cox started talking about democratic socialism, nobody really thinks that any of those people (with the hopeful exception of Patrick Harvie) will have any tangible input into the Official Vision For An Independent Scotland™.

I don't have much hope for the No campaign either. Or will it be Yes Britain? They'll be lining up their own celebrity endorsements right now, and you can expect them to jump right on board the jubilee bandwagon, Union Flag flying high. Expect plenty of appeals to 'national solidarity' alongside sob stories about the disintegrating welfare state and a couple of old, brutal wars that we're all very proud of for some reason. I'm biased here, but I find it hard to think of any rational case for the union - they may be able to cobble one together against independence, but that will have to go negative, leaving them open to the SNP's favourite line of attack.

If the two official campaigns are hijacking our Great Scots and going for gut instinct and assurances that everything will stay the same, who's making the radical case, and who's keeping the politicians at arm's length? By now, we should all be resigned to the fact that despite the undoubted intelligence and ability of many figures in the mainstream of politics and the press in Scotland, they're not going to have a proper debate. They'll want details, numbers and obscurities about precisely the wrong things. NATO, the EU, the pound - all of these are ideologically malleable, temporally specific and politically conditional. Independence is not. A nation is either sovereign or it isn't. I don't see the media spending the same time examining the suitability of the present political establishment to reduce the embarrassing levels of child poverty in this country as they will asking each other about how we'll exert influence over the Bank of England once we're spending sterling in an independent Scotland.

So it's time to make sure it's as easy as possible for everybody to ignore them. We should leave the SNP and Labour to treat the debate like it's just another general election, and for the media to cover it as such, while everyone else can get on with having a proper, thoughtful and intelligent discussion about whether Scotland's problems are best dealt with by a parliament in Holyrood or a parliament in Westminster. And no, that's actually not a leading question.

It's what anarchists call the 'eggshell theory of revolution'. You allow the establishment to continue functioning as usual, but build new institutions and a new way of cooperation that renders it obsolete. Once the legitimacy of the old order is hollowed out, it'll calmly and quietly collapse. There are plenty of alternatives to the press and politics that we're used to: Bella Caledonia, Better Nation, National Collective and even Labour Hame or Tory Hoose all offer commentary that reflects the realities and ambitions of modern Scotland far better than our ageing TV and print media. We have organisations and parties offering political alternatives across the ideological spectrum, from the Jimmy Reid Foundation and Reform Scotland to Occupy and the Scottish Greens (at no point did Harvie look comfortable on Friday, to his eternal credit).

If Yes Scotland is going to be the rather empty and misjudged celeb-fest that we saw at the launch, why not let an alternative Yes campaign emerge? Let the political and media elite use their money and experience to demonstrate that an independent Scotland would be perfectly capable of self-government and economic security, while the rest of us can argue about why that's needed and how we can use it. The former can give people an instinctive feeling of security in saying Yes that's clearly still missing, while the latter can excite people into saying Yes with their heads as well as their hearts.

The SNP have no monopoly on wisdom, nor should their campaign have the monopoly on Scotland's creative and artistic community that their launch implied. An eggshell theory of independence could give us an eggshell theory of Scotland, where the concentrations of wealth and power that define and damage politics both here and in the UK are hollowed out and replaced by the vibrant, engaging and truly radical future that Scotland is genuinely capable of. The SNP and the pro-union parties should be allowed to give the media what they expect. It's time for the rest of us to give Scotland what it needs: a proper debate.

The Richest Nation In The World

Money doesn't make us happier. That's why we need a post-materialist case for an independent Scotland. 

The cover of this week's Economist, showing a map of Scotland with place names changed to things like 'Skintland', 'Highinterestlands' and 'Edinborrow', has ruffled its fair share of Nationalist feathers. Many are understandably offended by what they see as the 'patronising' tone of the tongue-in-cheek graphic, and have used their outrage - real or feigned - to draw attention away from the far more measured analysis of an independent Scotland's economic prospects inside the magazine. That analysis makes for some pretty grim reading from a pro-independence perspective.

Scotland, says the issue's leader, will be 'one of Europe's vulnerable, marginal economies', while current levels of state spending are portrayed as unsustainable should Scotland choose to leave the UK. While it is easy enough to dispute much of the analysis and speculation behind that sensationalist cover (and I'm sure the gears of the cybernat steamroller are screeching into life to attempt just that as I write this), the general tone of the articles and the response to them speaks volumes about how far we still are from a truly enlightened debate about Scotland's future.

The Economist is, of course, all about money. Its analysis of Scotland's prospects for independence is exclusively concerned with how the Scottish economy would perform should the Scottish Parliament assume the full powers of a sovereign state. However, within that leader - and obscured by the politically sensitive nature of its general content and the politically oversensitive response to it - is an important sentence: 

If Scots really want independence for political or cultural reasons, they should go for it.

They should go for it. At no point does The Economist say that Scotland, in choosing independence, would crash and burn. That's crucial. No sensible economic analysis has ever said that Scotland simply cannot afford independence; they just suggest that Scotland would be either slightly poorer or slightly richer, before those words are spun, exaggerated and disseminated throughout the media by excitable press officers as a ringing endorsement or crashing dismissal of Scotland's post-independence prospects. The SNP tend to be the main offenders in this case, with dubious claims of Scotland becoming the 'sixth richest nation in the world' after independence, or having access to a 'trillion' pounds worth of North Sea oil.

The economy is an easy way of swaying undecided voters. A recent survey found that a majority of Scots would support independence if they could be sure of an extra £500 in their bank accounts, and the SNP have refocused their arguments accordingly. The unionists, on the other hand, have to be sneakier with their efforts. With the knowledge that the 'too poor, too wee' argument could backfire on them and drive insulted Scots over to the pro-independence camp, they've tried to mix sentimental appeals to 'unity' and 'Britishness' with the cautious exploitation of lingering fears about economic uncertainty, but will no doubt be a bit more forceful with the latter as the referendum draws nearer.

Perhaps Scotland will be richer with independence. Perhaps it will be poorer. But you know what? I don't care either way. Whether we stay in the union or leave it, our decision has the potential to have a profound effect on millions of people, and to make that choice based on pure economic self-interest would be an act of stupendous ignorance and insensitivity.

After all, money isn't everything. In fact, money is nothing. One of the greatest follies of capitalist society has been the transformation of money as a mere symbol of exchange value into a commodity with supposed intrinsic worth; wealth that was once a means to and end is now an end in itself.

The World Happiness Report, published this month (and which everybody should read), captures an emerging paradigm - the pursuit of wealth does not make us happier; in fact, it often makes things worse. Since the 1950s, the USA saw an unprecedented rise in GNP and material living standards, but no rise in human happiness. However, people at the top of the income scale in the US report themselves to be far happier than those at the bottom. The reasons for this - known as the 'Easterlin Paradox' after the academic who discovered it - are examined in the economist Richard Layard's book Happiness: Lessons From A New Science, which suggests that in any unequal consumerist society, wealth confers status. We are happier when we are higher up on a socially constructed 'ladder'.

In their book The Spirit Level, Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett show that more unequal societies score worse on almost every indicator of social wellbeing than more equal ones. Policy that creates high levels of inequality is a sure-fire way of making people unhappy, and it's often policies obsessed with notions of 'wealth creation' - tax cuts, soft-touch regulation and so on - that lead to greater inequality. The idea that we need to get richer to be happier is particularly delusional; Layard's work shows that we are happier when we have enough money to exercise autonomy in our pursuit of greater security, comfort and (most importantly) social engagement and strong relationships - and we don't need to be fabulously wealthy to achieve any of those things; we just think we do because we're told - by advertisers, politicians, celebrities and the media - that money is power, greed is good, and it's the economy, stupid. 

A country's collective values are so often defined by the nature of its creation - just look at the USA's persistent resistance to government intervention - and if Scotland is born of selfishness, it will become a nation forever scarred by that. In 1977, the political scientist Ronald Inglehart developed the concept of 'post-materialism', a value system that prioritised things like the environment, equality, happiness and self-determination over material possessions and conventional notions of wealth. There is still time for the independence debate to reject the dull rhetoric of material self-interest and reconfigure itself around post-materialist values. It would make for a public discussion with more vitality, engagement and innovation than any speculative dispute over GDP could ever have.

The way to make Scots happier is not by giving them £500. Scotland may or may not be the 'sixth richest nation in the world' after independence, but that won't put a smile on our faces for long. The UN's first ever conference on happiness, held before easter, shows that there is demand for a new way of measuring a different kind of wealth, and suggests that an independent Scotland need not be an economic powerhouse to ensure the wellbeing of its citizens.

If we have the political will to reduce the grotesque inequality of modern Scotland, and the crushing anxieties over status that inequality exaggerates, we can make an independent Scotland a richer nation. If we choose to escape from the neoliberal obsession with 'wealth generation' that still holds firm at Westminster, we can make an independent Scotland a richer nation. If we can stop the needless pursuit of eternal growth at the expense of the environment, we can make an independent Scotland a richer nation. If we can develop smart, innovative, compassionate policies that give people more security, more self-confidence and more time with the people - not the possessions - that make them feel happy, we could make an independent Scotland the richest nation in the world.

Richard Layard's Lionel Robbins Memorial Lectures on happiness can be found here, and Wilkinson & Pickett's 'Equality Trust' - which has all the basics from 'The Spirit Level' - can be found here.

What Nationalists Should Learn From 1992

Labour’s transformation after their 1992 defeat created a centre-right southern consensus that deprived Scots of a political voice – Independence offers an alternative. 

“Free by ‘93”, they said, but it was not to be. In the UK general election on April 9th, 1992, The Scottish National Party’s hopes for a new dawn were dashed by a Scottish electorate of what their then-deputy leader Jim Sillars called ’90 minute patriots’. They were passionate about Scotland (and by extension the SNP, according to Mr. Sillars) within the confines of Hampden Park, but loyal to the unionist Labour party when it came to the ballot box. Thus the significance of the 1992 election in the drive for Scottish independence has always been seen through the lens of a Nationalist ‘false dawn’, where Labour’s staying power in Scotland was a setback, and the first breakthrough was with the triumph of pro-devolution New Labour in 1997.

This view must be challenged. It makes the mistake of equating progress towards independence with electoral success for the SNP, and is overly Scotland-centric. The modern, centre-left civic nationalist drive for Scottish Independence did not begin in Scotland, and its midwife was not the SNP, nor was it Thatcher, as many have suggested. It began in 1992, in the south of England, and was unwittingly instigated by the Labour Party.

John Smith's death was the beginning
of the end for Labour in Scotland.
Courtesy of riotcitygirl

My contention is this: Labour’s loss in 1992 convinced them of the need for a shift to the right to win over voters in the south of England. This alienated their voters in the north of Britain, and led to policies geared towards the desires of an affluent and influential (affluential, anyone?) swing minority of voters – known as ‘Essex Man’ or ‘Mondeo Man’ in political PR-speak – who voted with their wallets and led the retreat from traditional, entrenched party loyalties that has been occurring since the 1970s.

Scotland, whose ‘national party’ had been Labour since the 1950s, was left without any obvious voice at Westminster after the death of John Smith in 1994. The cabinet may have been packed with Scots, but their policy and rhetoric were geared towards an aspirational southern suburban mentality far removed from that of their countrymen. For a while, this transformation was tolerated – after all, years of Thatcherite rule were ended in 1997, and cross-generational loyalties take time to die.

Devolution gave the SNP a new platform from which to challenge Labour, and their quick emergence as the official opposition at Holyrood showed how easily they fitted into the new arrangements. From there, it was only a matter of time before disillusionment with New Labour translated into electoral success for the Nationalists, and with Gordon Brown’s downfall and the Holyrood result in 2011, the destruction of Labour’s Scottish identity was complete. In Scotland, this shift was not led by a middle-class floating vote, but the gradual transference of working-class loyalties from Labour to the SNP over the same period that saw the change in Labour’s ideological focus.

Paul Richards, a former special advisor to Hazel Blears and a contributor to Blairite bible ‘The Purple Book’, has written a piece for Labour’s influential Progress faction where he discusses the lessons learned from ’92, and why he believes they are still relevant. One passage is particularly important:

If Labour cannot win over the hard-working, car-owning, owner-occupiers in southern and eastern towns and suburbs, piling up majorities in northern cities will count for nothing. This substratum of our society decides who governs. This is the real ‘political class’ – the people who decide who forms the cabinet. They do not like high taxes, an out-of-control benefits bill, or an interfering government. They have never been to Wales, Liverpool or Newcastle, but they have been to Ibiza and Majorca. In 1992, they preferred a grey man and party which had bashed the miners, brought in the poll tax and could not give a hoot about mass unemployment.   

Labour’s leader has to look them (or their grown-up children) in the eye and win them over to a party they rejected in record numbers barely two years ago. No one said it was going to be a walk in the park. 

I couldn’t have said it better. And it perfectly demonstrates why Labour’s loss in 1992 was, ultimately, the SNP’s gain. No longer are Labour a party for Scotland. They are not even a party for most of the UK. Scotland has a fallback in the shape of the SNP – which is why Scots have deserted Labour while the English have not (unless we include Gorgeous George, of course) – and if, within the United Kingdom, there appears to be no means of escaping the southern, centre-right metropolitan consensus that turned 20 years old this week, then the Scots will eventually choose Independence.

In Coalition Britain, This Is What You Get

Pasties, petrol and Peter Cruddas are obscuring the bigger picture - at our expense and the Tories' gain.

The video to Radiohead’s Karma Police shows a car pursuing an exhausted man down a dark road. At the end of the video, as Thom Yorke sings ‘For a minute there, I lost myself, I lost myself’, the beleaguered escapee sees a line of petrol leaking from the car as it reverses away from him, presumably preparing to finish him off. He fumbles in his pocket, and produces a packet of matches. He puts his hands behind his back in apparent resignation, before dropping a lit match onto the trail of petrol. The flames run towards the car, which reverses frantically before being engulfed by flames. 

Perhaps in Coalition Britain, the anonymous driver of the pursuing car would have had the luck to run out of petrol just before reaching his quarry – one of the few true beneficiaries of the fuel tanker drivers’ strike that we are all supposed to be so concerned about – and there would have been no escape for the poor guy on the run. By the time his incendiary opportunity arises, he is exhausted – maybe, in Coalition Britain, he would have had the energy to carry on running until help appeared, deprived of the diet of pasties and booze that shrank his stamina and bloated his gut by the newly prohibitive pricing measures of our apparently health-conscious government overlords.

In Coalition Britain, the predator and prey of this sinister pursuit would look at the shining example of two ideologically incompatible political parties putting their differences aside for the good of the nation and think ‘we’re all in this together’ – the poor man on the road could get a lift home, picking up some cold sausage rolls for the wife, kids and overtaxed granny on the way.

For a minute there, I lost myself. Coalition Britain is, of course, a sham. Osborne’s much-maligned handling of the budget was in part the fault of some nifty leaking by his long-suffering coalition partners, bringing issues to the fore that would otherwise have been buried, à la Brown, under whatever ‘good news’ the Chancellor was able to offer. This is all part of the Liberal Democrats' ‘differentiation’ agenda, a too-little too-late response to public disgust at their willingness to trade principles for power. The only things left holding the government together are the chains of political expediency – an election now would reduce the Lib Dems to a handful of MPs, and the Tories would have to dilute their gleeful slashing of public services with some populist policies in search of a Conservative majority that remains highly unlikely.

Mmmm, taxes. Courtesy of Analiem

For a minute there, we all lost ourselves. As queues grow at petrol stations (although, I’d like to note, the one outside my window is having a quieter day than usual) and politicians extol the virtues of hot pastry products to an eager media, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development is quietly and calmly announcing that we’re heading back into recession. And nobody seems to care.

For the last couple of weeks, it was almost possible to believe that the Tories had reasons to be worried. Polling numbers took a hit after the  budget announcement, and they’re dropping further after the ‘Cash for Cameron’ scandal. High-profile Tory pundit Tim Montgomerie fired a broadside at the party leadership, and Tory ‘detoxification’ guru and Cabinet Secretary Francis Maude made a fool of himself in front of parliament and then the public. The most recent developments could yet make things marginally worse for them (although if they can turn the tanker drivers' strike against Labour it could work in their favour), but everybody seems to be forgetting the bigger picture.

The coalition can U-turn all they like on taxes, squirm and repent all they like on donations, and Ed Miliband can sing the praises of Greggs ‘til he’s red in the face, but as long as the public and the media keep schtum about the cuts, Osborne will sleep soundly at night. Calmly and resolutely dismantling Britain’s publicly-owned services is his calling. Not only does he cling to his faith in the oxymoronic economic theology of ‘expansionary fiscal contraction’ (the discredited belief that spending cuts lead to growth), but he also hopes to combine a near-irreversible shrinking of the public sector with the widespread encroachment of the private sector into the gaps left behind by his slash-and-burn crusade. This private sector will be free from the moral checks and balances of what he condemns as ‘red tape’ – the regulations that, for example, stop corporations from discriminating against minorities, destroying the environment or firing employees without reason or notice. Essentially, he hopes for the brutal and uncontrolled private sector colonisation of a disheartened and defenceless public sector.

It is old-fashioned Thatcherite economics, where the pure, unthinking competition of an unregulated private sector weeds out the unworthy and rewards the capable. It is the abhorrent and archaic philosophy of Social Darwinism writ large across the economy and, by extension, society itself. 

Equally oxymoronic is Osborne’s embrace of ‘dynamic scoring’ – the (also discredited) belief that tax cuts ‘pay for themselves’ because they stimulate the economy. When George W Bush pioneered this in the USA, his tax cuts left a hole in the budget that was never filled. Jonny Medland in The Guardian writes that Osborne is using this flawed logic to justify the tax cuts that he hopes will help win the Conservatives a majority in 2015.

When we focus all our attention on pasties, petrol and Peter Cruddas, we lose sight of the real scandal at the heart of government – that the Chancellor of the Exchequer is visiting unprecedented destruction on the services of people who need them; he is impeding economic recovery and leading us back into recession; he is cutting taxes to make whatever is left even harder to pay for; and he is doing it under the auspices of nothing more than a corrupt and immoral ideology.

Is there a way out? Not with this government, it seems. The Liberal Democrats and the Conservatives, regardless of policy differences on the NHS, taxation and whatever else becomes part of ‘differentiation’, will remain united on the timeline of the cuts agenda. By 2015, Osborne’s axe will have hacked through vast swathes of the services many people rely on. Waiting until the next election to reject this government won’t help those people; that’s why action is needed now.

The petrol tanker drivers’ strike could herald the start of a prolonged period of collective action against Coalition Britain – if Cameron, Osborne and Clegg can be convinced that they face electoral catastrophe in 2015, they might just ease off. There are myriad campaigning organisations willing to take the fight to Westminster, but without a wave of pressure from ordinary voters, their voices carry little weight. Liberal Democrats need to speak out against the cuts above all else, and any remaining One Nation Conservatives must do the same. Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland can all offer alternatives, and it is from those Nations that the sparks of radicalism have blown south before.

What is certain is that stopping or restraining the cuts is impossible without massive cooperative engagement, and those who need to be engaged are being needlessly distracted by a media obsessed with the inconsequential banalities of relatively small-scale government incompetency.

Maybe the Karma Police have been at work. The events that are supposed to have ‘rocked’ the Coalition over recent weeks could be the doings of some greater force, a warning shot against the continued realisation of Osborne’s ambitions. I think not: the government is driving us down that dark road in that sinister video, one with no apparent routes of escape – no alternatives, as the Chancellor likes to remind us. Eventually, people will tire of it. So far, we have only seen a fraction of the cuts, and the vast majority are still to come. There may come a time when the British electorate, exhausted and appalled, will turn round to look Coalition Britain in the eye and quote Thom Yorke’s ominous chorus – ‘This is what you get, when you mess with us’. Let’s hope we’ve got a packet of matches in our pocket.

Changin' The Debate

A meeting of minds in the North-West of Scotland sets an example for the creative and collaborative potential of the debate over Scotland’s future.

Ullapool is a beautiful place, and I sometimes suspect that the quiet dignity of Loch Broom’s worst kept secret is only preserved by the perils that meet any driver hoping to make the trip. No car journey to the northwest is complete without the occasional hair-raising brush with other motorists or wildlife, or the sinking sensation as one of Mr Eddie Stobart’s haulage fleet heaves its way onto the road ahead of you to push even the most pessimistic estimated arrival time back by an hour or so.

And yet on this occasion, the potential for any extension to our journey was a welcome one, giving the three of us in the car an opportunity to better prepare for the mental, emotional and physical rigour of the weekend ahead – after all, we were burdened with a mammoth task; one that has eluded almost all who hoped to bear it across shoulders far broader and more hardened than ours. Our mission statement was clear: Changin’ Scotland.

Changin’ Scotland is a biannual mini-festival of Scottish politics and culture, and has been a hit among those in the know (publicity appears to be largely done via twitter and the blogosphere) over its 10 years and 19 sessions. The event is the brainchild of Gerry Hassan and Jean Urquhart, the latter of whom owns the legendary Ceilidh Place, an ideal venue for such a gathering – not only is Ms. Urquhart an SNP MSP, but The Ceilidh Place’s bookshelves (and its excellent bookshop) are well-stocked with literature on the past, present and future of Scotland and beyond.

During the course of the weekend, The Ceilidh Place and its more basic ‘Bunkhouse’ annexe are filled with the discussion, debate and ‘blether’ of the many faces of what the speakers themselves (sometimes reluctantly) describe as ‘Civic’ and/or ‘Civil’ Scotland. For young, excitable but relatively uninvolved political nerds like me, the experience of finding oneself in conversation with Mr. Hassan, Andy Wightman and David Torrance all at the same time can be quite a shock to the system, but such is the collegiate spirit of the event: All are welcome, be it as an interested but passive audience member in any of the many illuminating talks and presentations, or as a passionate activist with a desire to engage with some of Scotland’s finest political thinkers and writers, and this spirit of open involvement lends itself to a vibrant, creative atmosphere that still manages to remain friendly and relaxed.

We pulled into Ullapool with moonlight flickering across the loch, relieved after escaping the ordeal of the A9 unscathed, and ventured into the dining room, edging into chairs between the chatter of animated faces – some known, some soon-to-be-known. The food and service of the Ceilidh Place’s staff is exemplary – and their friendly tolerance of my panic over a temporarily mislaid wallet was a big help – and by the time we took the short walk to the main conference room in the bunkhouse, conversation flowed as easily as the various beverages that helped it along.

The opening message of the ‘Independence Weekend’ was clear: This was a non-partisan (a deliberate and important distinction from bi-partisan) event, and the term ‘separatist’ was as unwelcome as the blind stereotyping of ‘the Unionists’ as ‘all the same’. Of course, I’m not Prof. Neil Walker, nor do my abilities begin to approach those of the great Ian Jack, and so to recount the various talks and debates in detail would in all likelihood only devalue them. I will nonetheless try to sum up four of the most prominent ideas that I saw emerging over our three days spent in Ullapool. This is obviously my own experience, shaped by my own interests and priorities, so might be an entirely inaccurate aggregation of a weekend’s complex discussion, but hey, it’s just a blog:

1. ‘Independence for what?’
I have already managed to gloat about this one on twitter, as I wrote a piece last week in an effort to work out a clearer image of my own positions and opinions in advance of the event which ended up discussing this very issue. There was a clear consensus this weekend that the present state of public debate in Scotland falls far short of the searching examination of our values, institutions and ambitions that is necessary if the referendum is to grow from a playground spat into a real, radical national discourse.

Important, too, were discussions around notions of interdependence and the Trident question, which outlined the complexities of the constitutional arrangement that will emerge over the next decade and the need to examine this as a part of any discussion of Scotland’s future.

2. Independence is not a shortcut to social justice
The notion of ‘Red Clydeside’ as an influential part of Scotland’s collective identity was challenged, while representatives of Unison and Engender came together to show that the inequities of modern Scotland have roots far deeper than the constitutional arrangement. Much can already be done by the Scottish Government to tackle these, and there was certainly some feeling that the constitutional debate has tended to overshadow and suppress the frank discussions that are needed to tackle rampant social injustice in Scotland.

Anthony Baxter’s moving and brilliantly infuriating documentary You’ve Been Trumped was a penetrating portrayal of the damage caused by the undue influence given to money and power by our own political class, and it is obvious that this is not an issue that will be tackled by a simple shift of political power from Westminster to Holyrood.

3. Constructive criticism is not ‘negativity’
There was bound to be a point where the token cybernat popped up, in this case to criticise one discussion for portraying the First Minister in what they deemed a ‘negative’ light. The speaker's tentative apology was shouted down by the audience, some of whom later expressed frustration at the tendency of many Nationalists to take any criticism of their party, policies or leader as an exhibition of clatteringly insensitive negativity. It rarely is.

That incident spoke measures about Scotland’s bizarre new obsession with the ‘positive/negative’ divide. A clear consequence of the SNP’s aggressively ‘positive’ campaign of 2011, and – to ensure that the Nationalists don’t shoulder the entirety of the blame – the needlessly oppositional politicking of their parliamentary adversaries, this new Manichaeism has seeped into all areas of political debate in Britain as well as Scotland, and is having a profoundly oppressive effect on what should be an open, honest and clear discussion.

Refreshingly for many of us in Ullapool, our debates were gloriously free of this reductive construct, operating along the lines of what Strathclyde’s Prof. James Mitchell called ‘Grey’ politics (in the most inspiring possible way…). There is a clear need for these conversations to move past the black-and-white, antagonistic discourse of recent months and into a more productive centre ground, where somebody is not tarred with the broad brushes of ‘negativity’, ‘anti-Scottishness’ or ‘separatism’ for simply trying to identify flaws and propose alternatives. This is something where no party is blameless (except, perhaps, those cuddly Greens), and all must make the effort to bring the debate back into an area where it won’t scare people off.

4. On a less serious note, The availability of blankets in hospitals is not the direct responsibility of the First Minister of Scotland. It is very possible that somebody else is better qualified and actually appointed to do exactly those things, and it may even be the case that Mr. Salmond has other things on his mind.

There were many more intriguing contributions by some of Scotland’s most thoughtful observers, and the flow of ideas wasn’t restricted to the talks and presentations – they were simply decanted to the bar to be developed and debated further in a more informal setting, and I’ll happily blame the present heaviness of my eyelids on the intoxicating quality of discussion after darkness fell and pints were poured.

With that third point in mind, there was also one area of discussion missing: while the economy was discussed at length and in interesting ways, there was no voice from the world of conventional business present. As a banker-bashing social democrat myself, it’s always nice to avoid those awkward confrontations with those who see unfettered markets as an intrinsically positive force, but they are nonetheless a part of this debate and deserve a space within it.

To bring together so many fine minds and discuss so many important questions from a supposedly non-partisan standpoint without any contribution from business seems to be a useful way of sidelining some important economic divisions that may be as hard to reconcile as political and constitutional ones. However, the willingness of those who were involved to look at issues affecting the business world without obviously picking sides was a wonderful example of how committed the participants are to a more conciliatory approach.

It was with a strange mixture of emotions that we piled into the car on Sunday afternoon to make the long journey back to the capital. At one level, who would want to go from something as engaging as Changin’ Scotland back to the political pantomime of ‘You started it!’ ‘No, you started it!’ at Holyrood? On another, more optimistic level, the creativity and thoughtful consideration on show at The Ceilidh Place is cause for hope – perhaps if the discussion in Scotland can find its way out of Holyrood and Westminster’s maze of statistics, scare stories and political chess and into the open spaces of a public debate with the same ambition and vitality as I saw this weekend, then we will see a nation emerging that we can all be a part of without some folk being forced to throw in the blanket. We may not be Changin’ Scotland quite yet, but it’s certainly given us something to aim for.

The next Changin’ Scotland will take place in November.

Life, Independence and Everything

If independence is the answer, what's the question?

In Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhikers’ Guide To The Galaxy, an ancient race of super-intelligent beings designs a supercomputer to find the answer to ‘Life, The Universe and Everything’. After seven and a half million years of pondering, the computer – called ‘Deep Thought’ – delivers its verdict to the two men chosen to hear it:

Alright," said Deep Thought. "The Answer to the Great Question..."
"Yes...!"
"Of Life, the Universe and Everything..." said Deep Thought.
"Yes...!"
"Is..." said Deep Thought, and paused.
"Yes...!"
"Is..."
"Yes...!!!...?"
"Forty-two," said Deep Thought, with infinite majesty and calm. 

Anyone who has had the immense pleasure of reading Adams’ masterpiece will know that the biggest mistake made by Deep Thought’s creators was not asking a proper question – Deep Thought goes on to create earth as a bio-computer to work out what the question is, but earth is demolished to make room for an intergalactic highway five minutes before it finishes its own calculations (To add insult to apocalypse, the intergalactic highway plan is actually scrapped in the end, but I’ll save that for a post about trams).

It’s a wonderful passage for all sorts of reasons, but I was drawn back to it by the recent escalation of silliness that we’ve seen in what can only ever be described as ‘Scotland’s Great Debate’ with tongue stuffed firmly in cheek. We’ve had all sorts of people mongering scares about Scotland being forced to join the Euro, a potential civil war over those troublesome oil-rich islands in the North Sea, and – in all apparent seriousness – potential RAF bombing raids on Scottish airports after France’s very own Schlieffen plan sees their tanks rolling through the central belt in one last, bitter effort to get a Stewart back on the English throne.

These kinds of stories are only ever given the oxygen (or round-the-clock life support) of public exposure because there’s absolutely nothing of any substance to fill what is otherwise an empty void. There is so much uncertainty, confusion and downright ignorance surrounding the proposed answer due to the simple fact that nobody really has any idea what the bleeding question is supposed to be. And I don’t mean the referendum question – that will never be anything more than a brief reminder of what it is we’re all arguing about when we’re dragged kicking and screaming to the ballot box in 2014 – I mean the actual reason that we’re having this stramash in the first place, and I’m yet to see much progress on that beyond the dear green pages of Bright Green or Better Nation and the articulate piping of Hassan and MacWhirter. What do we want Scotland to look like in ten years time? What’s wrong with the present situation? How do we go about shaping our own country to suit our own needs? What is this bizarre, divided entity called ‘Scotland’, and why is it so deserving of Independence?

Thus far, the SNP’s vision for a post-independence Scotland is little more than a bunch of distant smoke-signals, wilfully blurred into ambiguities and wisps of wistful abstraction in the hope that everybody will mistake them for exactly what they want to see. We’re keeping the queen, but there could be a referendum; we’re keeping the pound, but we can join the Euro – hey, we might even have our own currency; we’ll keep the welfare state intact, but Scotland might become a low-tax haven for businesses; we’ll be a world leader on climate change action and renewable energy, but we’ll probably pump out oil like there’s no tomorrow to fund it; we’ll be left-wing, right-wing, anything-that-wins-wing. It’s not much to go on.

The Greens, bless their biodegradable socks, have been tragically ignored, although this is partly down to their relative silence on the issue. Their vision for a post-materialist Scotland that can see past the slowly dying paradigms of the long, deadly 20th century is one that should be heard in every home. The Socialists, too, should have a wider slice of the debate cake, because we always need someone to scare the middle class floating vote into accepting a few more reforms than they would otherwise be comfortable with.

At a time when Scotland needs radical thinking more than ever, we’ve ended up with a parliament of centrists, monopolising the airwaves and column inches with banalities about a Scotland which, Independence or in the Union, will be built on ‘fairness’, ‘unity’ or ‘social justice’ without once offering an example of the profound institutional, cultural and systemic reforms and reinventions that are essential to achieving such lofty goals.

Of course, it’s all very early days. It’s entirely possible that we are simply in the silly season of the discussion, where all the nonsense is boiled away before we get to the real haggis and tatties of the debate. Perhaps in two years we’ll see Alistair Darling and Alex Salmond go head-to-head on live telly to compare imaginative new systems of civic and economic engagement that have genuine potential to strip away the crushing inequalities of modern Scotland. Perhaps Nicola Sturgeon will get the chance to outline a truly compassionate welfare system that can transform the long-term unemployed from ignored, irrelevant statistics into active, involved members of a national community who are as welcome and as valued as the global businesses everybody’s trying so hard to please. 

Perhaps the debate will focus on values, big ideas and collective progress rather than fiddled statistics and economic self-interest. Perhaps the Scottish Conservative Party will collapse under the gargantuan weight of its own irrelevance. Perhaps we’ll have a positive campaign on both sides. Perhaps wee piggies will soar on tartan wings over the Cairngorms singing 'Flower Of Scotland' and doffing their ginger-haired jimmy hats to the good women of Aviemore.

Unless the politicians we have reluctantly nudged into office begin asking themselves and each other some profound questions about Scotland and its people, the referendum campaign will turn even nastier than it already is. There is no doubt that the Unionists are playing dirty, and the Nationalists are playing smart (Unionists are permitted to interpret that as ‘sneaky and manipulative’), and if this is an indicator of what’s to come, then I’m tempted to just give up now. A nasty campaign, regardless of the result, could have a disastrous impact on both the United Kingdom and Scotland. One of the few benefits of growing political apathy is that politics no longer has the power to divide people that it once did. Scottish Independence, like it or not, has a lot to do with personal identity and patriotism, and they can be dangerously divisive forces.

If partisan battle lines are drawn in the political arena, they will seep through into pubs, offices and homes. If, however, the debate is honest and inspiring, it can be a tool for civic engagement that would be unprecedented in the history of the Union. This renewed engagement could have the potential to invigorate a population that feels ignored and excluded from the decisions that affect them, and the resulting sense of optimism and collective power could be the driving force behind a ‘Yes’ vote. It is in the SNP’s interest to be radical. It’s up to the others to forget for a second that they are politicians and just do the right thing.

Politics should not be a burden. The corridors of power in the United Kingdom sit on a metronome’s pendulum, ceaselessly swinging from left to right and back again across a resolute, unfeeling centre. The tempo is set by a faceless elite, and we’re all forced to play along at whatever speed they choose, learning the music as we go. Too many fall behind. With independence, we have the opportunity to wrench the device from their hands and turn it off. Independence entails the invention of a nation – the ultimate act of collaborative creativity, where we can build the society that reflects our modern needs, values and desires. An independent Scotland won’t be a purely fresh start – we have an ingrained political and social culture that has its roots in the depths of history – but it will be a chance to reassess which parts of that culture and those norms we want, and which we don’t. Scotland is finding its place in a globalised world, and has been touched by every corner of humanity – there are new ideas, new challenges and new avenues out there and around us which can shape the institutions, values and goals of our independent creation. This is where we need to be asking questions, and a better understanding of the answer will follow.