Scotland’s future: reduced to opportunistic tinkering and simplistic choices

Rather like the Prime Minister’s spurious and self-seeking arguments against electoral reform, the Scottish people have now been told they must have a “straight choice” over independence.

In other words, the prospect of any kind of constitutional settlement aside from staying in or out of the union – in other words, ‘devolution max’ – is considered so unpalatable that the Westminster elite would like any referendum to be as simplistic as possible. David Cameron’s recent hint that he might consider more powers for Scotland, in the event of a referendum deciding against independence can be considered as a mere sop to nationalist sentiment.

The Scottish National Party is minded towards holding a straightforward yes or no ballot, and although it is thinking about including a 'devolution max' question – an evolution of the current powers vested in Holyrood. Yet Cameron, playing his finest colonial statesman, has made it perfectly clear that he does not intend to endow such choice to Scotland’s voters.

That range of options, however, is something that should be self-determined by Scotland’s people, and not dictated by Westminster. After all, creating interest in a debate on Scotland’s future among English and Welsh voters would be an uphill struggle, to say the least. Yet Westminster politicians of all hues remain of the view that Scotland’s destiny is theirs to shape.

Holyrood and Westminster are currently negotiating on what form the referendum might take, and when it might be held. In the meantime, the Lords’ constitutional reform committee has already expressed its feeling that devolution should not just be a matter for the Scottish people. That might well be true, as any dis-entanglement would need to involve the other constituent parts of the UK to some degree. Its main concern is "the potential to create different and competing tax regimes within the UK". That may be true, but that’s the whole point. Further devolution or independence would invariably mean tax-raising (or lowering) powers, and internal revenue arrangements which would suit Scotland rather than the UK as a whole. The noble Lords’ argument is weaker still considering the haphazard constitutional tinkering which has blighted the UK for the last fifteen years in fact; a perfectly adequate way of describing the future of their own half-reformed chamber. We just don’t do constitutional consistency in this country, and that’s the way our politicians have always wanted it.

Meanwhile, establishment parties at Westminster plod on with the same, tired old view that Scotland’s future is a political plaything, influence over which will occasionally be swapped between competing elites. Cameron considers Scotland as a somewhat romantic appendix to England where he occasionally visits his posh mates to go shooting; he can’t possibly be seen as anti-union in his party. Ed Miliband is petrified of losing Scottish MPs after Labour’s Holyrood wipeout in 2011. Nick Clegg doesn’t really seem to have a particularly distinctive view of his own, aside from saying that he believes in "greater discretion" and "freedom" for Scotland, pulling out antiquated labels like “home rule”. Political elites are doing their patronising best to ensure the status quo is retained. Every one of them is going against the grain of popular opinion. Good luck to the SNP.

Scottish independence: to be or not to be?

Alex Salmond could be toasting with more than a Scotch whiskey sometime in the next few years

 The fervour for celebrating nationhood in the run-up to Burns Night may or may not have been coincidental, but the debate over the future of the United Kingdom ramped up a level in January. David Cameron seemed to have caught many commentators unawares in giving Scotland's First Minister, Alex Salmond an ultimatum - making it clear that his government would welcome a binding referendum on Scottish independence – and only on Westminster's terms.

Salmond and his Scottish National Party colleagues argue that the Scottish Parliament already has the right to hold a referendum without any interference. Yet Cameron's government has already set itself in conflict with the Holyrood administration. Salmond had previously stated his intention to hold a referendum 'in the second half of the parliament', but Cameron is keen that it be held 'sooner rather than later' – possibly as early as 2013. The government's position can be summarised thus: don't let Alex Salmond get away with breaking up the Union by giving him 1,000 days to make his argument for independence to the people of Scotland. What's more, Cameron's call is for a somewhat simpler affair – a straightforward yes or no rather than asking about the preference for two varying degrees of devolution or independence, which is the SNP's preference.

Publicly, Alex Salmond is portrayed by his opponents as a bully, perhaps in daring to defy Westminster in setting the terms of the debate. Yet, although they might not admit it, many British politicians of all hues secretly admire Salmond, who became Scotland's fourth First Minister in May 2007. They adore the gumption of the man, a formidable parliamentarian and debater who has somehow managed to take both left-wing and right-wing positions, culminating in what the Spectator called 'an extraordinary victory' against eight years of Labour and Liberal Democrat rule in the Scottish parliament. Salmond has managed to steal both the clothes of social democrats while also appealing to conservative tendencies, helping to ensure that the Conservative party itself remains an irrelevance north of the border.

Seeking to get one up on Salmond, it is Cameron who has decided that an urgent debate on the future of the union is needed. And, with little regard for broader constitutional questions, Cameron would like the Union question dealt with once and for all, in order to bolster his own party's credentials as defender of the United Kingdom, and arguably, present a distraction from the government's other troubles. As a result, some have argued that Cameron, rather than Salmond, is playing fast and loose with the make-up of the UK. Little thought has been given to the consequences for England in a UK bereft of Scotland under the current settlement. Independence could, however, provide a resolution of sorts to the so-called West Lothian question, famously posed by the former Labour MP Tam Dalyell, whose constituency gave its name to the issue. This particular issue centred around Scottish MPs being able to vote on English matters – such as funding for the NHS – a peculiarity of the British constitution seeing as English MPs have no such powers in Holyrood.

Major constitutional issues aside, support for independence has jumped to 45% in recent weeks and edging ever faster to 50% in favour. With the Scottish question likely to be dealt with in the next three years, attention would inevitably turn next to Wales, itself emboldened with a devolved government although unlikely to survive without its larger neighbour.

Are we nonetheless witnessing the second act in the break-up of the union? As it stands, it could be remarkably easy for Scotland to decide to go its own way. Some Conservative backbenchers seem already resigned to a seemingly inevitable breakaway, with heightened suspicions of the Prime Minister's true intentions only exacerbated by renewed tensions with Eurosceptic backbenchers. Yet if Scottish MPs were to leave Westminster en masse, it would have a profound impact on the make up of the UK Parliament overall – and with vastly different outcomes for all political parties. As Gerry Hassan noted in the New Statesman, 'many Tories have already given up on Scotland and dream of losing the burden of Labour's 41 seats north of the border'. With the impact of proposed Westminster seat boundary changes taken into account, Labour would lose out regardless. Coupled with the current First Past the Post voting system, the prospect of permanent Conservative rule at Westminster may seem almost certain.

A complete evacuation by Scottish MPs from Westminster would, of course, be the ultimate development. Variants on a theme have included 'devolution max', giving Holyrood the full range of powers over tax but with Scotland asking that defence and foreign affairs remain under the control of Westminster. The SNP has previously also said that it would wish to retain the Queen as head of state, and the pound sterling as currency, meaning that full independence for Scotland with its own tax system, foreign secretary and army may still be some way off.

Regardless of the final settlement, all mainstream party leaders have demonstrated their 'unity over the union' – whatever that means in the current environment. Desperate to not appear anti-union, Labour leader Ed Miliband's position has seemingly reflected the Prime Minister's own: preserve the union at all costs. Yet Scottish nationalism isn't the preserve of one single party and never has been – meaning that the right to self-determination cannot be ignored. The late Labour politician Donald Dewar (the first First Minister of Scotland) had nationalist sympathies but without the ideological zeal of his SNP rivals. Once again, it may well suit Labour to moderate its position given that not all its supporters in Scotland - or those who may vote for the party in the future - will all be quite as positive about the United Kingdom in its current guise as the Labour leader is.

This piece was originally published in Mauritius News in February 2012.

Sketch: George Osborne's petrolhead's budget

If the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s budget red box could be personified, it would probably take the form of Jeremy Clarkson, driving a dirty great Ferrari. And as if Treasury civil servants had discretely passed Osborne’s budget statement to the producers of Top Gear for editing, Osborne delivered a gas-guzzling, petrolhead-placating budget, the opening paragraph of which appeared to have been written around a BBC conference table with Richard Hammond and James May pitching in every fourth line or so.

With a frog in his throat, possibly caused by the Chancellor being asphyxiated on the exhaust fumes created by parking his supercar budget in the Commons chamber, the occupant of the space opposite – let's say a quiet and thoughtful Toyota Prius such as the Green MP Caroline Lucas - must surely have considered it a blast of carbon monoxide in the face to anyone hoping that the Tories might be taking green issues a little more seriously. (Actually, the Member for Brighton Pavilion was more concerned with a Green Investment bank that isn't really a bank, and a windfall profit on nuclear energy via a carbon floor price, but let’s not let small details get in the way of a good sketch).

“Last year’s emergency budget was about rescuing the nation’s finances and paying for the mistakes of the past” said the Chancellor.

“Today’s budget is about reforming the nation’s economy so that we have enduring growth and jobs in the future.

“And doing what we can to help families with the growing cost of living and the high price of oil!” he shouted.

It’s on everyone’s mind of course. The crises in the Middle East have crystallised debate over many a breakfast table, by every water-cooler and in every corner shop. How on earth are we going to continue to feed our poor, starving cars?

It was a budget for making things and not for making things up, apparently. It was about the difficult decisions we’ve already taken.

“We gambled for a debt-fuelled model of growth that failed” continued the Chancellor on his motoring analogy, already laden with metaphors.

He then turned to the forecasts for the next few years, delivered with the same sort of measured aplomb as Lord Prescott's attempt at the Shipping Forecast for Comic Relief. It's just a formality really, the Chancellor's forecast.

“It has been known for Chancellors to rattle these off at such great speed that no-one will keep up or notice.

Not so for George in his first 'non-emergency' budget.

The outlook wasn't great, to be fair. Growth had been weaker than expected in the final quarter of 2010, although slightly stronger growth in later years was expected over Cromarty, Forth and Tyne. Visibility, moderate occasionally poor.

Further wrath was incurred for Gordon Brown and the Scandalous Selling Of The Gold Reserves. The Conservative benches are always up in arms at this, and the Chancellor announced that “we will purchase a range of high quality assets, to replenish our reserves”, accompanied by indignant cries of anguish.

“We will not be able to replenish the gold reserves sold at a record low” said Osborne, now morphed into a Billingsgate fish merchant, wheeling and dealing cod, haddock and plaice.

But the most amusing thing about these budgets is the obscure announcements which are thrown up. Savings in the transport department meant that we could afford more investment in regional railways.

“We can commit to Swindon-Kemble redoubling scheme!”, he announced, which will quite literally move mountains of ballast in the Cotswolds. No doubt the Chancellor had been watching Richard Wilson's expose of the country's rail network on Channel 4 on Monday night and like the veteran One Foot In The Grave actor, had decided that reading your Guardian in a carriage toilet just wasn't good enough. It was certainly a case of “I do believe it” for one or two Coalition MPs in that area.

It all ended with a bit of karaoke from the Labour benches, in not-so-angelic unison.

The Leader of the Opposition talked about the Prime Minister's priorities for “growth, growth growth!”. But it was “DOWN, DOWN, DOWN” according to the bellowing basses and screeching sopranos in the opposition.

“And when the economy retracted in the fourth quarter, what did he do? He blamed the snow! He was away on the piste!” jeered Mr Miliband.

“The right type of snow for a skiing holiday, the wrong type of snow for our economy!"

As Mr Miliband said, the Chancellor should just calm down a little bit. He might actually break something...

Ed Miliband: the 'honest optimist'

It was supposed to be the speech which broke the mould. Less than three days after being announced as Labour's new leader, a fresh, wide-eyed idealist bounded up to the stage. With an overriding theme of youth throughout the speech - in a marked contrast to the weighty years of experience of his predecessor - this was not an occasion at which the old guard would feel comfortable.
Ed Miliband hammered home, directly to the Shadow Cabinet, his personal beliefs of where New Labour had gone wrong - "I understand that the promise of the new politics of 1997 came to look incredibly hollow after the scandal of MP's expenses". He spared a more traditional vitriol for the Coalition, occasionally verging on the sanctimonious, and constantly referring to government being something that Labour had the right to take back: "If we are not the party, nobody will be". A personal jibe at David Cameron enforced his view of Britain simply being in reckless hands: "You were once the optimist but now all you can offer is a miserable, pessimistic view of what Britain can achieve. And you hide behind the deficit to justify it. We won't let you get away with it".

This speech was both different in tone and content from the dramatic set pieces of Tony Blair and the solid, statistic heavy reports of Gordon Brown (although Miliband teased the audience briefly with an old Brown line "thank you for what you did", interminably repeated at large party events to acknowledge activists' tireless work). Instead, Miliband projected a more fragile, nervous understatement. After all, until just a few weeks ago it was not expected that he would win. There was even a hint of this last-minute nature in the jokes, some of which would not have been out of place in a best man's speech, scribbled on the back of an envelope the night before: "I stole David's football, so he nationalised my train set". And, reflecting the theme of youth and the new generation, an affectionate but pointed remark aimed at Jack Straw "what was it like to meet the man who invented the wheel, Jack?" only served to underline the boyish qualities of the new leader.

Ed Miliband's comradely, fraternal language echoed a political training spent in debating halls. Overwhelmingly, this was a speech to a pitched to "friends" at a Labour Party branch meeting or a left-leaning thinktank - both environments in which Mr Miliband is inherently more comfortable - and not the conference hall of an aspirant Prime Minister. More precisely, it addressed the sort of people with whom he has spent the past four months, and not Great Britain.

Overshadowed by the failure of his older brother's campaign to clinch the leadership, there were key questions of legitimacy to answer. Did Ed possess the oratory skill of his brother? Many people doubted as to whether he could articulate a vision of Labour that was forward looking and believable. Proving that the Labour party had caught up with a sizeable and aggrieved part of the electorate over the Iraq issue, Miliband boldly repeated the conviction which characterised his campaign when he spoke to the party at large:

"We were wrong. Wrong to take Britain to war and we need to be honest about that...wrong because that war was not a last resort...we did not build sufficient alliances and...we undermined the United Nations."

Pacing towards a crescendo finish, Miliband adopted a poetic, tub-thumping rhythm not dissimilar to Blair and Brown, with regular nods to the party's heritage. This was a man brought up by passionate activists, which showed as he comfortably referenced the pivotal figures of the Labour movement who, at one time, as Miliband of Brothers told us, most were present in his parents' dining room. Although there was much in the speech to reassure party members, at no time did he excite the audience beyond the polite reception you might normally expect from a Labour conference.

This was a positive, upbeat speech, honest about the past and hopeful about the future. Opposition parties and the press alike were unsure of what to make of his inaugural address; labelling him either as a thoughtful, candid newcomer or a dangerous, left-wing union bidder. But, with just three days in the job, there was a general consensus that he wasn't quite ready for Downing Street just yet. After all it took David Cameron nearly five years to make that transition, and Neil Kinnock, a front-row advocate of Ed, never made it after nine. The recent history of British social democracy reminds us there's a bigger story behind new leadership rejecting past ideas and going on to win elections - particularly when you've been blessed by a predecessor. Another Clause IV moment could yet happen.