In 2014 we saw ourselves as a small nation in a David-versus-Goliath fight. Realistically, in the beginning we did not expect to win. One theme repeated frequently at the time was that we just wanted to be a nuisance, that we wanted to have a bit of craic, upset the apple cart, and maybe – if we got lucky – give the English political establishment a bloody nose. We saw ourselves as a pesky younger sibling trying to make a point. But something changed. At some point in August 2014 it dawned on us that we might win – that we had a real shot of securing independence.
For perhaps the first time in over three centuries the angry man on the street in London has been forced to accept that – in theory – the Scottish people and Scots Law can rip from him his assumption of his dominance over Scotland. In theory, we have the power to derail and stop Brexit, and this has predictably provoked him to rage. The response, if anything, demonstrates the utter lack in England of any semblance of self-reflection; telling Scotland to ‘fuck off’ when the majority in Scotland want to do just that. Outsiders looking in must be awfully confused...
At midnight on Thursday 31 October 2019 our open borders with the European Union will close, the free movement of people will end, and every one of the thousands of agreements and common understandings on trade, security, policing, health and safety, and transport will be irrevocably terminated. On and after 31 October food will not arrive into UK ports from any EU member state until, as a foreign state, the UK has negotiated a new set of trade agreements with Europe – a process which cannot begin until after the UK has left the EU and which may take weeks or months to finalise.
Moreover, this judgement in itself renders it weak and vulnerable – once again subjecting the independence of the Scottish legal system to that of the British state. In referring the matter to the final judgement of the Supreme Court in London the implication is that the Court of Session is not the highest court in Scotland – that it has no real independence, that Scots Law must be tested through a higher British court before it can be considered valid, legal and binding in and over this so-called union of equals. This strikes me as utterly pathetic.
This is of course something we should all fear. There’s nothing good on offer in English politics right now. Looking over the options – the so-called alternatives, is like surveying a mediaeval torturer’s work bench; while some of the implements are qualitatively better or worse than others, none of them are exactly what you’d call ‘health promoting.’ There are the pincers, there to rip the flesh from the victim – used to inflict maximum suffering while not endangering the life of the condemned.
I am past the point of using this blog for popularity, so I suggest you buckle up. The Scottish National Party is a composite beast; there are many in its ranks who are indeed in this for independence, but they are out-numbered and out-gunned by the journeymen and the purists – those of the old tradition of a Home Rule party for Scotland. Home Rule, as it was in Ireland before us, is compliance writ large. It is the abject acceptance of the political domination of Scotland to England and the English royal and political establishment.
Granted, most of us pay this garbage little attention, and for good reason – but let me put it to you that this might be something of a mistake. In the replies to some of these bigoted comments independentistas have pointed out that religion is all but dead in Scotland. Insofar as we read these sentiments as an appeal to religious loyalties, they are meaningless. Protestantism and Catholicism have become redundant terms to a majority secular Scotland. This is where we are getting it wrong; these appeals are not to faith traditions or religious loyalties.
Everything boiling across Scotland was etched in the cold glare of the First Minister yesterday as she unceremoniously welcomed the Prime Minister and his entourage to Bute House. There was no red carpet and no warm embrace, the only smiles were from Johnson looking like a nervous chimpanzee about to be castrated. His attempt at a power-play; reaching out his arm to usher Nicola Sturgeon into her own residence, was firmly rebuffed. The body language on the steps was a dead giveaway. It was clear for all to see that Sturgeon was in charge...