The passage of time often transforms our perspective of past events, places and people.
As the one year anniversary of the 2014 Scottish independence referendum comes hurtling closer and closer to us I have found myself revisiting the arguments that transformed me into a Yes evangelical.
From the SNP’s unparalleled 2011 victory and beyond I was wholly committed to independence. My support was intrinsically linked to my sense of self, my Scottish identity.
Of late, however, I have been challenging my concept of Scotland and its people.
To me, my identity is wholly Scottish, not out of a meaningful political choice rather this ‘natural’ sense of self. Indeed social attitude surveys and opinion polling shows a growth of ‘Scottish only’ identity from the 1960s onwards. Today this has left an identity age gap between the post-war baby boomers and the devolution generation; those who do not know a Scotland without a national parliament, without its nationhood being questionable.
The matter of identity is an often uncomfortable one for the SNP. Yet, I can confirm from my weeks of canvassing doors that I was not the sole person of the 1,617,989 Scottish residents that voted Yes due to their sense of self. Though, this does not fit in with the ‘progressive’ clothes that Scottish independence has been wrapped in an attempt to broaden its appeal to Greens and the like.
Identity is often the Scottish political equivalent of dark matter, that is as of yet a mysterious force that is found throughout our universe. We know it is there, but, its affects are as of yet unexplained.
Both Nationalists and Unionists prefer to tie their ideologies to arguments free of the stigma of identity. Nationalists to social justice, unionists to economic reasoning.
Yet, on the ground the foot soldiers of both these competing constitutional arguments freely admit identity is a driving factor. The Saltire is lofted in number in George Square while the stereotypically reserved, quiet No voter complains of the feared loss of his/her country by the Nats.
As I have sat pondering over this Scottish identity of mine I have found an uncomfortable truth that I have wrestled with it. It is isn’t a Scottish one at all, it’s a west of Scotland regional identity.
What I have in common with my countrymen in the Scottish islands beyond what I would share with any other member of the human race is a mystery to me. We are on paper Scots but in reality what does that really mean?
The middle classes of Edinburgh, which I have had relatively few brief encounters with, seems as remote to my background as Westminster.
I have been left trying to piece together what is it exactly that I regard as
Still Game, pizza crunch suppers, the profanity laden sentences of working class Glasgow. This is my concept of Scotland. Not exactly a ringing endorsement but that’s where I am. It’s the feeling of waiting in a queue at Disneyland and hearing that same accent from a stranger ring out, you instantaneously feel he is one of ‘us’ and I am one of ‘them’. This sense of being different has added to the feeling of Westminster’s remoteness. Prof.Tomkins, now Scotland Office advisor, remarked at the recent Spectator debate in Edinburgh that to working class children in Glasgow London is as much of a foreign capital city as Paris. He is correct, though so is Edinburgh.
Children in other post-industrial towns such as Burnley or in the once fishing giant of Grimsby may too share these feelings towards the towering Palace of Westminster and those who sit inside it. Though their identities are not twinned to nationality.One you combine grievance, your sense of self to not just a place but an idea then it is difficult to imagine yourself resting at ease within this other nation.
Perhaps, this sense of self, this unique Scottishness, is why four out of five strongest areas for Yes was to be found in the West of Scotland.
When we say Scotland do many of us really mean Glasgow and the west? I think I might do.
