The world is watching?
Posted: Tue Jan 08, 2008 2:39 pm
EDINBURGH, Scotland — A traffic island at the foot of Edinburgh's "Royal Mile" stands equidistant between the Palace of Holyroodhouse (circa 1128), official residence of the Queen in Scotland, and the modernistic home of the Scottish Parliament (circa 2004), a stark contrast in architecture and politics.
If Alex Salmond has his way, that traffic island will become an island in a moat. Salmond, first minister of the Scottish government, leads the Scottish National Party, which wants Scotland to be an independent nation.
Farewell to the 300-year-old Treaty of Union, which in 1707 united England and Scotland. Together they forged an empire, fought two world wars and maintained the historical center of the English-speaking world. But Scots, smarting for centuries as the United Kingdom's junior partner, sent a volley across Britannia's bow in 2007.
Scotland chose a Scottish National Party (SNP) government, for the first time since Scots got their own regional government in 1999 as part of a "devolution" agreement brokered by the Labor government of British Prime Minister Tony Blair.
The SNP won 47 seats in May elections, to 46 for Scottish Labor and 36 split among Conservatives, Liberal Democrats and Greens. That made the SNP a minority government, and First Minister Salmond has governed since then without a coalition partner, cautious with his legislative proposals because he lacks a majority.
But, Salmond has ramped up rhetoric and ideas aimed at provoking Scots to declare independence within the next several years. None of the other parties supports independence, so Salmond needs some future par-liamentary victories to take a separation vote to the people.
A breakup of the United Kingdom would have profound importance not only for Scotland and England, but would encourage potential breakaway "nations" in Spain, Belgium and other spots of nationalistic ferment.
For the United States, it would split and weaken our most-reliable foreign-policy ally; at minimum, it could mean removal of American nuclear submarines from Scotland.
Like many of the estimated 20 million Americans with Scottish blood, I've been drawn to the ancient land, made many trips there and established lifelong friendships. This fall, my wife and I spent six weeks in the country, while the nationalistic debate bubbled.
The brew was spiced by the ascent of Gordon Brown to succeed Blair as prime minister, placing a native Scot at the head of the U.K. government in Westminster. Brown named fellow Scots Alistair Darling and Des Brown as chancellor of the exchequer and defense minister, respectively; English politicians spoke disdainfully of a "Tartan Cabinet."
A casual observer might expect that fellow Scots Brown and Salmond would find common ground, but the past several months have seen bitter recriminations between the leaders, centering on a single important issue: Should the Union remain or should Scotland's 5 million denizens split from the 55 million residents of England, Wales and Northern Ireland?
Brown pounded his Unionist credentials into the ground at the annual Labor Party conference in September, using the words "Britain" or "British" 74 times in his first major speech as prime minister. It is rare to hear a Scot refer to himself as "British," less rare for an Englishman to do so.
There are few serious policy differences between the Scottish Nationalists and Labor — both are slightly left of center — but Scottish independence puts them at odds and Salmond is a master of exploiting the split. A mid-December poll showed 40 percent of Scots now favor independence, 44 percent are opposed. In 2006, the same question drew 51 percent in favor of separation.
Ironically, support for independence has declined at the same time Scots tell pollsters they are satisfied with the SNP's early start at governing.
One reading of this situation is that Labor did a lousy job of running the devolved government from 1999 until 2007 — plenty of voices on Scotland's feisty media and intellectual scenes hold that view — so Scots see the SNP as a default button to govern the country, but not to pull it out of the United Kingdom.
Another reading is that the canny Scots have figured a way to have the better of two worlds, and will work the equation until it breaks. Scotland gets its government finances from the U.K. treasury under a complex formula that goes back 40 years, and it does well under the formula. The 1997 devolution gives Scots control of education, police, health and housing; many Scots want more control, if not independence.
British Labor needs Scotland — Scottish seats maintain Labor's majority; loss of Scotland would bring a Conservative government to Westminster. So, the Scots can pressure Labor for greater concessions, using independence as a threat.
A recent illustration of this bipolar thinking is John Smeaton, the closest Scotland has to a 9/11 hero. Smeaton is the baggage handler who helped police break up the attempted suicide bombing at Glasgow Airport in June. Gordon Brown introduced him at the Labor Party conference, so everyone thought Smeaton backed Labor. But, Smeaton later admitted he supports Salmond in Scottish elections, although he doesn't support independence. He will vote Labor for Westminster and the SNP for Scotland. There you have it.
Scots enjoy the attention they are getting with their vote for the SNP, and they love twisting the nose of the English bulldog. They've been doing that for centuries, as fans of Braveheart and Bonnie Prince Charlie will attest. But they are riding a whirlwind here — the English outnumber the Scots roughly 10 to 1, and an increasingly tetchy English constituency just could call their bluff and ask them to go packing. In fact, the odds of a Scottish separation really depend at least as much on actions south of Hadrian's Wall as they do on the north.
Modern Scottish nationalism dates to 1934, but was long considered futile until in 1974 the SNP won 11 seats in the British Parliament. Subsequent Tory governments (1979-97) were no friend to Scotland — Margaret Thatcher in particular fueled the SNP's ire — and when Labor returned to power in 1997, Tony Blair and Gordon Brown won a devolution vote, which 74 percent of Scots supported. The Scottish Parliament opened two years later, the symbol of a nation that isn't quite a nation.
Scots have always been disproportionately prominent in the larger world.
For a country the size of Finland (or Washington state), Scotland's contributions in science, economics, industry and literature are staggering. The "Scottish Renaissance" of the late 18th century brought Adam Smith and David Hume. A century later, Andrew Carnegie, Alexander Graham Bell and James Watt led in industry and science. Scots in the North West Company and Hudson's Bay Company opened the Pacific Northwest: Simon Fraser, John McLoughlin, George Simpson. Scotland's monuments are to writers — Walter Scott, Robert Burns, Robert Louis Stevenson; obscure Highland poets are memorialized on roadside plaques. Arthur Conan Doyle was a Scot, so is Alexander McCall Smith. The cloned sheep, Dolly, was Scottish.
Scotland is one of Europe's major financial centers and the Royal Bank of Scotland one of the six largest banks in the world. Scottish education ranks among the best in the world, as does its high-tech industry.
Images of kilts, bagpipes and haggis notwithstanding, today's average Scot lives in the central lowlands in Glasgow, Edinburgh or points between, does not have a name beginning with "Mac" and has never seen much of the Highlands beyond Inverness. His dialect differs from BBC English (and in the case of Glaswegians, from nearly every other permutation of English). She doesn't speak Gaelic and drinks much more wine than scotch.
The union that the Scots and English formalized in 1707 has never been an easy one and English intellectuals and politicians often looked down on the "wild" Scots. Samuel Johnson, having made his famous Highland trek, observed, "The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to England." Yet, Johnson's chronicler, the Scot James Boswell, wrote in 1762, "I hated the English; I wished from my soul that the Union was broke ... " This only half a century after the nations joined.
"Scottishness," once defined by the romantic literature of Walter Scott, is back and may be intensifying; difficult to define, it could be a factor in separation. Salmond, ever the promoter, recently declared St. Andrew's Day (Nov. 30) as a national holiday to open a two-month winter festival, including Hogmanay (New Year's Day) and Burns' Night (Jan. 25). The idea is to celebrate "Scottishness," with music and cultural events (and perhaps a wee dram). "It is part of being a self-confident country," said Salmond.
Talk of independence helps build self-confidence against the so-called "Scottish cringe," defined by writer Kenny Farquharson as "the involuntary shudder some Scots seem to experience when confronted with anything vaguely Scottish."
Somewhere between outright independence and the "Scottish cringe," Scottish pragmatism may prevail and a rewritten Treaty of Union may emerge, with more powers granted to Scotland, including the right and obligation to raise Scottish tax revenues in Scotland and a new voting alignment in the U.K. Parliament that recognizes the realities of devolution.
There is much holding the Union together, primarily economic links and the millions of Scots who have moved south and English who have moved north. Life in Scotland is very good nowadays — incomparable to the Scotland I saw 35 years ago — and Scotland's intellectual, business and economic leadership is not leading a parade for independence. Edinburgh, the center of prosperity, media and politics, is the least supportive of the SNP.
Only a deliberate anti-Scotland campaign by English Conservatives (the Tories have only one member of Parliament from Scotland), reviving Scottish memories of the hated rule of Margaret Thatcher, is likely to send Scottish separatists to the barricades. Tempting though that may be to a new generation of Tory leaders, there is enough to lose on both sides of the Tartan Border to keep the Union alive.
There is little question that Scotland is capable of handling its affairs — it did before 1707 — and its voice in the European Union and United Nations would be clear and strong. But its greatest days, from "Scottish Enlightenment" right down to the famed Edinburgh Festival of today, have come within the United Kingdom.
And yet, against the odds, Alex Salmond has put the ball in play, kicked it down the field. Scots, of course, grow up doing that — it's part of being Scottish.
Floyd J. McKay, a journalism professor emeritus at Western Washington University, is a regular contributor to Times editorial pages. E-mail him at floydmckay@yahoo.com
Copyright © 2008 The Seattle Times Com
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/o ... oyd06.html
Talk about being behind the times??? I found this bit absolutely hilarious "at minimum, it could mean removal of American nuclear submarines from Scotland."
The only US nuclear submarine base in (the Polaris base on the Holy Loch) Scotland closed in 1992.
If Alex Salmond has his way, that traffic island will become an island in a moat. Salmond, first minister of the Scottish government, leads the Scottish National Party, which wants Scotland to be an independent nation.
Farewell to the 300-year-old Treaty of Union, which in 1707 united England and Scotland. Together they forged an empire, fought two world wars and maintained the historical center of the English-speaking world. But Scots, smarting for centuries as the United Kingdom's junior partner, sent a volley across Britannia's bow in 2007.
Scotland chose a Scottish National Party (SNP) government, for the first time since Scots got their own regional government in 1999 as part of a "devolution" agreement brokered by the Labor government of British Prime Minister Tony Blair.
The SNP won 47 seats in May elections, to 46 for Scottish Labor and 36 split among Conservatives, Liberal Democrats and Greens. That made the SNP a minority government, and First Minister Salmond has governed since then without a coalition partner, cautious with his legislative proposals because he lacks a majority.
But, Salmond has ramped up rhetoric and ideas aimed at provoking Scots to declare independence within the next several years. None of the other parties supports independence, so Salmond needs some future par-liamentary victories to take a separation vote to the people.
A breakup of the United Kingdom would have profound importance not only for Scotland and England, but would encourage potential breakaway "nations" in Spain, Belgium and other spots of nationalistic ferment.
For the United States, it would split and weaken our most-reliable foreign-policy ally; at minimum, it could mean removal of American nuclear submarines from Scotland.
Like many of the estimated 20 million Americans with Scottish blood, I've been drawn to the ancient land, made many trips there and established lifelong friendships. This fall, my wife and I spent six weeks in the country, while the nationalistic debate bubbled.
The brew was spiced by the ascent of Gordon Brown to succeed Blair as prime minister, placing a native Scot at the head of the U.K. government in Westminster. Brown named fellow Scots Alistair Darling and Des Brown as chancellor of the exchequer and defense minister, respectively; English politicians spoke disdainfully of a "Tartan Cabinet."
A casual observer might expect that fellow Scots Brown and Salmond would find common ground, but the past several months have seen bitter recriminations between the leaders, centering on a single important issue: Should the Union remain or should Scotland's 5 million denizens split from the 55 million residents of England, Wales and Northern Ireland?
Brown pounded his Unionist credentials into the ground at the annual Labor Party conference in September, using the words "Britain" or "British" 74 times in his first major speech as prime minister. It is rare to hear a Scot refer to himself as "British," less rare for an Englishman to do so.
There are few serious policy differences between the Scottish Nationalists and Labor — both are slightly left of center — but Scottish independence puts them at odds and Salmond is a master of exploiting the split. A mid-December poll showed 40 percent of Scots now favor independence, 44 percent are opposed. In 2006, the same question drew 51 percent in favor of separation.
Ironically, support for independence has declined at the same time Scots tell pollsters they are satisfied with the SNP's early start at governing.
One reading of this situation is that Labor did a lousy job of running the devolved government from 1999 until 2007 — plenty of voices on Scotland's feisty media and intellectual scenes hold that view — so Scots see the SNP as a default button to govern the country, but not to pull it out of the United Kingdom.
Another reading is that the canny Scots have figured a way to have the better of two worlds, and will work the equation until it breaks. Scotland gets its government finances from the U.K. treasury under a complex formula that goes back 40 years, and it does well under the formula. The 1997 devolution gives Scots control of education, police, health and housing; many Scots want more control, if not independence.
British Labor needs Scotland — Scottish seats maintain Labor's majority; loss of Scotland would bring a Conservative government to Westminster. So, the Scots can pressure Labor for greater concessions, using independence as a threat.
A recent illustration of this bipolar thinking is John Smeaton, the closest Scotland has to a 9/11 hero. Smeaton is the baggage handler who helped police break up the attempted suicide bombing at Glasgow Airport in June. Gordon Brown introduced him at the Labor Party conference, so everyone thought Smeaton backed Labor. But, Smeaton later admitted he supports Salmond in Scottish elections, although he doesn't support independence. He will vote Labor for Westminster and the SNP for Scotland. There you have it.
Scots enjoy the attention they are getting with their vote for the SNP, and they love twisting the nose of the English bulldog. They've been doing that for centuries, as fans of Braveheart and Bonnie Prince Charlie will attest. But they are riding a whirlwind here — the English outnumber the Scots roughly 10 to 1, and an increasingly tetchy English constituency just could call their bluff and ask them to go packing. In fact, the odds of a Scottish separation really depend at least as much on actions south of Hadrian's Wall as they do on the north.
Modern Scottish nationalism dates to 1934, but was long considered futile until in 1974 the SNP won 11 seats in the British Parliament. Subsequent Tory governments (1979-97) were no friend to Scotland — Margaret Thatcher in particular fueled the SNP's ire — and when Labor returned to power in 1997, Tony Blair and Gordon Brown won a devolution vote, which 74 percent of Scots supported. The Scottish Parliament opened two years later, the symbol of a nation that isn't quite a nation.
Scots have always been disproportionately prominent in the larger world.
For a country the size of Finland (or Washington state), Scotland's contributions in science, economics, industry and literature are staggering. The "Scottish Renaissance" of the late 18th century brought Adam Smith and David Hume. A century later, Andrew Carnegie, Alexander Graham Bell and James Watt led in industry and science. Scots in the North West Company and Hudson's Bay Company opened the Pacific Northwest: Simon Fraser, John McLoughlin, George Simpson. Scotland's monuments are to writers — Walter Scott, Robert Burns, Robert Louis Stevenson; obscure Highland poets are memorialized on roadside plaques. Arthur Conan Doyle was a Scot, so is Alexander McCall Smith. The cloned sheep, Dolly, was Scottish.
Scotland is one of Europe's major financial centers and the Royal Bank of Scotland one of the six largest banks in the world. Scottish education ranks among the best in the world, as does its high-tech industry.
Images of kilts, bagpipes and haggis notwithstanding, today's average Scot lives in the central lowlands in Glasgow, Edinburgh or points between, does not have a name beginning with "Mac" and has never seen much of the Highlands beyond Inverness. His dialect differs from BBC English (and in the case of Glaswegians, from nearly every other permutation of English). She doesn't speak Gaelic and drinks much more wine than scotch.
The union that the Scots and English formalized in 1707 has never been an easy one and English intellectuals and politicians often looked down on the "wild" Scots. Samuel Johnson, having made his famous Highland trek, observed, "The noblest prospect which a Scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to England." Yet, Johnson's chronicler, the Scot James Boswell, wrote in 1762, "I hated the English; I wished from my soul that the Union was broke ... " This only half a century after the nations joined.
"Scottishness," once defined by the romantic literature of Walter Scott, is back and may be intensifying; difficult to define, it could be a factor in separation. Salmond, ever the promoter, recently declared St. Andrew's Day (Nov. 30) as a national holiday to open a two-month winter festival, including Hogmanay (New Year's Day) and Burns' Night (Jan. 25). The idea is to celebrate "Scottishness," with music and cultural events (and perhaps a wee dram). "It is part of being a self-confident country," said Salmond.
Talk of independence helps build self-confidence against the so-called "Scottish cringe," defined by writer Kenny Farquharson as "the involuntary shudder some Scots seem to experience when confronted with anything vaguely Scottish."
Somewhere between outright independence and the "Scottish cringe," Scottish pragmatism may prevail and a rewritten Treaty of Union may emerge, with more powers granted to Scotland, including the right and obligation to raise Scottish tax revenues in Scotland and a new voting alignment in the U.K. Parliament that recognizes the realities of devolution.
There is much holding the Union together, primarily economic links and the millions of Scots who have moved south and English who have moved north. Life in Scotland is very good nowadays — incomparable to the Scotland I saw 35 years ago — and Scotland's intellectual, business and economic leadership is not leading a parade for independence. Edinburgh, the center of prosperity, media and politics, is the least supportive of the SNP.
Only a deliberate anti-Scotland campaign by English Conservatives (the Tories have only one member of Parliament from Scotland), reviving Scottish memories of the hated rule of Margaret Thatcher, is likely to send Scottish separatists to the barricades. Tempting though that may be to a new generation of Tory leaders, there is enough to lose on both sides of the Tartan Border to keep the Union alive.
There is little question that Scotland is capable of handling its affairs — it did before 1707 — and its voice in the European Union and United Nations would be clear and strong. But its greatest days, from "Scottish Enlightenment" right down to the famed Edinburgh Festival of today, have come within the United Kingdom.
And yet, against the odds, Alex Salmond has put the ball in play, kicked it down the field. Scots, of course, grow up doing that — it's part of being Scottish.
Floyd J. McKay, a journalism professor emeritus at Western Washington University, is a regular contributor to Times editorial pages. E-mail him at floydmckay@yahoo.com
Copyright © 2008 The Seattle Times Com
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/o ... oyd06.html
Talk about being behind the times??? I found this bit absolutely hilarious "at minimum, it could mean removal of American nuclear submarines from Scotland."
The only US nuclear submarine base in (the Polaris base on the Holy Loch) Scotland closed in 1992.