Queen Bees (the Danish edition)

I’ve fallen in love again. It happens every few years. Never let it be said I don’t have a type!

So who (apart from hubby) is the individual who can claim my heart (and the wide, fixed cheesy grin on my face) every time I see her smile?

Why, Sidse Babett Knudsen of course. You don’t recognise the name? Shame on you! But then neither did I until six weeks ago. Not until hubby suggested we give the Danish political drama, Borgen on BBC Four a go. Naturally (and perhaps predictably) I stuck my nose up at first. (As I recall it was in that purse-lipped, shrivelled up fashion where it looks as though I’ve just noticed the drains are up). Six weeks later and the fictional election and government of Birgitte Nyborg as Denmark’s first female Prime Minister (Statsminister), leading her Moderate Party into a centre-left coalition is in full swing. And I simply can’t get enough.

Borgen or The Castle is the nickname for Christiansborg Palace, which houses all three of Denmark’s branches of government: the Parliament, the Prime Minister’s Office and the Supreme Court.

On the one hand, Borgen is on a par with any other political serial; full of Machiavellian twists and turns, big bloated egos, double dealings and double bluffs all conducted with one hand outstretched and the other in the pocket of big money, big industry, big society, or all three by the time the denouement comes around. How can a somewhat naive, honest and underestimated middle-aged married mother of two hope to lead the government of one of the richest and most developed nations on Earth, when that government is only loosely held together by warring, disparate values, and, perhaps most crucially to the drama, the under-stated yet resounding strength of Nyborg’s own personality?

There’s that smile again!

Feeding off and into this big political bubble, where even the most casual nod, wink, whisper or half-truth gets magnified out of all earthly proportion sits a bloody-mouthed carnivorous media populated by its own bloated egos within its own bubble waiting, just waiting (and hoping) for Nyborg to slip up. Vested interests, hidden agendas, heroes, villains, diplomacy and conspiracy all play their part while all about, the randomness of current events swirls around the major players adding an edgy chaos to their professional and personal lives.

Borgen may very well be as one Youtube commentator put it,

“An amazing series from empowered Scandinavia (and) a great advertisement campaign for ‘enlightened’ gynarchy, where men quite simply aren’t good enough to lead.”

Or to put it another way,

“Manginas will really and truly and absolutely dig this show. Its the kind of stuff that sends rad-feminazis and their neutered male poodles, into wet-dream induced paroxysms.”

(Perhaps I’m to be found in there somewhere?)

But on the other hand, Borgen has something very different to offer. How many serial dramas have you seen that offer an insight into Denmark’s political, cultural and social relationship with Greenland; a former Danish colony from 1814 ultimately self-governing from 2009 (albeit with a hefty annual subsidy totalling DKK 3.4 billion)? How often do we merely concern ourselves with endless analyses of relationships within our own small corner of the planet, whether it be Anglo-Irish historical enmity, the Entente cordiale with our nearest continental neighbour, or the perpetual West Lothian Question. How refreshing therefore to be exposed to another perspective on a world view that is by no means alien to us, that of continuing, evolving colonial legacy.

It was, I suppose inevitable that I fall for her. Just like Battlestar Galactica’s President Laura Roslin before her (epically portrayed by Mary McDonnell), Statsminister Nyborg has a whole heap of Janeway qualities and mannerisms; authoritative, intelligent and feminine, with an icy death stare that could shrivel even the most obdurate, egotistical set of testicles. Oh and if you’re wondering what a Janeway is, don’t bother coming round here anymore, ever.

So similar are all three fictional characters – Nyborg, Roslin and Janeway, I can’t help but consider what it is about these women that attracts me and drives me so completely to distraction. They are, of course all women of a certain age, they are all queen bees. They are also highly principled and infuriatingly stubborn. Consequently each becomes completely immovable after a certain point in the plot is reached. One could say they are all self-sacrificing to a certain degree, but not to the extent they become victims. Granted, there may sometimes be a whiff of martyrdom on the air, mixing effortlessly with the scent of hand cream and ultra-hold hair mousse, but the concept is light, feathery and ethereal enough to disappear long before you get the chance to consider it for too long. In their shadier moments, it is also probably true to say each is capable of using subterfuge and of exploiting other people’s weaknesses. But it is done only ever in pursuit of the worthiest of goals, and always without compromising the aforementioned principles, of which there can never, ever be any deviation. The ends certainly do not always justify the means, and you’d be ill-advised to second-guess.

And then of course as far as Borgen and Sidse Babett Knudsen is concerned, there’s the language…

It’s a curious thing to become so used to hearing an actress speak in her native Danish tongue (while hastily soaking up the subtitles), that when she suddenly launches into speaking fluent, unfettered English and the subtitles cease, it’s my mother tongue that suddenly sounds very odd. In a strange way, it takes time for my ear to acclimatise to English again, despite the fact it’s the language I live with. It really is the darnedest thing. Needless to say without the subtitles I wouldn’t be able to understand anything save for a few words she or anybody else said. But it’s my lack of comprehension that adds gravitas to her voice, it adds mystery. It colours my perception of the character too. So then, upon hearing English spoken so effortlessly and without warning, Statsminister Nyborg is suddenly somewhat softer – the peaks, troughs and intonation of her sentences are no longer mysterious. She appears less opaquely political and more vulnerable. Dare I say it, more (classically) feminine.

Perhaps that is ultimately why Borgen and Birgitte Nyborg inhabited by Knudsen tick my boxes so fully? Strip away the 21st century European politics and what you have left is a woman revealing intelligently, yet softly what it means to be, a woman.

What is there not to love?

Related Links:

Borgen Official Website

Ignoring the elephant on the forecourt

So, what was all that about?

No, I’m not talking about the unseasonably summer-like temperatures we’ve all enjoyed over the last 10 days or so. I’m referring to the 72 hours of petro-madness that had forecourts running dry country-wide.

A lot has been made of the so-called collective panic that gripped us all on Tuesday evening through to Friday morning of this week; how all it took was one off the cuff remark from a little known Cabinet Office Minister to have us buying up Halford’s entire supply of jerry cans, queueing at the pumps, fighting each other on the forecourts, and; in one extreme case, decanting petrol in the kitchen (of all places) with the dinner cooking and ending up with 40% burns.

A lot has been made of the possibility of government conspiracy, designed to fire the first shot in a defining “Thatcher moment” against the UNITE Union and their strike ballot of tanker drivers. Other theories talk of either an engineered crisis to swell government coffers before the end of the tax year, or of a convenient distraction from what has been, in anyone’s language, a truly awful week for the government. First there was the Budget, its tax cuts for the wealthy and pension income freezes for the over 65s. Then there were covert recordings of nefarious offers of influence over government policy, but only if you could afford the quarter million price tag for dinner with Dave. And then, to top it all off with a nice tasty crust, there was (of all things) the pasty tax!

Perhaps it’s not that silly to consider that any political animal, of any persuasion, would gladly rub their hands with glee at the prospect of turning all those awful headlines on their head, by whatever means necessary. We’ve already established that the majority of our representatives are woefully removed from what most of us would consider an ordinary life. (How many of us have garages to store petrol in anyway?) Combine that with an unyielding desire to change the subject at any given moment and it’s easy to imagine Whitehall boffins without an ounce of common sense between them suddenly dreaming up the bonkers notion of creating a panic for fuel when all they had to go on, in fact, was a UNITE Union vote – nothing more.

Stranger things have happened.

But, to my mind, all of this theory and anger directed towards the people running the country misses the gigantic elephant in the room (or in this case, on our nation’s petrol forecourts) that everybody seems content to ignore.

It wasn’t collective panic we witnessed this week – there was nothing collective about it. If we had all been thinking of our collective need, Francis Maude’s comments would’ve already been forgotten. The fact is, it was individualism of the most selfish kind that created the scenes we saw. It was about our disconnect from the people and the communities around us, both locally and nationally. We’ve all been out for ourselves over the last few days, to hell with everyone else, and we should all hang our collective heads in shame. Indeed, the inevitable clamouring for Maude’s resignation since yesterday is evidence enough of the fact that the process has already begun. But it’s always very convenient and perhaps predictable that we transfer our shame into anger and re-direct it at someone, anyone so that we don’t, collectively, have to question our own actions and how completely distasteful they were. But the reality is, we’re not angry with Francis Maude, we’re angry with ourselves. We’re angry that we could be so inconsiderate, so unreasoning, so selfish, and so completely ignorant of the needs of others.

And so we should be.

There can only be one positive outcome from this alarming episode. We have to learn from what we’ve just witnessed within ourselves. It’s no good blaming our own behaviour on silly remarks from daft Cabinet ministers. On any other day of the week we wouldn’t trust a single word of what they said. We need to stop looking for a scapegoat for our own narrow self-centredness and be a bit more grown-up. That means looking at ourselves fully in the blackened, oil-soaked mirror and being honest about our own vulgar, heedless, self-destructive actions. Only by accepting how completely cannibalistic we became, can we ever hope to guard against it happening again. One has to be hopeful that this is a lesson learned. Because it is only a matter of time before real energy crises develop as the Age of Oil enters its death-throes. Perhaps we’re already there? Perhaps all we saw on our petrol forecourts this week was a crude exhibition from a bunch of drug addicts scrapping and hollering for one last fix? If that’s the case, each one of us should be quite rightly panicked. Not by a need to stockpile the stuff. But by how hopelessly ill-prepared we are for when the pumps really do run dry.

Related Links:

Pennorama

John Hefford

William Wallace vs. Jemima Puddle-duck

It’s been a big week for Scottish politics.

The question of Scotland and the referendum on her independence from Britain was firmly placed at the top of the UK’s national headlines until Wednesday. That was before the conversation was relegated in favour of video showing US army personnel urinating on dead Taliban and an Italian cruise ship disaster. The world does keep on spinning after all.

It became obvious what David Cameron’s new year resolution had been, as he emerged like a rabbit out of the traps, seemingly calling the SNP’s bluff, questioning why Alex Salmond needed to wait until 2014 before asking his people whether they wished their country to secede from the United Kingdom. However, his initiative-seizing didn’t last long. Before a day and a half had passed the noises coming out of Westminster, repeated ad nauseum by Scottish Labour MPs, consisted mainly of veiled threats and filibustering; what would be Scotland’s share of the UK’s national debt?, would Scotland be able to keep the pound?, would Scotland become bankrupt? All too quickly (and all too predictably), Cameron’s argument was reduced to little more than the tired old rhetoric of fear and the “impossible to prove a negative” campaigning that the people of Scotland have become all too used to.

Why?

Purely and simply, because of the personalities involved.

Alex Salmond is by far the separatists trump card and is arguably the only reason why the battle lines for independence from the UK are being drawn at all. Love him or loathe him, everyone admits he is a supreme political animal. His voice is fluent, measured and calm, especially when faced with an accusatory Englishman or woman, throwing half-baked, half-hidden abuse and throw-away racist attacks in his direction. That’s when he really comes into his own. Any tired argument put to him by a misguided and mis-educated English commentator is always met with a risible smile and a twinkle behind the eyes. He knows that all he really needs to do is stand in front of a bust of William Wallace while playing the “Scotland won’t be bullied by a Tory government in Westminster” card, and you can hear the whole sordid history of Empire reverberate between his words. He may as well just play a clip of Mel Gibson prostrated on the gallows with his innards hanging out crying “Freedom!” on repeat. That always does the trick. But there is something else Salmond understands, something else behind the satirical smile…

David Cameron. Anyone who really wishes for the United Kingdom to remain united should lock him in a cupboard and prevent him from going anywhere near the question of Scottish independence. It is simply a fact, quite possibly beyond the understanding of the English political machine, that the more Scots are treated to images of Cameron, with his plum Eton-educated dialect and his Jemima Puddle-duck features, the more the Tory toff does the SNP’s job for them.

You would think Cameron’s advisers would have cottoned onto it by now. The more the English establishment meddles and attempts to cajole, the more distant and alienated Scotland becomes. Back in May last year, exactly 7 days after the wedding of Catherine Middleton and William, Prince of Wales (heir to the throne of the United Kingdom and all its subjugated dominions), the Scottish people returned the SNP to government north of the border, with the first ever working majority in the newly devolved Holyrood parliament. This was no aberration. It was precisely the sight of continuing English herditary power, I believe, that motivated Scots to vote in this way. And now, we have an increasingly chunky, clunky Conservative Prime Minister in London mouthing off about Scottish self-determination, at a time when the Tories have all but disappeared from the landscape of Scottish political life.

No wonder Alex Salmond is giggling under his breath.

Perhaps the SNP should invite Cameron up to Edinburgh? Keep him centre-stage. Let him prance around like a prig for all he’s worth. You get where I’m going with this, right?

Throughout the week, and moreso this weekend as the various broadsheets attempt to digest and explain this sudden heightening of the frisson between the two neighbours, commentators and lauded experts have begun to suggest that Cameron may be playing a wily double-bluff? They raise the thorny question of English subsidies and ask, quite rightly, if the English argument is correct and Westminster does subsidise the Scottish economy as heavily as is claimed, why on earth would Cameron be so staunchly opposed to removing Scottish reliance on the English to balance the books? They suggest that Cameron is all too aware of how he (and various other Shire-folk) are perceived anywhere north of Gretna, and is cannily using it to foster independence, while publicly de-crying it.

Personally, I just can’t see it. Firstly I can’t see Cameron or his ilk as being that politically savvy. Tories very rarely are. By their very nature they are stubborn, self-righteous creatures, deluded in their intractable vision of Britannia – the war-winner; of an influence that is worldwide, of a nation to be envied. In their eyes, it is a land of rolling green fields, of cricket on the lawn, of inestimable courage and fair play. It is the nation that brought modern democracy to the barbarians. Why would anyone seriously wish to leave?

That’s the truth of it. It is this peculiar English fantasy, this continuing imperial daydream which perpetually blinds England, and her rulers to how she is really perceived. You can see it in their sport. Whenever a world cup of any description comes around, to the English, it is practically a given that they will progress, and win. There is always something in the under-current of comment that balks at the idea of there being a contest at all. Of course the English will triumph – they are world leaders at absolutely everything after all!

But they are not. Everyone else knows that. Unfortunately, they (still) don’t. For proof of this, you need only have watched Kelvin MacKenzie, former editor of The Sun newspaper on Question Time this week. He is well known for his derogatory outbursts towards the Scots, but it was his reference to letting the “Jocks” go their own way and lose the pound so that they could adopt the “Skinto” which really grated the most. It was his casual, throwaway racism and general demeanour of natural, self-inflated superiority which best illuminates the problem with the English attitude. And he bellowed and guffawed without even realising he was doing it. Such sleight of hand, sarcastic triumphalism may play well to the gallery south of the M4, but you can bet your life, no one in Scotland was impressed whether they believe in independence or not.  I was surprised Nicola Sturgeon (Deputy Leader of the SNP) didn’t call him up on it. Alex Salmond certainly would have. But then, Sturgeon didn’t exactly do herself any favours during that particular round-table discussion. She stumbled into, as far as I can see, the only weakness in the SNP’s argument. It has to evolve. It has to become just a little bit more layered. Sooner or later, simply repeating that she “believes in Scottish independence”, that she “believes in an independent Scotland”, or that she “believes in the right of the Scottish people to choose” is not going to be enough. It was David Dimbleby who rightly intervened at one point to suggest to her that “we know that, we aren’t beginners in all of this”.

Then there is Labour’s position, personified by Douglas Alexander during the same edition of Question Time. Oh yes, they did indeed have not one, but two Scottish politicians on the same show! His view, and the view of his Party, is that Scotland and England are stronger together, and weaker apart. He believes wholeheartedly in the Union. As well he might. It is the Union that has fostered Labour’s political dominance of Scotland throughout most of the last hundred years. It is the English right of centre preference for government that has naturally led to its Scottish antithesis. It is only since devolution that Labour’s star has begun to wane. Of course, he wants the Union to remain, not because he thinks it’s best for his people, but because it is in the best interests of his Party. Labour need Scotland joined forever to England’s conservative hip. To remain the only (so-called credible) vote of opposition to English Toryism, Labour must keep itself hamstrung to it. This, to my mind, is the worst of motives. Alexander and his ilk are sycophants, entombed within a cage of their own design. They are financial and philosophical adulterers and I have absolutely no time for them.

So how will things progress during 2012? Well, we’ve got the diamond jubilee of Queen Elizabeth’s succession to the throne to look forward to, as well as the London Olympics. Basically another highly visible exercise in English pomp and pageantry followed by a long pretentious, media-imposed gawp at the United Kingdom’s capital city frenetically masturbating itself in front of a worldwide audience.

I wonder if Alex Salmond need even bother getting out of bed?

Related links:

A handbag, a chair, and the historic tale of an unparalleled majority

The simple case for Scottish independence

Nudge nudge, wink wink

15 faintly amusing predictions for 2012

(Why 15? I ran out of amusing):

• At some point today all news networks will have featured a story about the Olympics aided by the appearance of a countdown clock. (If we’re lucky they won’t permanently place the blasted thing in the corner of the screen from now until the Opening Ceremony).
• Everyone will become an expert on Mayan culture. (Get your “End of the World” tinned potatoes here!)
• As soon as I turn my back it’ll be May.
• The price of getting from A to B will continue to make fools of us all yet, curiously, the price of supermarket t-shirts made in Vietnam will stay the same.
• The Duchess of Cambridge will announce her first pregnancy. (She’s had long enough to learn that the business of monarchy is in providing heirs).
• France and Britain will kiss and make up. (We’d die without each other).
• France and Germany will fall out, big time.
• Porn will become more accessible and socially acceptable than tobacco. (20 Marlboro please, nudge nudge, wink wink).
• All of Downton Abbey’s third season episodes will be five minutes long. They will all feature; a) Matthew and Mary dancing, b) O’Brien smoking, c) a Maggie Smith one-liner, d) some new housemaid saying something she shouldn’t, and e) a pausing shot of a darkend hallway with Anna and Mr Bates down the far end, looking forlorn. The other 55 minutes will be adverts.
• Economists will argue about what precisely constitutes a depression.
• Lady Gaga will undergo cosmetic surgery for the first time. (It will not be the last).
• The Top 40 singles chart will become just a little bit more baffling.
• At strategic points throughout the year various groups of people will be vilified by the national media. (If you’re a young, fat foreign Muslim banker, you’re f****d).
• James Murdoch will call all our bluffs and reveal himself to be the Antichrist. (And all this time we thought it was Rupert).
• We will continue (against our better natures) to take ourselves far, far too seriously.

The end of Britain

Day 11 of Project 31 – a Buttons Blog for every day of December.

I still haven’t quite made up my mind. I tweeted the other night that I wasn’t sure whether David Cameron had balls of steel or whether he had completely lost his mind? I think this is one of those times when I need to let the dust settle, let the press move on and see what comes of it all.

Paddy Ashdown (former leader of the Liberal Democrats and High Representative for Bosnia & Herzegovina) has written a great article in today’s Guardian about the implications of David Cameron’s unexpected veto at the European summit on Thursday. To my ears Paddy Ashdown usually talks a lot of sense. Actually it was Mr. Ashdown who was quoting the wife of Hugh Gaitskell CBE (leader of the Labour party from 1955 until his death in 1963). In a speech to his party’s conference in October 1962 Gaitskell claimed that Britain’s participation in a Federal Europe would mean “the end of Britain as an independent European state, the end of a thousand years of history!” Ashdown commented today that after Gaitskell had finished his speech, he turned to his wife and said “Look how many are clapping, dear!” She replied: “Yes, dear. But it’s the wrong people who are clapping.”

That’s pretty much how it’s felt since Thursday. There are an awful lot of people who seem to think Cameron, in the words of the Lord Mayor of London, Boris Johnson, “played a blinder”. But when the headline in today’s Mail on Sunday reads: ‘Yes, Cameron got it right’, I can’t help but be suspicious. Coincidentally, the paper divides its front page in half. Sat directly above the Mail’s headline, sharing equal space sits a picture of a young man saluting, dressed in a Nazi uniform; the banner to accompany it reads: ‘Tory MP and a toast to the Third Reich’. I’m not exactly sure if the Mail on Sunday isn’t being purposefully ironic.

I’ll post the link to Paddy Ashdown’s column if you fancy reading it for yourself. Although the most intriguing part of the piece for me comes when Ashdown begins to talk about Scotland’s First Minister, Alex Salmond and the implications for David Cameron north of the border. It is surprising that commentators and the media have picked up so soon on the early Christmas present Cameron may have given Salmond. And I suppose it’s true that Cameron’s isolation in Europe may make it easier for Salmond to gain independence? One senior English Lib Dem MP was quoted last night as saying;

So Scotland walks away… and leaves the Little Englanders having finally got their Little England. The Little Englanders think we will be like Switzerland, but with nuclear weapons. Actually, we’ll be like Norway, but without the oil.”

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/dec/10/paddy-ashdown-foreign-policy

The location of the discovery of the carcass of a dead bird

Michele Bachmann is a Republican member of the United States House of Representatives, representing Minnesota’s 6th congressional district, a post she has held since 2007. She is currently a candidate for the Republican nomination in the 2012 U.S. presidential election. She previously served in the Minnesota State Senate and is the first Republican woman to represent the state in Congress. Bachmann is a supporter of the Tea Party movement and a founder of the House Tea Party Caucus.

Linked below is an article reporting how, at a recent speech in Florida, she publicly suggested that recent natural disasters and the current financial crisis are a punishment from God. After watching the snippet from the speech, I can see how it may have been taken out of context, and could have been tongue-in-cheek. However, the remarks themselves are not what has motivated me to post – it’s the reaction to her remarks that intrigues me.

http://www.good.is/post/michele-bachmann-says-god-is-sending-disasters-to-punish-our-spending/

I find it fascinating that people openly call her “crazy”. I’m reminded of the series of books I’ve been reading over recent weeks about Ancient Egypt, and the reign of Ramses II. One of the dominant themes depicts how Pharoah, the ruling class, and the entire population over which they governed absolutely believed that the Gods were directly responsible for events within the natural world. From the height of the inundation of The Nile, to the location of the discovery of the carcass of a dead bird; they were all interpreted as some form of communication from the Gods, for good or ill. Consequently, internal politics, the popularity of the Monarchy, the number of temples and national celebrations etc were all driven by a need to either please or appease the Gods. Heck, even the decision whether to wage war could depend on what we would consider to be the most superstitious of portends. Egypt was one of the most advanced civilisations of the Ancient World, with acute cultural, industrial, judicial and financial systems in place to bind its society together. 4000 years later, Egypt’s enduring monuments are considered to be the last Wonder of the World to remain standing. And yet, in Ramses’ Egypt, to not assign natural disaster to the language of God(s) would have been considered “crazy”.

Our modern (North European) secular mentality may balk at the idea Bachmann is promoting, but make no mistake, the idea of God (in whatever form) is responsible for so much of where we find ourselves. Our history, national identities, levels of development, relationships, art, invention, science and culture are completely saturated with His (Her, Their) presence. Deluded we be, or not.

In some respects, the opinion Bachmann is espousing is merely a natural progression from the other, more entrenched influences the idea of God has on our lives. How many of us see marriage as a legitimate goal, and believe wholeheartedly in the vows we make, and in the link between God and the act of union that marriage creates? If Bachmann is “crazy” for believing that Hurricane Irene, as a sign from God, should influence our behaviour, what of the behaviour of those people who dedicate the whole of their adult lives to living according to a couple of vows, spoken (supposedly) in the sight of that same God? Indeed, our entire judicial system of law-making, and the social morality which enables us to live alongside one another could also be categorised as nothing more than a system of behaviour inspired by a need to live according to God’s wishes. The basic tenets of our society and the laws we live by are based upon the Ten Commandments; a quintessential rule book, supposedly directly communicated to Moses, from God.

It seems to me that we can be remarkably snooty sometimes about which of God’s influences we embrace, and which we demonise.

The fact that our leaders seek to explain away worldwide events as attempts by God(s) to communicate with us and guide us, is nothing new. That Michele Bachmann could one day end up with her finger on the nuclear trigger, while being completely convinced her hand is being guided by some Almighty force, is certainly nothing new either. But she is there because people put her there. People like us. Ordinary voters. People who believe that marriage is sacred, that murder is the ultimate sin (unless you’re wearing a government-sanctioned uniform), and that on 25th December an immaculately conceived baby was born in a stable.

Who’s crazy?

A handbag, a chair (and the historic tale of an unparalleled majority)

So, it was quite a day for Scotland’s National Party – the SNP.

I’ve heard a lot of words like “unprecedented“, “stunning” and “historic” being bandied about and repeated again and again over the last 48 hours. And in our current age of hyperbole, it’s easy to explain these descriptions away as the buzz-words of a fatuous media, stroking itself into senselessness. But this time, I think they’ve just about hit the nail on the head.

Scotland’s devolved parliament is still young. Thursday 5th May 2011 was only the fourth time Scots have elected their own government since the Acts of Union in 1706 and 1707 bound the two countries of England and Scotland together, and the then Scottish Parliament voted itself out of existence. It was only 14 years ago, in 1997, that Scots voted in favour of the creation of their own parliament again, only 13 years ago since the Scotland Act 1998 – the first sentence of which reads “There shall be a Scottish Parliament“. And it was only 12 years ago, in 1999, that devolution became a reality north of the border, and Scotland regained (limited) powers to govern herself.

What else was happening in 1999?

Well, on 1st January of that year, the Euro was introduced to world financial markets as an accounting currency, replacing the former European Currency Unit (ECU). On 12th June, Texas Governor George W. Bush announced his intention to seek the Republican Party nomination for President of the United States, and on 22nd July, the first version of MSN Messenger was released by Microsoft, following the release of the second edition of Windows 98 on 5th May.

More generally, 1999 saw an end to a decade which is generally considered to be a relatively peaceful time, occurring after the effective end of the Cold War and before the start of the War on Terror. When one thinks back to the global zeitgeist at that time, and what effect it must have had on Scotland’s population, it is perfectly logical to me to see the links with what was happening in continental Europe, where increased nationalism grew amid renewed independence among many Eastern European republics, following the dissolution of the former USSR. By the time Scotland voted on whether to accept devolved governance, the geo-political map of Europe had been completely re-drawn, within only a few years, and by largely peaceful means.

If we were to focus on Scotland during this decade, we cannot ignore the return to Scotland on 3o November 1996 of the Stone of Scone (or Stone of Destiny), used for centuries in the coronation of the monarchs of Scotland, later the monarchs of England, and since 1603, British monarchs. Historically, the artifact was kept at the now-ruined Scone Abbey in Scone, near Perth. In 1296 the Stone was captured by Edward I (nicknamed “Hammer of the Scots”) as spoils of war and taken to Westminster Abbey, where it was fitted into a wooden chair, known as King Edward’s Chair. This is the chair upon which most subsequent English sovereigns have been crowned, including the present Elizabeth II of England and I of Scotland. To this day, various British monarchs have literally “sat” on Scotland. Think of the effect such a practice has on the psyche of a nation? Underlining this symbolism, Edward I once referred to the Stone contemptuously as a ‘turd’. Famously, on Christmas Day 1950, four students  (Ian Hamilton, Gavin Vernon, Kay Matheson, and Alan Stuart) took the Stone from Westminster Abbey for return to Scotland, ultimately leaving it on the altar of Arbroath Abbey, on 11 April 1951. It was subsequently returned to England. But by 1996, in a symbolic response to growing dissatisfaction among Scots at the prevailing constitutional settlement, the British Conservative Government (in its death throes) decided that the Stone should be kept in Scotland when not in use at coronations. It currently resides along with the crown jewels of Scotland in the Crown Room at Edinburgh Castle. Provision has been made to transport the stone to Westminster Abbey when it is required there for future coronation ceremonies, although it remains to be seen whether Charles III (as he will become) will continue this tradition.

So, this was the kind of world Scots were living in at the point, on 12th May 1999 when the Scottish Parliament met for the first time, beginning with the words; “the Scottish Parliament, which adjorned on 25 March 1707, is hereby reconvened“.

Culturally, Scots may now have had relative autonomy, but politically, very little actually changed. The Scottish Labour Party, which had held dominance over Scottish politics since the 1960s, won the largest share of the vote in both the first and second Scottish Parliamentary elections, in 1999 and 2003, without any hint that the status quo would ever likely change. Ministers were in effect granted a seat for life, and it is this embedded notion of the “right to govern” within the mentality of the Scottish Labour Party which goes a long way to help explain what happened on 5th May. You’d think someone within the Party would’ve seen the warning signs in 2007? Labour’s star was on the wane south of the border, a decade after seizing power in Westminster, and in Scotland, the SNP won control of a minority government by a single seat. I remember that time very well. I was there. I voted. And the reaction of the Labour and Conservative Parties to the SNP 2007 win was nothing short of incredulous. They were patronising, waspish, sour and confrontational in defeat, and very probably looked forward to 2011, by which time, the SNP would’ve fallen flat on its face, and normal Labour dominance would then resume; the SNP’s tenure nothing more than a brief blip, an aberration. Indeed, Labour did nothing in the intervening years between the elections of 2007 and 2011 other than retort and guffaw from the shadows, while the newly elected SNP minority government replaced the previous title of “Scottish Executive” with “The Scottish Government” – a change which, although largely adopted by the media and all political parties, is still to be made legal in statute.. Such a change to a parliament’s identity, although subtle with a hint of stealth, cannot be underestimated. Later, while Westminster politics became embroiled in the shameful exposure of the expenses scandal, branding Conservative and Labour politician alike with the brush of unaccountability, irresponsibility and corruption, Scottish politics remained outside of the maelstrom, already working within a more transparent and accountable expenses system. Across the country, the SNP (quietly) began the job of running and managing the country, and, as most commentators agree, did a rather good job. Crucially, they kept their manifesto promises at a local level; keeping hospitals open, maintaining free care and transport for the elderly, and phasing out prescription charges for all. How clever is that! What really matters to people at the end of the day? Is it the arguments for and against foreign wars, or whether they still have a local Accident and Emergency department?

It is also pertinent to highlight the natural tendency of the Scots to rebel against whomever is in power south of the border. Despite momentary phases out of power, England has largely been governed by successive Conservative Parties during the majority of the last century, and if it is possible to paint a very large brush-stroke and describe the English mentality as generally ‘right of centre’, it is perhaps also possible to draw another large ‘left of centre’ brush-stroke over Scotland. Such generalisations may be crude, but when describing the innate differences between the English and Scottish people, it is helpful to understand this diametric difference. It is therefore no accident to my mind, that while the Conservatives remain the natural party of power in England, they have (since abandoning their Unionist mantle and aligning themselves solely with the English party) all but disappeared from Scotland.

And so, pulling all these different strings together; you have a country which is naturally more socialist than its semi-detached neighbour and naturally drawn to rebel against Westminster political dominance, set against a back-drop of arrogance from Scottish Labour, convinced of their continuing birth-right as overlords of the Scottish political system, and a European evolution towards independent ethnicity, within centrally controlled commonality. Yesterday, the Scottish electorate were faced with the choice between a Conservative Party, with which they have had nothing in common for almost a century, currently in coalition in Westminster with the Liberal Democrats; a Party which has moved from its alternative base to sleeping with the enemy all in the space of 12 months, and a Labour Party, increasingly Londoncentric in its thinking, full of malaise, negativity and assumed authority.

It is for all these reasons that we saw, for the first time in its history, a majority government for Scotland emerge, headed by the SNP.

Should we be at all surprised?

If none of that resonates with you, I do have another theory as to why the Labour vote apparently dropped off a cliff and support for the SNP surged upwards to unprecedented levels.. Polls suggest that this drastic turnaround occurred as short a time as one week ago, literally 7 days before the Scottish Elections on 5th May. What event occurred 7 days prior? It was 29th April. It was the day of the Royal Wedding. Elizabeth I of Scotland is not a popular monarch, being notoriously infamous for various Scottish snubs during her reign. Shortly after her coronation, in 1953, she offended many in Scotland by wearing a plain dress while carrying a handbag when receiving the crown made for Mary, Queen of Scots. Again in 1999, during the official opening of the Scottish Parliament, she apparently refused to walk alongside elected MSPs and Scottish children (chosen to represent each constituency in Scotland), instead travelling in a carriage, entering the chamber after it had assembled. What better reminder to the Scots of their “situation”, and what better motivator than the sight of Elizabeth’s grandchildren (and future dynastic rulers) in a public display of continued imperial control, at their expense?

Related links:

William Wallace vs. Jemima Puddle-duck

The alluring socialite (with the devil’s breath)

Whether you’re a smoker or not, you’ve got to accept tobacco is bad. But there’s an enormous elephant in the smoke-free room, on the street corner, and in the supermarket whom no one seems to want to acknowledge – and there he is, staggering about half-cut with his trunk lolling about like a bladder on a stick, slurring his words, making improper advances towards the lamp-post, well on his way to cirrhosis of the liver. Where are the limits on his personal freedoms?

Today is National ‘No Smoking Day’ in the UK, and the Government has chosen this particular day to announce another assault in its ongoing war against tobacco. From 2012, cigarettes and tobacco products will have to be kept under the counter. Once complete, England will have followed Canada, Ireland, Iceland and Finland in removing temptation from our eyes, and lumping cigarettes together with the proverbial dirty movie or girly mag as something grubby, embarrassing and unsuitable for over-the-counter prominence; well that was until ‘Nuts‘ and ‘Zoo‘ came along, emblazoning the cardboard cut-out version of female sexuality in gold leaf and setting up shop right next to your TV Weekly, lit in glorious flourescent technicolour for all the little girls and boys to see.

There is no doubt tobacco’s days are numbered. Perhaps there will always be a small number of renegades that take to nicotine; rebellion against what’s good for us will never be completely quashed, but I can see the day fast approaching when it becomes a banned, government-classified narcotic, perhaps within my lifetime? But what of alcohol?

There is also no doubt that smoking levies a great tax burden on the NHS. Cancer and heart disease related to smoking still account for a huge number of deaths in the UK per year, and it is our tax money which has to fund the addicts’ care. But what of the costs due to alcohol? Taking Scotland as just an example, the Scottish Government’s own 2007 report named ‘The Societal Cost of Alcohol‘, put total cost to the (Scottish) economy at between £2, 476.6 million and £4, 635.4 million per year at 2007/08 prices. Based on the mid-point of those two figures, alcohol misuse imposed the “greatest burden on the healthcare system, followed by Social Care Services“. In essence, as a community, we are choosing to pay more for alcohol than we are for keeping the most vulnerable in our society housed, fed, clothed, educated and protected. These figures take all of the effects of alcohol into account; premature mortality, absenteeism, alcohol-related crime, as well as the drain on our national healthcare provision.

We talk about removing tobacco from the shelves in order to prevent our young people from being tempted to start the habit; in truth, no one could argue with the idea of minimising exposure of young adults to a substance that will ultimately kill them. But, I ask again – what about alcohol? In the Scottish Government’s same report, it found the group with the largest estimated “hazardous” weekly alcohol consumption as a percentage of their population was the young. Its figures suggest that 41% of men and 37% of women aged 16-24 years old consumed enough units of alcohol per week to be considered “hazardous” to their health in 2007. And it’s not as if the other age groups do much better. Consistently, throughout their lives, approximately one quarter of all men, and approximately one fifth of all women in Scotland consumes “hazardous” amounts of alcohol. Furthermore, the problem appears to be increasing exponentially. In 2001/02, the total estimated ‘cost-of-illness’ due to alcohol misuse to the NHS in Scotland was £96 million. By 2006/07 it had risen to £405 million. That’s a rise of more than 400% in 5 years. What was that about a tax burden?

So there’s some figures for you. I could do a search and take a look at comparable costs for nicotine addiction, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make. I’m not here to argue that cigarettes are somehow good for you, good for me, or in anyway good for the economy or the communities in which we live. It’s a good thing they’ve been banished from the pub, the restaurant and the workplace. It’s almost inconceivable and staggering to think that we allowed people to puff away within the enclosed environment of an aeroplane, for example. Anti-smoking legislation has certainly brought about a change in the mind-set of the general population, and now, as far as smoking is concerned, behaviour that was considered normal as little as 20 years ago is now met with incredulity.

But what about feckin’ alcohol?

Does nicotine necessitate a heavy police presence on our high streets almost every night of the week? Do those same high streets reek of urine, vomit and blood every Saturday night because the Marlboro Man has turned us all into aggressive louts? Does the domestic abuser come home and beat up his wife after a heavy night’s smoking? Do young miscreants create anti-social havoc on our cul-de-sacs because they’re under the influence of nicotine? How much police time is taken up by someone having a few too many Superkings?

Given the obvious costs to our society, you’d think successive governments would’ve waged a similar war on alcohol as it has on nicotine? After all, the weekly effects of alcohol misuse are far more obviously in-your-face than the long-term effects of smoking. But no; if anything governments down the years have made it easier for alcohol to cement its hold on our culture. Smoking may have, quite rightly, earned its image as an ashen-faced, yellow-fingered, lung-hacking cancer patient, and has very definitely become something completely anti-social in nature. But alcohol, it seems, has been painted with an altogether different brush. It’s bright, it’s sparkly, and it’s an absolutely necessary addition to any social event. In fact, it’s sold as the only way to be social. What’s more, rather than being covered up as an embarrassment, alcohol is up-front and centre-stage wherever you go, and wherever you shop. It’s afforded a front row seat; it’s there on special offer as soon as you walk in the door, and it’s perched within arm’s reach of the checkout. What’s more, hours are billed as being ‘happy’ in its presence, and it’s cheap – well, cheap at the point of sale, that is.

So then, how’s about a level playing field? Let’s, for argument’s sake leave out the laughable disparity between government-sanctioned narcotics and other illicit substances. I doubt there’d be any problems down your local high street at all if the pubs and clubs had cannabis cake on special offer, or advertised ecstasy happy hours on their doorstep as you walked in! But the hilariousness of that particular contradiction aside, how’s about an equal playing field between the taxable drugs of nicotine and alcohol? Yep, cigarettes are smelly, filthy and they cost lives – it’s right they should be ostracised from our lives. But please don’t try and sell me the idea that smoking is the devil’s breath; infecting newborn babies and polluting our living spaces, while alcohol is the alluring socialite no night out or evening in can do without.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-12680815

http://www.scotland.gov.uk/Resource/Doc/297819/0092744.pdf