To Constitute the People

dec of ind

In an earlier article on Mair Nor a Roch wind, entitled “Smout Leading the People”, we advocated a Scottish nationalism that looks to the values of the Enlightenment, invoking Liberty, Equality and Fraternity as the values of a new Scotland. One of the most tangible political results of the period of Liberalism was the constitution – a covenant that enshrined the political rights of a people. An opportunity may arise in Scotland to create such an entity. Not only may the people of Scotland be newly constituted as citizens, but this change would develop from a British unwritten constitution which, as we have argued, is in crisis.

But while the country ponders huge constitutional change, at a time of European and British crisis, the constitution itself catches the attention of only a few. It has been pointed out by Andrew Tickell that Scotland’s constitutional question avoids the idea of a new sovereign – it is presented, for safety’s sake, as a kind of devo-doubleplusgood, a particularly big transfer of powers. The idea of the foundation of a country is far from everyone’s minds, as the hopeful state-formers rush to persuade everybody that very little would change. Excitement about the constitution is real among a few academics, but, as one republican journalist said, the great worry is that all things constitutional just become a dripping roast for constitutional lawyers. The people of the constitution, the people of Scotland, mostly couldn’t care less.

A few active democrats hope for something more than this. They recognise that independence is a constitutional question for a reason – that the British constitution is not serving the people of Britain or Scotland, and that there is potential for re-democratisation.

But their attempts to engage people in the idea of the formation of a Scottish state have not resulted in the political excitement or sense of ownership that they hope for. Things that we are told might capture the public imagination – citizens assemblies, ‘crowd-sourcing’ based on the Icelandic constitution-forming model, community action – are contrived to tap into a public that already has a  relation to a state, and experience of active participation; but no such public or form of democracy exists. Meanwhile the organisers complain that people don’t understand what a written constitution is (why should we, we’ve never had one?), let alone its great value as a basis for democratic demands.

These ‘participatory’ forms of engagement lack a basis in our public sentiment, and the Scottish Government does not have the incentive to create it. Thus the question arises of how to enthuse this uninterested population, in order to create a constitution that is of the people, and recognised as a democratic basis for our nation. The answer lies in an understanding of how the people of Scotland are currently constituted, where their loyalties lie, and what it means to them to be a citizen in Scotland and in Britain.

To understand the constitution of Scotland, many look to the “constitution of institutions” in Scotland: a stateless nation has formed an institutional framework, by which it is defined, consisting of law, church and education, and more recently devolved institutions such as the parliament or the NHS. Yet this is not the state as political science recognises it: it cannot act as a universal reference point for the individual, only for people as they interact with these institutions. Neither, however, can the British state be this reference point, both because it is in crisis, and because we are subject to Scots law and institutions. Thus a terrible circularity arises, where we have no public to appeal to, no peculiarly national political sentiment to drum up into a frenzy. How can we escape from this confusion, in such a way that at the point Scotland realises a new constitution, it also creates a new national and sovereign public, rather than replicating tired institutional forms?

The current quasi-constitution of Scotland creates a sort of distorted benevolent bourgeois class who have political clout through particular organisations.  This class is itself a barrier to the creation of a popular constitution. Known as institutional or ‘civic’ Scotland, it forms the most exclusive and bureaucratic sphere that makes up Scotland’s social system. Its members include religious leaders, public service managers, voluntary sector organisers and so on, people who will have a voice in forming Scotland’s constitution, yet who, if they are to create it in their own image, will create something aligned to the British constitution, a constitution created on the assumption that the creator-class will be there to uphold it, divorced from the people to whom it is meant to apply. The current political climate in Scotland dictates that the movement to form a constitution will be institutional rather than political, seeing the subjects of a constitution as people who engage with the institutions of state, rather than democratic citizens.

The other group to whom we might turn in wishing to form a constitution of the public, are the lawyers of Scotland. In America, at the time of the forming of the constitution, a respected and professional legal class, that was accessible to a range of social classes, was key to creating a sense of ownership of and respect for the legal documents said to constitute the people. If only we had the same in Scotland, to give the citizens confidence in the making of their politics! Unfortunately when the law is invoked in Scotland, such as for minimum alcohol pricing, or anti-sectarian laws, it is seen as a rather despotic intrusion into civil society. Scots law is already established in public matters, and so new laws tend to be concerned with ‘private’ or ‘civil society’ matters. We are facing the challenge of the creation of a new constitution alongside a well-developed legal system, a legal system that tends to be in the news for being restrictive.  A democratic and liberatory understanding of the legal documents that will form the constitution can be achieved only if law is invoked politically rather than institutionally, as something that people do, rather than something that happens to people. This is far from current public consciousness.

So where are radical constitutionalists to turn when those shaping the constitution seem devoid of ideas, and the public is devoid of the right political sentiments or mores? How can a stateless nation become a state; how can a new constitution breathe life into fading political forms, when the political classes play to voters regardless of whether they are fighting to win an election or a new state?

The answer is to bring a little political vigour to Scotland. The constitution and the law are rarely invoked politically, they are seen as utilitarian, rational questions, and any decisions refer to “bean counting” rather than sentiment, as Smout aptly put it. There must be a real political rather than institutional movement, which talks about democracy, active citizenship, and public law in terms of the constitution, so that when the constitution comes to be formed it is seen as a political statement, and the establishment of levels of democracy as the embodiment of ideals, rather than bureaucratic institutional forms.

To invoke concepts politically, we used to turn to political parties. Perhaps once again, in a moment of constitutional formation, they will be able to argue based on ideologies and values, from their position as representatives of the people. But as the SNP concertedly ignore the idea that the constitution requires any ideological debate, and while Labour deny that there might be one at all, the only obvious party to assert their particular constitutional ideology are the Green Party, who have been silent for a while on the constitutional question. Given the lack of public constitutional divergence, the Greens would be heard were they to call for particular democratic forms, types of economic, social or refugee rights, or even just new concepts for debate. They are the party of localism, which has constitutional implications, and their localism challenges a government that is seen by elements of civil society, left parties, and the Labour Party as over-centralising . The Greens could create a spectrum of debate within those in favour of constitutional reform.

Whether or not the Greens are the best party to promote left constitutionalism, it falls to all those who speak of this abstract entity to make it real, and to make it political in an engaging and radical way, rather than something created from and designed to perpetuate Scotland’s shallow political sphere.

Amy Westwell


Towards a Democratic Feminism


A few months ago, Zero Tolerance’s new initiative, Just like a child, was discussed on Radio Scotland’s call-in discussion show Call Kaye. Part of Zero Tolerance’s preventative work around domestic abuse, the initiative aims to discourage gender stereotyping by parents and in nurseries, in order to promote equality and thereby reduce rates of violence against women. It’s incredibly important work that past feminists would have only dreamed of.

It is part of a wider movement amongst feminist organisations in Scotland to concertedly build preventative work into their overall strategy. Rape Crisis centres throughout Scotland are drawing together the funding to hire prevention workers, and Rape Crisis Scotland has run several high-profile advertising campaigns, most notably the television advertisements, Not Ever, challenging attitudes around rape. But the early-years work of Zero Tolerance tackles gender head-on, in an inevitably controversial way.

The radio show Call Kaye brings out the best and worst of Scottish public engagement where callers’ comments can often be extreme, nasty, and conservative. Listening to the radio conversations, it was clear that Zero Tolerance as a public organisation has an ideology somewhat at odds with the ideology of the public. Most see the psychological and social development of boys and girls up to the age of five as biologically different, revealing that they also consider the nature of men and women as different. When Zero Tolerance says that we teach men to be strong and women to be weak, it often falls on deaf ears. Public education is nowhere near as advanced as feminist organisations would like it to be, and though each initiative will create better-educated generations, the fact still remains that there is a disjoint between the organisations and the public.

That the initiatives are going forward at all is therefore testimony to the type of power held by feminists in Scotland. It’s not a lot of power, by any standards, but in comparison to other countries many are pleased with the relationship between women’s organisations and the Scottish Government. This can be diagnosed as a by-product of devolution, whereby the Scottish Government in some ways has a closer relationship with civil society organisations in the devolved sphere than with the public in Scotland. The Scottish government has sovereignty only over particular public realms, the realms of civil and social institutions, not over the public itself. Thus, a disjoint has developed between public democracy and the running of the devolved parts of state, so that in the most extreme cases the public are seen to be represented in the governance of Scotland through civil society organisations, as service users, rather than through the state, as citizens.

The steps forward being taken by women’s organisations in Scotland capitalising on this disjoint, reveal why devolution is a favoured constitutional form for many people in civil society organisations and charities. The prospects for radical feminist initiatives under independence, where the government must appear more directly publicly accountable, are slimmer. In short, the divide between public and institutions works very well for some feminist organisations, who can try to make radical change without being held publicly accountable by the misogynist parts of society, and enlisting the support of many public sector workers, such as the nursery workers in this particular initiative, who find the proposals exciting.

The other major preventative rather than reactive feminist movement in Scotland recently has been towards major economic change, as presented by Ailsa Mackay in an article on openDemocracy. Here the key measure is to challenge the pay, benefits and work of women, to resolve the high levels of poverty and the income gap through new models of economic thought and practice. Challenging the place of women in terms of work and income can of course only go so far in a devolved Scotland. Real change would require greater fiscal powers.

Both social change, such as the Zero Tolerance initiative, and economic change, such as the feminist economic models being discussed at the moment, are interrelated and important. But the constitutional arrangement and potential in Scotland mean these two objectives contradict each other.  Many who wish to radically change society in Scotland, not just feminists, are unsure whether to persist with feminist demands under devolution while they have a strong voice, or sacrifice some influence to a public unshaped by the experience of social and public responsibility, in order to attempt even bigger successes through economic and democratic change.

The question boils down to whether it is better to implement feminist change through a less democratic quasi-state, or whether change should come from a public will and a public consciousness. An argument for the former runs as follows: our democratic system does not include women as much as it should, women are still not full citizens of either Scotland or Britain, as evidenced by the poor record of the Scottish Parliament and local government on women’s representation. Why should we tease out of a democratic system, designed for men, the seeds of women’s liberation? We have found in Scotland a system that seems to work better for women that the system in Westminster, where gender equality institutions of parliament are being dismantled without a second thought, by a cabinet with only 3/22 women.

But there is good reason to be wary of the nature of the Scottish Parliament as it now stands. The point of the democratic citizen is that they act and speak, not that they are spoken for, or accounted for in a calculation by a civil servant. This is especially important for women, who should look to move on from representation by individuals and organisations to political representation by parties and committees in government. The Scottish Women’s Convention, for instance, is a body which has not been particularly successful under a devolved administration, but with full state powers in Scotland, this body could be a direct political voice for women speaking as empowered individuals. In the light of the independence referendum, there is much empty talk of democracy which ignores that our democratic system in Scotland is flailing, and failing to deliver a platform for citizens, especially women.

There is also a widening gap between the actions of the Scottish parliament and the will of the public in Scotland, evidenced in unpopular laws such as anti-sectarian law, or laborious long-winded processes such as that around same-sex marriage. A parliament can drag its people along with it only so far, until there is a democratic deficit, and the institutions of religion and privilege step into the political sphere, in place of the democratic channels. While the Scottish government cannot easily harness a public political spirit in its current form, apart from at the rare points where it harnesses an impotent nationalism, we in Scotland should look to where this relationship might emerge.

Given that an independent Scottish state would result in the development of a more directly critical and vocal public, feminists in Scotland may need to move away from policy and political strategies to think about how to influence public perception and public support. This happens already in terms of social attitudes, but not specifically in a political sphere. A public political voice would be a good thing for the movement. If, for instance, the new laws on sexual violence had been subject to greater public and popular scrutiny, the journey to achieve them may have been harder, but we would have come out of this process with a public with a greater understanding of violence against women, consent, and the need for a feminist movement.

Smout Leading the People

liberty leading the people

Alasdair Darling hits on an important point in his speech on the “positive” case for the union. The idea of an independent Scotland realising a Scottish statehood already contained within it is bizarre, as Scotland never was a state or a nation in the way we understand those entities today. This is a problem for those in favour of independence who wish to realise essential democratic values through the creation of a Scottish state.

As Darling points out, institutions that remained independent in Scotland following the Union of the parliaments were those of religion and privilege: Kirk, education, and law. The qualities we associate with modern nationhood, liberty and equality before the law and the state, were missing from pre-union Scotland, quite understandably. Following the union, all of Scotland’s meaningful development as a liberal state developed through the British Parliament, and thus in the context of the British state. Thus, since the union, Scotland’s history of thought and philosophy, its industrial revolution, the extensions of democracy, the fights of the working class, the fights for women’s liberation are movements within or against the British state, expressed through British institutions.

This presents a considerable problem for Scottish nationalists of a neo-18th century disposition. As T.C. Smout pointed out in an interview in Perspectives magazine, a historical understanding of nationalism invokes the principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity. It is a fight for the rights of the people of a nation through the state. He points out that our current nationalism is somewhat disappointing, because it involves a utilitarian weighing up of each side of the argument (“bean counting”). Liberty, equality and fraternity are understood to have been achieved through the British nation already, so our current nationalism cannot be based upon it:

“From Victorian times onwards many who were passionately Scottish were also convinced that the union was a guarantor of their liberties. They saw the United Kingdom as having constructed democracy, freedom of speech and the rule of law”

In the same vein, Darling says that in Britain we all believe in rights, and “the point is to put rights into practice: that is what the UK does, and in a culture that we all recognise and are comfortable with”. Scotland’s historic relationship to “rights” cannot be disentangled from the development of this ideology and practice in the British state.

But if Hobsbawm is correct, and the principles of the 18th century Enlightenment are still the most important to us today, Scottish nationalists should be constructing an argument for political independence based on these revolutionary principles.

There is probably no point looking to the history or aspirations of Scotland for these state-based values, as there has never been a Scottish state for them to develop in. But one possibility, for the pro-independence lobby, is to claim the values of liberty, democracy and welfare which have already developed through the institutions of the British state. If these institutions were still developing in line with people’s aspirations for them in Britain, then there would be no nationalist impulse which could legitimately claim to realise a better state in Scotland based on liberty or equality. However, many of these British institutions and aspirations are being undermined by an austerity consensus. This is why Scottish nationalists aspire to develop state institutions in accordance with values associated with the British state.

But there is another approach to invoking liberty as the basis of Scottish nationalist sentiment. It starts with the claim that Britain has a conservative history in comparison to nations in Europe or America. A mixed, unwritten constitution and conservative political and public sphere allowed Britain to slowly rumble through the ages of Enlightenment and bourgeois revolutions, implementing slow parliamentary reforms, and developing a hearty trade union movement that never quite had a revolution. We can’t claim Scotland was any different – we played the British Whig game better than anyone else. But a modern acknowledgement of British conservatism gives rise to the more radical alternative:  if Britain never did realise some aspects of liberty in full, Scotland could, through the creation of a state, have the basic tenets of 18th and 19th century nationalism restored – such as a democratic understanding of a written constitution and a national citizenship presented in terms of common liberty.

This is the beginning of an answer to Smout’s request, “I would like to know from each side how they would like to further these ideals, because you don’t hear very much about that at the moment. In what senses will Scotland be more free? Will it be more equal? Will it be more fraternal? These are very important questions. That’s what true liberty is about and I don’t see it being debated.” These questions are especially important now as values such as liberty have a new relevance, women and working class people being formally accepted as citizens.

That we don’t hear this type of nationalism at the moment in Scotland is unsurprising. Neither institutions create through devolution, nor institutions that have always been Scottish, have been able to realise the kind of public values that can be created by a coherent state.  Institutions like church, law, education, the NHS and welfare need to be held together in a state for citizens to achieve democracy and freedom through them.

While in the 1700s the state did not require all institutions to be held in common in order to be a coherent entity, by the end of the 18th century this was a necessity, and Britain became increasingly centralised. Today, to maintain its coherence, Britain needs to sterilise every internal demand for freedom and democracy, and present them as valueless, functional, or utilitarian demands. This was true of devolution, and we see the same phenomenon with independence today. This is what gives the rhetoric of independence as self-determination (and the extension of devolution) such a hollow ring, echoing in claims that the demand for independence comes from our culture of self-determination. A demand for the liberty of a people goes deeper than any of that.