Independence won't come to a nation feart of itself

The National

13 hours ago

Thing is, water doesn't really do borders. Seemingly, this (and much else) seems to have escaped the US president, who thought he could make the Gulf of Mexico, the
Gulf of America with a swift stroke of a handy Sharpie.
(Such is his legendary vindictiveness; he subsequently banned a news agency from White House press conferences following their refusal to sign up to this geographical lunacy!)
In truth, land borders are always more problematic. Just ask Ukraine. Or ­Canada, for that matter, given Donald Trump's ­sudden ­enthusiasm for turning an entire country into nothing more than a US state.
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And land borders became rather more ­difficult for Scotland when, despite ­voting Remain – as did Northern Ireland – we found ourselves adjoining a non-EU ­country in the shape of England.
The difference with NI obviously is that they are now adjoining an EU ­country in the south unlike our being yoked to EU refuseniks; what Rishi Sunak rather ­infelicitously labelled 'the best of both worlds'. Indeed, Rishi.
Meanwhile, the three Baltic states ­nervously eye their combined 543-mile-long border with Russia, protected, sort of, by their membership of Nato. Protected too by their somewhat belated withdrawal from an agreement which meant they accessed electricity from Russia rather than the EU. And also meant Moscow called the electric shots.
However, they have had to contend with a whole spate of sabotage incidents damaging pipelines and cables under the Baltic Sea. Not a peep from the Kremlin, of course, but Vlad the bad would seem to have his ­fingerprints all over these incidents which, oddly, only occurred after the Baltic states did a new deal with the EU.
When they indicated they were leaving the Russia/Belarus one, there was also a sudden spate of social media posts ­alleging huge price rises and supply shortages. ­Neither of which came to pass.
What differentiates ourselves from ­Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia is the ­widespread ­enthusiasm for independence they enjoyed at the time of severance. Mind you they already thought ­themselves independent at the end of the First World War until the then Soviet Union contrived to ­annex them.
But they managed to ­maintain their ­culture and their ambitions and so ­Lithuania declared full independence in March 1990, while Estonia and Latvia ­followed in August 1991.
One of the highlights of their ­independence movements was a ­giant ­linkage of hands across all three ­countries and one of the most moving, the sight of Lithuanian weans singing their ­anthem word perfectly despite decades of ­suppression. Some of these activities were labelled 'The Singing ­Revolution'. Would that we could orchestrate ­something ­similar.
According to the current First ­Minister, his plan is the only one which would ­confer international legitimacy on ­declaring ourselves a separate state. Some 43 SNP branches choose to differ. It will be, to quote his party, a huge '­democratic deficit' if the annual conference body swerves a proper debate on ALL the ­options.
The longer the wait goes on, the more impatient I become for a Scottish ­government to stop being super cautious and risk-averse.
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Meanwhile, amid the publishing ­furore accompanying Nicola Sturgeon's memoir, not many people have cottoned on to the reasons she gives for our not having Baltic-style smeddum.
She traces it back to the referendum of March 1979, when a London-based ­Scottish MP came up with the notorious 40% rule which said that only if 40% of the entire electorate voted Yes, could it succeed. Not only would a simple ­majority not suffice (although, at 51.6%, one was obtained) but effectively ­everyone who couldn't be bothered to vote was assumed to be a No.
Sturgeon wasn't old enough to have a vote herself at that juncture but she ­declares in Frankly: 'The effect of this on the Scottish psyche is hard to ­overstate. It's always been part of the Scottish ­character – or at least the caricature of it – that we talk the talk much better than we walk the walk. We are full of bravado but, when push comes to shove, lack the gumption to follow through.'
There will be those who would turn the same judgement on her, given the various trigger points ignored during her term of office. But the point is well made. In various tests of resolve
Scotland has proved too feart to take the ultimate plunge. Maybe we won't ­until, Baltic-style, we construct a huge and ­enthusiastic ­majority.
If we needed further proof that ­Scotland is indeed a goldfish bowl for frontline ­politicians, we need look no further than the media furore surrounding the publication of the Sturgeon memoir. How much of this is down to the publishers ­extracting ­maximum coverage for their much-­anticipated book launch, and how much is self-inflicted we might never know.
What is undeniable is that every jot and tittle of the former First Minister's thoughts have been minutely scrutinised and analysed.
Every time she opens her mouth these days, it seems to prompt another media feeding frenzy.
It was the late Margo MacDonald who declared that if every indy-minded person convinced just one other voter, the 2014 poll would have spelled victory for the Yes camp. She wasn't wrong then; she still isn't.
It won't be an easy ask. There are those who are implacably opposed to breaking the Union, and nothing and nobody will dissuade them. Their views can and must be respected but, to quote a certain PM, they are not for turning. Not ever.
However, there is a soggy centre who can be won over with an honest appraisal of the benefits independence might bring. Not to mention an honest look at how the statistics are continually pochled and never in our favour.
There must be a similarly frank flagging up of the downsides; few countries have made an entirely seamless transition to determining their own destinies. The bumps in the road will soon enough appear. Then again, no country has ever concluded that reverting to servile status is an option.
I've just been reading a book about Scottish timelines which puts all of our significant milestones into both a UK and a global context. Among much else, it ­reminded me what an ancient and proud nation we have been, one which long ­preceded the Unions of the Crowns and Parliaments.
Obviously, one of our milestones was the 1707 Act of Union, which rarely, these days, feels much of a union and certainly not a partnership.
In those days, the electorate consisted of feudal nobles, lesser nobles with ­feudal rights, and representatives from royal burghs (with varying electorates).
Even so, with Jock Tamson's bairns only able to look on impotently, the ­majority was a mere 43. That all led to a British parliament in which 150 Scottish peers were graciously permitted to anoint 16 of their own to the Upper House, 30 MPs were to represent the counties, and a whole 15 covering all the burgh districts. As ever, the establishment looked after its own.
Thus were the most powerful recipients of feudal favours able, rather modestly, to shape the new parliament. Of course, we still await the answer to the question often posed but never answered; if this is an alleged partnership of equals, how can this alleged partner extricate themselves?
Not that the breath is being held.