It was an archetypal piece of SNP mischief. Downing Street had been plotting to keep Nicola Sturgeon out of COP26, the climate change summit taking place in Glasgow this November. No 10 advisers said they wanted to prevent the first minister from using it “as an advert for independence.”
So what did Sturgeon do at her virtual party conference? She announced Scotland would pay for the Conference of Youth, the COP meeting that “gives young people a voice in the climate negotiations.” This is usually funded by the host government, but Sturgeon said Boris Johnson had refused to put his hand in his pocket. Now here came the SNP to save the day.
In her seven years as leader, Sturgeon has learned there are more and less effective ways to sell independence. You can keep proselytising about the need for more powers; but this risks turning as many people off as on. Or, instead of griping, you can focus on the opportunities and choose to “show not tell” what an independent Scotland might do differently. The power of “show not tell” has been reinforced during the pandemic, when the simple act of governing more competently than Johnson saw Sturgeon’s approval ratings and support for independence soar.
With this in mind, Sturgeon used her conference speech to highlight the many ways in which the values of her government demonstrably differ from those of its UK counterpart.
She pointed out that, while home secretary Priti Patel planned to turn boat-loads of migrants back to France, the SNP had given refugees the vote; while Johnson was penalising the young and low paid with a National Insurance hike, the Scottish government was taxing higher earners more; while the UK government was about to cut Universal Credit, the Scottish government had introduced a Scottish Child Payment for struggling families. With her Conference of Youth funding announcement, she also implied the Scottish government was more invested in the future of the planet.
Johnson has made it easy for Sturgeon to present Scotland as more socially equitable than England. But her approach is not only about positioning the SNP in opposition to the Tories, but also about positioning the “new” SNP in opposition to the old. This new SNP favours Sturgeon’s relatability over her predecessor Alex Salmond’s bombast; renewable energy over oil; and health alongside GDP as a measure of the country’s wellbeing. Meanwhile, over at the Alba Party conference (timed to coincide with that of Salmond’s former and now rival party) members were railing against the Gender Reform Act (GRA) just as Sturgeon has pledged to push it through. The GRA would make it easier for trans people to legally change gender, but some critics fear it threatens women-only spaces. There was also the SNP’s newly-established collaboration with the Scottish Greens to trumpet. The narrative was clear: today’s SNP is young and progressive. It is a party of the future.
But when you hold this narrative up to the light, cracks start to appear. The SNP has ambitious climate targets—it aims to make Scotland net zero by 2045—but how that is to be achieved remains unclear. Days before the conference, the party faced embarrassment when it admitted it had dropped plans for a publicly owned not-for-profit energy company, opting instead to create “a new dedicated national public energy agency.”
The Scottish government has used its devolved powers to make income tax more progressive. Yet not only has it failed to deliver on its promise to replace the regressive local council tax, it froze the rates, forcing local authorities to cut services. For all the SNP’s commitment to social justice, figures from last year show that the death rate (from all causes) in the most deprived areas of the country was almost double that of the least deprived areas. Meanwhile, the culture war around the GRA continues to divide the party and the wider independence movement.
And so to the constitution. With a united pro-independence majority at Holyrood creating a mandate for a second referendum—not to mention a growing frustration in some quarters with the pace of progress—the SNP leader was duty-bound to reassure supporters a plebiscite was in sight.
At the Alba conference, Salmond mocked what he called indyref “groundhog day.” At the SNP’s, Sturgeon proffered lines that have kept loyal supporters hanging on since 2016, when the vote to leave the EU provided “a material change in circumstance.” Hold tight. It is coming. Covid-permitting, there will be a new indyref by the end of 2023, she promised this time—and a legal one at that, not a Catalonia-style wildcat vote.
Yet few people have faith in the timescale. There is, as yet, no plan for forcing Johnson to consent, other than the hope he will yield to democratic pressure. This seems optimistic, given Downing Street rebuffed Sturgeon’s plea for co-operation before she had even finished speaking. There is also a vagueness on key issues, such as currency and the border with England, and—contrary to Sturgeon’s promise of a detailed prospectus—no sense they are being urgently addressed.
Perhaps this is because most recent polls have shown support for independence dipping below 50 per cent. A referendum in such circumstances is a risk for a party that does not want to relinquish power.
And so—despite the SNP’s success in the May elections, a pro-independence majority at Holyrood and an upbeat four days—the phoney referendum debate looks set to continue. Next year’s conference may be déjà vu all over again.
