The day has dawned and the decision is in the process of being made. This time tomorrow, the sun will have risen on a reborn nation, or it will have set on the hopes of millions of Scots, those who were at home to vote, and those who have been disenfranchised, through being forced to leave their homeland to support their families elsewhere. My friend Fred in Sydney is one such; right now his fingers are crossed as tightly as mine.
What has happened in the last few weeks and months? From my perspective I have witnessed a campaign by Better Together that has demonstrated conclusively that we are not.
It has offered everything to the Haves and nothing to the Have Nots. As its campaign unravelled it has been forced to call in support from so called big hitters from London, the three party leaders setting out a ‘Vow’ which was, in effect a shoddy attempt to bribe us with our own money, and did not survive a single morning’s scrutiny.
It did all this to the accompaniment of the most venal and despicable media coverage that I have ever seen in a lifetime of watching political journalists at work. Better Together has relied on the support of such people as the unfortunate Melanie Reid, who called us ‘Spoiled selfish childlike fools,’ in Murdoch’s Times, and the pathetic Simon Heffer who advised the few Scottish voters who read the Spectator that we are ‘addicted to welfare’ and that we ‘embrace the something for nothing society’.
With their army of shoddy hacks behind them Better Together has intimidated the elderly, provoked otherwise sensible Scots into moving their money, pointlessly, from one bank to another, and has ignored the poor and deprived altogether.
That’s how I see the campaign for the retention of the political union between Scotland and England . . . never forget the kingdoms will still be united, under the Crown, with Scotland a strong and active member of the Commonwealth.
How do I see the Yes campaign?
We’ve won the argument beyond doubt, and shown that the many Scots who live in poverty today have only one champion. We’ll know tomorrow whether we’ve won the vote and whether they have a chance of a better future.
The only thing I know for sure, right now, is that when I crossed that Yes box on my ballot paper, I did so unafraid for my own future, even though I am a man Darling’s people tried to target on two fronts, age and affluence.
I did so to fulfil my lifelong dream of presenting a Scottish passport to border control officers around the world, but much more than that, I did so because I believe that without independence Scotland faces a continuation of the economic and social decline that has been imposed on us by a parliament controlled by our unloved neighbour from the earliest days of the union that we now seek to dissolve.
I’ve done my part, now it’s up to you, if you have a vote and have yet to cast it. When you do let your cross go in the box marked ‘Hope’, not in the other, marked ‘Fear’. And this too; when you stand there in the privacy of the voting booth, consider the definition of faith, and then show some.
I thought I had blogged my last blog of this campaign, but I hadn’t reckoned with Nigel Farage, who has just linked arms with Alastair Darling, the hitherto silent man of the last seven days to accuse Alex Salmond of inciting riots. Let’s leave aside the effrontery of a man who leads an Independence party intervening in another nation’s Independence debate on the side of those who would keep us bound together. Let’s look at the man himself; what is Farage but a cheap single issue politician, a creep with an eye for the main chance. Of all the English politicians who have stuck their noses uninvited into a Scottish national debate he is the least important, and yet at the same time, the most reviled. He is a charlatan and we want no part of him. Have I made myself clear?
Before you vote, before you buy another newspaper, read this:
A few years ago, Eileen and I flew into Prestwick Airport. We had decided to take the train for the rest of the journey and so we crossed the bridge to the dedicated railway station that is Prestwick’s only advantage as an air terminal, unless you count the Elvis Presley Bar.
There were four other people on the platform, lads, mid teens, with a couple of bottles of Buckfast to share between them. They were loud, and obscene at times, but at least they were not aggressive. More people arrived, several non-Scots among them, then so did the train and we all got on. The boys didn’t make it past the next station; as soon as we stopped there the conductor ran from a coach at the rear to the one they were in, and chucked them off.
‘Lovely,’ I thought at the time. ‘What a welcome to Scotland for all these tourists.’
Today, I think the same, but more deeply. What do those visitors think of a society, I wonder, that abandons its youth to afternoons of joyriding on trains and sucking fortified wine from the neck of a bottle? What indeed?
Those boys aren’t the problem. We are.
Four years ago, Peter Mullen, the hugely talented Scottish actor and director, made a film called ‘Neds'; it told a story of youth gangs in Glasgow and of one boy’s route to escape from that culture. It was by any standards one of the movies of the year. It won Best Film in January 2011 at the San Sebastian Festival, and was praised at every foreign event where it was screened. Yet when the BAFTAs came around, the luvvies in London ignored it completely.
I believe that they did so because it scared them more than a little, by scratching at a truth that they found unpalatable.
There have been Neds in Glasgow for two hundred years, an underclass of kids that society has ignored until they’ve become a problem by getting above themselves. Come that time the traditional approach has been heavy-handed policing and a stretch in Borstal or the YOI.
No government has ever taken responsibility for them, or cared about them, a fact that condemns them all . . . and us for we’ve gone on electing the sods.
Neds are what they are because of the social conditions in which they grow. It’s the only culture they know and so they take a perverse pride in it. Those boys on the train were a prime example, and as Peter Mullen’s film pointed out, the problem is getting worse.
Neds are what they are because for the last two centuries, no London government has give a damn about them.
For decades Scotland was left to fend for itself, yet denied the resources to do so. We had, we were told, our own legal system and our own education system. What more could we want? Control of our destiny, perhaps, and maybe also some parliamentary time for the legislation necessary to maintain those institutions.
But it never happened, and the blight of youth deprivation in Glasgow, and in other cities no doubt, persisted until after a while we became blind to it. Some who read this might blame the local authorities, but what could they do, save control the problem? Job creation was never one of Glasgow Corporation’s functions, any more than Chief Constable Sir Percy Sillitoe was a social worker.
No-one has ever cared for those kids . . . until now. A Yes vote won’t see them handed free passes to paradise, but it will deliver power into the hands of people who care about their plight.
Today we stand on the edge of history. Tomorrow Scotland votes for its future. We’re all exhausted by the campaign, even those of us who have watched the last couple of weeks from another country, quietly relieved that we weren’t able to join those who protested against the likes of that idiot Ed Miliband’s, ill-conceived, ill-advised and ill-timed attempt at a triumphal progress though the St James Shopping Centre.
I have listened to the debate for the last eternity. I have absorbed all the negativity that Better Together has thrown at us, all the bluster, and all the threats. I have noted too that all of them are aimed at one target group of voters; the comfortably off, the well-to-do, the rich and the downright wealthy.
They have been bullied, browbeaten and bullshat, into believing that if they vote Yes, they will suddenly be impoverished, rather than be members of a newly liberated and prosperous society, with the freedom to set its own economic and social agendas to replace those of Westminster which have failed Scotland so lamentably, and with access to the riches that have been denied us for forty years and more.
Among all that Darling rhetoric, I have not heard a single word that addressed the rest of our society. The elderly have been told that their pensions will be under threat, when the opposite is true. The young? They have been told nothing meaningful at all.
It is crystal clear that if Scotland votes status quo, that is what we will get. The rich will get richer, until the next Westminster induced financial crisis, or until Europhobic England drags Euro-friendly Scotland out of the EU.
The poor will get what they’ve always had from London: f*ck all.
Will that happen? This morning Betfair are saying that it will. But I’ll wager that there is one element they have forgotten to factor into their calculations.
This time, the neds can vote: and Peter Mullen’s film may well drive them to the polling stations. God, I hope so.
I read this morning that Betfair, one of the innumerable online betting organisations that seem to be underwriting Sky Sports these days, has paid out 48 hours early on a No vote success. I can’t think of a single good reason why it should do that, save one. It may be taking a gamble itself, in the hope of encouraging a rush of ‘Yes’ bets in the last two days before the result is known.
If that is the case I look forward to seeing Betfair stuffed twice over.
There’s a song that Eileen likes to sing to the grandchildren: ‘Clap hands for Daddy coming doon the wagon way, pockets full of money and his boots all clay.’ The days Daddy is quite likely to have his mobile in his hand, gambling that money away on the next yellow card in the Newcastle game, or some such.
Online gambling is a cancer on modern society, yet Westminster seems to have no interest in controlling it. I predict that an independent Scottish government will take a firmer line.
Ah! Becks wants us to vote No. And if the Yes manifesto had offered tax breaks to retired footballers . . ?
So what are these ‘new powers’, that are trailed by our three ‘leaders’ on the front page of this morning’s Daily Record?
Actually, not a lot; the only specific pledge I can nail down is the continuation of the Barnett Formula, which is actually hated by many Scots. There will be increased tax-raising powers, and there is a guarantee that all decisions affecting NHS Scotland will be taken in Scotland. That situation exists already, so the trio are simply promising not to break their word.
There is some surprise that this ‘Pledge’ has been made on the eve of the poll. There shouldn’t be; the timing is set to leave as little time possible to lay the glaring flaws in the document open for debate.
Will Scotland be able to set its own rate of Corporation Tax? No.
Will Scotland set its own rate of VAT? No.
Will the rate of excise duty in Scotland be set in Scotland? No.
Will Scotland have its own benefit system? No.
Will Scotland leave the EU when the Europhobic English majority votes to take us out? Yes.
Will the nukes remain in Faslane? Yes.
Forget the window dressing. The truth is that our economic policy will continue to be driven by Westminster, we will have no control over the fuel costs that are a great burden on the remote and island areas of Scotland, and the defence and foreign policies that are anathema to many of us will continue to be those of Thatcher, Blair and Cameron.
The truth is that the ‘Pledge’ unveiled this morning is a sham, a bribe to potential No voters. The daftest thing of all is that any money on offer is ours already. These are three desperate men.