So how do you tell your daughter, heartbroken by defeat, that
there may be more important things in life than Scottish
nationalism?
How do you tell her that the elusive grail of independence has
driven men who have come and gone before her half mad
and into early graves? That marriage and children and family
and faith, if these are what she chooses, may be more
fundamental to her happiness than whether this miserable
and hapless and perfidious wee sod can arrange and run its
own affairs? The answer is: you can't.
Not after 48 hours in which she and her new friend Sarah,
the one that could probably talk Nigel Farage to a standstill,
reached out to something like half of Glasgow behind a
rudimentary stall on Buchanan Street, entreating and
persuading their fellow citizens to vote yes for the chance of a
fairer future.
Clare is inconsolable, and I try to recall if this was how I felt
when Margaret Thatcher won a devastating second term in
1983 after I had spent weeks canvassing for Labour or when
the miners were finally brought low by a sustained assault by
the entire British establishment in 1984.
"I just can't believe it," she said on the morning after the
night before in which she had no sleep and lots of talk about
recrimination and deceit. "I really thought we were going to
do it." And soon the words are tumbling out in a torrent of
anger and frustration at having to live in a world that moves
to a different rhythm than you.
"I cannot believe so many people voted against their own
independence. I mean, why would you do that? The world
must be laughing at us right now: the only country who
refused a chance embraced by all others. But I was proud of
the campaign and I was so proud of Glasgow and being
Glaswegian.
"And what about Alex Salmond's speech? He is just brilliant. I
was crying my heart out. Not like that Alistair Darling, all
gloating and smirking.
"Dad, Labour are finished now, you can't vote for that party
ever again – nobody in our family better had again. They
betrayed every one of their own principles, they should all be
hanging their heads in shame this morning, not celebrating,"
she said, echoing sentiments being espoused in tens of
thousands of households all over the west of Scotland.
"Just you wait and see, you're all complacent about Ukip and
the rightwing in this country. So many on the side of the rich
and the powerful must have been cheering themselves hoarse
about the no vote and there were Labour people, our very
own, cheering and dancing with them. Well, I hope they're
pleased with themselves. I don't think I would want to raise
my children in a country that allowed Ukip into government,
but they're already talking about it."
And then this from Sarah: "This society has become obsessed
with celebrity culture and money. I honestly think that the
reason why the BBC, an arm of government, puts on Strictly is
to deliberately dumb down the people and reduce their
critical faculties and expectations."
Perhaps politics really is important or perhaps it's just that it
has become so again. Was the real significance of what has
unfolded these last two years or so simply being translated
into this, a young woman's litany of disappointment?
Many thousands of young people had engaged with a process
that was about helping others and reaching out to their fellow
citizens.
The yes campaign maintained a sense of verve, excitement
and drama that was largely supplied by young Scots who had
previously been left unimpressed by the normal methods of
party politics.
Sure, all the old footsoldiers of nationalism did their bit,
visiting houses, handing out leaflets, but there was a fresh
sense of unbounded optimism; of we-can-achieve-anything,
and it was this that drove them to the outskirts of victory. By
contrast, more than 70% of Scotland's pensioners voted no,
fearful for their pensions and their end-of-life care.
In the course of this campaign a new generation of Scottish
nationalists has been conceived and born. Last word to Clare:
"Dad, I will campaign for an independent Scotland for the rest
of my life and so will all those other young people I've met in
the last year. I'm so gutted that we couldn't do it for us, but
even if I have to wait until I'm an OAP I'll do it again and this
time it'll be like a gift for my children and my
grandchildren."
there may be more important things in life than Scottish
nationalism?
How do you tell her that the elusive grail of independence has
driven men who have come and gone before her half mad
and into early graves? That marriage and children and family
and faith, if these are what she chooses, may be more
fundamental to her happiness than whether this miserable
and hapless and perfidious wee sod can arrange and run its
own affairs? The answer is: you can't.
Not after 48 hours in which she and her new friend Sarah,
the one that could probably talk Nigel Farage to a standstill,
reached out to something like half of Glasgow behind a
rudimentary stall on Buchanan Street, entreating and
persuading their fellow citizens to vote yes for the chance of a
fairer future.
Clare is inconsolable, and I try to recall if this was how I felt
when Margaret Thatcher won a devastating second term in
1983 after I had spent weeks canvassing for Labour or when
the miners were finally brought low by a sustained assault by
the entire British establishment in 1984.
"I just can't believe it," she said on the morning after the
night before in which she had no sleep and lots of talk about
recrimination and deceit. "I really thought we were going to
do it." And soon the words are tumbling out in a torrent of
anger and frustration at having to live in a world that moves
to a different rhythm than you.
"I cannot believe so many people voted against their own
independence. I mean, why would you do that? The world
must be laughing at us right now: the only country who
refused a chance embraced by all others. But I was proud of
the campaign and I was so proud of Glasgow and being
Glaswegian.
"And what about Alex Salmond's speech? He is just brilliant. I
was crying my heart out. Not like that Alistair Darling, all
gloating and smirking.
"Dad, Labour are finished now, you can't vote for that party
ever again – nobody in our family better had again. They
betrayed every one of their own principles, they should all be
hanging their heads in shame this morning, not celebrating,"
she said, echoing sentiments being espoused in tens of
thousands of households all over the west of Scotland.
"Just you wait and see, you're all complacent about Ukip and
the rightwing in this country. So many on the side of the rich
and the powerful must have been cheering themselves hoarse
about the no vote and there were Labour people, our very
own, cheering and dancing with them. Well, I hope they're
pleased with themselves. I don't think I would want to raise
my children in a country that allowed Ukip into government,
but they're already talking about it."
And then this from Sarah: "This society has become obsessed
with celebrity culture and money. I honestly think that the
reason why the BBC, an arm of government, puts on Strictly is
to deliberately dumb down the people and reduce their
critical faculties and expectations."
Perhaps politics really is important or perhaps it's just that it
has become so again. Was the real significance of what has
unfolded these last two years or so simply being translated
into this, a young woman's litany of disappointment?
Many thousands of young people had engaged with a process
that was about helping others and reaching out to their fellow
citizens.
The yes campaign maintained a sense of verve, excitement
and drama that was largely supplied by young Scots who had
previously been left unimpressed by the normal methods of
party politics.
Sure, all the old footsoldiers of nationalism did their bit,
visiting houses, handing out leaflets, but there was a fresh
sense of unbounded optimism; of we-can-achieve-anything,
and it was this that drove them to the outskirts of victory. By
contrast, more than 70% of Scotland's pensioners voted no,
fearful for their pensions and their end-of-life care.
In the course of this campaign a new generation of Scottish
nationalists has been conceived and born. Last word to Clare:
"Dad, I will campaign for an independent Scotland for the rest
of my life and so will all those other young people I've met in
the last year. I'm so gutted that we couldn't do it for us, but
even if I have to wait until I'm an OAP I'll do it again and this
time it'll be like a gift for my children and my
grandchildren."
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