Manhandling Britannia

IN THE chilly wee hours of referendum night, George Square in Glasgow presented a dissolute scene. Slumped against its Victorian monuments were gaggles of puffy-faced separatists, looking crushed and exhausted, after a night of Bacchanalia and disappointment. Yet one displayed, on a placard attached to his bicycle, a new slogan: “Glasgow said aye”. In that lonely protest, your columnist saw encapsulated one of the two big lessons of the independence referendum, both of which, it appeared, in a wretchedly cynical constitutional debate on October 14th, British political leaders have ignored.

The lesson was that, given a stark choice, clear message and efforts to engage a broad sweep of society, which the separatist “Yes” side had shown, Britain’s jaded democracy can be reinvigorated. The high levels of engagement and civic pride evident in the campaigns and 85% turnout had shown this; so did that lonely slogan, raised amid the squalor of defeat. And because that enthusiasm was mainly for secession, which made for a close contest, this suggested the other important truth: a belated realisation of where the costs and benefits of the union lie.

It was evident in a last-ditch pledge from David Cameron, the Conservative prime minister, and his unionist confrères, Ed Miliband, leader of the Labour Party, and the Liberal Democrats’ Nick Clegg, to provide more powers to Scotland’s devolved government if the union endured. Though Scotland’s future was a matter for Scots to decide, the leaders implied, separation would be so damaging for the rest of the United Kingdom that it must make compromises to keep the separatists on side. The details of the bargain were contestable; it was a shame they promised to continue Scotland’s outsized share of public spending. Yet the principle that the majority must, for its own sake, go out of its way to accommodate a disgruntled minority was sound. These were the lessons of a vote which showed the union to be more precarious than anyone had realised. If the unionist parties heed them, it would be strengthened; yet it seems that is not their intention.

Within an hour of the referendum result, standing outside 10 Downing Street, Mr Cameron declared that Scotland’s promised new powers must be delivered “in tandem” with similar change for England. He referred to a longstanding anomaly, the so-called “West Lothian Question”, by which Scottish MPs vote in Westminster on policies which do not pertain to Scots, because the issues concerned, for example health and education, have been devolved to their own parliament. English voters are therefore at a disadvantage, especially, as happens occasionally, when the votes of Scottish MPs prove decisive. Further devolution to Scotland, as Mr Cameron said, will make this question more pressing. But he was playing a cynical game, which gave an impression, not lost on Scottish nationalists, that he might renege on his promise to Scotland if he did not get his way on England. It was obviously designed to embarrass his Labour rivals, who, having many Scottish MPs, unlike the Tories, are anxious to prevent their powers being downgraded.

Laying out the Tory case for change in Parliament this week, William Hague, a Tory grandee who is charged with devising the new constitutional settlement, rejected “from the outset the idea that fairness for England is disruptive or dangerous for the United Kingdom.” Yet if “fairness” means equivalence, as Mr Hague suggested, and many Tory MPs say, he is wrong. That logic leads inexorably to the creation of an English Parliament, which would render the Westminster Parliament almost redundant, thereby sideline Scottish voters, and make the break up of Britain merely a matter of time.

There are milder options, including the so-called “double majority” proposal favoured by this newspaper, which would give English MPs a right to rewrite or veto draft legislation on English issues. But even that is not nearly as straightforward as the Tories make out. It carries a risk of deadlock between English Tory MPs and a Labour government. And all this for the sake of an issue which, though in need of remedy, sooner or later, is much less bothersome to English voters than Mr Hague made out. In response, Labour MPs made these objections and more—yet without dispelling an impression that they would do anything to ignore the problem altogether. Despite the clear lessons of the referendum, in short, this was a display of party politics at its narrowest. It was a face-off between two rival sorts of elite self-interest largely removed from public opinion.

A fun way to wreck the union

There is a long tradition of such politicking. It is how Britain’s “living constitution”, in Walter Bagehot’s phrase, has emerged, through parliamentary grandstanding and contestation, and the process has provided good sport for those concerned. The trouble is how dramatically British voters now disapprove of such political games, which is why Mr Cameron’s latest effort to do a number on his opponents may not be quite as popular as he thinks. Indeed, the Scottish separatists’ ability to harness that anti-establishment sentiment was another reason for their success. It is therefore especially unwise that Mr Cameron’s gambit shows such little concern for the creaking state of a union which it appears a majority of Scottish voters aged under 55 voted to quit.

If Mr Cameron truly wants to address the righteous grievance of English voters without jeopardising the union, he must issue plans for a grander deliberation in the form of a constitutional convention. That would shed light on other anomalies—including an electoral system that gives the Tories only one of Scotland’s 59 seats for their 20% of its vote—whose unpicking could provide better representation, less problematically. It would also, after the example of the Scottish referendum campaign, involve wider participation. For sure, it could be cumbersome. Yet the issue is serious; and this is no time for games.