Bulmer A Constitution for the Common Good

Strengthening Scottish Democracy After 2014
1. Auflage 2024
ISBN: 978-1-910324-33-2
Verlag: Luath Press
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Band 0, 220 Seiten

Reihe: Viewpoints

If Scotland has voted YES on 18 September, how can a written Constitution be good for the people of Scotland? If Scotland has voted NO, how could a new Constitution protect and enhance Scottish democracy within a restructured UK? Whether YES or NO, a reconstituted Scotland is possible and good for all its citizens. Nearly every democracy in the world is built upon a written constitution, and constitutions have been at the core of citizens' demands for better governance in places as disparate as Kenya, Tunisia and Ukraine. With the Scottish National Party promising a written constitution in the event of a YES vote and other parties suggesting other possible options for constitutional change in the event of a NO vote, constitutional change looks certain to remain central to the political agenda in Scotland for some time to come. But what is a constitution for? Is it a defensive charter to protect the basic structures of democratic government, or is it a transformative covenant for a better society? How can the Constitution sustain democracy and promote ethical politics while at the same time recognising and accommodating differences in society? What difference would a good Constitution make to the poor? How can the Constitution help ensure that the common good of the citizenry prevails over private vested interests? In addressing these questions, this book sets out a vision for how Scotland could reconstitute itself. It emphasises the connection between the constitution, democracy and the common good, arguing that democratic self-government is the true prize, regardless of the relationship of Scotland to the rest of the UK. This book not only makes a vital contribution to Scotland's current and on-going constitutional debate, whatever the outcome in September 2014, but also engages with fundamental questions of constitutionalism and democracy that are of enduring relevance to both citizens and scholars around the world.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Bulmer, W Elliot

Leseproben

CHAPTER ONE

Does the Constitution still matter?

SCOTLAND IS CAUGHT between two conversations. One concerns Scotland’s constitutional future, its institutions of government and its relationship to the rest of the United Kingdom. The other is a conversation about poverty, inequality and social justice, land reform and environmental protection, wages, working conditions and public services.

The London-based parties and their allied interests in Scotland have long tried to present these as separate, unrelated and perhaps even contradictory debates. Seeking autonomy or independence for Scotland was, according to the leaders of the Labour Party, a distraction from ‘real issues’. This should come as no surprise. The Labour Party, despite occasional flirtations with devolution, has never felt comfortable with constitutional radicalism.a It has long had a ‘Tory’ streak within it, which has quite uncritically defended the traditional top-down institutions of the United Kingdom.b

However, the broad Yes alliance that arose during the independence referendum campaign started to connect the dots between these conversations. The SNP, the Yes Campaign, the Radical Independence Campaign, the Scottish Green Party, Labour for Independence, Nordic Horizons, National Collective, Women for Independence, the Reid Foundation and Common Wealc all recognised that policy and state structure were closely connected. These organisations appreciate that the constitutional structures of the state determine who has power, how they handle that power, to whom they are accountable, and, therefore, how the state will respond, in policy terms, to people’s needs. ‘Real issues’ can only be addressed if we have real powers under the control of a real democracy.

Piecing these two conversations together, it appears that the unjust, short-sighted, elitist, London-centric policy outcomes of the UK are related to, and at least in part are a direct consequence of, its decrepit, ramshackle, unbalanced and oligarchic political structure. In an article in The Herald in 2013, I wrote:

The electoral system for the House of Commons is unrepresentative, the composition of the House of Lords is indefensible, the powers of the Crown are excessive, secretive and unaccountable, rights are fragile, and privileges rife. There is a direct connection between allowing rulers to make up the rules as they go along and the failure of the UK state to serve the common good. The banking crisis, the expenses scandal, phone hacking, illegal surveillance, persistent unemployment and wage cuts, rising inequality, corporate lobbying, and the destruction of public infrastructure and services – all point to a state that has fallen into the hands of an unchecked oligarchy, bound by its own self-interest.3

Moreover, many have recognised that the process of making decisions – whose voices are included, and how they are listened to – can influence not only what decisions are taken (eg whether the local library is kept open as a public service or sold off to a developer for conversion into flats), but also the social and psychological effect of those decisions (eg whether the library really belongs to the local community, because ‘we’ built or saved it for ourselves and future generations, through institutions of local democracy that are participatory and close to the people, or whether it belongs to a distant, impersonal bureaucracy).a

It follows that the delivery of more socially just outcomes must begin with a revival and deepening of democracy. As Thomas Paine recognised, good Constitutions are known by their fruits:

When it shall be said in any country in the world, my poor are happy; neither ignorance nor distress is to be found among them; my jails are empty of prisoners, my streets of beggars; the aged are not in want, the taxes are not oppressive; the rational world is my friend, because I am a friend of its happiness. When these things can be said, then may the country boast of its constitution and its government.4

Those who expect the United Kingdom to start delivering progressive policies, if only there were a new Prime Minister in 10 Downing Street, are expecting a bad tree to bring forth good fruit: they are expecting an oligarchic system to behave and to deliver like a good democracy should. But that cannot and will not happen.5 Oligarchy does as oligarchy is: it brings forth rotten policies and rotten behaviour from its rotten nature. To enjoy good fruit, in policy terms, we do not need a new government, but a new state: not another rotten fruit from the same corrupt tree, but a new tree. Whether that tree is a Scots pine or British oak is to some extent a secondary issue, so long as it is a good tree and firmly rooted in a robust constitutional order.

Of course, the benefits of a good Constitution are indirect and instrumental, just as the inedible root of a tree leads only indirectly to the fruit. Even the best Constitution cannot pave a cycle lane or repair a bridge, manage a clinic or administer a vaccine, educate a child or take care of an elderly person. The Constitution, however, can uphold a democratic order that enables us to make our own decisions and to develop policies that serve the common good, while protecting human rights, promoting public accountability, and guarding against corruption. The Constitution ensures that those in charge of formulating policies, administering the state, enforcing the law, and delivering services, are not a self-selecting, self-perpetuating, self-serving ‘parcel o’ rogues’, but the democratically responsible agents of a free and self-governing people. It is with this in mind that the need for, and purposes of, a Constitution must be understood.

i Independence, Democracy and the Constitution

Economic inequality has returned to levels not seen since before the Second World War. One in five children live in poverty.6 Many suffer from a ‘low-wage, long hours’ economy, with all that means for stress, health, diet and a relatively low quality of life. Austerity policies cut deep into the social fabric, causing a surge in dependence on food banks.a But for all that, life in Scotland could be much worse. We have running water and reliable electricity: no civil war, no ethnic riots, no masked men with AK47S extorting money at roadblocks. Some – perhaps even the majority – are lucky enough to have a decent job, a nice house and a pension fund that is worth a bit. As long as you are not old, young, poor, or disabled, you can enjoy a quality of life not too far from the European average.

Likewise, our democracy might be substandard compared to other Northern and Western European countries. Our constitutional arrangements might be absurd. The United Kingdom – under whichever party that happens to be in power at Westminster – might be ruled by institutions that are distant, exclusive, secretive, oligarchic, increasingly corrupt, often incompetent, belligerent, and contemptuous of Scotland’s aspirations. The Scottish Parliament might hold its powers only at the grace and favour of another Parliament, which is barely representative, contains more nominated lords than elected representatives, and is in large part paid for by the private healthcare and fracking industries,7 but at least there are no gulags, coups, purges or show trials. Government agents never (‘well, hardly ever!’) raid newspaper offices to cover up their misdeeds.8 As long as you are not a radical Muslim, an investigative journalist, or a peacenik environmentalist at a protest march, you will be safe enough.

The Yes campaign claimed that independence would transform Scotland, resulting in a more balanced and prosperous economy, better public services and a higher quality of life for ordinary people. However, simply leaving the United Kingdom would not, in and of itself, guarantee much improvement. An independent Scottish Government would have more control over its own resources and policies but, equally, such fragile blessings as we now enjoy could be lost if an independent Scotland, like many other newly-independent countries before it, were to descend into chaos, ethnic strife, instability or dictatorship, leaving the country bankrupt and isolated. It is easy to see why opponents of independence took the view that the potential rewards of independence were not worth the risks. They were being asked to give up that which they knew for something that seemed to offer little automatic benefit and some risk of serious systemic failure.

Once the symbolism and the emotive appeals to history, identity or nationhood are removed from both sides, the pragmatic case for independence rests on the argument that a Scottish state would better serve the people of Scotland than the United Kingdom has done. All the haivering about policies, currencies, embassies, oil, and whether Scotland would have a few million more or less in the treasury from day one of independence, was – and remains – ultimately irrelevant compared to the key question: whether the institutions of an independent Scotland would be better or worse than those of Scotland in the United Kingdom. If an independent Scotland were to represent the interests of the people of Scotland, protect their rights, and serve the common good through democratic processes, then the people would flourish and prosper, not only economically but also in terms of ethos, culture and character. If, on the other hand, Scotland were to squander resources on vanity projects; if a small, self-gratifying...