Middle Class Myopia

I had a small flash of insight about myself this past weekend, one which I'd always subconsciously known but for some curious reason could never bring myself to outwardly acknowledge.

I'm a socialist.

Just saying those three words out loud was oddly revelatory, yet it's always been obvious to me that that's exactly where my political beliefs lie. I've always been abhorred by the greed and selfishness of conservative politics and believed that a society should care for its most vulnerable. What's the point of civilisation if it can't do something as basic as that? Yet despite the fact that I knew where my politics lay, I had never until a few days ago applied to myself the label “socialist”. Something prevented me from uttering a simple word.

No doubt, my familial background is largely responsible. I do not come from labour (the party formerly known as socialist) supporting stock – at least not that I know of. In fact, my maternal grandmother was as staunch a conservative and unionist as you would ever be likely to meet, who worshipped Margaret Thatcher unreservedly. In the eighties I was too young and mostly disinterested to get involved with any political discussion if it arose at my grandmother's home, but it was likely a test of endurance for my nationalist father. It is from him that I inherited my support of the SNP - not identified with socialism either - both then or now. Most likely that's where my avoidance so far of the term lies. I can thank the referendum debate for giving me a better awareness of who I really am. And that awareness includes one other thing: embarrassment and frustration directed at an element of the middle classes of Scotland, a layer of society of which I'm part.

There's no doubt in my mind that somewhere-in-the-middle is the social strata to which I belong. Both myself and my partner have good, well-paying jobs. We have a car and a nice home. If we want a new appliance, a blu-ray player or the latest iPhone, we buy it. If we want to eat out or a weekend break away, we do it. It was not always so comfortable for either of us, but we've always had a good standard of living. We've never known poverty, hunger or cold. Not yet, and hopefully not ever.

But there's nothing quite like the diagnosis of a degenerative illness like multiple sclerosis to give a new perspective on life. The prospect of losing everyday abilities that have always been taken for granted, and with them your ability to work and support your family, gives new insight into the fragility and precariousness of middle-class life. When given first-hand experience of how the ground beneath your feet can give way so quickly and easily, what is gained is a greater understanding and appreciation of the social safety net and welfare systems we enjoy, like the vital services of the NHS and of disability benefits and assistance. It also gives a greater urgency and determination to protect them from the raptors of the right-wing, like the kind now infesting Westminster. So when I hear cries of “if it ain't broke don't fix it”, or the even more self-centred and myopic “we're doing okay”, my hackles rise.

That middle-class mantra of “I'm alright Jack” is one that has cropped up in a number of conversations I've had during the independence debate. There are some out there who refuse to see the referendum in nothing more than what's in it for them, never mind the vast numbers of their countrymen and women whose lives could be transformed by the simple placement of an X. There are those whose heads are buried in the sand of soap opera, taking their news solely from the BBC or the Murdoch press, not realising that these institutions' mission is to tell them what to think, not to inform. Making the effort to spend two hours with the Wee Blue Book or googling for widely-available facts is not worth missing the banal anaesthesia of the One Show for. I realise these words are almost certainly pointless, because it's obvious that those to whom they apply will never see them. Nevertheless, what I'd say to that somnolent section of society is this: the risks of independence are now greatly outweighed by the risks of Westminster government.

The UK is now governed by parties who are wholly subscribed to a neoliberal agenda of corporatism, war-for-profit and suppression of public freedoms. This has been the case for many years, but the difference of the past decade or so has been their lack of concern when it comes to concealing it. The reason for that may well be desperation – western governments are all too aware that we're moving into an era of global resource expense and scarcity, one in which they will need to compete harder and more ruthlessly for the planet's dwindling supply of high-grade fuels and minerals - the nutritious feedstock for our rapacious consumer economy. That same desperation is causing the elites that invariably comprise these governments to accelerate the hoarding of wealth, imposing austerity to claim a larger share of a diminishing pie for themselves. The poor and vulnerable are feeling it first, always the weakest and least troublesome prey, but the middle-classes are next in line. Their evisceration began soon after the crash of 2008 and can and will intensify as further economic shocks ensue. Leaving Scotland in the hands of such a government is taking a terrible risk.

The opportunity to vote peacefully for independence is unparalleled. For it to occur now, at the very moment in history when the need for a fresh start can be no more urgent and necessary, is more remarkable than many perhaps realise. To reject it would be foolhardy beyond words and at our utter peril. Independence will not solve every problem, and we will have to work harder than we yet know in an uncertain, leaner future, but the path most western governments are choosing – the path of last man standing – is a path to eventual ruin. We need a rethink. We need to scrap the me-first consumer culture we're wallowing in and begin again based on community resilience and sharing. Scotland has a well-practised history of socialistic thinking. Time to dust it off and unleash its full potential. Not just for us, but just maybe to inspire a world hungry for a new way of living.

Oh, and to grandma. Our politics may have always been at odds, but you were the best ever. Rest in peace.