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.