Let’s put 2014 and all the back-and-forth since to one side for a moment and hit the reset button. Imagine we are all sitting down to negotiate the union: A union that doesn’t yet exist.
Whether you’re a resident of Scotland, England, Wales, or Northern Ireland, can you honestly tell me that you would look at what the United Kingdom offers today and sign on that dotted line?
Sign up for a union where a government, elected by a minority, repeatedly imposes policies on its constituent nations, even where they’ve been resoundingly rejected?
A union where the whim of the leader, elected through a broken and disproportional voting system, can crash the economy, enable human rights breaches in our name, or balance their books by snatching the money that keeps pensioners warm in winter?
This isn’t just a hypothetical game for me; it’s a reality I’ve come to understand in the decade since I left school at lunchtime to campaign in the referendum for Scottish independence.
I wasn’t born into politics; I was a young campaigner, driven by a passion for fairness and a desire to make a difference.
From a young age, I volunteered for animal welfare charities, served as a youth ambassador in mental health, and was determined to use my experience of homelessness to change the system and prevent others from going through that trauma.
I always believed in the power of community and in speaking up for what’s right. But I never saw myself as a politician or acknowledged that the things I cared about were qualifications to be one.
The referendum changed that. For the first time, I saw a path to a better Scotland, one where my voice – and the voices of people like me – mattered.
My strong sense of social justice led me to a corresponding sense that this justice is not served – perhaps can never be served – in the current political union.
Since then, I’ve campaigned annually for local candidates, against Brexit, for better social security, and been a part of an SNP group in Holyrood – and then a Scottish Government – which implements policies that make a real difference to this country, from a Scottish Child Payment that lifts bairns out of poverty to nationalising the rail services and scrapping peak time fares.
But time and time again, I watch helplessly as progress is constrained by a system that is not designed for Scotland to have an equal say.
The question of independence is not just about ideology – this is evident solely by looking at my own party: An incredibly broad church, with the constitution the only common theme.
The question of independence is about asking if we can build a better country, or even a country fit to function in an ever-changing world, if we are tethered to a Westminster model that’s been failing for decades if not centuries.
We’re constantly promised “change” by London parties, but that change is simply a new red or blue coat of paint on a crumbling wall; often, a coat of paint that around two-thirds of voters can’t stand to look at.
It’s not just about whether Scotland can be independent – though, of course, we could. It’s about whether the UK can serve the needs of its nations. The answer, from where I’m standing, is a resounding “no”.
To those across the UK who see the same problems we do, I ask you to consider what you would do if you had the chance to build a better future from scratch.
Not try new tactics in a game where the cards are stacked. Not suffer in silence. Not hope that one party, given five years, can untangle an intricate and ingrained establishment web. A real opportunity.
For Scotland, that opportunity is independence. All we need the rest of the UK to do is recognise that we have a right to choose to take it.
Featured image via richardjohnson / Shutterstock.
