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.

Every individual, every family, plays a part in creating our beautiful, complex, and tough communities.

A lot of this richness is lost if disabled people aren’t empowered to be part of those communities.

In the ongoing public discourse surrounding social security, there’s a troubling trend towards dehumanising those who rely on support. We hear terms like “benefit scroungers” or debates about the “cost of welfare,” which strip away the fundamental truth: Social security is about human rights.

It’s about ensuring everyone has the ability to live with dignity, to participate in society, and to have their basic needs met, particularly when facing the additional challenges of disability.

Too often, we hear from London MPs words like “burden” – a particularly harmful and inaccurate framing of disabled people in a region like ours, where mutual support and local engagement are cornerstones of life.

As an MSP for the Highlands and Islands, and as a disabled person myself, I know intimately the vital role that social security plays in countless lives. These payments are not handouts; they are often the difference between independence and isolation, between managing a condition to the point where you can play an active role in your community and succumbing to its worst impacts.

They cover essential costs like accessible transport, specialist equipment, or simply the increased energy bills that come with managing certain health conditions.

These payments are often what enables the countless disabled volunteers who dedicate their time and efforts to our local charities, community groups, even emergency services. They support our disabled artists, musicians, and storytellers – all crucial to our culture.

I’ve seen it first hand; disabled people who sit on local access panels, the Autism Rights Group Highland (ARGH) who campaign for better services and reduced stigma for everyone, and the community at L’Arche Highland which enriches the area beyond measure.

I’ve been inspired by the energy at events like the Highland Parasport Festival, where young disabled people are not only finding their stride in sport but also building confidence and community.

The recent discussions emanating from Westminster, hinting at substantial cuts to disability benefits, are deeply alarming. The narrative often pushed is one of reducing “the welfare bill” by forcing people “back to work.” This fundamentally misunderstands the purpose of disability benefits and demonises those who receive them.

Many disabled people are in work, or want to work, but face significant barriers and additional costs. Cutting their lifeline will not magically create accessible jobs or reduce the cost of living; it will only plunge more people into poverty and despair.

The SNP understands that, we are committed to a different path. Through Social Security Scotland, we are building a system rooted in the principle of dignity, fairness, and respect.

This means moving away from the hostile environment of the DWP, with its punitive assessments and endless appeals, towards one that recognises the expertise of lived experience and trusts individuals to know their own needs. Our Adult Disability Payment is a testament to this, providing a far more compassionate and understanding process.

We must challenge the dangerous rhetoric that seeks to divide us and stigmatise disabled people. Instead of focusing on “cuts,” we should be discussing how to make our society truly inclusive.

This includes investing in accessible infrastructure, promoting inclusive employment practices, and ensuring that healthcare and social care services are robust and responsive to need.

In the Highlands and Islands, we know the power of community. We recognise that our collective strength lies in the inclusion and empowerment of all citizens.

Investing in robust, dignified social security is not just about alleviating hardship or showing compassion for our neighbours; it’s about investing in the resilience, diversity, and future of our region. It’s about ensuring that disabled people continue to play their huge, irreplaceable part in the vibrant life of the Highlands and Islands.

Featured image via Ssisabal / Shutterstock.

But increasingly, we are also constantly fighting the symptoms of depopulation.  

Growing up here, I saw first-hand the struggle of young people and families to stay in the communities they love. Friends left for opportunities elsewhere, not because they wanted to, but because they felt that’s what they had to do – often spurred on by parents who repeated the myth that there are no opportunities here. 

As the former minister responsible for population issues, I know it’s a complex issue. But for me, knowing that there are endless exciting opportunities for young people in the Highlands and Islands, and believing it is fundamentally a great place to live, I always return to the same question: Are we building homes for people, or merely for profit?

Speculators and portfolio landlords drive up prices in places they know tourists will come, and very quickly, people who “just” want to live in the community can’t afford to. 

Once school rolls dwindle to mothballing levels, restaurants cut opening times during off-season, and public services start to cut back in the area in response to low use, the fight to restore a community becomes far more difficult.  

This isn’t some abstract demographic trend; it’s a lived reality that impacts every aspect of the places it is affecting.

Take for example, a small village on the Isle of Skye, where a young family, both working in good jobs that locals needed done, found themselves priced out of buying or renting even a modest home.  

Every available property seemed to be either a second home sitting empty for much of the year, or a short-term holiday let commanding astronomical rates.  

When one did come on the market, it disappeared the same day, purchased sight-unseen by someone who knew they could rake in cash for it over the summer. 

How can we expect our nurses, our teachers, our farmers, and our volunteers to stay and contribute to our communities if there’s simply nowhere for them to live?

This isn’t to say that tourism isn’t useful to our local economy – it absolutely is.  Many people rely on it.  But we have reached a point where the balance is dangerously skewed.  

We have seen communities like Ullapool, where average house prices have soared – partly due to the proliferation of short-term lets – suffer from a lack of cleaners and other workers.  

This isn’t just about affordability; it’s about the very fabric of our society.  A holiday let, no matter how charmingly it might be presented, doesn’t send its children to the local school, volunteer for the RNLI, or serve on the community council.  

Homes must primarily be for people who contribute to the daily life and sustainability of our communities.

This challenge isn’t confined to our rural areas.  Even in the fast-growing capital of the Highlands, Inverness, the housing crisis is acute.  

Despite exciting developments in industries like whisky, renewables, and exciting research, the sheer pace of urban sprawl is barely keeping up with demand, and often, the homes being built are simply out of reach for many.  

Young people in particular are finding themselves priced out, forced to choose between leaving the region or enduring frustrating and lengthy commutes from more affordable areas.  

We’re seeing a paradox where a city attracting significant investment in renewables and green industries struggles to house the very workforce it needs to fulfil its promises.  

The Inverness and Cromarty Firth Green Freeport, for instance, is projected to bring thousands of new jobs, yet the Highland Council estimates over 24,000 new homes are needed in the next decade to meet demand – double the usual build rate.  

If we don’t address this, the very opportunities we’re creating risk being undermined by a lack of fundamental infrastructure: Homes.

The solution will always start with housing.  We need to see houses primarily as homes for people who work, volunteer, and raise their families here.  

This means a relentless focus on increasing the supply of genuinely affordable housing across the Highlands and Islands.

We’re seeing positive steps, with initiatives like the Rural and Islands Housing Fund.  I was particularly encouraged to see the recent completion of new family homes in Aviemore, specifically allocated for local key workers at a mid-market rent, supported by the Highland Housing Alliance and with Scottish Government funding.  This is exactly the kind of targeted action that’s needed to tackle the local housing crisis.

We must go further. We need to empower our local authorities and community land trusts – like the fantastic work being done by the Communities Housing Trust, visible across the region – to acquire land and develop housing that is truly for local people.  

We must explore all avenues, from supporting self-builders to bringing empty homes back into use, and –critically – effectively regulating the short-term let market.  

The Scottish Government’s work on licensing short-term lets is a crucial step, but we must remain vigilant to ensure it has the desired impact and is reactive to any loopholes that emerge. 

And community leaders need to take charge in identifying where stronger, localised planning controls are necessary to stem the fast flow of housing towards holiday letting.

Depopulation is not an insurmountable challenge, but it requires us to prioritise our people, communities, and future.

 By ensuring that homes in the Highlands and Islands are first and foremost for those who call them home, we can reverse this trend and ensure our communities and out culture thrive for generations to come.  

It’s time to put people before profit, and truly build homes for the future of our region.

Featured image via Natalie Hora / Shutterstock.

I do agree with them, but I also think the goal is the right one. They might seem contradictory positions, but as someone who has needed to use food banks on a few occasions, I thought it’d be helpful to explore what the plan title actually means.

We know that using a food bank means that you don’t have money, time, or the access to buy food and, instead, a food bank has provided some to you. There shouldn’t be shame in making use of a food bank. The first time I did, my mother had been taken into hospital unexpectedly and family members nearby hadn’t arrived yet or been contactable. I took my little sister over the road to the Citizen’s Advice Bureau and we left with some food and tokens for the nearby Morrisons. If I remember correctly, we bought doughnuts to go along with the essentials – of course we did, we were teenagers.

The next time I used food banks, I couldn’t see an immediate way out. All of the income from my temp job was going on rent for my new studio flat, which had no hot water and a stubborn landlord who was in no rush to fix the boiler. I had spent days eating nothing but off-brand Belvita biscuits and tins of sweetcorn found in the cupboard. Between travelling to and from work, working, keeping up my voluntary role, and applying for higher-paying jobs I didn’t expect to be successful for, I couldn’t do what the leaflets suggested and bus around shopping for deals at multiple supermarkets.

I have some good memories from using those parcels; like that immediate relief, one thing ticked off the stressful, unending list in my brain. But I couldn’t see how I’d ever be able to buy my own food again – I didn’t know when I would stop needing this help, or how long they’d keep giving me it.

A lot of people end up in that position. There’s no fix to work on, nothing specific to ask for. You’re working hard, there’s no more time in the day, but there still isn’t the money in the bank to cover everything you need. Those are the people most likely to benefit from “ending the need for foodbanks”.

It shouldn’t be the case that people must rely on canned food from a third party to keep living. That their work doesn’t pay enough to cover food, or travelling to work takes the money that they would have spent eating or heating their home, or that their landlord can, on a whim, demand the rest of their monthly budget from now on.

In the Highlands and Islands, many were struggling with a cost-of-living crisis before it hit the whole country. From unfair delivery charges that essentially treat the region as if it is another country, to the extra cost on top of food, toiletries, and petrol that we are used to, living here often simply costs more.

The SNP’s plans aren’t about saying nobody should ever struggle, or face periods of extra costs, or be able to seek help. It’s about looking at the root causes of food bank use and tackling them. Because it’s not fun, using a food bank. It might take away a stress or two for a while, but you don’t get to pick what you’re eating, it doesn’t fix the situation, and you might even face stigma while doing it – a fear that prevents many from taking the step of asking for help.

That’s why the SNP prefers a cash-first approach that gives people money, like the Scottish Child Payment, so they can decide how to spend it and ensure they can find food that meets their dietary and cultural requirements – and their own personal preference.

Our vision looks at all of the things that trap people in cashflow issues – low pay, unfair costs, unexpected expenses – and makes suggestions about tackling them.

For example, a Minimum Income Guarantee could make sure that no matter where you work, what you’re paid, or how many hours you can do over and above the caring you do for a family member, you still have enough money to eat.

Best Start Grants and the baby box ensure that babies all get an equal start in life – no matter their situation, parents should be able to look after, clothe, and feed their new child. The Scottish Child Payment gives parents on low incomes a little extra money to cover what their kid needs. Free bus and inter-island ferry travel ensure people can get to work and school without breaking the bank.

There’s a lot more to do to keep housing, energy bills, and travel affordable, but that’s really what “ending the need for food banks” means. I believe there’ll still be a need for people to access emergency support – but, really, most shouldn’t have to. And food banks could focus on the other vital support they offer – a helping hand and a sense of community.

Sadly, many of the other actions we could take are reserved to the UK Government. We can’t change energy policy, fix Universal Credit, or improve employment protections. That’s why I’ve always campaigned for independence – I love what we’re doing with the levers we’ve got, but there’s so much more that could be done with a little more power and political will to put a stop to the common situations people face that lead them to needing emergency parcels for extended periods of time.