"Auferre, trucidare, rapere, falsis nominibus imperium; atque ubi solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant." – They ravage, they slaughter, they plunder, and they falsely name it "empire"; they make a wilderness, and call it "peace."
You might not know it from some of my posts, but I’m an eternal optimist. Some say there are people out there who would never vote for independence: that they either identify too strongly with their British identity to even consider a vote that they feel could jeopardise it, or because they think Scotland is incapable of making a success of what literally hundreds of other countries around the world do right now, or simply because they believe themselves to be “anti-nationalist.” I refuse to believe that anyone can be immovably anti-Independence, any more than anyone can be immovably pro-Independence. We’ve already seen movement from both sides – people I could’ve sworn would never turn suddenly joining the SNP, and others who seem hell-bent on undoing decades of struggle for a cause we used to share.
Yes, of course it’s more useful – in a cold, tactical sense – to go to the undecideds and “soft” electorate on both sides. All we need is another few hundred thousand more than the last official record. But I worry about those we write off as inconvertible – those who we view as lost to the clutches of a mad party which has taken leave of any sense they had after the chaos of the EU Referendum result. They are going to shape the future of these islands.
This election is not like others that have come before. It is not a matter of parties, of policies, of the nuts and bolts of democratic governance. It is nothing less than a national emergency – a keyframe of the story of the 21st Century. It’s a moment that we Scots will, as ever, only be able to significantly alter in the event of a close contest. We have a way out. But what of our fellow Britons?
I took a complete break from social media over the past two weeks. Part of this is because of my personal response to the 2017 Local Elections – in particular the Inverclyde result, which I still take very personally – and the aftermath. As of this post, there is still no new administration, and all we have to go on is hearsay. So, until the new administration is in place, I won’t comment on the election, the upcoming General Election, or anything overtly constitutional or political.
However, there was another, much more serious reason. It was a problem which was developing for months before the election, and came to a head in the last few weeks. As a resident of the area this problem affects, as well as a Community Councillor, I did a lot of work behind the scenes with others to find a peaceful resolution to a very tense and volatile situation. Several agencies, including Inverclyde Council, River Clyde Homes, and Police Scotland, were involved: I cannot thank them enough for their hard work and diligence in this very difficult situation. I am beyond relieved that this crisis looks to be over, and hope that all concerned can learn from this experience.
I hope I’ll be able to explain more fully in the future, though that may not be possible. Suffice to say, life was extremely interesting.
That’s the 12 champions Greenock & Inverclyde SNP have put forward to contest Inverclyde. With a bit of luck, a good deal of hard work, and the trust of our people, they’ll be the first SNP Council in Inverclyde history.
We – we, the people of Inverclyde – made history in 2014, as the fifth highest Yes voting constituency, a percentage of a percentage away from Yes. Then we made history again in 2015, when we elected our first SNP MP. Then, in 2016, we followed it with our first SNP constituency MSP.
Let’s keep the history going – because we’re a long way from done. We have plans for Inverclyde, and for Scotland: plans that fit our peoples’ desires, our peoples’ needs, our peoples’ hopes. We’ve been victims of circumstance for too long – victims of governments we didn’t vote for, of parties who neglected or mistreated us, of failings and inadequacies in the people who are meant to serve us.
We hope the people of Inverclyde, and Scotland, will join us as we change the course of our lives.
Dolph Ziggler, graduate of Kent State University with a major in political science & pre-law minor. Just before he tried out for the WWE, he was accepted to Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law.
I’ve been watching the wrestling with my two younger cousins since they were wee guys: just as I was entering my teens, they were starting to get into it. It was the early 2000s, just the tail end of the big wrestling boom of the turn of the century, the age of Stone Cold Steve Austin, the Rock, Triple H, the Hardy Boyz, the Undertaker. We enjoyed the pageantry, the grand guignol, the spectacle of this utterly preposterous theatre presenting itself as a competitive sport. Staying up to ridiculous hours to watch what amounted to modern gladiatorial combat-cum-telenova soon became a family tradition.
“But it’s fake,” you cry. “It’s so clearly not real.” And I just sigh, and continue enjoying the bonding experience with my cousins.
But the continuing insistence of some quarters to use the “it’s fake, you know” cry as if it was some sort of stunning revelation more than 28 years after Vincent Kennedy McMahon testified to its true nature at the New Jersey State Senate reminds me of nothing so much as the mainstream media confusing its role of journalism with a self-appointed role as educator.
In fierce anguish & quenchless flames
To the desarts and rocks He ran raging
To hide, but He could not: combining
He dug mountains & hills in vast strength,
He piled them in incessant labour,
In howlings & pangs & fierce madness
Long periods in burning fires labouring
Till hoary, and age-broke, and aged,
In despair and the shadows of death.
– William Blake, depicting post-Brexit Britain (probably) in The Book of Urizen
You know what? Forget my worries about being a Cassandra. I’m just going to call it like I see it. World’s mad enough as it is.
There have been severalexcellentexplanations of the Single Transferable Vote (STV) system used in local elections recently: the catchphrase “Vote Till You Boak” has gained ground. One of the most concise comes courtesy of Dr. Morag Kerr:
However, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a metaphor that we can employ to explain this more visually. Video games do it all the time: behind every pixel and polygon is reams of code, algorithm, and calculations. The average player doesn’t have to have deep knowledge of coding to know how to play the game, but there’s an implicit understanding that there is a logic behind everything that happens in the game, and that the game won’t break those rules to create an unfair advantage against the players (unless you’re Capcom, Namco, or SNK, the cheap scoundrels).
So, for the purposes of illustration, what if we treat the local elections system as if it was a video game?
Something that’s been bothering me lately is the despondence regarding the proportions of women in Scottish politics, specifically the news that only 30% of local election candidates are women. As someone who supports the 50/50 initiative and is perfectly happy to see gender parity in Scottish Government, I do think it’s regrettable that we clearly haven’t reached that stage. 30% female candidates compared to 51% of the female population of a country is a significant deficit of representation compared to, say, NHS workers (77.1% women), third sector workers (67%), public sector workers (64%), secondary school teachers (63%), high achieving school leavers (65.9%), and higher education students (54%), among other walks of life.
However, I’ve found that there’s little acknowledgement of the long strides we have made towards that goal.