This isn’t just a vote, it’s a moral act
September 18th is when people living in Scotland take responsibility to build a better future — or not.
In a world of turmoil, riven with inequalities and injustice, those of us who live in democratic states are often disaffected by our politicians and political structures. Bitter experience of broken promises, and manifesto commitments that merely become “pre-election rhetoric”. Far from the ideals of philosophical debate and deliberation, our parliamentary chambers are filled with macho-posturing, hurled abuse and mockery. The media compounds this culture in its treatment of politics as spectator sport with staged confrontations and a whole raft of commentators on the sidelines telling us how to interpret the body language of the opponents, or the slickness of their arguments. Polls and statistics, odds and chances are spun like some roulette wheel of electoral fate and we’re encouraged to either turn away in disillusion or get sucked into the narrowly defined tribes, collecting shields and spears with which to taunt the other side.
The majority of people in any society are, of course, decent, humane and try to avoid conflict, so it’s little wonder that for them ‘politics’ is either best avoided in conversation or something that rarely arises anyway because of the commonality of allegiance within their social circle — identified perhaps with one party for historical reasons and accepted as the norm, whatever anyone says, however far that party may have drifted from their founding principles. Trust is not an issue, it is not expected and is rarely delivered.
‘Representative democracy’ is a far cry from a participatory politics. In fact, it is almost the opposite: voting every four or five years for a party to which we outsource our opinions and rights. By doing so, ironically, we then feel entitled to complain about the actions of government and the ineffectiveness of opposition, wrapping them all up in a collective disaffection and a belief that politics changes nothing. For some, a ‘better the devil you know’ attitude reinforces fear of change and an acceptance of politics as an increasingly narrowing set of limited options, the differences between parties seeming merely a matter of style or of personalities.
Rarely then, do those of us in such countries, get the opportunity to make profound, fundamental changes to our entire system and structure of governance. Constitutional referenda, in principle, can return such power to individuals, with party opinions often splitting or forming what previously would have been seen as unlikely alliances in order to defend what best suits them as organisations (usually the status quo).
On September 18th, those living in Scotland will actually have real sovereignty, more power than they’ve ever had in their lives, more power than any previous generation. More power than they probably realise. Of course, its not portrayed as such, reduced as it is to party bickering, to some minor event that’s got those on the extreme of politics excited for a few months, that will blow over as the relentless, unstoppable juggernaut of the existing system trundles on. A mere bump in the road.
It isn’t. It’s more power than anyone has been given in this country. But more than that, it’s not an election, it’s not a selection of favoured candidates, it’s not who you like or dislike. It’s a moral act.
Few are given the opportunity to make a real difference to the lives of present and future generations through such a simple act as picking up a pencil. It’s a responsibility that demands careful thought and informed deliberation. Simply following party allegiance or echoing arguments in the media, is an abrogation of that responsibility. If you are unsure of which option is best, then don’t vote. But better still, inform yourselves of the issues. Ask questions. Challenge those who take your support for granted. Ask why they have chosen their side. What do they gain and you lose? What do they lose and you gain? What is the impact on others with lower income, poorer health?
We live in an increasingly unequal society. In the past, in the time of many of our parents’ generation, there was a belief that things were improving; that children brought into the world would have better chances, better opportunities, could live without the spectre of hunger, unemployment, ill health and even war. Now things are different. For many of us, our children will have fewer opportunities than we had. They will be saddled with greater debts, with declining public services and will struggle for work or job security (how anachronistic that very phrase now seems). But we hope for the best, we try to give them as much support and encouragement as we can but there’s only so much each of us can do as individuals and as families. Real change needs a societal response, a collective approach to making a difference.
A vote for ‘Yes’ on September 18th begins a process of transformation in governance, in economy and in society. It allows the parliament in Edinburgh to tackle the serious issues of poverty and ill-health that blight so many parts of our country. It gives them the powers over taxation and social welfare that they so desperately need but which are currently entirely in the hands of Westminster, an institution whose priorities lie elsewhere. It forces our politicians to ‘up their game’ to finally implement the changes we need and removes any excuse of it being someone else’s remit. It brings power closer to the people: geographically, socially, culturally. It let’s us use the natural resources that we are so lucky to have, to make a fairer society for our children instead of squandering it on weapons (of any scale of destruction) or in propping up a corrupt system of donors, peers and tax-evading corporations. We have a moral obligation to others less fortunate than ourselves and ‘No’ casts their fate to the whims of Westminster, as we turn our backs.
It’s a moral choice too, because the implications of ‘Yes’ are clear when it comes to nuclear weapons. There is no need for such devices. They exist only as instruments of fear, of terror. And whilst no sane politician would advocate their actual use, they sit there 25 miles from our most populous city waiting for either a launch code or an accident, polluting not only our environment (through submarine leaks) but also our moral character.
By voting ‘Yes’, not only will the existing weapons be removed, but they will in all likelihood not be replaced since there is no appetite to store them elsewhere. We have, then, in our power the ability to disarm a nuclear state, to dismantle weapons of mass destruction and, indeed, to spare taxpayers on both sides of the border over £100 billion of expenditure diverted from schools, hospitals and social services.
It’s a moral choice, because it signals our willingness to play our role in the wider international community, no longer being content to leave responses to famine, war and international disputes in the hands of a remote establishment, but to make our voice heard, to speak at the EU, the UN, to contribute to peace-keeping, to shape international policies on the environment and on trade, to join the 200 other independent states (many of whom are far smaller than us) and demand a say.
The process that begins on September 19th with ‘Yes’ is an opportunity to build a new constitution, to assert values and aspirations, to set the standards by which we will be judged by those who come after us. But more than that, those who have come to ‘Yes’, who have shifted their perspective, are unlikely ever again to be content with a simple echo of Westminster structures and processes. Participation and engagement can become addictive and those who would be party politicians in the old style will be in for a rough ride.
This referendum is a moral choice in which we either engage in shaping the future or in which we throw away an opportunity that we have been gifted for this one single day; an opportunity that others across the world would grasp firmly were they ever so fortunate.
But what does it matter what I say? It’s up to you.
Photo: CC Attribution, Andrew Taylor, flickr — Pencils, our weapons of mass decision.
