Clan rebellion

D DAY FOR DEMOCRACY III
Walter Humes on Labour's abuse of tribal
loyalty to the party

A political legacy? Photograph by Islay McLeod

For generations, it seemed the natural thing for working-class people in Scotland to vote Labour at elections. They were acutely conscious of the struggles of their forebears to secure trade union representation, and to fight for decent wages and conditions of employment. The early leaders of the Labour movement, such as Keir Hardie (1856-1915) and James Maxton (1885-1946), inspired immense respect as men who had fought against poverty and oppression, and motivated others to join the struggle.
     Following the Second World War, the welfare reforms of the Labour government of 1945-51 were a great step forward in the worthy aspiration of creating a more just society for all. The development of the National Health Service, as well as financial provision for unemployment and old age, reinforced the traditional allegiance to Labour. Conservatives were seen as the party of privilege, representing the interests of private business and the landed gentry rather than the general population and, until the 1970s, supporters of the Scottish National Party were often portrayed as 'Tartan Tories', fringe enthusiasts with a nostalgic view of Scotland, lacking commitment to radical social change. Mrs Thatcher's reforms of the 1980s did nothing to alter perceptions of the Conservatives and her spokesman in Scotland, Michael Forsyth, became the symbol of an ideology that was alien to most Scots.
     What was not fully appreciated was the extent to which the Labour party had gradually become the 'establishment' in Scotland, controlling much of local government and influencing the thinking of major professions (such as teaching). Labour leaders still used the rhetoric of class struggle, but in many cases they now occupied privileged positions and enjoyed considerable influence. They did not always use their power wisely or in the interests of those they claimed to represent. Municipal socialism was too often marked by inefficiency, paternalism and authoritarianism. In some areas, cronyism and tribal loyalties based on religious allegiance became commonplace. In a few cases there were prosecutions for corruption and imprisonment for the offenders. When this happened, Labour's self-image as the party of the oppressed was seriously damaged.
     In some ways even more damaging was the impact of bad planning decisions on many towns and cities. The legacy of 1960s housing and Soviet-style urban architecture is still with us, rendering many parts of the country deeply depressing places to visit: not surprisingly, a poor environment encourages crime and vandalism. The beauty of Scotland's natural environment merely serves to reinforce the appalling lack of sensitivity of those who gave the go-ahead to ill-judged transport decisions, ugly 'redevelopment' schemes, and housing projects that accelerated social decay.

Labour leaders were reluctant to acknowledge the extent of their own failures. They assumed that, despite occasional embarrassments, their traditional voters would remain loyal – and for a long time they did. The strength of their majority position meant that Labour politicians became, in effect, parasites on poverty, holding out hopes of improvement for the dispossessed while pursuing courses that were deeply self-interested. Meanwhile, the gap between the rich and the poor, the educational 'achievers' and 'failures', remained stubbornly wide.
     Very slowly, the population came to the conclusion that perhaps their traditional allegiance had been misplaced and that voting for another party did not amount to class betrayal. Post-devolution this realisation has grown, symbolised by the 2007 election to the Scottish Parliament and, more recently, by the defeat of Labour by the SNP in its traditional heartland at the by-election in Glasgow East. In other parts of Scotland the Liberal Democrats have made significant gains, though voting Tory still seems a step too far for most people.
     The expenses scandal and the forced resignation of the Speaker, Michael Martin, look set to mark a further decline in Labour support. Will its leaders take time to reflect on how they have come to this point? Politicians of all hues are remarkably blind to their own errors and routinely resort to criticism of their opponents rather than an admission that they have failed to live up to their stated principles. Instead of a period of reflective silence, they shout even more stridently and try to rewrite history.
     The journey from the Labour party of Keir Hardie, a beacon of hope to the hungry and unemployed, to the sorry state of Labour today can be characterised in various ways: as merely the latest example of the corruption of power, a theme that runs throughout history; as the betrayal of an ideal by men and women who used the language of public service while pursuing a course of private advantage; as a symptom of deep social malaise, reflected in a culture of greed, the decline of community, and the loss of trust in virtually all forms of political leadership.
     Despite all of this, the appeal of representative democracy far outweighs any alternative form of government. In the short term, voters are likely to exercise their democratic rights negatively, as a way of registering disapproval of politicians. But we need to start thinking of the longer term. Are the present parties capable of the kind of reform that is needed? Or do we need to think of new political configurations which rise above the moral bankruptcy of the old order, and inspire constructive engagement with the great issues of our time by those who have previously been alienated from the political process?