The Dream Shall Never Die: 100 Days that Changed Scotland Forever

Copyright

William Collins

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers,

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.WilliamCollinsBooks.com

First published in Great Britain by William Collins in 2015

This updated edition first published in 2015

Copyright © The Chronicles of Deer 2015

Alex Salmond asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work

Cover photograph © Mark Runnacles/Getty Images

Picture section credits: all photographs by Allan Milligan, except: pages 10 and 11, Tom Farmer; page 18, AFP/The Scottish Government; page 19, courtesy of Fergus Mutch; pages 20 and 21, Jeff J. Mitchell/Getty Images; page 22, Ian Rutherford/The Scotsman Publications Ltd; page 23, Herald Scotland; page 24, Dan Kitwood/Getty Images; page 25, PA Images; page 26, The Parliamentary Recording Unit. All rights reserved.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9780008139780

Ebook Edition © March 2015 ISBN: 9780008139773

Version: 2015-09-08

Dedication

To my dad, who believes in independence,

and my mum, who believed in me

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

PART I

Prologue

Introduction

The Run-Up

The 100 Days

Epilogue: The Scotland We Seek

Acknowledgements

PART II

Election Day

Introduction

Pre-Election Diary

Post-Election Diary

Scotland”s Future In Scotland’s Hands

Picture Section

About the Author

About the Publisher

PART I

Prologue

Day 100: Friday 19 September 2014

I phone David Cameron from a backroom in Edinburgh’s Dynamic Earth exhibition centre, and congratulate him on victory. He congratulates me on an amazing campaign. He tells me that he has appointed Lord Smith of Kelvin to take forward the promises made to Scotland in the dying days of the referendum – the ‘vow’. ‘Excellent choice,’ I say, and he pauses.

It suddenly occurs to me that he clearly doesn’t realise how well I know Robert Smith. Why on earth does he think I appointed him to lead the Commonwealth Games? I press Cameron on whether he will have a Commons vote on the offer to Scotland before Easter, as Gordon Brown has promised. I know he won’t.

With dawn approaching, the Prime Minister rings off to go and make his speech outside Number Ten, which I watch on TV. As he struts out to say that Scottish reform must take place ‘in tandem with’ and ‘at the same pace as’ changes in England, I immediately realise the significance. There was no mention of this last week when he was in a complete panic about the polls.

I think ‘You silly arrogant man’ and look around the room. The campaign team are totally exhausted, all passion spent, and no one realises the door that Cameron has just opened. I understand – no, I sense – what now must be done.

Just a few hours earlier, at 3.30 a.m., my wife, Moira, and I had left for Edinburgh from Aberdeen airport.

A snapper caught us at the gates. I had my head down, reading the referendum results on my iPad as they came in – far from the most flattering image of the campaign – and I saw the picture posted online before we had even reached Edinburgh. Anticipating the same thing happening at Turnhouse, I made sure I was sporting the bravest of smiles as we left the airport.

First we went to Bute House, where I phoned my Chief of Staff, Geoff Aberdein, to say that I would make the concession speech from Dynamic Earth as soon as the NO side had the official majority. The YES campaigners had been gathered there all night and would be gutted. They had to hear from me directly.

I delivered the speech that I had drafted very early in the morning when the first result from Clackmannan came through at 1.31 a.m. It was gracious in tone but resilient in defeat, celebrating the 1.6 million votes for YES and pointing to the future.

Following Cameron’s appearance outside Number 10, and now back in Bute House, I sit down and write a brief resignation speech. I know exactly what needs to be said. It takes but one draft. I ask the press team to arrange for John Swinney and Nicola Sturgeon to come and see me at lunchtime, and to organise a press conference for the afternoon. Finally, Moira and I are able to catch up on an hour or so’s sleep.

When getting dressed I reach for my favourite saltire tie, but Moira says that tartan would be better – softer – for this particular day. So a Lochcarron tartan tie it is.

Nicola and John arrive. We meet in the Cabinet Room. Nicola tries to talk me out of it, and at some length. She points out that there is no demand, no expectation, of a resignation.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘That is the time to do it.’

John, who was in this situation with me fourteen years ago, is emotional. Calmly, I explain that I am not resigning out of pique or even disappointment. I am heartbroken about the result, but that is not the issue now. Cameron has opened the door and we must drive through it quickly. This is about what best takes the country forward.

Peter Housden, my Permanent Secretary, arrives. Calm and authoritative as ever, he puts the arrangements into gear. He agrees that, despite the shortage of space, Bute House is the appropriate, indeed the only, place to deliver this speech. The drawing room is packed by 3 p.m. I thank people for coming at short notice and deliver the following address:

I am immensely proud of the campaign which YES Scotland fought and particularly of the 1.6 million voters who rallied to that cause.

I am also proud of the 85 per cent turnout in the referendum and the remarkable response of all of the people of Scotland who participated in this great democratic constitutional debate, and of course the manner in which they conducted themselves.

We now have the opportunity to hold Westminster’s feet to the fire on the ‘vow’ that they have made to devolve further meaningful power to Scotland. This places Scotland in a very strong position.

I spoke to the Prime Minister today and, although he reiterated his intention to proceed as he has now outlined, he would not commit to a second reading vote by 27th March on a new Scotland Bill. That was a clear promise laid out by Gordon Brown during the campaign. The Prime Minister says such a vote would be meaningless. I suspect he can’t guarantee the support of his party and, as we have already seen in the last hour, the common front between Labour and Tory, Tory and Labour is starting to break.

But the real point is this. The real guardians of progress are no longer politicians at Westminster, or even at Holyrood, but the energised activism of tens of thousands of people who I predict will refuse to meekly go back into the political shadows.

For me right now, therefore, there is a decision as to who is best placed to lead this process forward.

I believe that this is a new exciting situation that’s redolent with possibility. But in that situation I think that party, parliament and country would benefit from new leadership.

Therefore I have told the national secretary of the Scottish National Party that I shall not accept nomination for leader at the annual conference in Perth on 13th–15th November.

After the membership ballot I will stand down as First Minister to allow the new leader to be elected by due parliamentary process.

Until then I will continue to serve as First Minister. After that I shall continue as member for the Scottish Parliament for Aberdeenshire East.

It has been the privilege of my life to serve as First Minister. But as I said often enough during this referendum campaign, this is a process which is not about me or the SNP or any political party. It’s much, much more important than that.

The position is this. We lost the referendum vote but Scotland can still carry the political initiative. Scotland can still emerge as the real winner.

For me as leader my time is nearly over. But for Scotland the campaign continues and the dream shall never die.

Introduction

I have believed in Scottish independence all of my adult life.

The roots of this are not, as is often assumed, because of my background as an economist, although that undoubtedly helped. It runs much deeper than that.

In fact it was another Alex Salmond – my grandfather – who first sparked this Alex Salmond’s belief in Scotland. This faith was instilled in me on my grandfather’s knee when I was barely more than a toddler.

My wise granda – Sandy to everyone – had a town plumber’s business in Linlithgow. He was in his late sixties and retired when I was young but kept his hand in by taking on odd plumbing jobs. I was his young apprentice, proudly carrying his tools.

As we trudged round the wynds and closes of the royal and ancient burgh my granda filled me with Lithgae folklore and Scottish history and how the two intertwined. He told me, for example, how King Robert Bruce’s men captured Linlithgow castle by the simple expedient of blocking the portcullis with a hay cart.

More than that, he named the families involved: local folk in the town, families that I knew – the Binnies, the Davidsons, the Grants, the Bamberrys, the Salmonds and the Oliphants. Oliphants were the local bakers. In my child’s eye I imagined the boys in the bakehouse making the bread, dusting off the flour and then charging off to storm the palace.

I was taught no Scottish history at school, but years later at St Andrews University I finally learned the history of my own country and discovered that my granda’s oral tradition wasn’t too wide of the mark – if we forgive his artistic licence in the naming of names. Of course my grandfather wasn’t really teaching me history but about life: how ordinary people could make a difference.

To my grandfather an honest man was the noblest work of God, Scotland was a special place on earth and Linlithgow was a very special place in Scotland. With this grounding it never even occurred to me that there was anything that could not be achieved with sufficient commitment and determination.

Robert Burns once wrote that a similar experience in boyhood gave him a Scottish view of the world which ‘will boil alang there till the floodgates of life shut in eternal rest’.

So it shall be with me.

Everything else I have been taught or experienced, from the science of economics to the art of politics, is overlaid on these foundations: the belief that Scotland is a singular place and that the people of Scotland are capable of great things.

*

It was the best of times. It was the best of times.

For many people the Scottish referendum campaign was the best time of their lives, a far too brief period when suddenly everything seemed possible and the opportunity beckoned for the ‘sma folk’ to make a big impact.

We didn’t win the vote but we did show the establishment circus – and its ringmasters Cameron, Miliband and Clegg – that major change is inevitable. The accepted order has been smashed – and it is the people who have achieved it.

There is a scene in the Ridley Scott film Kingdom of Heaven which sums up where we are now. Orlando Bloom, as the knight Balian, is left defending Jerusalem from the Sultan Saladin with no knights and only the dregs of the army. He has a brainwave: unite the remaining people by making them all knights, much to the disgust of the cowardly Jerusalem patriarch who wants to surrender.

‘Do you think that merely by making people knights they will fight better?’ asks the patriarch.

‘Yes,’ replies Balian.

And he was right. Trusting the common people with the future of their city, or their country, makes for better people and in our case for a better Scotland. Those metropolitan commentators puzzled by the surge in the SNP’s fortunes since the referendum should understand this reality.

Once people have had a taste of power they are unlikely to give it up easily. The process of the referendum has changed the country. Many people felt politically significant for the first time in their lives. It has made them different people, better people.

This book seeks to explain that change, how we got here, why the people became enthused, what caused the big swing to YES, how success was just denied and, most crucially of all, what will happen now.

The events in Scotland underline the ability of grassroots movements to take on political establishments in modern democracies. A new and powerful force has been mustered – modern-day knights if you will. And the international community should sit up and pay attention.

*

But now to our referendum tale. Ours is but a new chapter – albeit a crucial one – in a much older story. Scotland is one of Europe’s oldest nations.

In the late twelfth century, when Balian was busy defending the Holy City, Scotland had already been united as a kingdom for 300 years, with Picts and Scots forced together under the threat of Viking incursions. Richard Coeur de Lion never did manage to win back Jerusalem, but his crusade gave William the Lion of Scotland an excellent opportunity to be released from the feudal impositions Henry II had enforced upon him and therefore Scotland. He was able to fly his Royal Standard (the Lion Rampant) with additional pride.

The next affirmation of Scottish independence was somewhat bloodier but the outcome was the same. Robert de Brus did not seal Scottish independence by the storming of Linlithgow castle in 1313, or on the field of Bannockburn in the following year on midsummer’s day, or even in the Arbroath Declaration of six years later, but at the Treaty of Northampton with England in 1328. However, Bannockburn was still one of history’s decisive battles. It both preserved and shaped the nation.

The recognition of Scottish independence at Northampton did not finish the matter, and an uneasy relationship between Scotland and England was the norm for the next 300 years – border warfare tempered by the occasional dynastic nuptial. From a Scottish perspective, for many years, union with the auld ally of France looked more likely than union with the auld enemy of England.

And when crown unity did come in 1603 it was through a Scottish king, James VI, becoming King of England. But Scotland remained an independent nation and it would be another century before the Union of the Parliaments.

When that happened, in 1707, Scotland had a collective history of statehood, stretching back for the best part of a millennium: three times the period that has elapsed since.

Scottish dissatisfaction with the government in London has ebbed and flowed since the Treaty of Union. There have been periods when support for the union was in the ascendancy. However, it is also true that every movement for radical change in Scotland, from Jacobite to Jacobin, from crofting Liberals to the early Labour movement, was overlaid with Scottish nationalism.

Even those famous Scots who are often regarded as pillars of the established order have displayed a sneaking sympathy for the nationalist cause. On the Canongate Wall of the Scottish Parliament are inscribed the words that Walter Scott put into the mouth of Mrs Howden in Heart of Midlothian:

‘When we had a king, and a chancellor, and parliament-men o’ our ain, we could aye peeble them wi’ stanes when they werena gude bairns – But naebody’s nails can reach the length o’ Lunnon.’

The immediate aftermath of the Second World War was a high point of Britishness, which had a bearing on my own upbringing. My late mother, Mary, patriotic Scot though she was, would probably never have countenanced Scottish independence if her son had not become inveigled into the national movement. She was from a middle-class background and her views had been bolstered by the war: the Churchill pride.

My father, Robert, however, thinks rather differently. When I was a young MP, and didn’t know better, I got into a spot of family bother. I made public the contrast between my mother’s and father’s views, revealing the capital punishment remedy my dad said was appropriate for Churchill’s treatment of the miners.

‘Salmond’s father wanted to hang Churchill’ screamed the newspaper headline. I phoned Dad to apologise.

‘Did I teach you naethin?’ said Faither reprovingly. ‘Hingin was owr guid for thon man!’

The skilled working class like my father – from Robert Burns to the 1820 martyrs, and from Keir Hardie to the early trade union movement – have always been open to the great call of home rule.

James Maxton, the Clydesider MP, speaking in Glasgow in the 1920s in support of a Home Rule Bill (and for a Scottish socialist commonwealth), declared that ‘with Scottish brains and courage … we could do more in five years in a Scottish Parliament than would be produced by twenty-five or thirty years’ heart-breaking working in the British House of Commons.’

So it wasn’t a great leap of faith for my dad to move politically from Labour to SNP in the 1960s. Nor was it for the many others who followed suit in the 1970s, forcing the issue of devolution onto the UK agenda.

The failed referendum of 1979 and the election of Margaret Thatcher seemed at first to have reversed the trend, but in reality it accelerated the underlying shift towards home rule.

A great deal of Scottish identity has been preserved for 300 years through the strength of institutions – Scottish churches, Scots law, Scottish education – and now the myriad of third-sector pressure groups that interact with that institutional identity.

Ironically, Margaret Thatcher’s brand of Conservatism set about dismantling many of the key symbols of Britishness. So British Airways became BA, British Petroleum became BP, and British Rail became lots of things.

But Thatcher inadvertently managed rather more than that. A quarter of a century ago she swept into the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland and, in an infamous address, exposed the crass materialism of her creed. This was too much for the elders and brethren – and far too much for a Churchill Tory like my mother, who never voted Conservative again.

Margaret Thatcher had combined her visit to the General Assembly with an equally ill-fated visit to the Scottish Cup final, where she managed to unite Dundee United and Celtic fans in an ingenious and very effective joint red card protest.

Shortly thereafter, on 16 June 1988, Hansard records a brash young SNP member from Aberdeenshire, fresh from being restored to the House after expulsion for intervening in the Budget in protest against the poll tax, taunting the Prime Minister about what he described as her ‘epistle to the Caledonians’:

Will the Prime Minister demonstrate her extensive knowledge of Scottish affairs by reminding the House of the names of the Moderator of the General Assembly, which she addressed, and the captain of Celtic, to whom she presented the cup?

Margaret Thatcher had given Scottish nationalism a new political dynamic and accelerated the long-term decline of the Conservative Party in Scotland, where it now commands a mere one-third of its popular support of the 1950s.

Other factors were undercutting support for the union. The Scottish economy had been underperforming the UK average for much of the twentieth century. The reasons were deep and complex but one key factor was the export of human capital. Often it was the best people, the people with get up and go, who got up and went.

When I was a lad, thanks to my grandfather’s grounding, I knew that Scots had invented lots of things. He proudly showed me the plaque to David Waldie, born in Linlithgow and pioneer of chloroform, on the wall of the Four Marys pub. He told me that he had worked on the discovery with James Simpson of nearby Bathgate.

I soon discovered that, even beyond Linlithgow and Bathgate, Scotland seemed to have invented just about everything worth inventing – television, telephone, tarmacadam, teleprompter, etc. – and they are just a few examples beginning with the letter ‘t’!

It took me some time further to realise that Scotland’s creative grandeur is not just down to natural ingenuity but springs from our most important invention of all: long before the Treaty of Union, Scotland legislated for compulsory universal elementary education at parish level. Indeed if we look at the list of great Scottish inventors of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries almost all of them were people of humble origins, because almost all people had received an education. Few flowers in Scotland were born to blush unseen.

In no other society on earth, with the possible exception of Prussia, which embarked on this mission two centuries after Scotland, would such ‘lads of pairts’ have had the educational grounding to advance in business, science and medicine.

From the most developed education system in the world sprang the Scottish Enlightenment and out of the Enlightenment came the scientists, innovators and entrepreneurs who established Scotland as the pre-eminent industrial economy of the world by the end of the nineteenth century.

For most of the last hundred years Scotland was still producing the scientists and innovators but, by and large, they weren’t staying in the country. Scotland started to export its human capital to a ruinous degree.

However, towards the end of the twentieth century things started to change.

In the 1980s, when I was working as an economist, I used to do a party trick during lectures by asking the class to write down the six top industrialists or business people in the country. The names provided were invariably a familiar litany of minor aristocrats, most of whom were running their companies less well than their fathers or grandfathers.

But by the end of the century there had been a significant shift. The most highly regarded business people in the country were no longer those who turned silver spoons into base metal but working-class Scots who had either built their own businesses or run companies on their own merits.

Thus the likes of Brian Souter, Jim McColl, Tom Hunter, Tom Farmer, Martin Gilbert, Roy McGregor and David Murray became the best-known entrepreneurs in the land. What’s more, these people were popular and were often deeply influenced by the philosophy and philanthropy of another great Scot, Andrew Carnegie.

They were also generally sympathetic to either independence or at least home rule, and none of them rated the traditional unionist business organisations like the CBI. This directly affected Scottish politics.