Earlier this year, when Scotland paused to reflect on two decades of the Scottish parliament, we sought to evaluate its impact on the business of living. Had devolved government improved the lives of most Scots? Did we feel better informed about the decisions taken on our behalf at Holyrood and thus more engaged with the political process? More importantly, did we feel more empowered to scrutinise and influence the legislative process?
It’s at this point you’re tempted to recall the wry response of Chinese premier, Zhou Enlai in 1972 when asked about the effects of the French Revolution two centuries earlier. “It’s too early to say,” he replied. Later, it emerged that he may have been responding to a question about the civil unrest and student protests in France four years earlier.
Even so, caution is still advised when seeking to gauge the success of an institution while most of those who powered its machinery are still alive. While the political class of 1999 remain extant they will always seek to convince the rest of us according to the colour of their stripes on the constitutional question. In the meantime, their views must be kept at arm’s length.
Of course, for those of us who prefer Scotland to be the ultimate owner of all decisions affecting its future, the question of being better or worse off doesn’t really arise: it’s simply better to have actually reached that place. Other views are also available, as they say.
Devolution has certainly been kind to one very small category of Scots: our eternally anointed political classes. This group does not merely comprise elected politicians but a sub-genre of lobbyists, advisers and civil servants who gather to partake of Holyrood’s bounty. Entire estates in the outlying chardonnay regions of Glasgow and Edinburgh have been built on the back of this market. It also maintains the buoyant second homes market on Scotland’s islands. There’s a reason why Scotland persists with 32 local authority jurisdictions and not eight, or fewer. How would we plug the black hole that would arise in a thousand executive pension pots and stem the ripples in the private education and exclusive golf club markets?
Last week, Ruth Davidson, until recently the leader of the Scottish Conservatives, decided that she too would climb aboard this gravy train. She has toiled most of her adult life in Scotland’s bountiful public sector: first as a BBC journalist and latterly as a member of the Scottish parliament. Davidson, a new mother, cited personal reasons for stepping away from her demanding role including asking some questions one day a week of Scotland’s first minister. In a few weeks, Davidson, displaying the aptitude for asset-building which is the hallmark of her party, has gathered a sturdy portfolio (both paid and unpaid) of other strategic interests. These include the chairmanship of ITV’s new mental health advisory group (a figleaf start-up which will permit it to continue to bait reality-show contestants) and her appointment at £2k-a-day to an advisory role in a global PR firm. She and her partner have also recently established their own consultancy. In amongst all this a newspaper column can also be seen twinkling.
Perhaps feeling that this little aggregation might not quite butter the parsnips she has chosen not to step away from her MSP’s salary of £63,579. However, yesterday she urged any MSP to refer her to the standards commissioner if they felt there was “any element of wrongdoing under parliamentary rules” and said she was happy to give up any monies until such a referral was resolved. No wrongdoing is attached to any of these extracurricular pursuits, but some voters may feel that Holyrood is regarded as a tidy wee part-time job that pays for the holidays and birthdays. Davidson has been at the Scottish Parliament for eight years and thus must be congratulated for making the most of her tenure.
With what advice she’ll be expected to furnish her new PR paymasters for £2k a day remains unclear. Until she finally won a constituency outright in Edinburgh Central in 2016, Davidson had made a speciality of not winning any of the several elections she contested and had found succour in Holyrood’s benevolent list system. Perhaps she can advise on how easily you can gain influence in Scottish politics without actually convincing a local constituency of your policies. To a PR firm, this would be akin to turning lead into gold.
Others, too, have shown some fancy footwork in making their stretch at Holyrood rewarding. In its early years, a division of MSPs received generous assistance to purchase properties in Edinburgh if their constituencies lay outwith a radius. Edinburgh’s buoyant housing market permitted them to reap rich dividends a few years later.
The success of the SNP spawned the wider Yes movement before the 2014 independence campaign and with it some outstanding career opportunities. Many of the professional advisers and consiglieres in this endeavour were thus able to spin into lucrative jobs in the private sector. Many will return for an added consideration when Scotland holds a second referendum.
Davidson’s erstwhile political foe, Kezia Dugdale, the former Scottish Labour leader, opted to represent her Edinburgh constituents for a few days in the Australian jungle on I’m a Celebrity… for a fee of £70k. Perhaps she conducted her constituency surgeries during this time on Skype. Later, she was appointed to the post of director of the John Smith Centre for Public Service at the University of Glasgow. Sitting on the board of this outfit, whose purpose appears at least in part to be to assist its students similarly to climb aboard the Holyrood Express is… Ruth Davidson.
Welcome to Holyrood; the pensions and financial advice centre is just behind the chair of the presiding officer.
• Kevin McKenna is an Observer columnist
