Who Governs Scotland?

Alex Wright

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2004
• ISBN:
  9781135770365
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Politique et relations internationales
• Subtopic: Politique

This book addresses the premise that the question of who governs Scotland has become increasingly ambiguous, thanks in part to European integration, globalisation and devolution within the UK. It argues that although the concept of multi-level governance helped illuminate regionalism with the EU, it was not an appropriate model for Scotland. This well researched and powerfully argued book, adds greatly to the debate on constitutional reform, and offers invaluable insight into the Scottish Parliament's foreign affair agenda.

1 Who governs Scotland?

As our car drove up to the real West Wing with myself and the British Ambassador, I did reflect on the fact that this was no small honour for our small nation. It became very apparent very quickly however that the President does have a special fondness for Scotland, stemming in part from time spent here in his youth.

(Henry McLeish 2001)¹

The image of Scotland’s First Minister visiting the White House for an audience with the US President was somewhat surreal in 2001. Yet it seemed to symbolise how much had changed in so little time. Now that Scotland had its own parliament, for a brief moment it appeared that the country was once again master of its own destiny. Yet as a good many Scots soon discovered, ‘the parliament did not have the powers to meet their expectations’ (Mitchell 2001: 48). Whilst the parliament would be responsible for ‘domestic’ matters such as education and health, other areas of policy which also fell within its competence, such as fisheries were for the most part determined not in Edinburgh nor even necessarily in London but more so in Brussels. Thus, although 1999 appeared briefly to have been something of a turning point for Scotland, more latently that was not necessarily so. In turn, that raises the question as to whether devolution is ‘unfinished business’, the underlying issue being whether the country possesses sufficient autonomy.² This has long been a hallmark of Scottish–UK relations, with some arguing that Scotland enjoyed a fair degree of self-government prior to 1999 under what was then termed ‘administrative devolution’.³ For instance, Kellas (1989) maintained that Scotland had its own distinctive political system and it possessed a measure of autonomy within the UK.⁴ He was by no means a lone voice.

Scottish autonomy within the UK

Although Mrs Thatcher may have been culpable of penetrating the soft underbelly of administrative devolution, that rather underestimates its potency during the previous 50 years or so. Bulpitt (1983) argued that for many years a ‘dual polity’ had existed within the UK and that in essence both polities led somewhat separate existences. The UK polity concentrated on issues of high politics (e.g. defence and foreign policy), whilst the territorial polities in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland focused on low politics (e.g. transport and economic planning). The existence of the dual polity was dependent on a number of variables, of which two were particularly significant. First, the government in London was reliant on the acquiescence of local elites who administered these territories. According to Bulpitt that began to fracture when the UK government launched its modernisation initiatives in the 1960s and 1970s, thereby encroaching not only on the autonomy of local elites but also calling into question their ability to govern effectively. Secondly, for the dual polity to persist there needed to be an amenable external environment. Empire was one example which united both the territories and the ‘centre’,⁵ so too were the 1914–18 and 1939–45 wars. According to Bulpitt the reverse applied to the EU, in part because it fractured elite consensus in London during the 1970s. From this perspective, it could be argued that as European integration gathered pace, it added to the pressure on the dual polity and, so too, on administrative devolution. Yet Bulpitt remained cautiously optimistic about the robustness of the dual polity, arguing that in practice it survived the tumults of the 1970s and that it was largely unaffected by the rise in Scottish nationalism during that era. That said, he also recognised that the informality of administrative devolution could be its own undoing. The centre lacked any legitimating support structure in the peripheries other than the existence of territorial bureaucracies.⁶ Could it hold up if it came under sustained pressure? As the years of the Conservative governments demonstrated between 1979 and 1997, the answer was ‘not necessarily’

Some clearly had misgivings. Midwinter et al. (1991) maintained that not only was Scotland’s autonomy open to question but that the Union with the UK was increasingly ‘under stress’. Paterson (1994) stood rather closer to Kellas in relation to the period before the 1970s, but by the time Mrs Thatcher became Prime Minister, he too had his reservations. Brown et al. (1996) also had their doubts. Such arguments may have been consigned to history as far as ‘New Labour’ is concerned (the party which oversaw constitutional change in 1999), but whether legislative devolution as it now stands offers Scotland sufficient autonomy rests in the eye of the beholder. In so doing, potentially, ‘the constitutional question’ continues to haunt relations between London and Edinburgh. As Mitchell observed, it ensures that post-1999 there is no such thing as consensus politics within Scotland, as some had once hoped.⁷

Although it is too early to arrive at a definitive judgement over how much autonomy Scotland actually possesses as a result of constitutional reform, there are grounds for supposing ‘not enough’. In the first instance, this is inimically connected to the issue of financial resources – at the time of writing the bulk of this originates from the UK Treasury. The parliament⁸ does have a tax-varying power but to date it has not been used and, even if it was, at plus or minus 3 per cent, this does not amount to much. Financially, therefore, the Scottish government is dependent ultimately on the largesse of whichever party is in office in London,⁹ though for those who believe that the country cannot pay its way if there were to be fiscal autonomy, that dependency is no bad thing. Even so, legally, the Scottish parliament (also sometimes referred herein as ‘Holyrood’) is a subordinate institution to Westminster. The Scotland Act (1998) was a product of the parliament in London, and in passing this act, it was indicative of Westminster’s ‘sovereignty’ – something that was made quite clear in the 1997 White Paper.¹⁰ Yet sovereignty may not amount to much in practice. Rather, ‘post-sovereign’ might be a more apt description on the assumption that today no single institution or state enjoys a monopoly of power vis-à-vis a given territory. That is especially so when taking the EU into account.¹¹ This too has ramifications for Scottish autonomy, not least because it calls into question ‘who governs Scotland?’¹² Is it Holyrood, Westminster or Brussels, or should we also consider actors beyond the EU as well?

Who governs Scotland?

In practice Holyrood, Westminster and the EU all have an involvement in Scotland’s government. But is there a hierarchical chain of competencies (i.e. powers), with Edinburgh at the bottom tier, London in the middle and Brussels at the top, or is it more ‘intricate’ than that – especially regarding the interface between the Scottish and UK governments?¹³ Under The Scotland Act (1998) Westminster can enact legislation regardless of whether this falls within competencies which have been devolved to Holyrood.¹⁴ Moreover, a number of powers have been reserved to Westminster and, where that is so, the latter retains competence.¹⁵ But Westminster is itself subordinate in terms of its law making powers, where competence has been assigned to the EU.¹⁶ Amongst the reserved powers, foreign relations is of particular significance because it also includes relations with the EU. The UK’s membership of the EU therefore poses something of a conundrum, given that the re-establishment of a parliament in Edinburgh was intended to provide Scotland with greater autonomy. As decisions taken in Brussels affect Scotland increasingly,¹⁷ it could be supposed that now Scotland possessed its own parliament, formally, it should have a measure of competence for foreign affairs. Yet, as far as inter-governmental channels are concerned, formally, the government in London is responsible for promoting and defending Scotland’s interests in the EU’s Council. Consequently, it could be suggested that as Scotland continues to be indirectly represented (i.e. by the UK government) in the Council of the EU¹⁸ (hereafter mostly referred to simply as the Council) – a body which continues to enjoy considerable power – its autonomy is open to question.

However, the issue of who fights for Scotland in the EU is not that simple. Ministers at the former Scottish Office¹⁹ could not avoid becoming entangled in European matters. For instance, they attended meetings of the Council, and on occasion they played a not insignificant role as part of the UK delegation. Sometimes those ministers enjoyed their successes, as was so in 1984 with the Danish by-catch,²⁰ and at other times they suffered reverses. For example, the Iberians were incorporated into the Common Fisheries Policy during the 1990s against the wishes of Scottish ministers, who were powerless to do much about it. Either way, the Scottish Office (herein sometimes referred to as St Andrew’s House) has long taken a close interest in European matters, even if the outcome did not necessarily go its way.

Scottish autonomy in the EU

Scotland’s relations with the EU have for some years now been a source of academic debate. One of the earliest concerns was whether the Scottish Office would open direct links with the EU in the aftermath of the UK’s accession in 1973. That such a topic merited attention should come as little surprise, as it coincided with the first (doomed) steps towards legislative devolution during the 1970s. The underlying issue was whether this might be to Scotland’s detriment because it risked undermining the relationship between St Andrew’s House and the government departments in Whitehall (some of which were responsible for representing Scottish interests in the EU). Kellas (1977) believed that the Scottish Office’s capacity to develop its own relations with Brussels was dependent on the level of trust that existed between it and the ‘lead’ ministries in London.²¹ By implication they acted as ‘gatekeepers’. But he also warned that this bond might be undermined if power were devolved to Scotland. If that were so, given the pivotal role of state governments in the EU, Scottish influence in Brussels could be eroded. Kellas’ point retains its salience at the time of writing, where trust and goodwill remain the lynchpins of the current constitutional arrangement.

Archer and Main (1980), the editors of Scotland’s Voice in International Affairs, sailed a parallel course to Kellas. Here too the Scottish Office had a key role to play by virtue of its links with departments in London. They not only believed that it was extremely effective, they also believed that it enjoyed better access to the EU than would be the case under a devolved or federal arrangement.²² Hence, early works on Scotland and the EU implied that the then-current set-up worked in Scotland’s favour and constitutional reform, whatever configuration it took, short of outright independence (which they did not address), would be a change for the worse. Others were more circumspect, however.

Keating and Waters (1985) were ambivalent over the role of St Andrew’s House. On the one hand, they wondered if Scotland could be worse off if it was not ‘retained in some form’ in the aftermath of constitutional reform.²³ The underlying assumption here is presumably that London would still act as gatekeeper, with the result that there needed to be a territorial branch of the UK government in Scotland. But they did raise questions about its influence at that point in time. In part, this was because its ministers and officials could be outranked by their counterparts in Whitehall. This rested on the premise that, compared to departments in Whitehall, the Scottish Office was small in terms of the size of its staff but wide in terms of its responsibilities.²⁴ That was a moot point. If those officials and ministers were outranked, and, as such, they were relegated to little more than bargain hunters in relation to a particular area of policy, then Scotland’s influence in the EU was open to question. The authors acknowledged, however, that there were times when St Andrew’s house triumphed,²⁵ more usually when Scottish interests adopted a coherent position. But they also observed:

On the other hand, Scottish influence in Europe should not be exaggerated. Except in relation to fisheries, the Scottish Office is a junior department in UK government and its role is more of that of a lobby, to gain concession within the limits of UK policy than to set the policy itself, and there is always the suspicion that in any cross-functional trade-offs in Europe, Scottish interests might be neglected.

(Ibid.: 86)

That is to say, that a Scottish position on fisheries might count for nought, if UK ministers were intent on securing concessions over agriculture or the single market.

Keating and Water’s contribution was but one chapter in Regions in the European Community. This was written when the study of regionalism in the EU was really quite new. It was also written at a point in time when the regions²⁶ were beginning to flex their muscles in the run up to the Single European Act (SEA). The latter mattered a great deal. It marked the moment when the European ‘experiment’ was re-invigorated after a period of stagnation. It was also the point in time not only when substantively more competence was assigned from the Member States to the EU, but also when there would be more voting by Qualified Majority (QMV) in the Council. Where this procedure applied, potentially one Member State could be outvoted by the others. In so doing, it called into question the gatekeeping role of state governments (sometimes referred to herein as central governments). The inception of a Single European Market would also have implications for the EU’s regions, not least because they stood to be affected increasingly by decisions taken by the Council in Brussels (and also by the European Commission). Furthermore, not only were they confronted with the ‘diffusion of decision making’, but from the late 1980s onwards, more and more areas of policy which formerly fell within their ambit, or which were shared with their central government, were assigned to Brussels (see, for example, Jeffery 1997a). In the face of this emerging polity the regions had little option but to mobilise.

The emergence of regionalism in the EU helped cultivate the (short-lived) expectation from the late 1980s that a ‘Europe of the Regions’ might supplant the Member States and that, perhaps, the latter would simply ‘wither away’. These dynamics came briefly to a head at the start of the 1990s with the Treaty on European Union (TEU). This treaty (re-)committed the Member States to ‘Ever Closer Union’. But deeper integration, the product of further transfers of power to Brussels would be counter-balanced by subsidiarity — something, which potentially was of relevance to the EU’s ‘third level’ of government, a level which technically included Scotland. But that was not to be. By the mid-1990s, however, it was evident that a Europe of the regions had not come to fruition as some had wondered, instead there existed a Europe with regions.²⁷ Moreover, from a Scottish-UK perspective, the failure to abide by the state/sub-state nexus of subsidiarity was something of a lost opportunity.²⁸ It merely helped to highlight the extent to which Scottish actors were dependent on the government in London to promote and defend their interests in the EU. In so doing, from a Scottish perspective, this further called into question the adequacy of the pragmatic style of government, which had long been the hallmark of the UK polity.²⁹

Within Scotland itself, a country where constitutional change looked increasingly likely, as the millennium drew to a close, relations with the EU remained contentious in the aftermath of the TEU. Scott argued that whenever there was a conflict of interest between Scotland and the UK (by implication the English), the latter’s view would prevail. Such a perspective rested on the twin assumptions that the ‘English’ acted as a bloc and that when this occurred it could be to the detriment of Scotland’s relations with the EU.³⁰ Thomson, however, claimed that the representation of Scottish interests at the European level could hardly be better.³¹ In so doing, they were indicative of the dividing line between those who called for greater autonomy (and in Scott’s case independence) and those who argued in favour of the status quo. In some respects Scott’s line of argument was a retrenchment of the ‘divergence of interests’ thesis (see below). From Scott’s perspe...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Preface
• Acronyms
• 1: Who governs Scotland?
• 2: An emerging political arena
• 3: The chimera of multi-level governance
• 4: Scotland and the EU’s structural Funds
• 5: 1973—1999: A Westminster by-pass?
• 6: 1999: Business as usual?
• 7: Territorial mobilisation in the EU and beyond
• 8: 2003: A Scottish foreign policy?
• 9: Functionalism, subsidiarity and the denizen of the deep
• 10: The EU and international affairs Drivers for autonomy?
• Notes
• Bibliography