Turns Out I’m of Nationalist Stock! Elaine Gunn

Elaine lives near Edinburgh with her husband and three children. In less than a year she has gone from being non political to being a passionate YES Campaigner. Here is her story of why…

 

 

It turns out I am of nationalist stock. My parents have apparently been in favour of Scottish Independence for at least as long as I’ve been alive; I didn’t even notice until the night of the landslide SNP victory in the 2011 Scottish elections. As the result was announced, my folks (and their friends, who were visiting) absolutely roared – the first step had been taken, they cheered, towards an independent, sovereign state of Scotland.

I was a bit baffled at the time; how had my parents’ passionate nationalism escaped me so completely? But, being 5 weeks post-partum with my second son, I mentally shrugged, popped the confusion to the back of my head and blithely went back to breastfeeding my new baby.

By the time the referendum was announced, things felt a bit more real; real enough for me to start feeling pretty uncomfortable with my parents’ pro-independence views. It was alright for them, I grumbled; they’d paid off their mortgage, their kids had grown up and left home, they had so much less to lose – they could afford to gamble. Whereas my husband and I had two young children and loose plans for a third; we had (and still have) a pretty substantial mortgage to pay, jobs to hang on to, university educations to fund in the future, pensions to pay into – the list of our financial commitments felt endless. There was no way I was prepared to risk my own and my children’s’ future security with such recklessness.

So I defaulted to No and shelved the matter again.

 

 

 

 

I had never been the least bit interested in politics; my apathy was so complete that the only reason I was ever on the voters’ roll was because I worked for a bank and therefore understood how damaging not being registered was to your credit rating. I didn’t vote; I’m pretty sure I failed to notice at least two Prime Ministers, and the Scottish Parliament wasn’t even a blip on my radar. I didn’t even question where the lack of interest came from; I was just aware in the back of my mind from quite a young age, of a conviction that my vote wouldn’t change anything, politicians were all just the same, so really what was the point of getting all stressed out about it?

I did know two things, though:

1. The Tories (particularly Margaret Thatcher) were bad.
2. Alex Salmond was either also bad or, at the very least, thick and not to be trusted.

Looking back, I feel it says a lot about the insidious persuasiveness of the media, that those two particular messages were the ones that managed to penetrate my apathy shell!

The first time I ever voted was in the general election of 2010. To my very slight credit, I had decided that as I was a parent now (my first son was born at the end of 2009), it was time to start taking some responsibility and, if not become a “political person”, at least to vote in a semi-informed fashion. I watched the televised debates, got a bit caught up in the sudden celebrity of Nick Clegg – who seemed like a decent enough bloke, with some reasonably sensible stuff to say – and voted LibDem on that basis. I was horrified at the thought that people might elect the Tories, and watched the results coming in with a sick feeling and a sinking heart. The experience nearly finished my fledgling voting career off altogether; what more confirmation did I need that voting was just pointless and ultimately upsetting?

Fast-forward to the present day, and things couldn’t be more different. I am a thoroughly “political person”, and although I have no doubt it makes me a less comfortable person to be around at times, I do feel that I have made a change for the better. And it was the referendum that woke me up.

Towards the tail end of last year, I decided I had to take my fingers out of my ears, stop shouting “La la la la!” and start properly researching my decision. This Scottish vote, it seemed to me, would be meaningful in a way a vote that formed 8.5% of the UK electorate could never be. Therefore, the new sense of social responsibility that was fostered in me on becoming a parent, told me that it would be unacceptable to vote without informing myself properly. What a journey that was!

I have become a referendum junkie. I write about it, tweet about it; it turns up on my Facebook feed virtually every day – and, would you believe, I wear my Yes badge everywhere I go!

 

 

 

 

The process of informing myself led me to facts and information that in turns astonished, appalled and inspired me. I read about how Westminster hid details of Scotland’s own “embarrassing” oil wealth from it back in the 1970s via the McCrone Report, to “take the wind out” of the pro-independence movement. I found out that when the majority of voting Scots opted for devolution in 1979, the government in Westminster changed the referendum goalposts at the last minute, to ensure it wouldn’t happen. I read about how Scotland has raised more tax per head of population than the rest of the UK for at least 30 years, and I woke up to the fact that the media had demonised the SNP and particularly mad, bad, dangerous Alex Salmond, to the point where even ordinary and completely uninterested people like pre-politics me were influenced to dislike the man without ever even having heard him speak, let alone actually listening to what he had to say.

The more I sought out information, the more I could feel the fear of the unknown slipping away. And as the fear went, the common-sense, pragmatic questions started to kick in; why, exactly, was Scotland the only country in the world unfit to govern itself? If I could plan a sunny retirement in the South of France, and draw my UK pension over there, why would it be any different if Scotland were to suddenly become “foreign”? What was so scary about being “foreign” to the rest of the UK, anyway? Loads of countries are foreign to the UK – almost all of them, in fact ;-).

Having more or less satisfied myself that an independent Scotland would probably be no worse off (and in fact likely far better off) financially than it is at the moment, two things happened in the Scottish Parliament that tipped me over into a firm Yes – and neither of them was directly related to the referendum.

Firstly, Scottish MPs voted against the astonishingly unfair “bedroom tax” in Westminster, their votes were outnumbered in London, as they always are, and it was implemented all the same – plus ça change! Did the Scottish Parliament shrug and chalk it up to “you win some, you lose some”? No, they did not. They shimmied their budgets about, and they found the money to offset it so that disabled people and their families wouldn’t have to suffer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, early in 2014, the vote on same-sex marriage arrived at Holyrood. Westminster had already given a “well, I suppose if we have to” 53% agreement to legalising gay marriage, but this was utterly blown out of the water by Holyrood’s thoroughly resounding “HELL YEAH!” 85% in favour.

For the first time in my life, at the bedroom tax intervention, I had felt the stirrings of pride in my government. The legalisation of same-sex marriage with such overwhelming enthusiasm thrilled me totally, and I realised that finally, finally here was a government whose values and culture I could get on board with. If they were able (and more importantly, willing) to do so much for fairness and equality with one hand tied behind their back, then just imagine what the future could hold with the powers of independence?

So that was my journey to Yes. I’m happier with my vote now than I have ever been – because I’m confident that for the first time in my life, I’ve made a really well informed decision on what I believe is best for my country, my family and my three boys. I wish all my fellow voters good luck with their choices, and just hope that enough people are as excited by this great opportunity for the betterment of our country as I am!