When Labour's self-image clashes with reality

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Last week, the new PM instructed his cabinet to “stop assuming that decisions belong in Whitehall by default”, according to a Downing Street source quoted in the Times (paywall). The source went on to add, “Departments will now have to justify why a power should stay at the centre rather than being transferred to a local area”. Perhaps the new Secretary of State for Wales was asleep during that part of the meeting, but his statement that he is not yet "entirely convinced" of the case for giving more powers to the Welsh government, although he remains "open to the conversation" sounds an awful lot like an assumption that powers should remain where they are unless a convincing case is made otherwise – almost the exact opposite of his boss’s instruction.

It’s possible, of course, that Burnham never intended that his new policy should apply to the national governments in Wales and Scotland – for him devolution is all about the powers of local mayors; and his record to date of understanding the difference between those national parliaments on the one hand and regional mayors on the other is not good. It’s more likely, though, that we’re just seeing two different versions of the Labour Party. There is the image that they want us to believe: a party committed to localism, empowering communities and their representatives to take the best decisions for their areas, and then there’s the traditional version with which we are all too familiar in Wales: a centralised and centralising party which wants to keep all power in its own hands. Kinnock is simply presenting the well-established reality; those who fall for the Burnham rhetoric will inevitably end up disappointed.

The power has been retained at the centre all along

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The problem at the heart of devolution is, and always has been, that ‘power devolved is power retained’. It might be politically difficult for Westminster to deliberately and blatantly remove powers from the Scottish and Welsh parliaments, but it would be entirely legal under a constitution which assumes that absolute power is vested in the monarch by god and exercised by parliament through the gracious consent of the monarch. Devolved administrations are allowed to exercise such powers as the central authority decides in the manner, and for so long as, that central authority determines. The conceptual difference between that and a republican system under which power belongs to the people and is exercised by governments on their behalf and at their discretion – even if, in practice, the differences are not so great as they are in theory – is huge. The underlying difference of principle – whose power is it anyway – is fundamental.

Andy Burnham presents himself as a committed devolutionist, which might look like a big plus for Wales and Scotland compared to what has gone before. But, like all devolutionists, his starting point is that power is owned by the centre and may be shared at the centre’s discretion. It means that he can decide what is devolved and to whom, setting up a potential conflict with the administrations in Cardiff and Edinburgh as he probably seeks to devolve power to more local mayors. And it isn’t just powers currently held at Westminster that he might be seeking to devolve – it is also those currently exercised in Cardiff and Edinburgh that he is likely to want to devolve.

As a matter of pure principle, I would actually agree that devolution shouldn’t stop at the national parliaments of Wales and Scotland; it is a disappointment to me that Plaid’s long history of supporting decentralising power within Wales seems to have gone into reverse somewhat since the establishment of the Assembly/Senedd, as politicians came up against the harsh reality that seriously devolving power necessarily means that different areas will set different priorities. Leaving that issue to one side, the question is: ‘who decides?’. Many – perhaps most – in Wales, and certainly in Scotland, would argue that further devolution within those countries should be a matter for the national parliaments but, for devolutionists, the issue of which powers should reside where is a matter for central determination. Whilst we in Wales might think that we have a Senedd in recognition of nationhood, to a devolutionist, it doesn’t necessarily look that way at all.

Paradoxically, it could well be that it is a pro ‘devolution’ PM who poses the greatest challenge to what ‘devolution’ means for Wales. The power has indeed been retained from the outset.

Representing who to whom?

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Following her removal from the post of Chief of Staff, Sue Gray has been appointed to a new role as some sort of envoy to the nations and regions of the UK. The precise nature of the job is far from clear. After all, the three devolved nations already have cabinet ministers allegedly responsible for promoting their nations’ interests at UK government level. They’re not very good at it, of course, and it’s obvious that they see their function as being more about telling the devolved administrations what to do than about passing views back to the centre. In theory, an envoy’s role is a two-way process, but the main emphasis has always been on representing the interests of their paymasters. In any event, given some of the reports about Gray suggesting that her expertise lies more in withholding what she considers to be unnecessary detail from the PM, it's unlikely that she is the right person to be feeding back the unfiltered views of the natives. At one point, liaison with devolved bodies was the responsibility of a senior cabinet minister, a certain Michael Gove, so it’s also reasonable to wonder whether appointing a non-politician to the role is a step forward or backwards.

But people are asking the wrong questions. The greater the extent to which a person is appointed to a non-job in the UK structure, the more elaborate the accoutrements that generally go with it. Historically, an envoy is one step down from an ambassador, so here’s the first, and most important, question: does she get a bicorn hat? And if she does, will it have a plume of feathers, or are they reserved for full ambassadors? Will she have an official residence in each of the territories assigned to her care, a place where she can host grand parties to make the great and the good of those territories feel as important as herself? Pyramids of a certain type of chocolate delicacy are optional.

And then there’s what is perhaps the biggest question of all: how long will she stick it out before quietly segueing into becoming Baroness Gray of Greyness, with a seat in the House of Lords?

Spotting the fatal flaw

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Apparently, there is a plot afoot to change the policy of the self-styled ‘Welsh’ Conservatives to support abolition of the Senedd. I wonder when or even whether they will spot the fatal flaw: the Senedd doesn’t have the power to abolish itself. It doesn’t matter one iota what the ‘Welsh’ Conservatives think, because the issue is reserved to Westminster, meaning that only the English Conservative and Unionist party could enact abolition (assuming they ever get back into power). A ‘Welsh’ party asking its English masters to abolish the Senedd wouldn’t exactly be a good look, even if that probably wouldn’t worry them greatly.

If they’re serious about this, they should probably start by demanding more devolution – specifically that the power to abolish the Senedd be devolved to the Senedd. However, they may find that that would accidentally confer a range of other additional powers on the Senedd, albeit that they might in consequence receive a surprising degree of support from pro-Senedd parties. Otherwise, ‘all’ they need to do is (1) ensure the return of a Conservative government in England and (2) persuade the people of Wales, with their consistent and repeated pattern of rejection of the Tories, to vote to abolish their own parliament by electing a Tory majority to the Senedd under an electoral system which makes a single party majority highly unlikely. It’s probably not the sort of cunning plot over which we should lose a great deal of sleep. But Tory self-destruction might make for a good spectator sport.

For St George and England?

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It’s possible that the Guardian has got this story wrong, and that the words “in England” have inadvertently been omitted from the sentence “Keir Starmer has written to all of Labour’s general election candidates urging them to mark St George’s Day “with enthusiasm” and to “fly the flag” across the country”. The paper is not unknown for an occasional error, although they are generally more about spelling than facts. It’s also possible that the newspaper and/or Keir Starmer are intentionally referring only to England when they talk about ‘the country’, although failing to understand the difference between England and the UK is not exactly unheard of. But, coupled with this story – also from the Guardian – in which Starmer refers to his “pride and gratitude” at being English and is directly quoted as saying, “To be proudly English means to be proudly ourselves, to hold firm to our convictions and be able to speak our mind – and be civil when others speak theirs. No, Labour is the patriotic party now.”, it somehow seems more likely that we should take the words at face value. Labour is going full English nationalist, and unashamedly so.

Presumably, sone focus group or other has told them that it’s a good way of targeting voters in those parts of England that they need to win. Given Labour’s rock solid support in Wales, support which seems impervious to anything they do or say, it’s unlikely to make much of a difference here, however much some of us will react negatively to it. I can’t help but wonder, though, how even Labour’s general election candidates in Scotland (never mind the voters) will react to the apparent suggestion that they should be flying the flag of St George today.

Conflating ‘England’, ‘the country’, and ‘the UK’ isn’t unique to Labour, of course. It’s something which seems to come entirely naturally to English politicians of all stripes, and they seem incapable of understanding why anyone might object, or feel uncomfortable. Whilst institutions don’t exactly drive political instincts, they can and do reinforce them, and part of the problem is that Labour, like the Tories, cling to the pretence that it is rational and logical for Westminster to be simultaneously an English parliament and a UK parliament, and that the cabinet can be a mix of UK ministers, England-only ministers, and ministers who are sometimes responsible for the UK and sometimes only for England with a dividing line which is at best fuzzy. It’s no wonder their brains get addled. The logic of a devolved UK is that a clear distinction between English institutions and UK institutions would necessarily clarify the dividing lines in terms of powers, and create a political space in which English nationalism could play out.

If Starmer really wants to play the English patriotism card on the day of his country’s patron saint, he could argue for the establishment of an English parliament, and for consistency in terms of what is devolved to the constituent parts of the UK and what is not. He won’t, of course – doing so would be an admission that devolution is here to stay as a core part of the UK’s constitution. And that brings us back to the heart of the problem with all mention of any sort of federalism: it necessarily means letting go of the idea that ultimate power always resides in Westminster. For an English nationalist like Starmer, England must always remain the first, and the top dog, among unequals.

Devolution is fine as long as Wales always copies England?

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This week, we were the ‘lucky’ recipients of a 12 page newsletter from the soon-to-be-former Government Chief Whip, Simon Hart. Amongst other things, he tells us that he campaigns against the Labour-Plaid Welsh Government “who are adamant in their desire to downgrade and shut down the hospital”, without specifying to which hospital he is referring, although the leaflet is more explicit when it comes to his plan for Carmarthen, which claims that the Welsh Government “wants to close Glangwili Hospital”. It’s a sort-of-truth, although a more balanced account would point out that the intention is to replace it with a bigger, better, and brand new facility further west. The merits or otherwise of that proposal are fair game for political debate, of course, but presenting it simply as a ‘closure’ isn’t entirely honest.

We are also told that the 20mph default speed limit (or ‘blanket’ limit to use the inaccurate term so favoured by the Tories, including in this leaflet) isn’t working and that “half a million people have said so” by signing a petition. The pedant in me says that the petition may indeed demonstrate that the policy isn’t exactly the most popular ever, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that it isn’t working. Policies can be both unpopular and effective. Unless, of course, the only determinant of the ‘success’ of any policy is its popularity – but only a confirmed cynic would accuse a Tory politician of believing that.

More generally, both of those items reflect the fact that the most striking thing about this leaflet for a Westminster election is the extent to which it concentrates on devolved issues over which the MP (whoever he or she might be) will have little or no influence. I suppose, given the record of the UK Government, fighting the election on the record of a different government of which he has not been part makes a certain amount of sense. The attempt to portray the current government’s record on the economy as a success simply underlines the extent to which such a campaign would have to depend on ‘alternative facts’.

In the same vein, we come to the section on ‘free’ childcare, where he bemoans the fact that Wales is not precisely aping the English scheme, but is instead introducing an income threshold. The first problematic aspect of this is the claim that it will be ‘free’ in England whilst it is means-tested in Wales. In fact, the English government is underfunding the scheme to such an extent that nurseries are going to be charging parents top-up fees, because they are not going to be paid enough to cover their basic costs of staffing and premises (even if we assume that there will be enough places available, which is far from being certain). They’re not allowed to call them top-up fees of course, so they will be billed as things such as “consumables” (and, whilst it’s not wholly unreasonable to charge for things like food, there will be, we can be sure, an element of creativity to maximise the opportunity to make up for the government funding discrepancy; and for the poorest of working parents, it does less than it could to help people back into work). Most parents are likely to understand that a charge of around £2 per hour might mean that the childcare is cheaper, but it won’t fit most people’s definition of ‘free’. Claiming to have delivered the equivalent amount of cash to enable Wales to underfund childcare to the same extent might be ‘true’, but it doesn’t overcome the basic problem of underfunding.

But the hypocrisy in this is that the party which has previously argued that prescriptions should be means-tested so that hypothetical Welsh millionaires can’t get hypothetical free paracetamol is now arguing that those same hypothetical Welsh millionaires should be able to get hypothetical free childcare. I’d like to think that it was a Damascene conversion to the concept of universality in the delivery of public services, but I suspect that this – like much of the other criticism of what the Welsh Government does – is much, much simpler than that. They simply believe that the Welsh government should always use its powers in ways that deliver the same policies as England. Still, the good news is that the soon-to-be-former Chief Whip won’t have to worry about any of this for much longer.

Choosing our enemies

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From the outset, there have always been different ideas about what devolution was about. According to David Frost, in his demand earlier this week that devolution should be rolled back, it was supposed to be about simply running “an effective local administration”, and that was more or less the basis on which it was sold to many, including the most recalcitrant elements of the Labour Party. The implication was that the devolved parliaments would be largely restricted to implementing central government policy, rather than making policy themselves; and where they did make policy, they would be doing so within a UK framework. Over time, most of the Labour Party seems to have come round to the idea that it is about more than that, with one Labour MS complaining last week that the lack of powers granted to the Senedd “… relegates the Welsh Government to little more than ‘managing’ public services on behalf of the Westminster Tory Government”, Well, yes – but as Frost shows, whether that’s a virtue or a vice depends entirely on perspective.

(As an aside, it was interesting to note that part of Frost’s justification for his proposal is that many of the Scottish Parliament’s powers were theoretical prior to Brexit. In his words, “…devolution was designed in a different world – a world in which many powers theoretically devolved to Scotland were actually held at EU level and could not be exercised in practice”. So, membership of the EU was a good thing if it prevented the Scottish government from exercising its powers, but a bad thing if it stopped the English government from doing so. But, as he sees things, Brexit now means that the powers held by Scotland are real – a situation which, for him, needs to be reversed urgently.)

However devolution was presented at the time, the real underlying reason was more to do with Labour’s fear of losing Scottish seats at Westminster than recognising any demands for a degree of self-government; the commitment of Labour’s leadership to the idea of absolute sovereignty residing in Westminster and the Crown is as unshakeable as that of the Tories. They thought that setting up a parliament in Edinburgh, with an electoral system almost guaranteed to prevent any party getting an overall majority, would cement Labour’s position there. For Labour, Wales was always something of a ‘tag-along’ since the same political threat to Labour’s position didn’t apply.

Many – including, obviously, Frost and a goodly proportion of the English Conservative Party as well as more than a few Labour MPs – would argue that the dominance of the SNP in Scotland since 2007 proves that the argument was wrong, and that devolution strengthened the demand for independence rather than weakened it. Maybe, maybe not; we only get to live history once, despite Marx’s comments about tragedy and farce. When the time comes for a particular idea or proposition, that idea or proposition will generally find a way of expressing itself whatever the political circumstances and structures in existence at the time. The belief that that expression can be prevented by covering the ears and saying ‘no’ loudly and repeatedly is a strange one, and not one to which history gives a great deal of credence. That clearly doesn’t stop the Frosts of this world having an absolute blind faith in its efficacy. If independentistas could choose the opponents most likely to help us win by default, Frost has probably elevated himself to somewhere near the top of the list. Adding to the divisions in his own party in the process is just a bonus.

Valuing outcomes over process

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One of the things I learned about running projects during my working life is that process is as important as outcome. And at the risk of being accused of a gross act of gender stereotyping, it also appeared to me that it was often (but not exclusively) men who fixated on outcomes, whilst women were often at least as interested in the process by which those outcomes were achieved. Success – at least in terms of carrying people with you – necessarily involves paying attention to both aspects. One of my great hopes for the Senedd (or Assembly as was) was always that achieving a gender balance might lead to a kinder form of politics in which the process of arriving at outcomes was given rather more importance than ever seemed to be the case in Westminster – that is to say that it would harness the best of both approaches. I haven’t been entirely disappointed, but then neither have things worked out quite as I would have hoped (especially, it has to be said, from the Conservative ranks).

At first sight, Rishi Sunak’s decision to use the Section 35 process to block the Scottish Gender Recognition Reform Act might well look like a clever move. After all, there are elements of the Act which leave some SNP MSPs – to say nothing of party members or voters – very unhappy, and if you’re going to choose a battlefield, one where the enemy is divided is better than one where he is united. It is, though, a classic example of confusing outcomes with process. And probably deliberately so. The problem doesn’t start and end with Sunak and the Tories either. Labour’s parliamentary opposition to devolving the right to Wales to review gender recognition rules here (despite the views of Labour MSPs), and what looks like implicit support for Sunak on this issue, seems to be based on similar considerations. It’s not at all clear whether, or to what extent, the problems over this particular legislation played a part in the announcement this week of the Scottish First Minister’s resignation, nor whether her successor will do what she said she was going to do and challenge the UK government’s decision in the courts. Given the divisions within the SNP on the substantive issue, it’s a tough call; but leaving the decision unchallenged serves only to emphasise the reality of devolution: real power remains in London.

A few days ago, Simon Jenkins wrote a column for the Guardian in which he argued that there has always been another route to independence, via the infamous ‘devo-max’ referred to by Gordon Brown and others at the time of the last independence referendum. I suspect that he’s entirely right in his suggestion that had that third option been on the ballot paper in 2014, it would have secured an easy majority over both independence and the status quo. That’s partly, at least, because ‘devo-max’ is – and always has been – an ill-defined proposition which means different things to different people. The likelihood that legislation passed by either the Tories or Labour in London would have matched the expectations raised by the term must surely be close to zero, meaning that it would have resolved nothing. We have, after all, seen what they did with the famous ‘Vow’, which was effectively gutted by the parties who signed up to it. But, even supposing that ‘devo-max’ legislation had been written and passed, both Labour and the Tories would certainly have inserted the equivalent of Section 35 somewhere; at the end of the day, whatever the extent of devolution, however the legislation is framed, power devolved will always mean power retained.

There is one, and only one, way of bringing about anything remotely resembling a federal UK, and that is to start from a position where each of the member countries is assumed to be independent and they then come together as equals to agree which powers (if any) are better pooled and shared. Voluntary pooling of sovereignty on the one hand, and the centre ‘allowing’ specified powers to be exercised for the time being by devolved legislatures on the other, are two completely different animals. It’s not a distinction which the main UK parties are capable of making; for them, achieving their desired outcome (maintenance of a unified state) will always trump considerations of process and buy-in.

For Britain, see England

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The inability of some people to distinguish between the terms ‘England’, ‘Britain’, and ‘UK’ is well understood by most Welsh and Scottish people. And it isn’t about whether people do or do not support independence or even devolution; most unionists in Wales recognise that there is a difference of some sort between Wales and England even if they’re not always clear about what it is. Indeed, for many Welsh unionists, the idea that Wales can be a distinct nation whilst being part of a political union which confers greater strength to the parts as well as to the whole is a key element of their unionism, even if independentistas by and large consider them misguided. The problem they face though is that what looks obvious to them isn’t always as obvious to English politicians, let alone ordinary English voters. Whilst they don’t always express themselves in such blunt terms, ‘Britain’ (or even the UK) in England is really just Greater England; a monocultural, monolinguistic state, with an official religion of which the monarch is head. Subtleties such as Welsh disestablishment or the very existence of the Welsh language completely pass them by.

Some years ago, I spent some time working in Solihull, and during the course of a conversation with one of my colleagues there, he was surprised to learn that Welsh was the first language of many, was spoken daily, used in people’s homes, and the medium of education in many schools. He had always assumed that it was on a par with Latin – brought out for ceremonial use in Eisteddfodau, in the way Latin is brought out for ceremonial use by the Catholic Church or some universities. He was not a stupid man, by any means: he was apparently well-educated, knowledgeable and articulate, and was holding down a job at a fairly senior level in a large organisation. Whilst I’ve not often heard things expressed in the same way, his attitude is not untypical of many people in England, for whom Wales is those two geographically definable western peninsulas, but otherwise indistinguishable. There’s nothing malicious about the attitude, it’s just accepted ‘truth’. It crosses political dividing lines as well; one of the problems faced by people like Mark Drakeford who genuinely want to make the union work for Wales is that so many senior English Labour politicians share, deep down, the same sort of ignorance of difference.

Yesterday, it was PM Sunak who managed to clumsily express a similar view, with his statement that British is “…a shorthand that people use…” when they really mean English, clearly conveying that, in his mind, the two words are basically interchangeable. The ‘people’ who he says use this shorthand are, though, almost exclusively English; it’s not a shorthand that many in Wales or Scotland would ever use, where the difference between the two words is much more clearly understood. I’ve long believed that the eventual demise of the union between the nations of these islands will be down as much to the insouciance and carelessness of its supporters as to the efforts of its detractors. Sunak is just another piece of evidence of a problem of whose existence he remains blissfully unaware. And whilst his ignorance might irritate us, it's hardly unhelpful to the cause.

More words, not action, from Labour?

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Looking back over successive elections since the time of Harold Wilson, I can’t remember a point during the lifetime of a Conservative government when the Labour Party was not promising, or at least talking about, either abolition or else major reform of the House of Lords. Nor can I remember a time when they’ve ever delivered on the fine words once elected. When push comes to shove, there are always other priorities and too many vested interests. And Labour PMs have usually ended up finding that the House of Lords is useful to them as a means of rewarding donors and supporters – or even just getting rid of troublesome MPs.

Today’s Great Announcement of the results of a Commission led by Gordon Brown can only sensibly be read in that historical context; the rhetoric is fine, but will they deliver this time? Some Labour voices in the Lords are already suggesting that the proposals should be watered down or delayed. There are, they argue, more important so-called ‘bread-and-butter’ issues which need addressing first, as though governments can only focus on one issue at a time. The words coming from Starmer and Brown today suggest that they realise that constitutional reform is not as divorced from the immediate economic reality as many seem to suggest: empowering the regions and nations of the UK can also help government to be more responsive, if done properly. That caveat (‘if done properly’) is an enormous one, though. The whole history of devolution tells us that the centre only ever cedes power reluctantly, always seeks to control tightly how it can be used, and always retains the right to ungrant what it previously granted. And whilst the idea that Starmer's Labour will be any different from the Tories on those questions has yet to be either disproven or demonstrated, the history of Labour attitudes to reform once they get elected is not exactly encouraging.

Some of the answers that Starmer and Brown have been giving today already look evasive, and there is a marked lack of detail on how the grand principles will actually work. What do they mean, for instance, when they claim that the replacement for the House of Lords (the council for regions and the nations) will represent the nations and regions? How will that work? How will they be elected? If elections are fought by the same parties as fight elections for the House of Commons, the new ‘council’ will end up being defined more in terms of its party balance (between ‘government’ members and ‘opposition’ members); the idea that, for instance, the Welsh members will vote and act as a bloc fighting for Welsh interests instead of splitting between the government and the opposition is one for the fairies. None of this is answered by today’s announcement – these are, apparently, all matters for ‘consultation’ and debate (which the more naïve might have thought was what the commission was supposed to be doing).

They are also promising legislation to ‘protect’ the powers of the Senedd and the other devolved administrations, but the ‘how’ is again missing. Unless they are proposing constitutional changes which will abolish the idea that no legislation passed by one government can tie the hands of any future government (and they certainly do not seem to be proposing that), then all they can really promise is that the next Labour government will offer such protection for the duration of a single term. It’s not much of a promise in reality. The real underlying problem, the one that they have completely ignored, is the supposition that ‘sovereignty’ is invested in the monarch by God and exercised by Westminster by the grace of the monarch. It’s the inevitable result of a monarchical constitution. Without moving to a position where ‘sovereignty’ is expressly recognised as belonging to the people in each nation or region, on whose behalf it is exercised through the various parliaments, it’s hard to see how they can deliver the long term changes needed. The founders of the Labour Party would have had little problem with understanding that, but the timid creatures currently inhabiting the party will continue to run a mile from the idea of real empowerment.

Never is a very long time

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The First Minister, Mark Drakeford, has been reported today as saying that he will never support independence, but believes that “decisions that affect only people in Wales [should be] taken only by people in Wales”. At first sight, it’s a neat turn of phrase which sounds like a commitment to a lot more devolution of powers to Wales. On closer analysis, however, it's far from being as clear as that, because there are few decisions currently taken by the Welsh government which meet a strict interpretation of his rule. Some health services, for instance, are accessed on a cross-border basis – decisions taken in Wales will affect some people in England, just as decisions taken in England will affect some people in Wales. In the field of education, many Welsh students choose to study at English universities, just as many English students choose to study in Wales – decisions taken in Wales won’t just affect people living in Wales. We could go through a whole host of devolved areas and find that there are few decisions which can be said to have ‘no’ impact on people living outside Wales: a statement by Drakeford which sounds like a call for more devolution could be interpreted as a justification for rolling back what has already been devolved.

Anyone seeking to use it that way would be well advised to exercise a little caution, however, because the same could be said for many decisions taken by the UK Government. Foreign policy, defence and overseas aid are obvious examples, but trade policy, immigration policy and many other areas of government also lead to decision-taking which does not ‘only’ affect people in the UK. Does that mean that UK independence is an impossibility? In a sense, yes it does. What Drakeford has touched on, perhaps inadvertently, is that we live in a world which is increasingly interdependent, and where any government which ever takes any decisions is likely to be impacting others outside its jurisdiction. It’s why, for many years, many independentistas preferred the term interdependence or ‘full national status’ to the word independence; either are a better description of the status any country seeking to be a good member of the international community would seek.

It turns out, though, that taking some decisions individually, some co-operatively through negotiation, and some by pooling sovereignty with others is precisely what ‘independence’ actually means to most states in the modern world; the issue is deciding which decisions are taken where. The UK, as a state trying to assert its own unique right to decide everything and to take back both pooled and devolved powers to itself, is very much an outlier, and the consequences are becoming clearer daily. If the First Minister was trying to say something along those lines, he may find that he is not as far away from many independentistas as his assertion that he will ‘never’ support independence suggests. It’s more a difference of opinion about the detail of what should be decided where and how Wales’ input is made. The biggest difference of perspective is probably about whether we start with the UK as a given and argue about why any powers should not remain at that level, which should be devolved and which should be pooled (with, for instance, the EU), or whether we start from the tabula rasa perspective that the continued existence of the UK and its exercise of power in particular areas needs to be justified on a case by case business. That’s no small difference in perspective, of course, but neither is it necessarily as great as Drakeford’s words suggest. And ‘never’ is a very long time – is he really telling us that in the event of Irish reunification and Scottish independence, his mind would remain closed to any suggestion that Wales should seek any status other than that of being subservient to Westminster, relying on powers which can only ever be ‘loaned’ to Wales?

Games, not answers

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There is an old joke from the Soviet era that workers used to say “We pretend to work, and they pretend to pay us”. It tells us something about the economic processes of that time and place. The UK has its very own equivalent, and it’s found in Westminster where it’s known as ‘Question Time’, or, in its grandest form where the Prime Minister him or herself is the subject, ‘Prime Minister’s Questions’. Sometimes, the same process is repeated after a ministerial statement, a difference of nomenclature rather than substance. More of a game than the process of enlightenment which any of those names suggests, the objective is for the opposition to pretend to ask questions (whilst actually trying to make a political point), whilst the relevant minister pretends to answer them (whilst actually attacking the questioner, his or her party, and any bystanders who might be easy game). In a functional democracy, it would have been abandoned years ago as being utterly unfit for purpose, but that initial caveat rules out any prospect of abolition for the foreseeable future.

Yesterday, it was Jake’s turn to take questions on the subject of fracking. Faced with a fairly simple and straightforward question from Plaid’s Hywel Williams (“will the Secretary of State confirm that licencing powers on fracking remain with our Senedd, and that he has no intention of trying to return those powers to Westminster?”) he could have chosen to give a really simple, one word answer, ‘yes’. That would be cheating, though; the rules of the game require that he must never give a straight answer. Instead, he chose to say, “I am not seeking to upset the devolution settlement”, a response which could have at least three different interpretations. The first is the way in which it has been widely interpreted – simply a verbose way of saying ‘yes’. The second is that he means ‘no, and using parliament’s powers to over-ride those of the Senedd does not upset the devolution settlement because the right to do so is part of that settlement’. And the third is ‘no, I don’t want to merely upset the devolution settlement, I want to tear it up’. I don’t know what he actually meant – but then, we’re not supposed to – but on the basis of his record and that of the current government, the first of those somehow seems the least likely.

He was similarly evasive when it came to how the government was planning to honour the commitment given by Truss just a few weeks ago that fracking in England would only go ahead with local consent. All he could say was that it comes down to money and is up to the companies wanting to undertake fracking to offer sufficiently large sums of money to communities (or those individuals in them deemed to be most negatively impacted) to ensure that there is only minimal opposition. Who decides what is sufficient and how much opposition remains was left deliberately unanswered, but the suspicion must surely be that he, Jacob Rees-Mogg, will decide. It certainly won’t be determined by any democratic process on the ground (making it, stunningly, even less democratic than the Russian approach to referendums, which involves sending armed men door to door demanding that people complete the ballot papers under their gaze). In a strange way, we should probably welcome his statement. Formalising the fact that bribery is a key part of the way the current government takes decisions, and is much more important than any type of democratic vote, is a rare display of honesty, even if that might not have been entirely intentional.  

There are no good outcomes for Wales

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When it comes to the question of devolution, unionist politicians have always been split into two camps. On the one hand there are those who believe that the best way to maintain the cohesion of the UK is through a measured response to national aspirations in Wales and Scotland, whilst on the other hand there are those who believe that the best way to maintain that cohesion is to ignore those aspirations and impose rigid central control. The aim has always been a matter of complete agreement; any disagreement has been about the best strategy to achieve that aim. Broadly speaking, albeit with a significant number of vociferous exceptions, Labour has fallen into the first camp, whilst the Tories, with a few thoughtful and perceptive exceptions, have fallen into the second. We can never know which was right: whilst the second-campers point to the increasing clamour for independence from the Scottish Parliament as evidence for devolution having been a disaster (in terms of achieving the shared objective), no-one can ever be certain that that clamour would not have expressed itself in some other way had that parliament not been established. But being mostly Tories, we can be confident that their objective ignorance will not interfere with their subjective certainties.

And so it turns out. In the leadership race, the two remaining candidates have a shared aim, but two competing approaches. To reverse devolution, one promises to interfere in devolved areas in both Scotland and Wales more aggressively than any previous administration, whilst the other promises to simply ignore Scotland, its First Minister, and the electors. (It’s reasonable to assume that she’d apply the same approach to Wales if the idea of Wales ever made more than a passing acquaintance with her brain cell.) The absolute certainty that they know better than the people of Wales and Scotland what those countries want is common ground between them – and the resounding cheers coming from the hustings audience suggest that their views are indeed in tune with the predominantly white, affluent, elderly, English males who make up the electorate at this stage. There is nothing in the background, experiences, or knowledge of the candidates which would ever give them pause to reflect whether that electorate might be in any way unrepresentative of the wider electorates in Wales and Scotland – or even in England, come to that. Doesn’t ‘everybody’ think the way that they do, and share their prejudices and convictions? Everybody of any importance, anyway.

They clearly believe that over-riding the economic development priorities of the Welsh government, ignoring the constitutional mandate of the Scottish government, and scrapping the Northern Ireland protocol despite the clear majority in favour of it in the NI Assembly will somehow strengthen the union and make us all feel part of a greater whole. Perhaps history will show them to be right; unlike them, I’m at least prepared to admit that none of us can be certain. It does, though, look to be an unlikely proposition at the moment, more likely to foment discontent and undermine the union than strengthen it.

Neither Truss nor Sunak looks like being of much benefit to Wales; for an independentista, perhaps the least worst outcome of the race is a narrow victory for the one the MPs really didn’t want over the one that they only mildly didn’t want, leaving both the membership and the MPs divided and querulous. Fortunately, that looks increasingly like exactly the result they’re going to give us. Those who are not independentistas can merely look on with sorrow at the complete absence of any credible unionist alternative.

Smart thinking?

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For as long as I can remember, the Labour Party has been promising either abolition or reform of the House of Lords. Under Blair, they actually took a few baby steps, and managed to reduce the number of seats occupied by hereditary peers to a ‘mere’ 92, but then progress stalled, partly because it was too hard and partly because they’ve never been able to agree with each other on exactly what reform is needed. They’re at it again today – the current temporary manager of their Scottish branch office has said that Labour will replace the House of Lords with an elected Senate, in which the members have “…a mandate to represent their nation or region”, and in which “Scotland and other parts of the UK [will be given] a greater say in UK-wide legislation”. It’s meaningless waffle, announced before the work has been done to flesh out how such a mandate would work in practice (spoiler: it can’t and won’t), let alone how ‘Scotland and other parts of the UK’ can avoid simply being outvoted in a whipped vote (spoiler: they will be outvoted).

This is, apparently, one prong of Labour’s three-pronged ‘big idea’ “as an alternative to Nicola Sturgeon’s plan for a second referendum”. Another of the prongs is “a legal duty to cooperate between the UK Government and the Scottish Government”. Well, yes. The chances of English politicians – even Labour ones – accepting that England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland should be represented as and treated as equals has a probability close to zero. And what exactly does it mean if the different governments have very different views on what needs to be done? It sounds more like a demand that devolved administrations do as they are told than a means of guaranteeing no interference in devolved issues. His third prong is “joint governance councils to replace the Joint Ministerial Committees [which] would have a statutory footing”. And how exactly does that future-proof devolution against the next Tory government which can simply repeal the legislation or, if it follows the current example, just ignore it? This master plan is supposed to persuade Scots, in particular, that they should forget any idea of taking control of their own affairs and depend on Labour instead. It’s embarrassing that Labour should be reduced to such half-witted sloganizing.

The problem with devolution is, and always has been, that devolving power within a unitary state whose constitution is based on the belief that God invested all power in the monarch who merely allows parliament to exercise it on a temporary basis means that power is only ever loaned and can always be taken back, something which the Johnson government is doing ever more frequently. No form of words in any Act of Parliament can ever be depended on as long as such Acts are based on the absolute right of the legislature to reverse them and the sacred doctrine that no parliament can ever bind its successors. It’s a constitutional principle in which Labour are as heavily invested as the Tories. The UK could be saved (leaving aside whether that is desirable or not) as a political entity, but it depends on reform on a scale which Labour are incapable of even imagining, let alone implementing. A written constitution, an acknowledgement that it is the people not the monarch who are sovereign, switching to full proportional representation – these are the minimum guarantees which can allow the degree of effective autonomy which might be enough to deter some from seeking independence.

Labour is not only offering none of those things, it is instead declaring that it will form a minority government and dare the SNP and other non-Tory parties to bring it down by opposing any of its policies. And that’s another half-baked plan in itself. Whilst it’s true that voters in England might be mightily annoyed if the SNP brought down a Labour government in a way which led to a return of the Tories, the assumption that the same would be true in Scotland is a very shaky one. It assumes that SNP voters will accept a Labour government for which they did not vote imposing its will on them because the alternative is a Tory government for which they also didn’t vote imposing its will upon them. Threatening to be as dictatorial as the Tories they hope to replace doesn’t immediately strike me as the smartest of moves. But then, it wasn’t being smart which led to Labour losing almost all its support in Scotland. At least they’re consistent.

Denying history

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One of the oldest ploys of colonial and imperial powers is to deny the existence of other nations which might be in any way inconvenient to them - by, for instance, daring to occupy territory in an area coveted by the colonial power. It’s often accompanied by an argument that the people concerned had no meaningful history before they were colonised. It's an approach which has been on display today from the Russian Foreign Minister, Sergei Lavrov, who said that Ukraine “… does not have a history without the Russian people, none at all”. It’s an arrogant and dismissive thing to have said, but it reminded me of the Welsh politician who said that “…between the mid-sixteenth century and the mid-eighteenth century Wales had practically no history at all, and even before that it was the history of rural brigands who have been ennobled by being called princes”. Lavrov is clearly a mere amateur; such a statement would have been much more effective had he found a tame Ukrainian to say it. But perhaps the Ukrainians have more self-respect.

Never mind what the people want

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There are 59 parliamentary seats in Scotland. The SNP won 48 of those in the 2019 general election, and there are no obvious indications that they are likely to lose any of those anytime soon. Indeed, latest polls suggest that their total is likely to increase, with some predictions even suggesting that they could win all 59. Even if the SNP doesn’t achieve quite that level of success, there seems little probability as things stand that their dominance of Scottish politics is under threat. By any definition, under the normal rules of UK politics, they have a massive and repeated mandate for a second referendum on independence.

One might think that Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition might have some regard to the climate of opinion in Scotland before deciding on its policy response, but they’re far too busy being loyal. The Labour leader declared over the weekend that, if his party wins a majority in England, his new government will move quickly to reform the union in ways which he seems unable or unwilling to spell out in any detail in advance, and to do so without any form of referendum. His only red line, he says, is that the union will continue. That’s quite a red line, and the word ‘only’ is doing a lot of work there.

In essence he is telling the Scots that it doesn’t matter what they want, or who they vote for, he will consider a majority in England to be a mandate for telling the Scots exactly what they can and can’t have and then imposing it upon them. As a plan for winning back votes in Scotland, it looks to be rather lower in the cunningness stakes than anything which Baldrick ever thought of. It does have some merit for Welsh independentistas though; telling Scotland that only English votes count in deciding how they are governed might just help people in Wales to come to an understanding of how little they also count for the ‘British’ Labour Party, and how detached from any concept of democracy that party has become. Carry on, ‘Keith’!

Constraining the work of the Senedd

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One of the consequences of the exceptionalism so prevalent in Westminster is that most of the politicians there are incapable of imagining that there is any way of doing things that could possibly be better than that used by themselves. They really do believe that dividing legislators in binary fashion into government and opposition and lining them up on two sides of a room – at a distance equivalent to the length of two swords, just in case things get a bit too heated – to bellow at each other is a rational and reasonable basis for debate. So it’s really no surprise to find that the Secretary of State, who survived the last reshuffle presumably because Boris Johnson had forgotten he was there, is struggling to understand how an opposition party can formally agree to support the government on some issues but not on others. The idea that the political parties in any parliament can set out to work on a more consensual basis is clearly causing his brain some processing difficulties.

It seems, however, that there is indeed a potential problem under the rules of the Senedd, on which the Llywydd is seeking legal advice. Those rules are contained in the legislation governing the operation of the Senedd – which was, of course, written by those who think that Westminster is the only conceivable model for running a parliament. There’s nothing at all surprising that people who believe that a binary division is the only possible modus operandi would end up imposing the same principles on its subordinate legislatures. Whether the deal between Labour and Plaid is good or bad is, of course, a matter of opinion; but the attempt to agree in advance on a deliverable programme in a host of policy areas is in principle a noble one and an entirely sensible approach in a chamber elected by a proportional (albeit imperfectly) system. The idea that a national parliament can be prevented from deciding for itself what processes suit the nation best underlines, yet again, the core problem with devolution. Power, even over what look like procedural minutiae, remains in London.

The problem with federalism

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Those who wish to perpetuate the union between England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland seem increasingly to be falling into two distinct camps. The group currently in the ascendant seem to believe that the English centre can simply impose its will on the peripheral parts of their kingdom and reinforce a common identity by the prominent display of symbols and the deployment of random royals for the natives to wave flags at. As strategies go, it’s pretty dumb and more than a little tone deaf; more likely to have the opposite effect to that intended. There is, though, a more thoughtful group of unionists who recognise that simply trying to eliminate non-English identity and any desire to express that identity through political institutions is counter-productive. For them, continuation of the union depends on reimagining and repurposing it to make it fit for the twenty-first century instead of attempting to return to the eighteenth. It’s a group which includes the Welsh First Minister, whose twenty point plan was the subject of yesterday’s post.

Quite apart from the fact that they can be and are being ignored by the so-called muscular unionists, and leaving aside that their attempt to envisage a new role and purpose for a union which has outlived its usefulness rather than think more creatively about what would best serve current needs betrays a sense of small-c conservatism, they face a huge legal and constitutional problem: they can’t deliver on their proposals, even if we cast aside enough cynicism to believe for a moment that they really, really want to. Everything they say depends on an assumption that an unwritten constitution based on the principle that absolute sovereignty is vested in the Crown acting through Westminster can be bent so as to allow the existence of the Senedd and the Scottish Parliament to be declared unchangeable, and their powers never overridden, without the consent of those bodies or the people who elect them.

It can’t, and the outcome of a court case in Belfast yesterday underlined the reason why. The court found that the Northern Ireland Protocol did indeed conflict with the 1800 Acts of Union, but that the legislation implementing the protocol overrode the relevant provisions of those Acts, in effect repealing them. Even if new legislation does not explicitly state that any previous legislation to the contrary is repealed, that is legally what happens: new legislation always supplants anything older which is different. A constitution which gives primacy to the idea that no government can ever bind its successors can never provide the sort of guarantees that the Drakefords of this world claim to be offering. Whatever Westminster legislates for it can subsequently reverse and there is no mechanism under current UK law to prevent that happening.

Some might argue that once an Act is passed declaring the existence of the Senedd, and its powers in devolved areas, to be inviolable, it would be political considerations rather than the purely legalistic ones which would be uppermost. The Johnson government, with its willingness to ignore convention, regulation and the rule of law, let alone political opinion in Wales or Scotland, demonstrates comprehensively why that is no defence. And even if it turns out to be a (comparatively) short-lived phenomenon, there can be no guarantee that England will never elect another similar government in the future, even if it does manage to un-elect the current one in the near future.

None of that makes it absolutely impossible to enshrine the existence of the Senedd into the UK’s constitution, but I doubt that there is an irreversible way of doing so without moving to a wholly, or largely, written constitution with safeguards preventing constitutional change through simple parliamentary majority. That is something to which the current governing party of England is unlikely ever to agree, and there is considerable doubt about whether the main opposition party in England is open to the idea either. And who can blame them? What, exactly, is the incentive for a party which has gained absolute power under one system to immediately change that system for one which places constraints on their actions? In any event, it’s a project which would probably take decades to accomplish, with commissions and enquiries galore along the way. However sincere the federalists might be, demanding that we set aside all aspirations for statehood in the short term in exchange for the hope of a highly improbable outcome in the longer term is tantamount to telling us that we must put up indefinitely with the current situation. If we fall for that, we will have only ourselves to blame.

Problems, diagnoses and budgies

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It seems that hardly a week goes past without one or another member of the Welsh government issuing dire warnings about the future of the United Kingdom if Boris Johnson continues to ignore or over-ride the devolution settlement. Drakeford, Gething et al increasingly remind me of Harri Webb’s budgie – the one that squawks and squawks as it flies into a fearful rage – as they vent their anger. There’s not much wrong with their diagnosis of the problem; power devolved is power retained, and the problem with devolution from the outset has been that powers enjoyed by Wales were only ever on loan and could always be recalled.

There is a great deal wrong, however, with their prescription. In essence, it boils down to waiting for England to elect a Labour Government and then hoping (against all the evidence provided by decades of experience) that that government will set up a commission to examine constitutional options, come to an agreed position and then implement it. It’s an approach which depends on an English Labour Government being in power for at least two – and probably three – full five year terms, and being prepared to invest a substantial amount of time, effort, and political capital on matters constitutional over the whole of that period in order to deal with what will always look from a London perspective to be the concerns of a fringe minority (aka Wales and Scotland). There is simply no appetite in England for the sort of significant reform required and ‘England’, in this context, includes the English Labour Party. Given the unlikelihood of a Labour government being elected at the next election – and maybe not even the one after that, in the light of active attempts at voter suppression by the Tories – it’s a recipe for waiting 25 years for action, even if all the ducks, however many legs they possess, were to line up as required.

That’s a quarter of a century to wait for the off-chance that something might eventually change. It’s no wonder that the alternative scenario, which is that Wales follow Scotland out of the dysfunctional union, is gaining support. Those who expect that all this fulminating and complaining by Labour politicians in Cardiff will eventually lead them to support the obvious alternative should remember that budgie again. As Harri put it:  

But he won’t get out, he’ll never try it,

And a cloth on the cage will keep him quiet.

When push comes to shove, the Labour budgie is a remarkably well-behaved bird. And Westminster knows where to find plenty of suitable cloths.

Offering impossible options

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Nation.Cymru reported on two related stories a few days apart, from different parts of the political spectrum: an interview by Mark Drakeford from Saturday, and an article penned by David Melding from yesterday. They make some very similar points. Mark Drakeford claims that “…the Labour Party’s message of a strong Wales in a United Kingdom still represents where people in Wales want to be”, whilst David Melding says, “… we can have the best of both worlds – a confident Wales in a strong UK”. Much as a long term independentista such as myself might prefer to believe otherwise, I suspect that they’re both right – the sentiment that they both express probably does represent current majority opinion in Wales. And I’m happy to accept that they both believe that a strong Wales in a strong UK is an outcome worth striving for, and that both of them are sincere in trying to promote that outcome.

The problem is, though, that they’re both hopelessly out of step with their own parties on the issue. Whilst Drakeford may be expressing the opinion of a majority of his party’s MSs, and possibly even grass roots members, Welsh Labour MPs are a different kettle of fish. And as for English Labour MPs – well, Lisa Nandy and her views on dealing with independence movements are probably closer to the majority Labour view than Drakeford. As for Melding, he doesn’t even have any significant elements of the Welsh branch of the English Conservative and Unionist Party on board with his views, let alone the central party leadership.

The consequence is that both are offering and promoting something in Wales which they know they cannot deliver. In the case of Labour, delivering Drakeford’s vision depends on firstly convincing the leadership of English Labour that it needs to embrace the concept, and then that Labour needs to win a majority in England to implement it. It’s a tough call as to which of those is the most improbable. As for the Tories, there’s simply no conceivable route towards anything remotely resembling Melding’s vision. Johnson’s response – which is clearly backed throughout his party, in Wales as in England – is to stamp union flags on everything, overrule Welsh and Scottish opinion as democratically expressed by elections, and tell the Welsh and Scots to shut up. Drakeford and Melding are both trying to swim against the tide in their own parties.

The fact that they are probably expressing majority opinion in Wales is neither here nor there: that opinion simply doesn’t count where it matters. As we saw with Brexit, voting for unicorns doesn’t magic them into existence. No matter how sincere this particular pair of unionists might be, and no matter how accurately they might be representing current opinion, they are offering an utterly false prospectus. As a result of the intransigence of their fellow unionists much more than the campaigning of independentistas, the reality is that there are only two choices actually open to Wales to day: independence or subsummation. Trying to tell the people of Wales that they don’t have to make that choice is doing us no favours.