Kenneth Roy
Why is Roseanna’s
Catholicism
an issue?
Islay McLeod
Pic of the day
Alison Prince
Oh, for a crack or two
appearing in the
worship of purchase
The Cafe
The really offensive verse
Andrew Hook
The dogma of
public bad, private good
is well past its sell-by
George Gunn
In defence of Edwin Morgan
Bob Cant
Tom Johnston
and Jimmy Reid:
Best first ministers
John Cameron
Tutu on sexuality
Barbara Millar
There is a queer
Scotchman come.
His name is Wilkie
Rear Window
Anne-Marie McManus
23.06.11
No. 421
John Cameron
Desmond Tutu, in an article which will resonate with David Mackenzie (22 June
‘But the worst aspect,’ he says, ‘is that it is being done in the name of God’. He demands to be shown where Christ said: ‘Love thy all fellow men – except for the gay ones’.
He dismisses with contempt the claim that gay people choose a life of sin for which they must be punished, saying science proves that no-one ‘chooses’ to be gay.
‘Sexual orientation, like skin color, is part of our diversity as a human family and I find it amazing that, though we are all made in God’s image, yet there is still such diversity.
‘Can any of us know the mind of God so well that we can decide who is included and who is excluded from His love, or who is called and who is not called to His service?’
SR Extra
Why don’t we support our young entrepreneurs?, asks Neil McLennan
Click here
Three minutes to slog it out: the polar waste of public discourse
Click here
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The best
first ministers
Scotland never had
A series of fables by Bob Cant
(3) Tom Johnston
Tom Johnston seems to have enjoyed being a benign dictator when he was Scottish Secretary during the second world war. So much so that he was only interested in having a similarly powerful ‘proper job’ in 1945. He nearly became the chairman of the North of Scotland Hydro Electric Board but, at the last minute, he agreed to be Scotland’s first minister and he remained in that role until the fabled Tory spring of 1955.
Johnston was willing to learn from the experiences of other social democratic governments and he formed close working relationships with the Nordic countries. He ensured that every new housing scheme – and there were many in the late 40s – had a health clinic at its heart. While he welcomed the fact that Bevan’s NHS provided free treatment and care to all who needed it, he felt that this was slightly passive.
In Johnston’s Scotland, every health clinic was required to appoint community nurses to carry out preventative work among local residents. Some might say (and many Tories did) that that was intrusive but Johnston argued that TB and diphtheria were even more intrusive – and often irreversibly so. All employees were required to have annual health check-ups at work and, where ill health was detected, they were not sacked but were permitted to access free treatment while remaining on full pay. Employers were required to contribute to an insurance scheme to enable them to cover their losses in the event of employees being on long-term sick leave.
He learned too from his friends in the north about the potential of involving workers in the decision-making processes of their industries. He may once have been a Red Clydesider but by the late 40s any political colour attached to him in relation to this policy would have been much more muted – more like a Biege Clydesider; the workers’ councils which he established were very definitely consultative bodies and that was that.
The activities of the Scottish government caught the attention of Jean Monnet, the Frenchman sometimes known as the father of the European Union, and he was very eager to draw Scotland into the European Coal and Steel Community. Although he eventually recognised that this was constitutionally impossible, he was impressed by the way in which Scotland was governed, as a part of a sovereign state. It was widely believed that the Scottish model of autonomy was a major influence on the EU’s policy and practice of subsidiarity.
Johnston had always been a great admirer of Roosevelt and the New Deal. He saw the Scottish hydro-electric scheme as being a project in the tradition of the Tennessee Valley Authority which had used federal funding to modernise rural societies in a way that benefited all their members. When he decided to ask Eleanor Roosevelt to the opening of the Nostie Bridge power station in 1948, some folk scoffed at him and said that the power of being first minister had gone to his head. But Mrs Roosevelt was delighted to be asked, delighted to travel on Britain’s newly nationalised railways and delighted to visit the hydro-electric scheme.
‘Mrs Roosevelt and distinguished guests,’ he declared in his welcoming speech: ‘The opening of the Nostie Bridge power station marks a great turning point in the history of public provision in Scotland. Not only will this station and all the other power stations enhance the everyday lives of people throughout the Highlands, they will also act as a motor for the regeneration of this historic but long neglected area. Hydro-electric power has the potential to put the Highlands at the very heart of the development of Scotland. What is significant about this – just as it was for the Tennessee Valley Authority – is that it has been funded from the public purse. The private sector will be welcome to access the benefits of this scheme but let it never be forgotten that they shied away from making the necessary investments to take this part of the country out of the conditions of backwardness which have blighted it for hundreds of years. Let it never be forgotten that many of our noble families inflicted the clearances on this area for no discernible benefit to anyone else. The hydro-electric scheme will reverse the impact of the Clearances and make the Highlands a place that young people will not want to leave – it will make it a place that people will choose to migrate to. The Highlands are at the beginning of a new era. It will be an era which will be led by the public sector and its resources will always belong to the people of Scotland’.
Folk that had known him for a long time noted that he was fair away with himself. In honour of the visit by Eleanor Roosevelt, Johnston decided that the next power station to be constructed would be named the Roosevelt Power Station. Adjoining it was a small museum which outlined the history of the New Deal and highlighted the common ground between that American experiment and his own Scottish projects.
While he presided over a time of prosperity and social stability, the voters in 1955 seemed to decide that they wanted a change from his all-encompassing regime. The Old Etonians returned from their grouse moors with a promise not to change anything overnight. There were those – mostly hysterical Trotskyist types – who warned that the return of the Tories would presage a sell-off of the public sector schemes established by Johnston. In fact, Scotland had to wait nearly 40 years before the great bargain sale of public assets took place.
The company which bought Roosevelt Power Station decided to give it more of a local title and, after what they claimed was extensive local consultation, it emerged as the Balmoral Power Station. The museum was closed down and converted into a cafe which, in a nice ecumenical touch, was given the name of the Jacobite Café. It was rumoured that the specially commissioned portrait of Tom Johnston meeting Eleanor Roosevelt was last spotted on top of a rubbish skip in Brechin.
(4) Jimmy Reid
No-one ever expected Jimmy Reid to become first minister. People who leave school at 14 and then join the Communist Party in Scotland certainly do not appear to be aspiring for high office. But Reid found himself leading a popular movement in such a way that it struck the imagination of the people of Scotland; they wanted him to lead the whole country the way he had led the work-in at United Clyde Shipbuilders (UCS) in 1971/72.
The success of the work-in had depended on the marshalling of a particular Scots masculinity, the discipline of the workforce and the building of anti-monopoly alliances; Reid, rightly or wrongly, was given much of the credit for the successful interaction of these forces. His decree that there was to be ‘no vandalism, no hooliganism, no bevvying’ had struck his countryfolk as having just the the kind of common sense they wanted to see in a leader. People – not just on Clydeside but throughout Scotland – began to believe that Reid was the man to effect socially just solutions to the social and economic problems facing their country.
It wouldn’t be true to call him the reluctant first minister; more like the surprised first minister. But he brought a vision and a sense of commitment to his new role that inspired his friends and his enemies alike. One of his greatest achievements was the deal he negotiated with the National Coal Board whereby the mines of Scotland were devolved to Scots control. A model of co-operative ownership was adopted which generated a sense of both ownership and pride throughout the country.
Later, during the miners’ strike in England and Wales in 1984/1985, the different model of ownership meant that Scots mines were not subjected to the Thatcherite axe; while the Scots miners did not hesitate to show solidarity with their comrades down south, they were relieved that their industry and way of life would continue unscathed. The Scots mines survived for a few more years during which time the government had the opportunity to prepare Scotland for the development of other post-coal industries.
Reid always made great efforts to build a popular front in his political activities. He understood the difference between profound political disagreements and duels to the death. His oratory was inspirational; people who heard him had faith in him and that helped him secure a power base from Auchinleck to Aberdeen.
He understood the value of focused alliances and he worked to find ways to draw on all the talents in Scotland – provided they were interested in making a contribution to greater social justice. In one of his most imaginative appointments, he appointed a Glasgow lawyer from an obscure nationalist party to the post of lord advocate. Winifred Ewing had become scunnered by losing her deposit in unwinnable by-elections and welcomed the opportunity to make a difference in the administration of the law in the country she loved. Women were not over-represented in Reid’s governments and this appointment, inadvertently, won him some plaudits from the emerging women’s movement.
Reid’s visionary leadership made Scots politics the most dynamic in these islands in the 70s. The exchange of ideas and dialogue about contrasting visions (as opposed to the backroom deal) became the norm for all levels of political life. All the political parties in Scotland found that, while they had no difficulty in attracting able candidates from a variety of backgrounds for Scottish parliamentary elections, there were few such candidates who were interested in going to Westminster; those who were elected there were given nicknames such as the second eleven or the junior team.
In 1976, Reid was asked to attend a UN conference on global development and there he made the speech which increased his international profile and which has been compared with the Gettysburg Address. It was something which he had, apparently, been working on for several years. It included memorable phrases such as: ‘A rat race is for rats. We’re not rats. We’re human beings’.
In an increasingly materialistic world, he touched upon the quest for meaning that every individual engages with; there was then, as there often was in his speeches, a spiritual quality to his utterances. There was talk that he might be nominated for the post of secretary-general of the UN against the incumbent, Kurt Waldheim. He turned down the suggestion and he is rumoured to have said that a contest within a power elite between an ex-nazi and an ex-communist was no way to build a path towards worldwide peace and justice. He may not have felt there would be any place for the power of his persuasive oratory in a world where secret deals were done with nods and hushed tones. His lack of interest in the post was also an indicator of the fact that he was wearying of the administrative life.
Despite his popularity, he decided to stand down after only two terms as first minister and he devoted his time to writing and conflict resolution. Towards the end of his life, a young journalist asked him why, since his government was said to be the best that Scotland had enjoyed since the time of James IV, he had not stayed on in office. ‘Flodden,’ was Reid’s reply. By leaving his post as first minister after only a few years he hoped to avoid the kind of intrigue and corruption that can beset stale governments and lead to unnecessary wars. Flodden avoided is not such a bad legacy.
For most people in Scotland Jimmy Reid’s legacy was the fact that for a few years it seemed possible that the dreams and the struggles of the organised working class could transform their country into a place that was safe, just and at one with itself. Scotland had seemed for a time like a beacon of hope in an unequal world.
Bob Cant was formerly the equal opportunities officer for the Scottish Council for Voluntary Organisations and is now a writer
23.06.11
No. 421
John Cameron‘But the worst aspect,’ he says, ‘is that it is being done in the name of God’. He demands to be shown where Christ said: ‘Love thy all fellow men – except for the gay ones’.
He dismisses with contempt the claim that gay people choose a life of sin for which they must be punished, saying science proves that no-one ‘chooses’ to be gay.
‘Sexual orientation, like skin color, is part of our diversity as a human family and I find it amazing that, though we are all made in God’s image, yet there is still such diversity.
‘Can any of us know the mind of God so well that we can decide who is included and who is excluded from His love, or who is called and who is not called to His service?’
Click here
Click here
(3) Tom Johnston
Johnston was willing to learn from the experiences of other social democratic governments and he formed close working relationships with the Nordic countries. He ensured that every new housing scheme – and there were many in the late 40s – had a health clinic at its heart. While he welcomed the fact that Bevan’s NHS provided free treatment and care to all who needed it, he felt that this was slightly passive.
In Johnston’s Scotland, every health clinic was required to appoint community nurses to carry out preventative work among local residents. Some might say (and many Tories did) that that was intrusive but Johnston argued that TB and diphtheria were even more intrusive – and often irreversibly so. All employees were required to have annual health check-ups at work and, where ill health was detected, they were not sacked but were permitted to access free treatment while remaining on full pay. Employers were required to contribute to an insurance scheme to enable them to cover their losses in the event of employees being on long-term sick leave.
He learned too from his friends in the north about the potential of involving workers in the decision-making processes of their industries. He may once have been a Red Clydesider but by the late 40s any political colour attached to him in relation to this policy would have been much more muted – more like a Biege Clydesider; the workers’ councils which he established were very definitely consultative bodies and that was that.
The activities of the Scottish government caught the attention of Jean Monnet, the Frenchman sometimes known as the father of the European Union, and he was very eager to draw Scotland into the European Coal and Steel Community. Although he eventually recognised that this was constitutionally impossible, he was impressed by the way in which Scotland was governed, as a part of a sovereign state. It was widely believed that the Scottish model of autonomy was a major influence on the EU’s policy and practice of subsidiarity.
Johnston had always been a great admirer of Roosevelt and the New Deal. He saw the Scottish hydro-electric scheme as being a project in the tradition of the Tennessee Valley Authority which had used federal funding to modernise rural societies in a way that benefited all their members. When he decided to ask Eleanor Roosevelt to the opening of the Nostie Bridge power station in 1948, some folk scoffed at him and said that the power of being first minister had gone to his head. But Mrs Roosevelt was delighted to be asked, delighted to travel on Britain’s newly nationalised railways and delighted to visit the hydro-electric scheme.
‘Mrs Roosevelt and distinguished guests,’ he declared in his welcoming speech: ‘The opening of the Nostie Bridge power station marks a great turning point in the history of public provision in Scotland. Not only will this station and all the other power stations enhance the everyday lives of people throughout the Highlands, they will also act as a motor for the regeneration of this historic but long neglected area. Hydro-electric power has the potential to put the Highlands at the very heart of the development of Scotland. What is significant about this – just as it was for the Tennessee Valley Authority – is that it has been funded from the public purse. The private sector will be welcome to access the benefits of this scheme but let it never be forgotten that they shied away from making the necessary investments to take this part of the country out of the conditions of backwardness which have blighted it for hundreds of years. Let it never be forgotten that many of our noble families inflicted the clearances on this area for no discernible benefit to anyone else. The hydro-electric scheme will reverse the impact of the Clearances and make the Highlands a place that young people will not want to leave – it will make it a place that people will choose to migrate to. The Highlands are at the beginning of a new era. It will be an era which will be led by the public sector and its resources will always belong to the people of Scotland’.
Folk that had known him for a long time noted that he was fair away with himself. In honour of the visit by Eleanor Roosevelt, Johnston decided that the next power station to be constructed would be named the Roosevelt Power Station. Adjoining it was a small museum which outlined the history of the New Deal and highlighted the common ground between that American experiment and his own Scottish projects.
While he presided over a time of prosperity and social stability, the voters in 1955 seemed to decide that they wanted a change from his all-encompassing regime. The Old Etonians returned from their grouse moors with a promise not to change anything overnight. There were those – mostly hysterical Trotskyist types – who warned that the return of the Tories would presage a sell-off of the public sector schemes established by Johnston. In fact, Scotland had to wait nearly 40 years before the great bargain sale of public assets took place.
The company which bought Roosevelt Power Station decided to give it more of a local title and, after what they claimed was extensive local consultation, it emerged as the Balmoral Power Station. The museum was closed down and converted into a cafe which, in a nice ecumenical touch, was given the name of the Jacobite Café. It was rumoured that the specially commissioned portrait of Tom Johnston meeting Eleanor Roosevelt was last spotted on top of a rubbish skip in Brechin.
(4) Jimmy Reid
The success of the work-in had depended on the marshalling of a particular Scots masculinity, the discipline of the workforce and the building of anti-monopoly alliances; Reid, rightly or wrongly, was given much of the credit for the successful interaction of these forces. His decree that there was to be ‘no vandalism, no hooliganism, no bevvying’ had struck his countryfolk as having just the the kind of common sense they wanted to see in a leader. People – not just on Clydeside but throughout Scotland – began to believe that Reid was the man to effect socially just solutions to the social and economic problems facing their country.
It wouldn’t be true to call him the reluctant first minister; more like the surprised first minister. But he brought a vision and a sense of commitment to his new role that inspired his friends and his enemies alike. One of his greatest achievements was the deal he negotiated with the National Coal Board whereby the mines of Scotland were devolved to Scots control. A model of co-operative ownership was adopted which generated a sense of both ownership and pride throughout the country.
Later, during the miners’ strike in England and Wales in 1984/1985, the different model of ownership meant that Scots mines were not subjected to the Thatcherite axe; while the Scots miners did not hesitate to show solidarity with their comrades down south, they were relieved that their industry and way of life would continue unscathed. The Scots mines survived for a few more years during which time the government had the opportunity to prepare Scotland for the development of other post-coal industries.
Reid always made great efforts to build a popular front in his political activities. He understood the difference between profound political disagreements and duels to the death. His oratory was inspirational; people who heard him had faith in him and that helped him secure a power base from Auchinleck to Aberdeen.
He understood the value of focused alliances and he worked to find ways to draw on all the talents in Scotland – provided they were interested in making a contribution to greater social justice. In one of his most imaginative appointments, he appointed a Glasgow lawyer from an obscure nationalist party to the post of lord advocate. Winifred Ewing had become scunnered by losing her deposit in unwinnable by-elections and welcomed the opportunity to make a difference in the administration of the law in the country she loved. Women were not over-represented in Reid’s governments and this appointment, inadvertently, won him some plaudits from the emerging women’s movement.
Reid’s visionary leadership made Scots politics the most dynamic in these islands in the 70s. The exchange of ideas and dialogue about contrasting visions (as opposed to the backroom deal) became the norm for all levels of political life. All the political parties in Scotland found that, while they had no difficulty in attracting able candidates from a variety of backgrounds for Scottish parliamentary elections, there were few such candidates who were interested in going to Westminster; those who were elected there were given nicknames such as the second eleven or the junior team.
In 1976, Reid was asked to attend a UN conference on global development and there he made the speech which increased his international profile and which has been compared with the Gettysburg Address. It was something which he had, apparently, been working on for several years. It included memorable phrases such as: ‘A rat race is for rats. We’re not rats. We’re human beings’.
In an increasingly materialistic world, he touched upon the quest for meaning that every individual engages with; there was then, as there often was in his speeches, a spiritual quality to his utterances. There was talk that he might be nominated for the post of secretary-general of the UN against the incumbent, Kurt Waldheim. He turned down the suggestion and he is rumoured to have said that a contest within a power elite between an ex-nazi and an ex-communist was no way to build a path towards worldwide peace and justice. He may not have felt there would be any place for the power of his persuasive oratory in a world where secret deals were done with nods and hushed tones. His lack of interest in the post was also an indicator of the fact that he was wearying of the administrative life.
Despite his popularity, he decided to stand down after only two terms as first minister and he devoted his time to writing and conflict resolution. Towards the end of his life, a young journalist asked him why, since his government was said to be the best that Scotland had enjoyed since the time of James IV, he had not stayed on in office. ‘Flodden,’ was Reid’s reply. By leaving his post as first minister after only a few years he hoped to avoid the kind of intrigue and corruption that can beset stale governments and lead to unnecessary wars. Flodden avoided is not such a bad legacy.
For most people in Scotland Jimmy Reid’s legacy was the fact that for a few years it seemed possible that the dreams and the struggles of the organised working class could transform their country into a place that was safe, just and at one with itself. Scotland had seemed for a time like a beacon of hope in an unequal world.
