Scotland and Wales: Different drums
In a devolved union, the old ties no longer bind as tightly as before
Look back, this St George's Day, to 1999, when Scots and Welsh voters first elected their new devolved governments. The convergence between the results was striking. In Scotland in 1999, Labour came top of the constituency poll with 39%, with the SNP nationalists second on 29%, the Conservatives 16% and the Liberal Democrats 14%. In Wales that year, the constituency result was Labour 38%, Plaid Cymru nationalists 28%, Conservatives 16% and the Lib Dems 14%. To all intents and purposes, Scotland and Wales seemed in political step, albeit with different devolved powers. In both, although only after trying to govern alone in the Welsh case, Labour eventually took power with Liberal Democrat coalition support.
Now fast forward 12 years to the latest opinion polls in the two countries for their latest devolved elections, the fourth in both cases, which are due to be held on 5 May. The striking thing today is how Scotland and Wales are no longer in step and now appear to be marching to very different drums. In Scotland this week an Ipsos Mori poll put Labour on 34%, SNP 45%, Tories 10% and Lib Dems 9%. In Wales, by contrast, on YouGov's most recent poll there, Labour is on 49%, Plaid Cymru 17%, Tories 20% and Lib Dems 8%. An opinion poll is only an opinion poll, and is certainly not an election result, but it seems increasingly possible that, while Wales is swinging heavily behind Labour in the face of the Tory-Lib Dem coalition in London, Scotland may re-elect the SNP administration that first took power there four years ago.
Results like these would certainly be a blow for the London coalition parties, though hardly an unexpected one. The Lib Dems are facing a particularly brutal outcome, with the prospect of steep losses in places that have been Liberal for generations. The picture is more mixed for the Tories, who retain a stronger position in Wales than in Scotland. Yet there is some solace for the UK coalition too. These are the first devolved elections to take place with Labour, the original begetter of devolution, no longer in power at Westminster. After a torrid first year for the London government, Labour might have expected that the voters would place the party firmly in its traditional place at the head of the Welsh and Scottish opposition. A few months ago this still looked likely. Now, an important lesson, it is much less certain. Reasonably enough, voters in both countries seem to be thinking at least as much about the politics of Wales and Scotland as about the UK. In Wales that benefits Labour rather than the nationalists. In Scotland the effect increasingly looks to be the reverse. But that's the logic of devolution. The union may survive. But the old ties no longer bind as tightly as before.
Now fast forward 12 years to the latest opinion polls in the two countries for their latest devolved elections, the fourth in both cases, which are due to be held on 5 May. The striking thing today is how Scotland and Wales are no longer in step and now appear to be marching to very different drums. In Scotland this week an Ipsos Mori poll put Labour on 34%, SNP 45%, Tories 10% and Lib Dems 9%. In Wales, by contrast, on YouGov's most recent poll there, Labour is on 49%, Plaid Cymru 17%, Tories 20% and Lib Dems 8%. An opinion poll is only an opinion poll, and is certainly not an election result, but it seems increasingly possible that, while Wales is swinging heavily behind Labour in the face of the Tory-Lib Dem coalition in London, Scotland may re-elect the SNP administration that first took power there four years ago.
Results like these would certainly be a blow for the London coalition parties, though hardly an unexpected one. The Lib Dems are facing a particularly brutal outcome, with the prospect of steep losses in places that have been Liberal for generations. The picture is more mixed for the Tories, who retain a stronger position in Wales than in Scotland. Yet there is some solace for the UK coalition too. These are the first devolved elections to take place with Labour, the original begetter of devolution, no longer in power at Westminster. After a torrid first year for the London government, Labour might have expected that the voters would place the party firmly in its traditional place at the head of the Welsh and Scottish opposition. A few months ago this still looked likely. Now, an important lesson, it is much less certain. Reasonably enough, voters in both countries seem to be thinking at least as much about the politics of Wales and Scotland as about the UK. In Wales that benefits Labour rather than the nationalists. In Scotland the effect increasingly looks to be the reverse. But that's the logic of devolution. The union may survive. But the old ties no longer bind as tightly as before.
Superinjunctions: The rich man's gag
The rulings appear to place the power of the courts at the disposal of the rich and famous (and male)
The relationship between the courts, the press and parliament has been severely shaken over the past week by a froth of injunctions protecting the identity of allegedly unfaithful footballers and other celebrities. In the process, some of the tensions within the current evolution of the British state have been exposed. Though it may seem far-fetched this sunny Saturday morning, future historians could judge that the wives and girlfriends, so long the objects of prurience and mockery, were indirectly the catalyst of a significant realignment.
There is a long back-story to these developments, but the pace quickened 18 months ago when the courts granted a gagging order against the Guardian that could not be reported in any way despite the evident public importance of the story. This newspaper was barred from printing not just the details of an account of claims of damaging activities by the oil-trading company Trafigura but also anything said in parliament about it – a plain breach of parliamentary sovereignty as defined by the Bill of Rights 1689. The order was rapidly rescinded. But the episode showed how the courts were increasingly using their powers, in secret hearings, in ways that allowed the right to privacy to prevent the press from reporting matters in the public interest. By their very nature, it is hard to judge how many such superinjunctions exist, but there appear to be at least 30, including several that are plainly of public significance, including one relating to allegations of water pollution, and another to a right-to-die case.
These superinjunctions, distinguished by their total secrecy, are different in kind but not in effect from the ones that have generated this week's lurid headlines about the sex lives of unnamed celebrities. In each, the court held that the privacy of the individual (or, in one case, their children) outweighed freedom of expression. The rulings appear to place the power of the courts at the disposal of the rich and famous (and male), to the considerable disadvantage of the women in these cases, some of whom have been brutally exposed to public derision. This granting of anonymity is beginning to look like a trend, interrupted only when the England captain John Terry failed in an attempt to protect his identity after the court held that he was less interested in privacy than in the commercial value of his reputation.
This week David Cameron joined in, admitting his own unease about the rulings and blaming the Human Rights Act for allowing judges to develop a law of privacy in place of parliament. This is a largely spurious claim. In fact, English common law has long been used to protect both confidentiality and the privacy of children, while the European convention on human rights has been an available remedy for breach of privacy for more than a generation. Less partisan observers suspect that the sudden surge of cases may simply be a lawyers' market response to a lucrative new fashion.
Meanwhile some MPs are alarmed at the way the courts appear to be interfering with the right to raise important issues in parliament and, more expressly, with MPs' right to discuss them with concerned constituents. The Lib Dem backbencher John Hemming is at the forefront of a campaign to challenge the courts, in a way that jeopardises the fragile relationship between them and parliament. Equally, senior judges are unhappy at the spread of secrecy: the master of the rolls, Lord Neuberger, will soon publish the findings of his inquiry into the use of superinjunctions. In a speech in March his commitment to open justice was unequivocal, his defence of injunctions to protect privacy equally so. How, he asks, can privacy be sustained if the press reports the claims before the court can rule. Expect a report strong on procedure (time-limited injunctions, perhaps, and submissions from all those with an interest) but one that looks more likely to defend the right to privacy than the freedom of the press.
There is a long back-story to these developments, but the pace quickened 18 months ago when the courts granted a gagging order against the Guardian that could not be reported in any way despite the evident public importance of the story. This newspaper was barred from printing not just the details of an account of claims of damaging activities by the oil-trading company Trafigura but also anything said in parliament about it – a plain breach of parliamentary sovereignty as defined by the Bill of Rights 1689. The order was rapidly rescinded. But the episode showed how the courts were increasingly using their powers, in secret hearings, in ways that allowed the right to privacy to prevent the press from reporting matters in the public interest. By their very nature, it is hard to judge how many such superinjunctions exist, but there appear to be at least 30, including several that are plainly of public significance, including one relating to allegations of water pollution, and another to a right-to-die case.
These superinjunctions, distinguished by their total secrecy, are different in kind but not in effect from the ones that have generated this week's lurid headlines about the sex lives of unnamed celebrities. In each, the court held that the privacy of the individual (or, in one case, their children) outweighed freedom of expression. The rulings appear to place the power of the courts at the disposal of the rich and famous (and male), to the considerable disadvantage of the women in these cases, some of whom have been brutally exposed to public derision. This granting of anonymity is beginning to look like a trend, interrupted only when the England captain John Terry failed in an attempt to protect his identity after the court held that he was less interested in privacy than in the commercial value of his reputation.
This week David Cameron joined in, admitting his own unease about the rulings and blaming the Human Rights Act for allowing judges to develop a law of privacy in place of parliament. This is a largely spurious claim. In fact, English common law has long been used to protect both confidentiality and the privacy of children, while the European convention on human rights has been an available remedy for breach of privacy for more than a generation. Less partisan observers suspect that the sudden surge of cases may simply be a lawyers' market response to a lucrative new fashion.
Meanwhile some MPs are alarmed at the way the courts appear to be interfering with the right to raise important issues in parliament and, more expressly, with MPs' right to discuss them with concerned constituents. The Lib Dem backbencher John Hemming is at the forefront of a campaign to challenge the courts, in a way that jeopardises the fragile relationship between them and parliament. Equally, senior judges are unhappy at the spread of secrecy: the master of the rolls, Lord Neuberger, will soon publish the findings of his inquiry into the use of superinjunctions. In a speech in March his commitment to open justice was unequivocal, his defence of injunctions to protect privacy equally so. How, he asks, can privacy be sustained if the press reports the claims before the court can rule. Expect a report strong on procedure (time-limited injunctions, perhaps, and submissions from all those with an interest) but one that looks more likely to defend the right to privacy than the freedom of the press.
Unthinkable? Votes for children
The old vote more and the politicians make policies for them – time to introduce proxy votes for children then
Taskforces running short on ideas regularly peddle votes at 16 as a way to spruce up democracy. But when the voting age fell at the 1970 general election nothing much changed. There is an abject lack of teenage hunger for suffrage. To truly stir things up, consider instead votes at 16 months. Hungary said this week that it may give mothers with young children an extra ballot. The ruling Fidesz party is deeply conservative, and feminists discern an ancient rightist impulse to encourage women to stay home and breed. By restricting the proposed child votes to one per family, Budapest hopes to disempower big Roma families, but also undermines a potentially principled argument. It hardly matters if parents know or care about their offspring's formative opinions; the real point is the equal representation of raw material interest. With the old voting more than the young everywhere, things are skewed – and the total exclusion of the youngest of all makes matters worse. Those who doubt this should look at the UK coalition's social security plans. While the old cling on to bus passes, and pensions are pegged to earnings, payments for younger families are being slashed. Proxy votes for children – split half and half between mothers and fathers to avoid presumptions about who speaks for them best – could restore some balance. With climate change imposing a heavy price on a distant tomorrow, there's even a case for enfranchising the unborn. That, however, would be impractical – and truly unthinkable.
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