New Statesman Scotland

When Jim Wallace, the Deputy First Minister cum Justice Minister, told the recent Liberal Democrat conference that the Lord Advocate was to be stripped of his power to appoint Scotland's judges, the announcement had two effects. One was to induce a collective sigh of relief among those lawyers and legal academics who have felt for years (maybe even generations) that the old system was little more than legally sanctified cronyism that was in danger of bringing the reputation of Scots law into serious disrepute. According to Justice Jim, the all-powerful Lord Advocate is to be replaced by a grown-up, European-style "judicial commission" made up of an admixture of the great and the good (lay as well as legal). It is a change of which this diary heartily approves.

The other effect, however, was to diminish the stature of Justice Jim's own party leader, Charles Kennedy. Wallace was announcing a substantial piece of executive policy. One slightly bemused Lib Dem expressed it this way: "It was great to hear Jim Wallace announcing a real change, something that was going to shape the way our country works. But when was the last time Charles Kennedy announced something like that? Something that was not just a pious hope, but the real thing. Never. I couldn't help feeling sorry for Charles. Maybe he has pitched his tent on the wrong side of the border."

This is an interesting thought, and one that invites speculation. What would happen if Kennedy got fed up with being forever the bridesmaid and never the bride? It could happen. Would he cast his eyes longingly to his native land where Lib Dem folk have a realistic chance of power? Would he be tempted to find some way of abandoning Lib Dems (England & Wales) Ltd in favour of Lib Dems (Scotland) Ltd? And if he did, would Justice Jim allow him to muscle in? Would an amicable deal be struck, or would there be blood all over the Lib Dem walls? Pure speculation, of course. But just the kind that the politics of devolution encourage.

The news that the Scotland rugby cap David Hilton may not, after all, have been eligible to don the blue jersey just adds to the fankle that British sport is getting itself into over nationality. What "qualified" Hilton to trot out regularly for Scotland was the fact that one of his grandfathers was born in Edinburgh. It now seems that Hilton's antecedent was actually born in the city of Bristol. Hilton announced that he was "devastated" by this piece of genealogical evidence, which suggests to this diary that he (like many sportsfolk with tenuous links to Wales, Scotland and Ireland) knows that the so-called Celtic countries represent his only chance of playing at international level, and that he would never be good enough to pull on the white jersey of England. This, in turn, may go some way to explaining this season's results.

So this diary would like to pose a question: has the time come to ditch "ethnicity" and extend "civic" nationalism to sport? Just as you can only vote for the Scottish Parliament or the Welsh Assembly if you happen to live in Scotland and Wales, so you could only play for Scotland, Wales, Ireland or England if you live in these respective countries. Where you (or your grandparents) were born would not matter. On the face of it, this would hand over every game to the mighty English. But it might encourage all those fit and able young denizens of Scotland who were born elsewhere (England, Australia, Pakistan and so on) to aspire to the Scottish teams. And perhaps it would entice talented and internationally ambitious Scots-born sportsmen and women back to Scotland.

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