Support for Scottish independence is on the slide

The anti-independence campaign's lead has risen from 11 points to 20.

Ahead of the launch of the "no" to Scottish independence campaign (or, rather, "yes" to the United Kingdom) next Monday, there's some cheer for unionists in a new poll. The latest Times/Ipsos-MORI survey (£) reveals that among those certain to vote, support for indepencence has fallen by four points since January to 35 per cent. Over the same period, support for Scotland remaining in the UK has risen by five points to 55 per cent. In other words, what was an 11-point lead for the "no" campaign has become a 20-point lead.

Worse for the SNP, Ipsos-MORI asked Scots Alex Salmond's preferred referendum question - "Do you agree that Scotland should be an independent country?" - a question widely criticised as leading. Robert Cialdini, for instance, an American psychologist with no stake in the race, told the Today programme:

I think it's loaded and biased because it sends people down a particular cognitive chute designed to locate agreements rather than disagreements. It's called a one-sided question or a loaded question... [pollsters] for a long time have warned us against those sorts of questions.

When all responses are taken into account, including those unlikely to vote, support for independence falls to 32 per cent, while backing for the Union remains at 55 per cent.

After his dalliance with Rupert Murdoch came under new scrutiny, Salmond's personal ratings have also fallen. Fifty three per cent of Scots say they are "satisfied" with his performance as First Minister, down from 58 per cent in January. Concurrently, the level of dissatisfaction with Salmond has risen from 36 per cent to 40 per cent.

We're still more than two years away from the SNP's preferred referendum date of autumn 2014 (a few weeks after the 700th anniversary of Bannockburn) but with the UK in recession and discontent with David Cameron at a new high, the nationalists should question why they appear to be losing momentum.

One possibility is that the form of independence proposed by Salmond is increasingly indistinguishable from the alternatives of "devo max" (full fiscal autonomy) or "devo plus" (full tax-raising powers, with the exception of VAT and National Insurance). As NS editor Jason Cowley recently noted, Salmond would retain the Queen as head of state, keep the pound (the SNP leader, who quipped in 2009 that sterling was "sinking like a stone" and that the euro was viewed more "favourably", is now desperate for a currency union with England) and, perhaps, seek to join Nato. What kind of independence is this? So long as the Better Together campaign (as it will be known) makes a genuine offer of further devolution to Scottish voters, it has little reason to fear the coming battle.

Alex Salmond, Scotland’s First Minister and leader of the Scottish National Party. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

GARY WATERS
Show Hide image

In defence of expertise: it’s time to take the heart out of “passionate” politics

What we need is cool logic.

We are living through a bonfire of the experts. During the EU referendum campaign, Michael Gove explained that people had had enough of them. A few weeks later, his fellow Tory MPs took him at his word and chose a relative ingénue to run against Theresa May.

After declaring for Andrea Leadsom in the Tory leadership race, Michael Howard was asked whether it might be a problem that she had never held a position higher than junior minister. Howard, whose long career includes stints as home secretary and opposition leader, demurred: “I don’t think experience is hugely important.”

Even in this jaw-dropping season, that comment caused significant mandibular dislocation. I thought: the next Tory leader will become prime minister at a time of national crisis, faced with some of the UK’s most complex problems since the Second World War. If experience doesn’t matter now, it never does. What does that imply about the job?

Leadsom’s supporters contended that her 25 years in the City were just as valuable as years spent at Westminster. Let’s leave aside the disputed question of whether Leadsom was ever a senior decision-maker (rather than a glorified marketing manager) and ask if success in one field makes it more likely that a person will succeed in another.

Consider Ben Carson, who, despite never having held elected office, contested the Republican presidential nomination. He declared that Obamacare was the worst thing to happen to the United States since slavery and that Hitler may have been stopped if the German public had been armed. Yet Carson is not stupid. He is an admired neurosurgeon who pioneered a method of separating conjoined twins.

Carson is a lesson in the first rule of expertise: it does not transfer from one field to another. This is why, outside their domain, the most brilliant people can be complete dolts. Nevertheless, we – and they – often assume otherwise. People are all too ready to believe that successful generals or entrepreneurs will be good at governing, even though, more often than not, they turn out to be painfully inept.

The psychologist Ellen Langer had her subjects play a betting game. Cards were drawn at random and the players had to bet on whose card was higher. Each played against a well-dressed, self-assured “dapper” and a shabby, awkward “schnook”. The participants knew that it was a game of chance but they took more risks against the schnook. High confidence in one area (“I’m more socially adept than the schnook”) irrationally spilled over into another (“I’ll draw better cards”).

The experiment points us to another reason why we make poor judgements about competence. We place too much faith in social cues – in what we can see. As voters, we assume that because someone is good at giving a speech or taking part in a debate, they will be good at governing. But public performance is an unreliable indicator of how they would cope with running meetings, reading policy briefs and taking decisions in private. Call it the Boris principle.

This overrating of the visible extends beyond politics. Decades of evidence show that the job interview is a poor predictor of how someone will do in the job. Organisations make better decisions when they rely on objective data such as qualifications, track record and test scores. Interviewers are often swayed by qualities that can be performed.

MPs on the Commons education select committee rejected Amanda Spielman, the government’s choice for the next head of Ofsted, after her appearance before them. The committee didn’t reject her because she was deficient in accomplishments or her grasp of education policy, but because she lacked “passion”. Her answers to the committee were thoughtful and evidence-based. Yet a Labour MP told her she wasn’t sufficiently “evangelical” about school improvement; a Tory asked her to stop using the word “data” so often. Apparently, there is little point in being an expert if you cannot emote.

England’s football team is perennially berated in the media for not being passionate enough. But what it lacks is technique. Shortly before Wales played England in the European Championship, the Welsh striker Gareth Bale suggested that England’s players lacked passion. He knew exactly what he was doing. In the tunnel before kick-off, TV cameras caught the English goalkeeper Joe Hart in a vessel-busting frenzy. On the pitch, Hart allowed Bale to score from an absurdly long range because he was incapable of thinking straight.

I wish there were less passion in politics and more cool logic; less evangelism and more data. Unthinking passion has brought the Labour Party to its knees and threatens to do the same to the country. I find myself hungering for dry analyses and thirsting for bloodless lucidity. I admire, more than ever, those with obscure technical knowledge and the hard-won skills needed to make progress, rather than merely promise it.

Political leadership is not brain surgery but it is a rich and deep domain. An effective political leader needs to be an expert in policy, diplomacy, legislative process and how not to screw up an interview. That is why it’s so hard to do the job well when you have spent most of your time in boardrooms or at anti-war rallies.

If democratic politicians display contempt for expertise, including their own, they can hardly complain if those they aspire to govern decide to do without the lot of them. 

Ian Leslie is a writer, author of CURIOUS: The Desire to Know and Why Your Future Depends On It, and writer/presenter of BBC R4's Before They Were Famous.

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt