What Salmond could learn from Miliband

The Labour leader has displayed a willingness to confront "vested interests" generally lacking in the Scottish First Minister.

Ed Miliband's conference speech may or may not turn out to be the game-changer his supporters hope, but there's little doubting the scale of the Labour leader's ambition. By reaffirming the right of the state to intervene in the market, Miliband is kicking against the constraints Labour imposed on itself during the Blair era and, in the process, attempting to fashion a new post-crash consensus. From a Scottish perspective, it's interesting to contrast Miliband's increasing stridency with Alex Salmond's tepid response to the crisis of neo-liberalism.

When Miliband challenged Rupert Murdoch's reactionary influence over British media and political life, Salmond remained strangely loyal to the News Corporation chairman. When Miliband attacked corporate tax avoidance, Salmond handed Amazon £10m worth of Scottish government money and encouraged the company to establish distribution centres in Scotland. Where Miliband has pledged to rein in monopolistic energy companies, Salmond opposed George Osborne's windfall tax on North Sea oil profits. Since becoming leader, Miliband has displayed a willingness to confront "vested interests" generally lacking in the Scottish First Minister.

In other respects, however, Salmond continues to outflank Labour on the left. The SNP's defence of universal benefits, resistance to public-private partnerships and opposition to nuclear weapons have undermined Labour's claim to speak for progressive opinion in Scotland. Moreover, when it comes to the issue of defence, Labour swings sharply to the right. Last week Jim Murphy, Labour's shadow defence secretary, ridiculed SNP plans to reduce Scottish defence expenditure by £800m - a policy any truly social democratic party would welcome.

Of course, Miliband and Salmond operate in different political contexts. Miliband is trying to seize the opportunity presented by the financial crisis to move the terms and conditions of British debate in a more radical direction. He faces determined opposition not just from the Conservative Party but from the right-wing press and large sections of the English electorate as well. In Scotland, the right has been weak for years and shows little sign of renewal. Hostility to the Conservatives is entrenched. As much as their supporters might deny it, the ideological divide between Labour and the SNP at Holyrood is far less pronounced than that between Labour and the Conservatives at Westminster.

But here's the problem: competition is a good thing in politics. It forces politicians to be innovative. The absence in Scotland of any meaningful challenge from the right has allowed Scottish politics - and with it Scotland's so-called "social democratic consensus"- to grow stale. In line with its Labour-Lib Dem predecessor, the SNP government has taken steps to preserve what remains of Britain's post-war welfare settlement, not radically extend or improve it. Fourteen years on from the founding of the Scottish Parliament, there remains a paucity of Scottish think-tanks and policy units. With the exception of the chronically under-funded Jimmy Reid Foundation, the Scottish left has no equivalent of the IPPR or the New Economics Foundation.

The suspended state of Scottish social democracy is also a reflection of Holyrood's limited remit. The Scottish Parliament can, to some extent at least, mitigate the effects of Tory austerity but it is powerless to pursue an alternative economic strategy. Perhaps independence would enhance the quality of Scottish political debate by testing the strength of the main parties' social democratic convictions - with full control over welfare and economy policy, an independent Scottish government would have no excuses for failing to tackle Scotland's poor social record and lagging growth rates.

That's not to say Holyrood is simply an infant version of Westminster. Since 1999, the Scottish Parliament has passed various pieces of legislation - including on climate change, homelessness and land reform - which, in terms of their radical ambition, far outstrip anything Westminster has produced in recent years. Yet, increasingly, Scottish political discourse feels like one long rhetorical appeal to some ill-defined idea of "social justice". With the independence debate now well underway, Salmond has a unique opportunity to change that. He might benefit from a dose of Miliband's political courage.

Scottish First Minister Alex Salmond addresses a rally of pro-independence campaigners on September 21 in Edinburgh. Photograph: Getty Images.

James Maxwell is a Scottish political journalist. He is based between Scotland and London.

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The deafening killer - why noise will be the next great pollution scandal

A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. 

Our cities are being poisoned by a toxin that surrounds us day and night. It eats away at our brains, hurts our hearts, clutches at our sleep, and gnaws at the quality of our daily lives.

Hardly a silent killer, it gets short shrift compared to the well-publicised terrors of air pollution and sugars food. It is the dull, thumping, stultifying drum-beat of perpetual noise.

The score that accompanies city life is brutal and constant. It disrupts the everyday: The coffee break ruined by the screech of a line of double decker buses braking at the lights. The lawyer’s conference call broken by drilling as she makes her way to the office. The writer’s struggle to find a quiet corner to pen his latest article.

For city-dwellers, it’s all-consuming and impossible to avoid. Construction, traffic, the whirring of machinery, the neighbour’s stereo. Even at home, the beeps and buzzes made by washing machines, fridges, and phones all serve to distract and unsettle.

But the never-ending noisiness of city life is far more than a problem of aesthetics. A growing body of evidence shows that noise can have serious health impacts too. Recent studies have linked noise pollution to hearing loss, sleep deprivation, hypertension, heart disease, brain development, and even increased risk of dementia.

One research team compared families living on different stories of the same building in Manhattan to isolate the impact of noise on health and education. They found children in lower, noisier floors were worse at reading than their higher-up peers, an effect that was most pronounced for children who had lived in the building for longest.

Those studies have been replicated for the impact of aircraft noise with similar results. Not only does noise cause higher blood pressure and worsens quality of sleep, it also stymies pupils trying to concentrate in class.

As with many forms of pollution, the poorest are typically the hardest hit. The worst-off in any city often live by busy roads in poorly-insulated houses or flats, cheek by jowl with packed-in neighbours.

The US Department of Transport recently mapped road and aircraft noise across the United States. Predictably, the loudest areas overlapped with some of the country’s most deprived. Those included the south side of Atlanta and the lowest-income areas of LA and Seattle.

Yet as noise pollution grows in line with road and air traffic and rising urban density, public policy has turned a blind eye.

Council noise response services, formally a 24-hour defence against neighbourly disputes, have fallen victim to local government cuts. Decisions on airport expansion and road development pay scant regard to their audible impact. Political platforms remain silent on the loudest poison.

This is odd at a time when we have never had more tools at our disposal to deal with the issue. Electric Vehicles are practically noise-less, yet noise rarely features in the arguments for their adoption. Just replacing today’s bus fleet would transform city centres; doing the same for taxis and trucks would amount to a revolution.

Vehicles are just the start. Millions were spent on a programme of “Warm Homes”; what about “Quiet Homes”? How did we value the noise impact in the decision to build a third runway at Heathrow, and how do we compensate people now that it’s going ahead?

Construction is a major driver of decibels. Should builders compensate “noise victims” for over-drilling? Or could regulation push equipment manufacturers to find new ways to dampen the sound of their kit?

Of course, none of this addresses the noise pollution we impose on ourselves. The bars and clubs we choose to visit or the music we stick in our ears. Whether pumping dance tracks in spin classes or indie rock in trendy coffee shops, people’s desire to compensate for bad noise out there by playing louder noise in here is hard to control for.

The Clean Air Act of 1956 heralded a new era of city life, one where smog and grime gave way to clear skies and clearer lungs. That fight still goes on today.

But some day, we will turn our attention to our clogged-up airwaves. The decibels will fall. #Twitter will give way to twitter. And every now and again, as we step from our homes into city life, we may just hear the sweetest sound of all. Silence.

Adam Swersky is a councillor in Harrow and is cabinet member for finance. He writes in a personal capacity.