What happens to Scottish MPs in May 2015 after an independence vote?

The Tories and the conservative media would revolt against a Labour government dependent on Scottish MPs for its majority.

With just eight months to go until the vote and the polls narrowing, the Scottish independence referendum (an issue the NS has covered in detail for years) is finally receiving the attention it deserves. The FT has run an excellent series on the subject this week and the Spectator (another title that has long followed the issue) devotes its cover this week to the danger of a victory for the nationalists. 

One overlooked question raised by former Tory MSP Brian Monteith on ConservativeHome today is that of the status of Westminster's 59 Scottish MPs following a Yes vote in September. The current assumption on all sides is that they will be elected as usual in May 2015 before leaving the Commons after the post-referendum negotiations conclude and Scotland becomes an officially independent country (24 March 2016 is the date slated by the SNP, just in time for the Scottish Parliamentary election on 5 May 2016).

But it is easy to see, as Monteith writes, how this could create a "constitutional crisis the like of which has never been seen". The Tories and the right-wing media would revolt against a Labour (or Labour-Lib Dem) government dependent on Scottish MPs for its majority after May 2015, denouncing it as an illegitimate imposition on the rest of the UK. Conservative peer Howard Flight has already suggested that they should stand down at the election in the event of an independence vote; many others in his party are likely to take the same view. Ed Miliband, meanwhile, could face the prospect of losing his majority just 10 months after he becomes prime minister. 

Then there is the question of whether the 59 Scots should be allowed to take part in Westminster votes. Would it be acceptable for them to pass laws governing a country that they will soon no longer belong to? (It is, essentially, the West Lothian question in a more extreme form.)

There are no easy answers to these questions but just to pose them is a reminder of how Scottish independence would leave Westminster in entirely uncharted territory. 

Ed Miliband with Alistair Darling at the Labour conference in 2010. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

Photo: Getty
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Despite his “strong female leads”, Joss Whedon's feminism was never about real women

Many men in TV and film praised for their powerful women are still writing with the male gaze.

Kai Cole, the ex-wife of Joss Whedon, has written an essay alleging that the director isn’t quite the feminist he appears to be. Colour me unsurprised. There’s only so much good-guy posturing a feminist can take before she starts to become a little suspicious.

It’s not that I’ve any particular beef with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor that I think men shouldn’t speak out against sexism wherever possible. But I’ve long harboured a mistrust of male directors – Whedon, Woody Allen, Pedro Almodóvar – who gain a reputation of being “good at doing women”. Who are they, these magic woman-whisperers, who see through woman’s childlike, primitive exterior and coax out the inner complexity? How do they manage to present women, these blank, mysterious objects, as actual human beings?

True, these men are working against a backdrop of extreme sexism, in which film dialogue is dominated by males, while females become increasingly silent as they age. Perhaps one should be grateful to anyone who allows a female character to have some glimmer of an inner life, let alone exist beyond the age of 30.

All the same, I can’t help feeling this isn’t enough. We all know the joke about the male feminist who walks into a bar because it’s set so low. It’s all too easy to be “good at doing women” when all it takes is granting female characters the same desires and contradictions we’d grant to any other human being.

Women are not a specific type of puzzle for mankind to solve. The idea that it should take some noble, generous leap of imagination to empathise with us is an excuse men have been using to mistreat us for millennia. When responding to us as though we’re actual human beings – or at least, as though an interesting Real Woman subset of us are – becomes a USP, we should all be worried.

Whedon did go a little way to addressing this in his 2006 acceptance speech for an Equality Now award, in which he mocked the way in which he was constantly asked: “Why do you always write these strong women characters?”:

“Why aren't you asking a hundred other guys why they don't write strong women characters? I believe that what I'm doing should not be remarked upon, let alone honoured.”

If this sounds a little like a humblebrag, it can probably be excused. What’s harder to excuse is this idea that a man who boasts of surrounding himself with women like his mother – “an extraordinary, inspirational, tough, cool, sexy, funny woman” – is doing womankind a favour.

I’m glad you appreciate your mum, Joss, and that you apparently don’t feel threatened by other women like her. There’s a fine line, though, between valuing women and presenting them with a whole new list of impossible standards to live up to. This is why I could never quite buy into the liberatory potential of Buffy. There’s nothing impressive about a man failing to be intimidated by his own strong girl fantasy.

In E T A Hoffmann’s 1816 short story The Sandman, the hero Nathanael falls in love with Olimpia, a doll whom he believes to be a real woman. Once the truth is exposed, the men around him become concerned that they, too, may have unwittingly fallen for automata:

“Many lovers, to be quite convinced that they were not enamoured of wooden dolls, would request their mistresses to sing and dance a little out of time, to embroider and knit, and play with their lapdogs, while listening to reading, etc., and, above all, not merely to listen, but also sometimes to talk, in such a manner as presupposed actual thought and feeling.”

There’s something about the director who’s “good at doing women” that reminds me of this. There’s a recipe for dropping in just the right number of quirks, inconsistencies and imperfections to create a Real Woman Character, without making her so unsexy as to be instantly distinguishable from your Hollywood doll. It’s not that her actual thoughts and feelings matter; it’s all about where she’s positioned in relation to you.

As Sophia McDougall noted in her excellent essay on Strong Female Characters, male characters have complex personalities as a matter of course; female characters, meanwhile, are occasionally permitted to be strong, hence anomalous. The more nuance we see, the better. Even so, I’m tired of the veneration of men who fetishise Real Womanhood just as much as others fetishise the plastic variety.

According to Whedon’s ex-wife, the director’s declared feminist ideals never filtered through into real life. Whether this is true or not, this would be understandable. Real Women are not the same as real women. Equality isn’t a matter of men feeling “engaged and even attracted” to a more diverse range of females. It isn’t about the male gaze at all.

Whedon’s final response to the “why do you always write these strong women characters?” question – “because you’re still asking me that question” – has been seen by many as an explicitly feminist statement. But perhaps all it really meant was “because there’s still a gap in the market”. Because men will always find ways to benefit from other men’s sexism. If Real Women didn’t exist, some man out there would have to invent them. 

Glosswitch is a feminist mother of three who works in publishing.