HMS Vanguard sits in dock at Faslane Submarine base on the river Clyde. Photograph: Getty Images.
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Even if it wanted to, the SNP couldn’t use Trident as a bargaining chip

The nuclear weapons system is a red-line issue for the nationalist grassroots.

A few weeks ago, I watched Nicola Sturgeon speak at a Scottish CND rally in Glasgow’s George Square. There were, at most, 200 or 250 people in the crowd. As Scotland’s deputy first minister, Sturgeon must have had a dozen more important things to be doing. She certainly wasn’t winning any new converts to independence – most of the audience arrived sporting Yes campaign badges and placards. But she still delivered a pretty good speech – one she had obviously spent time preparing.

It is difficult to overstate the strength of the SNP’s opposition to nuclear weapons. The current generation of SNP leaders grew up marching against Polaris in the 1970s and its replacement, Trident, in the 1980s. For nationalists, the presence of nuclear submarines on the Clyde symbolises both Scotland’s lack of sovereignty and Westminster’s disregard for Scottish interests. Unilateralism is in the party’s blood. 

For this reason, I’m sceptical of claims the Scottish government plans to use Trident as "leverage" during the negotiations that would follow a Yes vote in September – although I can understand why it might be tempted to.

Trident would be a powerful bargaining chip. Westminster politicians cling to the nuclear deterrent because they fear Britain’s international status would be significantly downgraded without it. So it’s not hard to imagine the UK offering Scotland favourable terms of divorce (currency union, an equitable division of military assets etc.) in exchange for Trident remaining in Scottish waters until an alternative base could be built south of the border.

The prospect of such a deal has already been raised by one high-ranking UK cabinet minister and there are even some in the Yes camp (including, curiously, veteran leftist Jim Sillars) who think the Faslane and Coulport bases should be leased back to Britain after independence.

There is, however, little sign that the SNP leadership is open to compromise. When I talked to people at the top of the party in 2012 and 2013, they were vague about how long it would take for Trident to leave the Clyde. But their position seems to have firmed up since then. At the launch of the White Paper in November, Nicola Sturgeon was clear that she wanted Trident gone by the end of the first term of an independent parliament. More recently, in his now infamous GQ interview with Alistair Campbell, Alex Salmond warned Westminster not to "underestimate [his] determination" to get rid of Trident, while Angus Robertson, the SNP’s defence spokesman, has insisted the submarines will be out by 2020.  

It’s possible this is just rhetoric; an attempt by the SNP to stake out a negotiating position in advance of a Yes vote. This approach would fit with what one senior defence analyst (and opponent of independence) told me last summer: that the UK government could probably construct a new site for Trident within ten years – as opposed to the current official estimate of 15 to 25 – if the Scottish government was prepared to "accommodate" Westminster’s demands, such as leaving the warheads operational and under UK control.

But even a modest U-turn on Trident would incur heavy political costs. To begin with, it would undermine the SNP’s internal unity. Like their leaders, many nationalist activists have spent their lives marching against nuclear weapons and view Trident’s departure from Scotland as one of the main prizes of independence. Likewise, if Scots vote Yes in four months’ time, they will do so under the expectation that Trident will go. The SNP would lose a lot of credibility if it suddenly abandoned one of the key features of its independence prospectus.

There are other complicating factors. The SNP has earmarked Faslane as the site of a future Scottish naval base and wants to impose a constitutional ban on the stationing of nuclear weapon in Scottish territory. At the same time, the party supports Scottish membership of NATO and says Scotland will adhere to the Alliance’s "don’t ask, don’t tell" policy, which would (controversially) allow nuclear submarines to travel through Scottish waters without the explicit consent of the Scottish government.  

Nonetheless, Trident is a red-line issue for the nationalist grassroots, for much of the broader Yes campaign and, it seems, increasingly, for the SNP top brass. If there is a Yes vote, Westminster is going to face an almighty battle to keep Trident in Scotland beyond 2020. The UK government would be wise to start drawing up contingency plans, if it hasn’t done so already. 

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

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MP Michelle Thomson's full speech on rape at 14: "I am a survivor"

The MP was attacked as a teenager. 

On Thursday, the independent MP for Edinburgh West Michelle Thomson used a debate marking the UN’s International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women to describe her own experience of rape. Thomson, 51, said she wanted to break the taboo among her generation about speaking about the subject.

MPs listening were visibly moved by the speech, and afterwards Thomson tweeted she was "overwhelmed" by the response. 

Here is her speech in full:

I am going to relay an event that happened to me many years ago. I want to give a very personal perspective to help people, both in this place and outside, understand one element of sexual violence against women.

When I was 14, I was raped. As is common, it was by somebody who was known to me. He had offered to walk me home from a youth event. In those days, everybody walked everywhere - it was quite common. It was early evening. It was not dark. I was wearing— I am imagining and guessing—jeans and a sweatshirt. I knew my way around where I lived - I was very comfortable - and we went a slightly differently way, but I did not think anything of it. He told me that he wanted to show me something in a wooded area. At that point, I must admit that I was alarmed. I did have a warning bell, but I overrode that warning bell because I knew him and, therefore, there was a level of trust in place. To be honest, looking back at that point, I do not think I knew what rape was. It was not something that was talked about. My mother never talked to me about it, and I did not hear other girls or women talking about it.

It was mercifully quick and I remember first of all feeling surprise, then fear, then horror as I realised that I quite simply could not escape, because obviously he was stronger than me. There was no sense, even initially, of any sexual desire from him, which, looking back again, I suppose I find odd. My senses were absolutely numbed, and thinking about it now, 37 years later, I cannot remember hearing anything when I replay it in my mind. As a former professional musician who is very auditory, I find that quite telling. I now understand that your subconscious brain—not your conscious brain—decides on your behalf how you should respond: whether you take flight, whether you fight or whether you freeze. And I froze, I must be honest.

Afterwards I walked home alone. I was crying, I was cold and I was shivering. I now realise, of course, that that was the shock response. I did not tell my mother. I did not tell my father. I did not tell my friends. And I did not tell the police. I bottled it all up inside me. I hoped briefly—and appallingly—that I might be pregnant so that that would force a situation to help me control it. Of course, without support, the capacity and resources that I had within me to process it were very limited.

I was very ashamed. I was ashamed that I had “allowed this to happen to me”. I had a whole range of internal conversations: “I should have known. Why did I go that way? Why did I walk home with him? Why didn’t I understand the danger? I deserved it because I was too this, too that.” I felt that I was spoiled and impure, and I really felt revulsion towards myself.

Of course, I detached from the child that I had been up until then. Although in reality, at the age of 14, that was probably the start of my sexual awakening, at that time, remembering back, sex was “something that men did to women”, and perhaps this incident reinforced that early belief.​
I briefly sought favour elsewhere and I now understand that even a brief period of hypersexuality is about trying to make sense of an incident and reframing the most intimate of acts. My oldest friends, with whom I am still friends, must have sensed a change in me, but because I never told them they did not know of the cause. I allowed myself to drift away from them for quite a few years. Indeed, I found myself taking time off school and staying at home on my own, listening to music and reading and so on.

I did have a boyfriend in the later years of school and he was very supportive when I told him about it, but I could not make sense of my response - and it is my response that gives weight to the event. I carried that guilt, anger, fear, sadness and bitterness for years.

When I got married 12 years later, I felt that I had a duty tell my husband. I wanted him to understand why there was this swaddled kernel of extreme emotion at the very heart of me, which I knew he could sense. But for many years I simply could not say the words without crying—I could not say the words. It was only in my mid-40s that I took some steps to go and get help.

It had a huge effect on me and it fundamentally - and fatally - undermined my self-esteem, my confidence and my sense of self-worth. Despite this, I am blessed in my life: I have been happily married for 25 years. But if this was the effect of one small, albeit significant, event in my life stage, how must it be for those women who are carrying it on a day-by-day basis?

I thought carefully about whether I should speak about this today, and it was people’s intake of breath and the comment, “What? You’re going to talk about this?”, that motivated me to do it, because there is still a taboo about sharing this kind of information. Certainly for people of my generation, it is truly shocking to talk in public about this sort of thing.

As has been said, rape does not just affect the woman; it affects the family as well. Before my mother died early of cancer, I really wanted to tell her, but I could not bring myself to do it. I have a daughter and if something happened to her and she could not share it with me, I would be appalled. It was possibly cowardly, but it was an act of love that meant that I protected my mother.

As an adult, of course I now know that rape is not about sex at all - it is all about power and control, and it is a crime of violence. I still pick up on when the myths of rape are perpetuated form a male perspective: “Surely you could have fought him off. Did you scream loudly enough?” And the suggestion by some men that a woman is giving subtle hints or is making it up is outrageous. Those assumptions put the woman at the heart of cause, when she should be at the heart of effect. A rape happens when a man makes a decision to hurt someone he feels he can control. Rapes happen because of the rapist, not because of the victim.

We women in our society have to stand up for each other. We have to be courageous. We have to call things out and say where things are wrong. We have to support and nurture our sisters as we do with our sons. Like many women of my age, I have on occasion encountered other aggressive actions towards me, both in business and in politics. But one thing that I realise now is that I am not scared and he was. I am not scared. I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog. She was previously deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.