The Scottish Parliament at Holyrood. Whatever the referendum results, more powers will be devolved to the government. Photo: Getty
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Leader: The United Kingdom in its current form is unacceptable

Whatever the outcome of the referendum the status quo should not endure. Constitutional change is coming to Scotland and the rest of the UK, and we are all the better for it.

There are now fewer than 100 days remaining until the Scottish independence referendum. As Alistair Darling says in our interview this week: “This is a vote that’s not like a normal general election. This is something the nationalists have to win only once, by one vote. It is irrevocable. You would never come back.”

Despite the criticism of Mr Darling’s performance as head of the No campaign, the polls suggest that the unionist side remains on course for victory. But whatever the outcome of the referendum – and it could be very close – the status quo cannot and should not endure. Constitutional change is coming to Scotland and the rest of the UK, and we are all the better for it.

Before the creation of the Scottish Parliament in 1999, it was predicted, in the words of the former Labour cabinet minister George Robertson, that devolution would “kill nationalism stone dead”. Yet it was those who argued that devolution was “a process, not an event” who were correct.

Under the terms of the Scotland Act 2012, Holyrood will win the right to vary the country’s income-tax rate by up to 10p, as well as gaining complete control of stamp duty and landfill tax and new powers to borrow for capital expenditure. All three of the main Westminster parties have vowed to go further than this, with the Scottish Conservatives pledging on 2 June to devolve income tax in full to Holyrood.

That the party that campaigned against devolution for so long (albeit on the grounds that it would serve to encourage nationalism) has changed its stance is evidence that the UK political establishment has belatedly accepted the long-held desire among Scots for greater autonomy, whether for full independence or so-called Devo Plus or Devo Max. However, Tories’ hopes of a revival in Scotland, where they have only one MP (out of 59), will be disappointed. The Conservative and Unionist Party has been decisively defeated north of the border.

Perhaps, of the three main parties, it is only Labour that can win a fair hearing in Scotland, if indeed it deserves to. It is regrettable, therefore, that its proposals for further devolution have been so timid. Unlike the Conservatives, Scottish Labour is proposing only to allow Holyrood to vary income-tax rates by up to 15p on the grounds that going any further would risk triggering a “race to the bottom” and undermine the ability of the UK to redistribute across the nations. Neither argument bears scrutiny. Income tax represents just 23 per cent of UK tax revenue, leaving much to redistribute, and it is up to Labour to win the argument for progressive taxation, not to maintain control for fear that it will lose. Such caution validates Alex Salmond’s argument that only by voting for independence will Scots win the new powers they both want and deserve.

Further devolution is also necessary to address the grievance felt among English voters that Holyrood is able to spend money – on free university education, free prescriptions and free social care for the elderly – without having the responsibility of raising it.

Where Labour has an advantage over its rivals is in recognising that new powers for Scotland must be coupled with greater autonomy for England and for its cities. Labour has pledged to devolve at least £20bn of funding to the regions, a figure that should increase once Andrew Adonis’s growth review is published in full. It is hoped that, by ensuring decisions are made closer to those they affect, trust can begin to be restored in a discredited and overly centralised political system.

Beyond the important but technocratic arguments over the currency, North Sea oil and EU membership, the case for the Union is ultimately emotional: what unites the people of these islands is surely more important than what divides them. The possibility that the most successful multinational state in modern history could soon be broken up is cause for regret. For now, the Union might yet endure. But unless the grievances that have led to our present constitutional crisis, in Scotland and in England, are resolved, the ties that bind us will become ever more frayed. One day, quite soon, they might well snap.

This article first appeared in the 04 June 2014 issue of the New Statesman, 100 days to save Great Britain

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.