What do Nigel Farage and Alex Salmond have in common? Photos: Getty
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Salmond and Farage forget the modern world doesn't want to squabble over borders

What do Scotland's First Minister and Ukip's leader have in common? They both fail to realise the modern world has better things to do than squabble over borders.

What do Alex Salmond and Nigel Farage have in common? Answer: they both believe that by walking away from a family of nations working together they become stronger and more independent. The attitudes and language of both men in this respect are remarkably similar. Yet the evidence that a country becomes more independent in the modern world when it breaks away from a group like the EU or UK is very slender. Norway and Switzerland are often, rightly, cited as examples of how dependent both countries are on a successful EU and how much they have to tailor their policies to fit in with, or follow their larger neighbour. True independence it is not.

For Scotland the same would be true. The policies of the rest of the UK would largely determine what Scotland could or could not do whether they have to rely on the British pound and fiscal and monetary policies as decided in London, or whether they have to pay for the benefit of piggy-backing onto a range of UK services such as consular and diplomatic services overseas.

Trade negotiations will remain a crucially important role of the EU, and as long as the UK remains a member we will have a major say in what EU policies are. Scotland out of the UK and not a member of the EU would have no say, and even if you take the wildly optimistic view that Scotland will be able to join the EU, re-entry would take years. And on what terms? An independent Scotland is far more likely to face long and complex negotiations and a possible veto by other member countries worried about break away regions within their own borders.

Joining the Euro will be a must, so bang goes the relationship with the British pound and up comes the interesting question of border and financial controls. This is neither a clever policy, nor is it a policy leading to real independence, which is a far weaker concept in the modern world than it used to be. Both the EU and the UK were formed in part as a means to ending endemic conflicts. The 1707 Act of Union brought to a halt the internecine conflicts across the border. The EU aims to do much the same and it seems to be succeeding rather well.

Curiously, the Act of Union had the basic elements of a federal system before modern federalism was invented. Scotland and England have different legal systems, and church and government relationships are different in Scotland, Wales and England. This knowledge should lead us naturally to the idea of the UK developing a truly federal system designed for the modern world. Many people have been arguing this case for some years now and breaking up the family of nations that is the UK is a serious distraction from that goal.

Both Farage and Salmond should also take into account the effect on their neighbours of the announcement that they want to leave the family. As a young British teenager travelling in Europe in the immediate post-war years, I thought I had won the world popularity stakes! We were admired everywhere for our stand during the war and for creating so many of the post-war institutions and constitutions that have given us such stability today. Now look at our popularity. We have alienated many of our former admirers to the extent that many continental people are saying “good riddance if they go”.

Whether you believe in staying in the EU or leaving it, the worst of all possible worlds is to poke your friends in the eye – it doesn’t lead to generous settlement of leaving terms. The same applies to Scotland. Just as there are some Scots who harbour a strong dislike of the English, there are also some English who dislike the Scots. Nationalism divides and causes bitterness, which is why it is naïve for Salmond to believe that the rest of the UK will accept Scotland walking out of the family, taking their share of the wealth, but then knocking on the door the next day and saying they want to use the pound and have a say on managing the finances – this is not going to make for a happy separation.

The absurdity of the Farage/Salmond approach is that none of us lose our central national characteristics or cultures by merging economic and political powers. The UK has been, by any standard, a remarkably successful union, creating peace and prosperity while retaining cultural differences. The same can, and in my view will, be true of Europe.

Both Farage and Salmond need to take a long, hard look at the modern world and recognise that independence can be in name only. The modern world is more integrated and frankly a far better place for this. The reason why Salmond is not gaining the support of the younger generation in the way he hoped is because they are not excited by borders, whether as lines on a map or lines through the hearts and minds of real people. Salmond and Farage are part of a generation brought up on the importance of borders. Their time has passed. The modern world has better things to do than squabble over borders.

Lord Soley of Hammersmith is a Labour peer

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Erdogan’s purge was too big and too organised to be a mere reaction to the failed coup

There is a specific word for the melancholy of Istanbul. The city is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. 

Even at the worst of times Istanbul is a beautiful city, and the Bosphorus is a remarkable stretch of sea. Turks get very irritated if you call it a river. They are right. The Bosphorus has a life and energy that a river could never equal. Spend five minutes watching the Bosphorus and you can understand why Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel laureate for literature, became fixated by it as he grew up, tracking the movements of the ocean-going vessels, the warships and the freighters as they steamed between Asia and Europe.

I went to an Ottoman palace on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, waiting to interview the former prime minister Ahmet Davu­toglu. He was pushed out of office two months ago by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan when he appeared to be too wedded to the clauses in the Turkish constitution which say that the prime minister is the head of government and the president is a ceremonial head of state. Erdogan was happy with that when he was prime minister. But now he’s president, he wants to change the constitution. If Erdogan can win the vote in parliament he will, in effect, be rubber-stamping the reality he has created since he became president. In the days since the attempted coup, no one has had any doubt about who is the power in the land.

 

City of melancholy

The view from the Ottoman palace was magnificent. Beneath a luscious, pine-shaded garden an oil tanker plied its way towards the Black Sea. Small ferries dodged across the sea lanes. It was not, I hasten to add, Davutoglu’s private residence. It had just been borrowed, for the backdrop. But it reminded a Turkish friend of something she had heard once from the AKP, Erdogan’s ruling party: that they would not rest until they were living in the apartments with balconies and gardens overlooking the Bosphorus that had always been the preserve of the secular elite they wanted to replace.

Pamuk also writes about hüzün, the melancholy that afflicts the citizens of Istanbul. It comes, he says, from the city’s history and its decline, the foghorns on the Bosphorus, from tumbledown walls that have been ruins since the fall of the Byzantine empire, unemployed men in tea houses, covered women waiting for buses that never come, pelting rain and dark evenings: the city’s whole fabric and all the lives within it. “My starting point,” Pamuk wrote, “was the emotion that a child might feel while looking through a steamy window.”

Istanbul is suffering a mighty bout of something like hüzün at the moment. In Pamuk’s work the citizens of Istanbul take a perverse pride in hüzün. No one in Istanbul, or elsewhere in Turkey, can draw comfort from what is happening now. Erdogan’s opponents wonder what kind of future they can have in his Turkey. I think I sensed it, too, in the triumphalist crowds of Erdogan supporters that have been gathering day after day since the coup was defeated.

 

Down with the generals

Erdogan’s opponents are not downcast because the coup failed; a big reason why it did was that it had no public support. Turks know way too much about the authoritarian ways of military rule to want it back. The melancholy is because Erdogan is using the coup to entrench himself even more deeply in power. The purge looks too far-reaching, too organised and too big to have been a quick reaction to the attempt on his power. Instead it seems to be a plan that was waiting to be used.

Turkey is a deeply unhappy country. It is hard to imagine now, but when the Arab uprisings happened in 2011 it seemed to be a model for the Middle East. It had elections and an economy that worked and grew. When I asked Davutoglu around that time whether there would be a new Ottoman sphere of influence for the 21st century, he smiled modestly, denied any such ambition and went on to explain that the 2011 uprisings were the true succession to the Ottoman empire. A century of European, and then American, domination was ending. It had been a false start in Middle Eastern history. Now it was back on track. The people of the region were deciding their futures, and perhaps Turkey would have a role, almost like a big brother.

Turkey’s position – straddling east and west, facing Europe and Asia – is the key to its history and its future. It could be, should be, a rock of stability in a desperately un­stable part of the world. But it isn’t, and that is a problem for all of us.

 

Contagion of war

The coup did not come out of a clear sky. Turkey was in deep crisis before the attempt was made. Part of the problem has come from Erdogan’s divisive policies. He has led the AKP to successive election victories since it first won in 2002. But the policies of his governments have not been inclusive. As long as his supporters are happy, the president seems unconcerned about the resentment and opposition he is generating on the other side of politics.

Perhaps that was inevitable. His mission, as a political Islamist, was to change the country, to end the power of secular elites, including the army, which had been dominant since Mustafa Kemal Atatürk created modern Turkey after the collapse of the Ottoman empire. And there is also the influence of chaos and war in the Middle East. Turkey has borders with Iraq and Syria, and is deeply involved in their wars. The borders do not stop the contagion of violence. Hundreds of people have died in the past year in bomb attacks in Turkish cities, some carried out by the jihadists of so-called Islamic State, and some sent by Kurdish separatists working under the PKK.

It is a horrible mix. Erdogan might be able to deal with it better if he had used the attempted coup to try to unite Turkey. All the parliamentary parties condemned it. But instead, he has turned the power of the state against his opponents. More rough times lie ahead.

Jeremy Bowen is the BBC’s Middle East editor. He tweets @bowenbbc

This article first appeared in the 28 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Summer Double Issue