Edinburgh tattoo: a pro-independence rally, September 2013. Photo: Getty
Show Hide image

The polls are narrowing, the nationalists are on the march and Scotland is divided

Even younger SNP activists possess an evangelicalism that simply cannot be matched by Labour and the No camp.

When does a political conference cease to be one and instead become a rally? The SNP’s spring conference in Aberdeen was one such occasion. David Attenborough ought to have been there to do his time-lapse camera thing for the benefit of anthropologists everywhere.

The conference denouement was provided by Scotland’s First Minister, Alex Salmond, a man who requires little help in heating the blood of his followers. However, on this occasion a support act was provided by a preview of a play by the Scots playwright Alan Bissett entitled The Pure, the Dead and the Brilliant. Bissett is a gifted writer but his interpretation of recent Scottish history seems built on the theory that Scotland has been living under English occupation and that the press are the quisling wormtongues of the oppressor. By the time Salmond made his entry, the hall was in a right old lather.

The First Minister’s 40-minute address was accompanied by a constant beat of foot-stamping and a steady thrum of “ahas” and “mhmms”, in the manner of Pentecostalists at a revival meeting. There was spontaneous hugging and tears. Fortunately, with five months to go until the referendum, Salmond resisted the urge to yell “We’re allll riiiiight”, like another political leader, 22 years ago, who thought his time had come.

 

Victim support

The Scottish nationalists must snap out of their victim complex over a perceived anti-Yes bias in the UK and Scottish press. Certainly, the pattern of press ownership in Scotland suggests an inherent pro-Union sentiment, but a study of each of Scotland’s national newspapers shows that the Yes camp has little to complain about. In the comment sections of these papers, I have already counted nine columnists who, by degrees, could be considered sympathetic to the nationalist cause.

The Scottish edition of the Sun, meanwhile, has backed the SNP at the last two Holyrood elections and I understand that a lively debate is being conducted at the paper’s Glasgow HQ as to which side it will support come September. Rupert Murdoch, we are told, likes to back winners but the extent to which he felt he was betrayed by David Cameron and the Westminster establishment over phone-hacking and the abortive takeover of BSkyB in 2011 may also come into play.

The press seats were firmly in the eye of the storm for the First Minister’s speech. At the end of it I stood up to look around at the cheering delegates and noticed that my newspaper colleagues and I were being treated to what could only be described as “aggressive clapping”. The perpetrators, in this instance a row of senior citizens, fixed you with a determined stare and began to clap at you with enthusiastic disapprobation. “Why aren’t you clapping, too?” they seemed to be asking.

 

Make it to the promised land

Opinion polls in recent months have suggested a significant narrowing of the gap between Yes and No. What once seemed insurmountable for the nationalists now doesn’t seem to be so at all.

The numbers currently indicate that support for Yes is now creeping towards 40 per cent, meaning a single-digit swing come September would result in independence. This has been accompanied by increasing claims from some in the No camp that Yes campaigning is breaching the nebulous bounds of what is considered to be decent and acceptable in politics (can there be such a thing?).

Yet what some may consider intimidating, others may deem merely passion and fervour. In the audience at the spring conference were many elderly people who have been campaigning for independence for their entire adult lives. The Promised Land is within touching distance. Even younger activists possess an evangelicalism that simply cannot be matched by those Labour supporters who will bear the burden of unionist campaigning in the weeks leading up to 18 September.

As such, there has been a revival of 1950s and 1960s town-hall politics with debates and gatherings occurring almost every night of the week, the length and breadth of Scotland. The No camp is being trounced at these, and this has probably been reflected in the recent polls. In the final two weeks of the campaign the SNP will command a huge army of committed volunteers. The extent to which the No campaign can match this nationalist footfall may yet determine the final outcome.

 

No turning back

In the light of all this sound and fury some have expressed disquiet at what may happen if Scotland votes No. Will the campaign wounds be so deep that a prolonged period of healing and reconciliation may be required? And how painful would that be? The stakes are much, much higher than for any Westminster plebiscite, which can be reversed every five years or so. This one is irreversible and emotions, naturally, are running high. The increasingly impressive Nicola Sturgeon, deputy leader of the SNP, seems to have sensed the need for calm in the days following 18 September. In a recent address to foreign media she said that, no matter the outcome, we must all return to being brother and sister Scots again, and move on together.

It may not be that simple. My straw poll of nationalists last weekend found almost universal support for a second referendum if the result of this one is a narrow defeat. This flies in the face of national polls, which suggest little appetite in the country for such. Scotland is a divided nation and may remain so for quite some time.

This article first appeared in the 14 April 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Easter Double

BBC
Show Hide image

Can Britain’s new powers to investigate unexplained wealth prevent real-life McMafias?

The government is waking up to the fact that global criminals are fond of London. 

The BBC’s McMafia, a story of high-flying Russian mobsters and international money launderers woven into the fabric of London, ended this month. Despite the dramatic TV twists, the subject matter has its basis in reality. As a barrister dealing with cases that involve Russia and former Soviet states, my experience is that politicians and business people use the apparatus of the state to put rivals out of business by any means possible.

In McMafia, previously straight-laced fund manager Alex Godman (played by James Norton) begins transferring money under the cover of a new investment fund. With a click of a button, he can transfer a shady partner’s money around the world. As the Paradise Papers underlined, money can indeed be hidden through the use of complex company structures registered in different countries, many of which do not easily disclose the names of owners and beneficiaries. One company can be owned by another, so the owner of Company A (in Panama) might be Company B (in the Cayman Islands) which is owned by Company C (in the Seychelles) which owns property in London. To find out who owns the property, at least three separate jurisdictions must be contacted and international co-operation arranged – and that’s a simple structure. Many companies will have multiple owners, making it even more difficult to work out who the actual beneficiary is.

I represent individuals before the UK extradition and immigration courts. They are bankers, business people and politicians who have fled persecution in Russia and Ukraine or face fabricated charges in their home country and face extradition or deportation and will often be tortured or put on show trial if we lose. Their opponents will deploy spies, who may pay visits to co-defendants in Russia for “psychological work” (aka torture). Sometimes the threat of torture or ruin against a person’s family is enough to make them confess to crimes they didn’t commit. I have seen family members of my clients issued with threats of explicit violence and the implicit destruction of their life. Outside their close relatives’ homes in Russia, cars have been set on fire. Violence and intimidation are part of the creed that permeates the country’s business and political rivalries.

As in McMafia, London has long played a bit part in these rivalries, but the UK government has been slow to act. In 2006, Alexander Litvinenko, a former Russian security agent turned defector, was killed in London using Polonium 210 – a radioactive substance put into a cup of tea. Although Russian state involvement was suspected from the beginning, the UK government tried to block certain material being released into the public domain, leading his family to complain that the UK’s relations with Russia were being put before the truth. In 2016, a decade after his death, the inquiry finally delivered its verdict: there was a “strong probability” Litvinenko was murdered on the personal orders of Vladimir Putin. Yet in the same breath as condemning the act, David Cameron’s spokeswoman said the UK would have to “weigh carefully” the incident against “the broader need to work with Russia on certain issues”.

The government of Cameron’s successor has however been quick to use McMafia as a spring-board to publicise its new Unexplained Wealth Orders (UWO). These new investigatory powers are purportedly to be used to stop the likes of Alex from hiding money from the authorities. Anyone with over £50,000 of property who is politically exposed or suspected of a serious crime, will be forced to disclose the source of their wealth on request. While most British homeowners would own more than £50,000, the individuals are likely to be high profile politicians or under investigation already by the authorities. If they fail to respond punctually, they risk forfeiting their property.

The anti-corruption organisation Transparency International has long campaigned for such measures, highlighting cases such as the first family of Azerbaijan owning property in Hampstead or senior Russian politicians believed to own flats in Whitehall. Previously, confiscating hidden assets has been a lengthy and complex process: when the High Court confiscated an £11m London house belonging to a Kazakh dissident, the legal process took seven years.

The new Unexplained Wealth Orders mean that the onus is shifted to the owner of the property to prove legitimacy and the origin of the wealth. The authorities will have much greater power to investigate where finance and investment originated. But in order for them to work effectively, they will have to be backed up by expert prosecutors. The government still has a long way to go before it makes London a less attractive place to hide money.

Ben Keith is a barrister at 5 St Andrew’s Hill specialising in extradition, immigration, serious fraud, human rights and public law.