Just before 5:30pm on the day after polling day, as the first minister’s helicopter touched down on the lawn at Prestonfield House, “Edinburgh’s most luxurious and charming five star hotel”, the TV coverage picked up the repeated, raucous call of a peacock, lurking somewhere just off-camera.
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For those watching and listening from the sidelines, it had been a monumental day in Scottish and possibly UK political terms. The biggest upheaval (and a landslide, almost by geological definition, is an upheaval) since that bright Blairite morning in May 1997. And it was arguably even more upheavalesque than that, as seeing the SNP sweep to clear power under a system designed to prevent majorities, let alone landslides, was extraordinary. The key moments might not have been of the “did you stay up for Portillo?” type, but were destined to remain in the memory nonetheless. It was not so much the perfect storm, more the perfect squeeze, with a whole series of factors – Labour complacency, Lib Dem coalition chaos, even perhaps a royal wedding backlash – combining to funnel a seemingly endless supply of ballot papers down the SNP’s pipeline. Where to start? Surely with the steady bulldozing of the Glasgow monolith, where five of the eight constituencies switched from Labour to SNP. Few could have genuinely expected that – two or three snatched seats, maybe, but not the Nats going nap. For anyone who has ever lived and worked in the nearest thing in Britain to a one-party city-state, it will have had a profound effect. Amid the collapse, there was the amusing irony of Iain Gray, leader of the Subway Sect, holding on to his East Lothian seat while all his would-be successors – McAveety, Gordon, Whitton, Kerr – lost theirs. Also impressive was the consolidation of the SNP’s hold over the middle part of the central belt – Stirling, Ochil, Falkirk etc. Much of it already nationalist in inclination, and already patchily so in parliamentary terms, but now a smooth yellow-and-black swathe. Then – and pivotal to much that happened – there was the plight of the Liberal Democrats. Ousted from every mainland constituency, the party was left with little more than the offshore assets of Liam McArthur and Tavish Scott. The latter has seemed pitiful – in pretty much every sense of the word – throughout the campaign, having been thrown the political equivalent of a hospital pass by his Westminster leader, then having to endure a turkey-shoot Newsnicht grilling by Gordon Brewer. (By the end of this, the beleaguered Shetlander was shrugging his shoulders, rolling his eyes and visibly resigning himself and his party to the fates.) Oddly, however, for all the SNP’s wholesale hoovering-up of Lib Dem votes, Holyrood 2011 might prove to be the start of their eventual (and substantial) comeback. The near-wipeout, allied to defeat in the AV referendum, could lead to a rapid disintegration of the Clegg–Cameron poshboy lovefest. The Lib Dems will take another massive hit at the next UK election, for sure – but that day of catharsis looks closer than it was. Then, with a more old-style leftish leader installed (Chris Huhne looks increasingly well-placed), they should steadily regain lost ground. It will, however, take time and tears. In psephological terms, perhaps the most extraordinary moment of SNP triumph came with their obtaining not just all the constituency seats in the north-east, but also another top-up MSP via the regional list. This genuinely shocked the BBC radio pundit who, shortly before the announcement, had said that such a situation was “impossible” – and it also shocked the elected member himself, Mark McDonald. He was so sure of not making it to Holyrood that he turned up at the count in what might at Prestonfield be termed “casual wear”. No one appeared to mind – and anyway, by then, everyone was so politically agasp that fashion sense was hardly a concern. At the end, when Keith Brown won his curiously shaped Clackmannanshire and Dunblane seat and thus became the 65th and majority-winning SNP MSP, there was a Ryder Cup feel to proceedings. Brown acquired the status of Philip Walton, Paul McGinley and Graeme McDowell: golfers feted for having picked up the winning point for their team, even though it needed all the other points – or, in this case, seats – every bit as much. Perhaps that’s what the first minister was doing as he dallied in his helicopter on the fairway-like lawn at Prestonfield: looking around for a trophy to hold aloft as he emerged to meet the cameras. He didn’t need one, however – not for his long-term supporters, and not for the great many floaters and waiverers who have, for now at least, put their faith in him and his party. There is, instead, a much bigger, much more gleaming prize on offer. While some view any form of UK breakup with wariness, even horror, and while some argue that the other great city-state – London – is already another country, there are undoubtedly many now excited by the thought that traditional, Scotland-breaking-away independence is a lot nearer than they ever felt it could be. Much remains to be done in terms of arranging the process and asking the people – who might then say no. But the impetus, enthusiasm and energy appear to be there, for now at least. So if that noisy Edinburgh peacock proves unlucky for anyone, it surely won’t be for Alexander Elliot Anderson Salmond and the party that he has, whatever one’s views, led to a great and mightily impressive victory.Want to discuss other issues? Join the debate on our new Scottish Voices forum
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