Nicola Sturgeon, lessons and legacy

Nicola Sturgeon’s announcement that she was standing down next year came as a surprise to no-one. She, like a great many of her colleagues and peers, is giving up on politics to turn their attention to, well having a life. And, who could blame her? Well, it turns out almost everyone.

Sturgeon’s announcement was closely followed by the news that the Branchform investigation, that had dragged on for an incredible four years, had proved her in the clear and would not be pursuing any further investigations into her, or ex-party treasurer MSP Colin Beattie.

Police Scotland said the former Scottish first minister would not face any charges after her former husband, Peter Murrell, appeared for a private hearing at Edinburgh sheriff court on a single charge of embezzlement on Thursday.

“I am completely in the clear,” Sturgeon told reporters outside her home in Uddingston, near Glasgow. “That is the outcome I would always have expected.”

The news was grudgingly accepted by various news outlets. The BBC managed a disappointed: “Nicola Sturgeon says she is ‘completely in the clear’ following police investigation.”

But the news of Sturgeon’s clearance provoked a range of responses. She is a hero to many and a villain to some. Uniquely she unites Unionist and Nationalist critics, people who see her as a trans ally and those who see her as a traitor to womanhood. She remains the centre of a dazzling array of conspiracies, from being at the heart of the ‘plot’ to bring down Alex Salmond, to still, despite being cleared, guilty of embezzling SNP funds earmarked for a referendum campaign. Wilder conspiracies suggested that she ‘pretended’ to read, a charge provoked by her regular championing and celebration of reading and her regular appearances at the Edinburgh Book Festival. She was praised, and loathed, for her handling of the coronavirus. Her daily briefings were in contrast to Boris Johnson’s shambolic, evasive presentations which seemed to do the opposite of give people confidence that those in charge were either honest or competent.

Every facet of her personality – from her clothes to her sexuality has been analysed exposing the double standards that are at play for men and women in public life. She has been the subject of years of abuse and her every clothing, shoes and makeup scrutinised. The criticisms were confused. She was not “clubbable” according to some journos, for which, I think they meant, male. She had no hinterland argued others, while also being criticised for reading books. In the end of the day she was, as Neil Mackay has argued ‘For some, she’ll always be guilty of simply being Nicola Sturgeon’.

She was dubbed “the most dangerous woman in Britain” by the Daily Mail, a charge she no doubt relished. But there was a dichotomy at play here between the panic/admiration she evoked and the actual power she pursued. In 2015 Piers Morgan wrote, in typically understated style: “This diminutive but sharp-witted woman has rampaged through the UK election campaign like a mini-Godzilla, breathing fire and brimstone in such a passionate manner that even Wallace himself – a Scottish warrior hero immortalized by Mel Gibson in the movie Braveheart, who died trying (and failing..) to wrestle independence from the English in the late 13th Century – might have struggled to emulate it.”

“Today, Sturgeon unveiled the SNP’s manifesto with a speech of such dynamism that even many English voters were left drooling with admiration.”

“She’s made every other party leader look tame and lame by contrast and shaken the foundations of the UK’s political machinery to the very core.”

Chris Deerin, who made an entire journalistic career out of the politician, joined in the hysteria. He, like many of his colleagues, couldn’t help but default to the lazy comparison of Margaret Thatcher:

“Although poles apart politically – and Sturgeon herself would run the Royal Mile in Edinburgh at the comparison – she shares many similarities with Margaret Thatcher.”

“Like Mrs T, the SNP leader transformed her image from that of a dowdy egghead into a glamorous, power-dressing imperatrix – emphasising a mixture of elegant feminine charm and steel.”

“Her strength of character and willpower have driven her to the top of a party that has traditionally been dominated by powerful men in kilts.”

“What has lifted her above these male rivals is her emotional intelligence. Although naturally shy, her two decades in politics has seen her grow into a polished public performer.”

“Make no mistake, however: she is unequivocally left-wing.”

“And she is also an avowed feminist. Indeed, during her SNP conference speech last month she said: ‘I am determined that – unlike that other woman leader we once knew – I will use my time in this job to improve the lives of women across our country.’

“One of her first acts as First Minister was to create a gender-balanced Cabinet.”

If you set aside the sexism and weird stereotypes, and Deerin’s shock that a politician should be “unequivocally left-wing” or an “avowed feminist”, the fact is that Sturgeon was progressive rather than radical. That she provoked such vitriol from the phalanx of male columnists and bloggers is in part because she replaced their iconic leader in Alex Salmond, and ultimately failed to cover up for him.

But if Sturgeon provoked such responses among the chatterati, the truth was more prosaic. While she rode the strange wave of post-referendum euphoria that led to historic election victories, her actual return for these was slim. In policy terms Sturgeon’s record in health, education and on the constitution are limited.

But if the sort of gushing praise that writers like Morgan or Deerin expressed was common at one stage, so too was disdain and vitriol. Much of the hatred that Sturgeon evoked was, to be honest for being a woman, and an ordinary woman from a working-class background. If you search through the detritus of extreme accounts they are dripping with barely concealed misogyny and contempt for her.

Praise at a UK level, quickly burnt out, and by the time she was fronting the daily coronavirus briefings she was under relentless assault. Some, including me, thought she should have closed the border, and like New Zealand created a cordon sanitaire during the lockdown, others were shocked at the very idea that any such border existed. For those who believe Britain is a single unitary entity, the idea of there being differing devolved responses to the covid pandemic was anathema, many revealing their complete ignorance of devolution existing at all.

But if Sturgeon provoked a mixture of praise and condemnation through the covid period, this pattern would be replicated over and over with those who detest the idea of Scottish independence expressing their loathing for her, while some of those who support independence expressing their disappointment at her inability to convert electoral success into constitutional change.

A Life in Politics 

Sturgeon has been a MSP since 1999, so has been in the public eye for a quarter of a century. Her political career has ranged from the Scottish elections of 2003, when the SNP held only five Westminster seats, to the high-water mark of 2015 with the SNP winning 56 of the 59 Scottish seats under her leadership, becoming the third-largest party in the House of Commons (replacing the Liberal Democrats) and the largest party in Scotland, knocking Labour from the status which it had held since 1964.

She was elected unopposed as SNP leader in November 2014 – in the aftermath of the failed independence referendum – and was subsequently appointed as first minister, becoming the first woman to hold either position.

Inevitably, the only way from the high point of 2015 was down, and it is tempting to evoke Enoch Powell’s famous maxim. But the most serious accusation against Sturgeon was that this amazing result of 2015 was squandered. In years gone by such unprecedented results would have been the trigger for constitutional change in and of itself. But, the British establishment was deeply shaken by the experience of the 2014 referendum, and David Cameron had responded to it, not by making concessions to further devolution but by turning to England and the Brexit campaign. The astonishing electoral successes under her leadership were not to be converted into any real concerted pressure to gain independence. Looking back that is in itself incredible, and unforgivable. How is that even possible? Under the leadership of Alex Salmond, then Angus Robertson, then Ian Blackford, the SNP at Westminster could embarrass the UK government, ask difficult questions and generally cause trouble. But so much for the ‘holding their feet to the fire’ the recurring question was What Were They Doing There? Aside from the obvious answer of representing their constituents, there didn’t seem to be a coherent answer from anyone, not least Sturgeon.

Sturgeon’s inability to make political capital out of massive electoral success is the key allegation against her. Under her leadership, there seemed to be no strategy between Holyrood and Westminster and no real sense of what the historic 56 out of 59 MPs should do. There is a sense in which Sturgeon’s qualities: attention to detail, efficiency and knowing her brief, were not compatible with the qualities required in leadership – vision and the ability to inspire people.

But that criticism, while it can be left at her door, is also a criticism of the wider party she belongs to. Sturgeon is both the creator and product of the modern Scottish National Party, a ruthless electoral machine, which had New Labour-like party efficiency, discipline and comms but also suffered from some of the same fatal flaws.

If defenders of Sturgeon can point to the cascade of abuse and personal criticism she suffered over the years, there is also the truth that the ‘cult of Nicola’ was curated and maintained, it did not arise spontaneously out of the ether. In this sense Sturgeon’s public persona was more like Blair than the lazy comparisons with Thatcher. The other obvious flaws that this New Labour-SNP entity suffered from was the concentration of power at the very top. It should never have been the case that a married couple were both leader of the party and chief executive, that was a ridiculous scenario to have been allowed to play out. But the concentration of power at the top had other consequences in that the party ceded democracy and other ideas and personalities were prevented from flourishing. Like most of contemporary politics there is a trade-off between what works for the media: a tight disciplined message and the projection of a single figure, and what works for the party and movement, the flourishing of ideas debated and multiple sources of leadership. It’s difficult to have both.

There were other contradictions. Sturgeon is lambasted by some for having introduced the Gender Reform legislation and stood by it. For some she is a traitor to womenhood for having betrayed them. Yet at the time this legislation had cross-party support, and its equivalent is law across Europe with little of the hysteria that has beset it here.

The furore that surrounded the debate is a mirror to much of Sturgeon’s career that is ultimately, more heat than light. On the one hand the former First Minister attracts opposition and bile from both her Unionist critics and the enrage element of the nationalist movement, but cutting through the rage and contempt there is little of great substance to see. Beyond the froth and fury there is a competent but ordinary person. Sturgeon grew up in and was formed by a political party that has at its heart a contradiction. It both wants to see the break-up of other British state, a radical concept in itself, but it is populated by functionaries and individuals who faithfully flocked to Westminster and caused little of a disturbance.

It is difficult to tell, with hindsight, what impact Sturgeon could have made had circumstances not been different. Four completely unforeseen events changed the political career of Nicola Sturgeon.

The toll of presiding over the lockdown experience, which no-one could have predicted, was a considerable one – and a colossal challenge for the political leaders who were thrust into that position. The culture wars raged throughout Sturgeon’s time as First Minister, and she was navigating her way through issues that no-one had predicted even a few years before. She has stood by her choices and defended her position as a trans ally. The personal trauma of living though the Salmond trial and fallout was a massive event that, despite her accuser’s allegations, was not of her making. And finally, living through four years of the Branchform Investigation was a traumatic experience that can’t really be understood or underplayed. At the end of the day, after millions of pounds of public money, Nicola Sturgeon’s reputation has been dragged through the dirt for no reason. The whole investigation centred on a few hundred thousand pounds of donations to the SNP, while vast industrial scale sums of money seem to have been money-laundered through the covid crisis with little or no inquiry or prosecution. You can only speculate what different outcomes might have emerged had these historic and epic events not played out.

I think Sturgeon made grave political mistakes, though they are no ones she is usually accused of. But she also faced a British state that was resolute in refusing any democratic test for the Scottish people despite relentless mandates and overwhelming electoral support. A different, more courageous leader might have taken this on and produced greater political success, but this is not who she was. She was not, in fact, “the most dangerous women in Britain”, but a confident, likeable and highly successful politician, just not one suited to the task of breaking up a Union and leading people to self-determination.