Calendar An icon of a desk calendar. Cancel An icon of a circle with a diagonal line across. Caret An icon of a block arrow pointing to the right. Email An icon of a paper envelope. Facebook An icon of the Facebook "f" mark. Google An icon of the Google "G" mark. Linked In An icon of the Linked In "in" mark. Logout An icon representing logout. Profile An icon that resembles human head and shoulders. Telephone An icon of a traditional telephone receiver. Tick An icon of a tick mark. Is Public An icon of a human eye and eyelashes. Is Not Public An icon of a human eye and eyelashes with a diagonal line through it. Pause Icon A two-lined pause icon for stopping interactions. Quote Mark A opening quote mark. Quote Mark A closing quote mark. Arrow An icon of an arrow. Folder An icon of a paper folder. Breaking An icon of an exclamation mark on a circular background. Camera An icon of a digital camera. Caret An icon of a caret arrow. Clock An icon of a clock face. Close An icon of the an X shape. Close Icon An icon used to represent where to interact to collapse or dismiss a component Comment An icon of a speech bubble. Comments An icon of a speech bubble, denoting user comments. Comments An icon of a speech bubble, denoting user comments. Ellipsis An icon of 3 horizontal dots. Envelope An icon of a paper envelope. Facebook An icon of a facebook f logo. Camera An icon of a digital camera. Home An icon of a house. Instagram An icon of the Instagram logo. LinkedIn An icon of the LinkedIn logo. Magnifying Glass An icon of a magnifying glass. Search Icon A magnifying glass icon that is used to represent the function of searching. Menu An icon of 3 horizontal lines. Hamburger Menu Icon An icon used to represent a collapsed menu. Next An icon of an arrow pointing to the right. Notice An explanation mark centred inside a circle. Previous An icon of an arrow pointing to the left. Rating An icon of a star. Tag An icon of a tag. Twitter An icon of the Twitter logo. Video Camera An icon of a video camera shape. Speech Bubble Icon A icon displaying a speech bubble WhatsApp An icon of the WhatsApp logo. Information An icon of an information logo. Plus A mathematical 'plus' symbol. Duration An icon indicating Time. Success Tick An icon of a green tick. Success Tick Timeout An icon of a greyed out success tick. Loading Spinner An icon of a loading spinner. Facebook Messenger An icon of the facebook messenger app logo. Facebook An icon of a facebook f logo. Facebook Messenger An icon of the Twitter app logo. LinkedIn An icon of the LinkedIn logo. WhatsApp Messenger An icon of the Whatsapp messenger app logo. Email An icon of an mail envelope. Copy link A decentered black square over a white square.

David Knight: Scottish independence rhetoric is starting to feel more like fiction than fact

First Minister Nicola Sturgeon poses for photos with attendees at the 2022 SNP party conference at P&J Live. (Photo: Kath Flannery/DC Thomson)
First Minister Nicola Sturgeon poses for photos with attendees at the 2022 SNP party conference at P&J Live. (Photo: Kath Flannery/DC Thomson)

As Nicola Sturgeon strode into her theatre of dreams at the SNP conference in Aberdeen, the lights were going out on another stage across the city.

Belmont Filmhouse also banged the drum for its own form of independence. But, as an independent cinema plunged into administration, its vulnerability was cruelly exposed in these hard times.

It’s worth watching to see if the Scottish Government offers any tangible support other than hollow words.

Sturgeon and the Belmont have more in common than you might think. Both peddle dreams or futuristic fantasies to tempt the public.

The difference is that Belmont films have a start, middle and end. The SNP always has the same general plot, but an unfinished script with no convincing end in sight.

Yet, certainty is what we crave, as stability collapses around us in hitherto rock-solid institutions.

Is everyone in Scotland clamouring for independence?

The real measure of public support for either cause – Sturgeon or the Belmont – is contradictory.

Fans stung into action flocked to a campaign to save the cinema, but it had been starved of hard cash and bottoms on seats in the first place.

And support for independence is certainly not the rapturous choreographed ecstasy of the SNP conference hall. Or the so-called “substantial majority” of pro-independence MSPs in the Scottish parliament, who we are expected to believe prove a “clear mandate” for a new referendum.

The recently closed Belmont Filmhouse in Aberdeen (Photo: Kenny Elrick/DC Thomson)

Have I missed something – is everyone in Scotland clamouring for independence? Of course not, but the age-old strategy is that, if something is said often enough, people start to believe it.

Counting MSPs elected through normal electoral processes doesn’t decide a referendum; it cannot be contrived or corrupted to look like a “yes ” vote by individual members of the public who cast votes.

Dodgy rhetoric and a lack of straight answers

Some people have been praising Sturgeon for straight talking after her inflammatory “I detest the Tories” remarks. For detest, you can generally read hate, or “violent antipathy”, as I spotted in one dictionary definition.

A few days ago, Ms Sturgeon shared her latest thoughts on the shape of an independent Scotland, but every response triggered a flurry of more unanswered questions

The problem is that careless dangerous words can incite bad people; conduct unbecoming in leaders. Only a notch above “Tories are scum” (which forced an apology from Labour’s Angela Rayner).

Dodgy rhetoric from the FM, but, as usual, a noticeable absence of straight answers. Especially about those awkward questions: currency, EU hard border, Scottish passports, removing anti-Putin nuclear defences in Scotland, and economic meltdown.

Nicola Sturgeon has been criticised for saying she “detests” the Conservative Party (Photo: PA)

Crucial, fundamental questions about ordinary people’s livelihoods.

A few days ago, Ms Sturgeon shared her latest thoughts on the shape of an independent Scotland, but every response triggered a flurry of more unanswered questions. It all seemed to be built on fingers crossed and wishful thinking.

In brutal, Brexit-style negotiations, would this be like snowflakes landing on a hotplate?

Despite fake hysteria and convoluted rhetoric (as opposed to “straight talking”) public support remains fiercely divided, with polls consistently favouring “No” and appetite for a referendum low. Yet, the shaky bandwagon lumbers on.

Referendum plan is recipe for chaos

If pro-independence was running at 60-70% over a long period, even I would concede the case.

Sturgeon claims she is carrying a torch for democracy, yet she signed off the now abandoned Named Person attack on family rights – an incendiary project condemned by the Supreme Court as akin to a “totalitarian state”.

What can be more undemocratic than Sturgeon’s madcap idea to hijack the next general election and hold it hostage as a bizarre independence referendum? It’s a recipe for utter chaos; maybe that’s been the plan all along.

But, as Alex Salmond claimed the other day, even if the Scottish Government succeeded in its current Supreme Court battle, it would have created nothing more than a “glorified opinion poll”.

We need a Go Compare mindset

We need look no further than last year’s Scottish parliamentary election for the answers she seeks – not the ludicrous idea of bending the next general election out of shape. The much-vaunted “clear mandate” argument crumbles when we are reminded that the SNP is only propped up in power by the Greens.

And, when individual votes cast by ordinary people in Scotland were counted at the 2021 election, we saw there was a clear majority in support of unionists. This is the reality, as opposed to delusions about clear mandates.

As one leading authority noted, it proved people were already voting along independence lines 18 months ago. Despite that, Sturgeon hopes to push her independence agenda even harder by demanding a general election after Truss’s implosion.

With the poor old Belmont in mind, I watched a recent film about a successful battle to save another independent film house – the Lyric in Carmarthen, Wales, in 1993.

A true story involving Steven Spielberg – but, I noted, the leading Welsh campaigner was the mother of that operatic tenor who sings “Go Compare” in the television ad.

The lyrics made me think of all this independence rhetoric. A Go Compare mindset is a good way of weighing up what is plausible or make believe.


David Knight is the long-serving former deputy editor of The Press and Journal

Conversation