Monster movie

Trump's foreign policy seems like a crazed mutant that has escaped from some secret government research laboratory and is rampaging across the countryside terrorising those unfortunate enough to cross its path. What horrible experiment went wrong to spawn this abomination?

In the '90s, PNAC (Project for a New American Century), an organisation whose members include individuals like Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld, had a plan to dislodge former Soviet client states in the Middle East from Russia while she was weak and before another competitor, such as China, could emerge and claim them. This sheds an interestingly light on a lot of what happened subsequently. A lot of what happened in the Middle East seems to make no sense unless one resorts to clandestine motives and hidden actors following something like the PNAC plan.

But the ship has sailed on the PNAC plan. US intervention in the Middle East has resulted in chaos, not the orderly realignment they sought. The plan didn't work.

Poor coordination, the access given to private actors and mercenaries, a failure to appreciate the situation in detail, the shifting alliances and animosities, the casual betrayals, the miscalculations, a lack of victory conditions and exit strategies, and various other factors, contributed to a disaster, costly in both lives and treasure, that has been unfolding over the last decade and a half.

And now Russia has intervened to reassert itself in the Middle East (so that Qatari gas pipeline might not be built in Syria after all), Iraqi oil reparations are nearly paid (hence the recent lift in price) and China has started building islands in the South China Sea (raising potentially more urgent concerns elsewhere).

So the plan never worked and it is too late for the plan to start working now anyway.

The list of states that were included in the plan bears a remarkable resemblance to the states subject to Trump's recent travel ban. The question has to be asked - why is the "new sheriff" and his posse of fascists trying to rerun the PNAC playbook after all the fumbles it has caused, just as we blow the whistle and call time on it.

I said the policy was a crazed mutant, altered beyond the requirements of its original purpose, driven mad, useless, no longer a suitable instrument for anything.

It didn't escape. It was released. Trump set it free. It serves no purpose other than fear and threat, damage and disruption. Trump's inner circle took this deranged plan and are using it to find out which way people run, where they seek refuge, who stands up to it and who doesn't. And all the while a new, more terrible monster is being prepared, ready to be unleashed when they judge the time is right. And when they do, they'll make sure there is nowhere to hide.

Immortal Memory 2017

On a couple of occasions this year I have been asked to propose the Toast to the Immortal Memory of Robert Burns' at Burns' Suppers. Here are the notes I compiled to work from.

Immortal Memory

On www.gov.uk one can look up the speech Beyond Brexit: a Global Britain, Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson's "first major policy speech at Chatham House." In it he says:

"To those who say we are now too small, too weak, too poor to have any influence on the world, I say in the words of Robert Burns:
"O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us!"

What does this tell us? What's my point? It's two-fold.

Firstly, clearly our Foreign Secretary is a buffoon. The quote is from Burns' poem To A Louse: On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church. In it he contrasts the "fine lady" in whose expensive bonnet he observes a louse with other people whose station in life might be considered to render them a more suitable host for the parasite, deftly and humorously criticising class, privilege and pretension. The closing stanza, in characteristic Standard Habbie metre used by Burns for direct and intimate address, concludes:

"O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
An' ev'n devotion!"

So, the point is not that we would appreciate the influence we have in the world, as the honourable member for Uxbridge and South Ruislip implies, but the opposite, we would understand how ridiculous we are, and indeed, how we are all ridiculous, and what unites us as humans is not necessarily those qualities we use as a pretext for pomp, but are often those very qualities that embarrass us.

Indeed, the deeper point here is sympathy for our fellow humans as a moral force.

Consider the times in which Burns lived, during the efflorescence of the Enlightenment. Scotland at that time was the principle seat of philosophy in the world, leading to the description of Edinburgh as the "Athens of the North". As Voltaire said at the time, “We look to Scotland for all our ideas of civilisation.” To that one may add George Bernard Shaw’s observation “God help England if she had no Scots to think for her,” which I think the (former) Foreign Secretary admirably exemplifies.

Two different moral philosophies were articulated at this time, one by David Hume, the great empiricist philosopher from Edinburgh, for whom moral distinctions are derived from sentiments: feelings of approval and disapproval that those observing a character trait or action might feel, and the desire of someone to benefit from high esteem and avoid condemnation. Some might consider this quite a selfish formulation of morality, others might say it exhibits a degree of realism. Indeed, the “what’s in it for me” approach might appeal to the great deal-maker across the pond.

The other position, which we might find more recognisable ourselves, was described by Adam Smith, from Glasgow, and it is interesting to see Scotland’s two greatest cities compete about a question arguably more fundamental than the correct condiment with which to accompany a poke of chips. He is best known for The Wealth of Nations in which he founded modern political economy. However, his interests were much more wide ranging. For example, he also founded what we would call literary criticism, being the first person to use contemporary vernacular works rather than classical prototypes to illustrate rhetorical concepts. The English critic Samuel Johnson learned of the approach while visiting Scotland and subsequently popularised it in London.

In his Theory of Moral Sentiments Adam Smith describes a position quite distinct from Hume's. He might be said to have discovered his conscience, indeed, the very idea of having a conscience. He considers how we may deceive ourselves about the moral consequences of our actions, and transposes Hume's observer to be an internal spectator that allows us to dispassionately regard our own conduct. This internal observer is our conscience. He says:

 "Self-deceit, this fatal weakness of mankind, is the source of half the disorders of human life. If we saw ourselves in the light in which others see us, or in which they would see us if they knew all, a reformation would generally be unavoidable. We could not otherwise endure the sight."

Smith makes clear that it is sympathy for others that enables us to imagine what we must seem like to them. Our capacity for moral conduct, our ability to exercise our conscience, relies entirely on our ability to feel sympathy.

Robert Burns possessed a copy of Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments and we are struck by the similarity of Burns' words to Smith's. Both are expressing a universal and moral concept we might call sympathy. I am reminded of the words of Che Guevara: "above all, always be capable of feeling deeply any injustice committed against anyone, anywhere in the world," and also, "the true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love."

Which brings me, at last, to my second point, and the reason I brought BoJo into this in the first place. It is the enduring relevance of Burns' work. Even though Johnson misconstrued Burns' words to the maximum extent possible, making himself ridiculous in a somewhat crazily meta way, the fact is he resorted to Burns' when trying to directly appeal to people. Burns' universal values of humanity have spoken directly to people high and low, young and old, rich and poor, since Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect, otherwise known as the Kilmarnock Edition, was published by John Wilson of Kilmarnock on 31 July 1786.

His words include in their scope the most abstract reflections on morality and the most direct, immediately relevant impact of those ideas in the everyday lives of common people. I would like to pull together a couple of examples.

On Facebook, the other day I saw a poem someone had written criticising the practice of extraordinary rendition, whereby suspects are transported to jurisdictions where methods of enhanced interrogation that would otherwise be illegal can be used on them. In other words, torture, of which we now know the current president of the United States, Donald Trump, is a fan, and which our former Home Secretary Jack Straw permitted, letting the Americans use Prestwick Airport as a stopover point.

Jim Monaghan, from Govanhill, noting that Prestwick was recently renamed Burns' International, wrote this:

So, they changed the name of the airport,
to a man who wrote poems and songs,
but the pure dead brilliant rebranding.
couldnae cover up the wrongs,
for people were forcibly taken,
from their homes in the middle of night,
blindfolded, handcuffed, visibly shaken,
bundled on board that flight,
that would take them abroad to be tortured,
at the hands of the CIA
far away from their sons and their daughters,
and then on to Guantanamo Bay,
its the blood and injustice that haunts the place,
not Rabbie, Freddie Laker, Elvis and them aw,
and if one man has to be picked as its face,
then they really should rename it - Jack Straw.

Poetry lets us express ourselves about things we feel strongly about in a succinct and direct way. We can convey things we would not otherwise be able to communicate as a result.

Here's another example I saw on Facebook where someone has been equipped by Burns and the popular poetic tradition of which he is a pre-eminent example to access her muse. Lorna Wallace (in a piece shared by Rosemary Meechan) is expressing her dismay at the inauguration of Donald Trump.

Since I saw this poem on Facebook, and actually since I wrote the first draft of this speech, Lorna has won prizes and much acclaim for this poem. Indeed, it was read out last night at the anti-Trump protest in Buchanan Street in Glasgow. You can see the poem on Lorna's WordPress blog Writing by Lorna online.

A Scot’s Lament fur her American Fellows (Oan their election of a tangerine gabshite walloper) 

America, aw whit ye dain?!
How could ye choose a clueless wain
Ti lead yir country? Who wid trust
A man sae vile?!
A racist, sexist eedjit
Wi a shite hairstyle?

Yet lo, ye votit (michty me!)
Ti hawn’ this walloper the key
Ti pow’r supreme, ti stert his hateful,
Cruel regime.
A cling ti hope that this is aw
Jist wan bad dream.

But naw, the nightmare has come true,
A curse upon rid, white an’ blue,
An’ those who cast oot Bernie
Must feel sitch regret
Fur thinkin’ Mrs. Clinton
Was a safer bet.

So noo we wait ti see unfold
Division an’ intolerance, cold;
A pois’nous bigotry untold
Since Hitler’s rule
As the free world’s hopes an’ dreams
Lie with this fool.

Alas, complainin’ wullnae change
The fact this diddy has free range
Ti ride roughshod ow’r human beings
That fall outside
The cretinous ideals borne of
His ugly pride.

Awch USA, we feel yir woes
An’ pour oor wee herts oot ti those
Who ken this oarange gabshite isnae
Who they chose,
But jist sit tight; Trump’s cluelessness
Will time expose.

Fur sittin’ there beside Obama
Efter the election drama,
Trump looked like reality
Had finally hit:
Aboot the role of president
He knew Jack shit.

Poutin’, glaikit through this farce,
His mooth wis pursed up like an arse,
His Tangoed coupon glowin’ like
A skelped backside.
Despite all his bravado
Trump looked keen ti hide.

Let’s therefur no despair an’ greet,
Or see this outcome as defeat.
Let’s wait an’ watch this bampot
Flap his hawns an’ squirm
When presidential pressures
Crush him like a worm.

Hawd oan ti values you hold dear,
Don’t let this numpty bring yi fear,
His chants of hatred don’t speak fur
The human race.
Love will endure despite this
Oarange-faced disgrace.

So USA, in ma conclusion,
Know we Scots feel your confusion:
We are also chained ti those
Not of oor choosin’.
Stand firm fur unity will break
Through Trump’s delusion.

So, we can find in Burns a ready source of comparison and contrast with prominent figures of today, and there are none more prominent than Donald J. Trump, whose presidency is currently inflicting acute embarrassment on the people of the Isle of Lewis. Like him, my mother is also from Lewis, but I suspect I have a little more Gaelic than he does.

Trump's counsellor Kellyanne Conway may speak of "alternative facts," but as Burns' said, in his poem The Dream, "facts are chiels that winna ding, an' downa be disputed," and there are some hard truths Trump has to face up to.

We might reflect on how Burns' attitude towards women compares to Trump's. Observing that when Nature (a female divinity) created men, it was only to practice in preparation for her greater achievement in creating women, Burns sings in "Green Grow the Rashes":

Chor. - Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O.  

There's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In ev'ry hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.   

Green grow, &c. 

The war'ly race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O;
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.  

Green grow, &c.  

But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O;
An' war'ly cares, an' war'ly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!  

Green grow, &c.  

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this;
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O:
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.  

Green grow, &c.  

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.  

Green grow, &c.

Later Katie is going to sing for us "Ae Fond Kiss," a beautiful love song about a deep, fulfilling relationship, a meeting of minds, thwarted by circumstances, a relationship whose physical celebration is now attenuated to just a single kiss.

I won't repeat the utterances of Donald Trump on the same subject for obvious reasons. We all know what he said. He is an emotionally stunted man-boy for whom, clearly, affection was replaced by money at an early age, leading to a florid and delusional narcissism that prevents any genuine connection with people, or any sense of sympathy that would enable him to self-censor his outrageous remarks.

Perhaps my favourite Burns song on the subject of love is the achingly tragic "O mirk, mirk is this midnicht 'oor," in which a heart-broken young woman is abandoned and exposed to censure by Lord Gregory, who has deceived her and callously used her before disposing of her. Or let us consider the more familiar "Ye banks and Braes of Bonie Doon"

Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.  

Aft hae I rov'd by Bonie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine:
And ilka bird sang o' its Luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine;
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
And my fause Luver staw my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.     

We should be content to consider Trump to be like the villain of these pieces, the false lover, and like Burns, we will not distress ourselves by attempting to describe him in more detail than that.

I will conclude by extending the scope of my comparison beyond women to all humanity. Trump recently signed an executive order banning entry of refugees from various countries, including Syria and Yemen, into the United States. We can all appreciate how those refugees might perceive something of a lapse in human sympathy in this act.

When I first wrote this speech to give at a Burns' Supper last Saturday to the Tarbolton Crescent Bachelor's Club (that's Tarbolton Crescent in Chapelhall, not the South Ayrshire debating club founded by Robert Burns and his friends in 1780) that's as far as we had got. Things have moved along quite briskly since then.

Trump is setting quite a pace in establishing himself as a tyrant. A fortnight ago I thought it would take him years to achieve what he has managed in the few days since his inauguration. And in sacking Sally Yates, the acting Attorney General, for stating that his executive order is illegal, he has crossed the Rubicon. There can no longer be any pretence about his ambitions.

It must surely be a matter of days, or even hours now, until law enforcement in the US have to choose between the judiciary and the executive, in terms of whose orders they follow, a decision that will determine a lot about how messy extricating ourselves from this situation will be.

Trump will be fine of course. He has his own private security, something no previous president has insisted on. The words "Praetorian Guard" spring to mind, as do the words "Schutz Staffel" (I apologise for setting off the Godwin alarm with that remark). And he is wealthy, of course: despite being essentially a failed businessman whose tedious fantasies of greatness have been insulated from reality by money he inherited from his father, he is now in a position to indulge in unbridled kleptocracy.

In one thing alone has he succeed. In the land of an American Dream built on genocide and slavery, where ambition is cramped by consumerism and ignorance is deliberately cultivated, his extravagant, obnoxious fantasies have developed truth-resistance, because they give everyone else permission to indulge their own delusions, and for that they will crown him.

Against this I can find no better words to argue than those of Burns himself when he says:

Is there for honest Poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave-we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that.
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The Man's the gowd for a' that.  

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;
A Man's a Man for a' that:
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that;
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.  

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that:
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that:
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.  

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that;
But an honest man's abon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that;
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.  

Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That Man to Man, the world o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

The fragmentation of Europe

Britain is a small country. So are the various other European countries that once ran large empires at the expense of overseas populations greatly exceeding their own. How was this possible? How could a smaller country dominate a larger population, and place it at a relative disadvantage so that it could be subordinated and exploited, despite this blatant asymmetry?

Our history books are full of tales of genocidal wars of conquest and epidemics, followed by the catastrophic restructuring of economies, and imperial administrations that use control of those economies to lure populations to collude in their own oppression. But this is not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the starting point. The first contact. The key encounter from which everything else radiates out. I'm talking about that first trade deal.

The key mechanism in the establishment of empire is the inversion of the initial asymmetry I mentioned in my opening paragraph. I don't mean just divide and rule. I mean in relation to the currently very topical idea of the trade deal.

The trade deal occurs under circumstances in which the imbalance is inverted. The Europeans don't generally attempt to treat immediately with a representative of an entire territory that dwarfs the realm from which they have just arrived, a representative in a position to dictate terms. There is no "take me to your leader" moment. First they treat with small sub-kingdoms, tribal chiefs, village elders, groups that allow them to re-frame the asymmetry of the encounter to their own advantage.

The minute you end up trying to force your terms on a trading partner who does not have to accept them because you have not imposed an advantageous asymmetry on the negotiation in advance, you end up fighting the Opium Wars, or facing the Nawab of Bengal on the plains of Plassey, or some such similar conflict. But battles and war are expensive and to be avoided if their objectives can be achieved by any other means. Empire is acquired by increment, by the pen rather than the sword, by ink rather than blood, piece by petty piece, and muscles are only flexed for foregone conclusions when the inevitable push back comes. Plassey was not won on the battlefield. It was won in the pavilion, where all the little deals were done that meant that, one by one, all the Nawab's allies abandoned him at the crucial moment.  

Why am I talking about this? Because there are corporations poised to do the same to Europe today. In profound irony, America, a land subdued by Europeans in precisely the incremental way described above, is turning its attention towards Europe, and seeks to dismantle it, so that it can form bilateral agreements with smaller fragments on which it can impose terms it could not force on the European Union as a whole.

Consider, for example, the words of Professor Ted Malloch, President Trump’s expected ambassador to the EU. He says the following:

Ted Malloch: "I am not certain there will be a European Union in which to have such negotiations. Will there be potentially numerous bilateral agreements with various European countries? I think the prospect, again, in a changed political reality, is greater for that."  

Interviewer: "What, do you think the European Union could break apart?" 

Ted Malloch: "Well I think people are talking about the redefinition of the European Union. Whether it's a core number of countries and a periphery that moves aside, key people that stay in the Union and others that fall away, these are decisions that are going to be made by European people in democratic elections over the course of the next eighteen months, and a number of these elections are coming, frankly, as soon as the next few months, so our eyes should be wide open" 

Interviewer: "Do you think the Single Currency can survive?" 

Ted Malloch: "The one thing I would do in 2017 is short the euro. I think it is a currency that is not only in demise, but has a real problem and could in fact collapse in the coming year or year and a half."

Malloch's speculation about the integrity of the very political entity to which he is a candidate to be ambassador, blatantly intended to precipitate the very thing he describes, is scandalously undiplomatic, and he takes every possible advantage of the room for manoeuvre he enjoys from not having been appointed yet, with obvious relish.

It is clear that the USA, with the covert connivance of Russia, will encourage and support every centrifugal force in the European Union during the next eighteen months, including the FN in France and AfD in Germany. The European Union is in great danger. After having made an openly fascist inaugural speech, Trump's regime will now praise every fascist pretender everywhere else who promises the kind of fragmentation from which American corporations can benefit.

The TTIP negotiations with the European Union failed, and we are witnessing the preparation of the ground for Round Two, in which we will see the Sons of TTIP rioting across the continent if we are not careful. And the terms of a Son of TTIP trade deal will be dictated by American corporate lawyers no longer sitting across the table facing counterparts from a trading bloc of 500 million people impervious to threats and inducements, but facing a succession of representatives of weaker and more vulnerable partners over whom they can ride roughshod.

As Theresa May heads across the Atlantic to kow-tow before a misogynistic, fascist, ego-maniacal advocate of torture, we should know she does not bring him Brexit as the basis for a trade negotiation (which is not legally possible until the UK has formally left the EU anyway). She brings him Brexit to offer it as a tribute to the new emperor as he and his corporate puppet-masters prepare to embark on a privatisation spree among Europe's health services.

Rarely has anyone been on the wrong side of history as much as Theresa May is this week.

Brave

I try to write a poem each year for Holocaust Memorial Day. This is this year's attempt.

On this occasion I was thinking about the thousands of elderly survivors of genocide living today in Israel. There are higher rates of poverty among holocaust survivors than among the general population of similar age.

I wanted to write something about the sense of embarrassment, shame and guilt felt by those who survive genocide and the communities in which they live.

Brave

Fighting may be brave,
but dying is braver.
Not dying gun in hand,
charging into a fight you picked
to find a death you crave
"facing fearful odds
for the ashes of your fathers
and the temples of their gods,"
a death that garlands your grave
with glory, but dying in your bed
bombed while you sleep, instead,
without the consolation of purpose,
or while awake, sleep walking
towards a common fate whose name
redacts your own in all the books of men,
and braver still than these is life
when all you love is dead,
and just to breathe is to drown
in decades of air their grave becomes,
so complete was the disposal of all trace,
and when everyone thinks you are a coward
(and what's worse, doesn't say it to your face)
and you yourself think you are a coward
just for surviving, then to live
is the bravest thing of all.

Point of order

The UK Supreme Court just destroyed the UK. I don't mean it created the conditions in which a second Scottish Independence Referendum is inevitable, although that is also true. I mean it exposed a contradiction at the heart of the UK's unwritten constitution that can no longer be ignored and must result in the collapse of the entire edifice if democratic governance is to be maintained.

Yesterday the UK Supreme Court ruled that the UK Government could not proceed with triggering Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty without first consulting the Westminster parliament, but may do so without the consent of the Scottish parliament. It ruled that a Legislative Consent Motion under the Sewel Convention was not a legal requirement. As I have written elsewhere, this was already known, however the ruling means that it can no longer be conveniently ignored, with serious consequences for any meaningful devolution.

Some unionists in Scotland advocate a federal system, as a way of balancing the requirements of the Union with those of devolved jurisdictions in a way not currently possible, as the Supreme Court ruling makes abundantly clear. The Supreme Court of any federation, in any equivalent ruling, would have found in favour of the state rather than the federal government. It would have upheld the state's right to withhold legislative consent on matters within its competence and protected it from federal interference, which would typically only be possible under very clearly circumscribed circumstances. It would have arrived at the opposite decision regarding Article 50 and the Scottish parliament.

A federal constitution is ultimately a mechanism for upholding popular sovereignty. The UK Supreme Court has no choice but to blow up the Scotland Act because the UK's bizarre, unwritten frankenconsistution (e.g. the sovereignty of the "crown in parliament") is allowed to override Scottish traditions of popular sovereignty.

The UK's frankenconsititution relies on tacit acceptance for its validity, otherwise it would have to be imposed in a manner that is unacceptable in a democracy. That is, it requires the precedence of popular sovereignty, as the only self-ratifying basis for sovereignty, giving permission that is whispered and then immediately forgotten, as a necessary democratic predication for the charade of parliamentary sovereignty, a predication implicit if not acknowledged in the ermine pageantry of the state opening of parliament. In a democracy, unwritten parliamentary sovereignty cannot exist without unspoken popular sovereignty.

Of course, Scottish Independence would render the sovereignty of the people clear and explicit.

The Scottish parliament gives or withholds legislative consent only on the basis of its own democratic legitimacy. So the ruling regarding the Sewel Convention is in fact of much wider relevance. It potentially destroys the entire constitutional basis for the United Kingdom. It explicitly contradicts the UK constitution's implicit reliance on democratic consent. Parliamentary sovereignty is exercised in a way that contradicts the democratic consent on which its validity relies. The ramifications of the court's decision extend further than the scrapping of the pretence on which Scotland's entire devolved settlement is based. It contradicts the democratic basis of the UK constitution.

This time-bomb was placed under the UK constitution the second the Scotland Bill received royal assent on the 19th of November 1998, because the requirement for Legislative Consent was not legally binding on the UK government, and any exceptions were not clearly circumscribed, with only the single ambiguous weasel word "normal" being left in the text. It was only a matter of time before this bomb went off.

A federal constitution would indeed repair the damage, as envisioned by many Scottish unionists. However there is insufficient political will for the UK constitution to be rewritten along explicitly federal lines, regardless of what Scottish unionists might think. The UK government is currently pre-occupied with Brexit. And if it was incapable of considering the Scottish government's proposals for a differentiated Brexit, the likelihood of a more extensive federal accommodation is vanishingly small. It will resist this idea in the same way and for the same reasons it resisted the proposed third option on the ballot for the Independence Referendum in 2014.

Given the traduction of democracy caused by acknowledging and making explicit the contradictions in the UK constitution in the recent Supreme Court ruling, Scottish Independence is now necessary, not just to protect Scottish interests, but to defend democracy itself.

Stone dead devo

Devolution is as dead as a Norwegian blue parrot. There's no point pretending anymore. Because it turns out the Sewel Convention is not worth the paper it is written on.

This is the mechanism by which the Scottish parliament can give Westminster permission to legislate on Scottish matters. Holyrood can pass a legislative consent motion authorising Westminster to decide things on its behalf. Alternatively, that consent can be witheld.

Or maybe not.

Given triggering Article 50 of the Lisbon Treaty has implications for matters within the competence of the Holyrood parliament, Holyrood's consent should be required for Westminster to trigger it.

I say should. However the Scotland Act in which this convention is described refers to "normal" circumstances in which it applies. Who gets to decide what is normal? Therein lies the rub. The UK Supreme Court has ruled, in relation to the UK government's appeal against its previous decision that Westminster must be consulted, that Holyrood need not be consulted. Westminster decides what's normal.

That is, Westminster decides the parameters within which Holyrood can exercise even those limited powers that have been devolved to it. Which is to say, nothing has been devolved at all. The non-binding status of the Sewel Convention means Holyrood can never be anything more than a toy parliament, irrespective of any "vow" about its permanent establishment.

So by ruling that a Legislative Consent Motion is not required for Brexit, the Supreme Court has effectively killed devolution stone dead.

Devolution was a fiction that survived as long as we pretended it was true. It was real as long as we believed in it. That is not possible anymore. We can no longer suspend our disbelief. The Supreme Court has shown us the man behind the curtain.

Today's Supreme Court ruling means the Scottish parliament may legislate only when and according to what Westminster deems "normal." Power devolved is power retained, and the whim and caprice of a bunch of unelected Tories still usurps the sovereignty of the Scottish people. This is unacceptable.

Where does that leave us?

Well, this whole thing was completely avoidable. This ruling was entirely predictable and was going to happen sooner or later. In anticipation of this, at any time since 1999, the Sewel Convention could have been established in statute. At any time since 2014 the parties to "the Vow" could have delivered the permanent parliament they promised.

Indeed, the legal pretence that has now been revealed, that we are all now forced to admit and can no longer ignore, would not be so bad, if the political obligation to consider the proposals for a differentiated Brexit put forward by the Scottish government had been taken seriously for even one minute by the administration in Whitehall, rather than publically treated with unalloyed contempt and triumphalist derision.

But no. The available options are narrowing. Brexit has ensured the continuity option chosen by the Scottish people in 2014 no longer exists. The particular version of Brexit being pursued seems contrived to aggravate as much as possible a Scotland that chose to remain in the EU. Brexit itself is becoming totemic for an emerging fascist international that must be resisted.

Scotland is now faced with a choice between independence and humiliation.

Dark Camelot

I remember my first trip to Texas. I was working on a project in the panhandle. The people I met were so wonderfully, overwhelmingly friendly, generous and welcoming, that I remember that time and place with real fondness. On the basis of the political opinions espoused by many of them, I'm reasonably confident they would have been predominantly Trump voters in the recent presidential election - not that we spoke much about politics back then. But I would change that now.

I would want to point out that as far as I could see, Donald Trump's inauguration speech on Friday 20th January 2017 was an inventory of fascist tactics. To my mind, any interpretation of it as anything other than an openly fascist call to arms is far, far too charitable.

I appreciate the point of view that the things he said were uncontroversial. But consider this. He openly rejected the legitimacy of his predecessors, whom he portrayed as having abandoned their people. He didn't just distinguish himself from them. He implied they were fraudulent and not qualified to hold office. He referred to people's problems in an inspecific, if sometimes poetic, way to allow him to claim to uniquely understand them. He placed the blame for these problems beyond the borders of the country he now controls, for example, by offering to repatriate jobs. He praised the police and the military - those authorised to use state-sanctioned violence - rather than, say, engineers, innovators, teachers, health professionals, and so on. He pledged to crush common (and dehumanised) enemies and restore a (real or imagined) former glory.

But perhaps most importantly he made clear he is directly addressing a previously neglected constituency, developing a personal relationship with the people, rather than relying on the intercession of, or working in collaboration with, established institutions and the media. These are not to be trusted. They are part of a perfidious metropolitan elite, who cannot relate to real people, who have ignored them. In this way he is asking you to disregard all sources of doubt or nuance. And it's not as if these institutions are not subject to democratic scrutiny, or the media to consumer choice. You already control them. You don't need someone to save you from them. But Trump's voice and version of events is to be the only one to be heard.

I would ask the Texans it was my pleasure and privilege to meet how they felt about these concerns of mine.

The Trump administration has recently been criticised for "alternative facts," that is, for having a rather relaxed approach to accuracy. I consider this all part of the plan.

I feel the truth-resistant character of his statements is excused in the minds of the people who vote for him partly because they don't require him to be accurate, since haven't the elites he replaces been consistently lying hitherto? At least he openly lies, making the most ridiculous statements in a way that is entirely forgivable compared to the weasel-worded plausible falsehoods of his predecessors. Are his lies acceptable if they indulge our fantasies of victimhood and marginalisation? In the land of the American dream, Trump and his constituents indulge each other's fantasies of betrayal.

That's not to say people don't have problems. They have been disenfranchised and ignored. A political culture does exist from which they have been excluded. But a characteristic of the fascist is that he refers to these issues in an entirely expedient, disingenuous way, selecting from reality as and when necessary to support the fantasy he is promoting, not to form its substance of a solution. They don't offer solutions, they mobilise frustrations to use as a battering ram at the gates of power.

I am not American but I say this because Trump's ascendancy affects us all. Just as a certain US administration was known in the past as Camelot when far reaching policies have been pursued that had widespread impact, Trump is assembling around him a Dark Camelot. His appointments have been criticised, by Paul Krugman, the Nobel prize winning economist, for example, as incurious incompetents notable only for their support for his damaging agenda. And beyond his borders a fascist international is forming, inspired and legitimised by his example. Extreme right wing movements are interpreting Trump's victory, and the Brexit result in the UK, as permission.

“Darkness is good ... Dick Cheney. Darth Vader. Satan. That’s power ... [it] will be as exciting as the 1930s," claimed Steve Bannon, Trump's chief strategist. This toxic fascist fantasia of Trump's Dark Camelot will cause lasting damage. I would urge my Texan hosts to please explain why it won't.

Trump's inauguration speech: a paraphrase

Today is not like other inaugurations. Everyone who came before me was ripping you off. Now I'm in charge and I'm on your side. That puts you in the driving seat for the first time ever, thanks to me.

You have problems, and no-one paid any attention to them until now. I'm paying attention. I understand you like no-one else ever has before.

All of your problems are the fault of foreigners. They robbed us of our greatness.  I'll fix your problems. If I can't, that's the foreigners' fault too. In relation to everything I will put our nation first. Let me repeat that: our nation first.

And let us remember all our soldiers and police, everyone able to commit state-sanctioned violence, and the incalculable debt we owe them. We will crush our enemies.

So now it's just you and me. I am talking to you directly. No media or government to intercede and instill any doubt in your minds. Just us, forever. And together we will make our nation great again.

The mentalists

Trump apologists say he's

• A businessman, therefore he won't act in a manner that is detrimental to commercial interests
• A "deal maker," and therefore will be an able and pragmatic negotiator in his dealings with the wider world
• Half-British, and so will give us a sympathetic hearing in his dealings with us

and so on.

They say this to try and reassure us about the consequences of his presidency, to allay our fears given his complete unsuitability for the office. But that completely misses the point.

We shouldn't be having to try and read his mind like a two-cent mentalist. This should not fall within the province of the tea leaf and the crystal ball. We shouldn't be inspecting and interpreting vague and deranged tweets.

In a democracy, clear policy statements are subject to scrutiny and their content debated. It is only in a dictatorship that people have to guess and speculate about the whim and caprice of their leaders.

Furthermore, politics must be about more than business interests. Is our ambition so cramped we are going to disregard ethics? Are we going to limit ourselves to consideration of the contents of our pockets, and not our hearts or our heads? Are we happy with leadership if it proves to be merely tolerable?

We are approaching a post-scarcity economic scenario in which real and artificial stimulants for economic activity are being transformed or eliminated by technological innovation and clean energy. The turmoil we are witnessing in the world arises from tensions that occur when old ways of generating and accumulating wealth become obsolete and unsustainable as a result.

So things are not "business as usual." A response is needed.

However, Trump and the Fascist International coalescing around him is the diametric opposite of what is required. Now is not the time for a "dash for fash." They represent a doomed beach-head the past is trying to establish in the future. They are the fingertips of fallen empires clinging to the brink of oblivion.

A failed businessman whose tedious fantasies of greatness have been insulated from reality by money he inherited from his father is the very last thing we need. A stunted man-boy for whom affection was replaced by money, leading to a florid and delusional narcissism, offers nothing of use. His disregard for truth has succeeded because it encourages and confirms bitter, thwarted fantasies that will never come true. All that can happen as a result is disaster.

But we should not be confronted with a case of damage limitation.

We should be working out how our concepts of work and leisure can evolve to allow us to become fulfilled as individuals rather than enslaved by insecurity and poverty as our world is transformed around us. We should be rejoicing as we work together to make the most of the opportunities we are being offered by these transformations.

That's what we should be investing our efforts trying to work out. Not trying to guess the inclinations of a notoriously inconsistent and shallow imbecile to whom we have somehow handed the highest office.

The day the Scots saved France

In response to a recent faux pas by Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson regarding the French President, commentators in the media have once again cited an historic rivalry between Britain and France. They trace this contretemps back through the centuries, from the Napoleonic to the Hundred Years War and beyond.

However, Scots are justifiably irked by this description, as the relationship between Scotland and France has been, on the most part, exceptionally cordial, and sometimes formally very close. At no time was this contrast more pronounced than during the Hundred Years War.

Accounts of the Hundred Years War available in the anglophone world generally describe an epic struggle between two great military powers. One is regaled with a catalogue of great English victories over the French: Poitiers, Crecy, Agincourt, Cravant, Verneuil, even the curiously named "Battle of the Herrings". Of course the English had their allies, for example, Burgundy.

How is it possible that the English lost the war, when they seem to have won all the battles. At a key turning point the French relied on the intervention of their principal ally: Scotland.

Auld Alliance

Powerful leaders historically have selected foreigners renowned for their martial prowess to form their bodyguard, since they are held to be immune to domestic politics. The Byzantine emperors employed the Varangian guard, composed of Vikings who had rowed and portaged their way across Russia. The Roman emperors selected warriors from unconquered German tribes to attend them.

The kings of France placed their personal safety in the hands of Scots at least since 882 C.E., when Charles III formed his bodyguard from "Scottish gentlemen." Tradition maintains that this practise was started by his grandfather, Charlemagne, and it was certainly well established by the time of Louis IX (St. Louis), ultimately forming the basis of the Archers of the Scottish Guard or "Guarde Ecossaise."

They became known as the oldest regiment in the French army, a reputation which inspired the comment from a member of their only French rival for ancient pedigree, the Regiment of Picardy, that they were "Pontius Pilate's Bodyguard." This was a reference to the story that Pontius Pilate, having been born to the wife of a Roman ambassador who was accompanying her husband while he was negotiating a treaty with a tribe in Caledonia (at Fortingall near Loch Tay), chose Caledonians to form the Temple guard in Jerusalem.

By the time the Auld Alliance was ratified in 1295 the cordial relationship between France and Scotland was already many centuries old.

The road to Baugé

In the year 1420 the parties to that alliance were in dire straits. James I of Scots had been captured and was being held by the English. Henry V of England, in the aftermath of Agincourt, had conquered Normandy and his Burgundian allies had even taken Paris. The French king, Charles VI, had gone mad, and the majority of the powerful men who used to pay him allegiance had agreed to a trumped up treaty whereby Henry became his heir. The civil war in France (which the early phases of La Guerre de Cent Ans can be interpreted as) had delivered to Burgundy a sure thing.

In 1419 there landed at La Rochelle 150 men-at-arms and 300 archers, from Scotland. Over the course of the next six years 17,000 men would disembark from Glasgow to make the same journey. They formed the basis of the only armies the French could put in the field for the next ten years. Without them there would be no France.

Having conquered Normandy the English chose to attack the centre of power, adopting a decapitation strategy. After French incompetence delivered the field at Agincourt and Paris fell, penetrating south of the Loire towards the Dauphin's headquarters at Chinon became tantalisingly feasible. And yet at this point Henry left the fray and entrusted matters to his brother Thomas, the Duke of Clarence.

The accounts in English chronicles of what happened next contain the tropes and motifs one would expect in the mythistoire of failure. There is the warning about the ensuing disaster which goes unheeded. There is the inordinate respect shown to everything holy which leads the English into error. There are the many mistakes (not borne out by the historical record) which excuse the disaster. Defeat is due to the perfidy and guile of enemy and the honest mistakes of a few well-meaning hot-heads. The English are portrayed as gallantly chasing off some Franco-Scottish raiders from Normandy and over-extending their pursuit as far south as the Loire.

But supply lines were not extended and heavy cavalry committed on a valiant whim as partisan chroniclers suggest. The expedition was a strategic probe towards the Loire which the Scots thwarted. The chroniclers explain the failure of English archers to make any impact by their absence, when in reality the English were drawn into battle on ground that neutralised the contribution of archers. They dismiss the engagement as "a minor skirmish, notable only for the death of the Duke of Clarence", or in the words of Mark Twain, as a "barren fight" with no issue (in his "autobiography" of one of the servants of La Pucelle, Jeanne d'Arc).

However, at Baugé the Scots destroyed the English heavy cavalry, which at that time was more significant than the death of the king's brother. It meant the destruction of their ability to be anything more than a garrison, and prevented an English army penetrating south of the Loire and encircling the strategically vital cities of Orleans and Tours, thus giving the French vital time to recover and regroup.

The battle

While Henry was in England raising fresh levies in 1421, his brother the Duke of Clarence led 10,000 men south towards the Loire. They had set about besieging the castle at Baugé when a Scottish army of 6,000 men commanded by the Earl of Buchan made contact with them the day before Good Friday. A truce was reached, lasting until Monday, so that the combatants could properly observe Easter. The English lifted their siege and withdrew to nearby Beaufort, while the Scots camped at La Lude.

However, early in the afternoon of Saturday, Scottish scouts reported that the English had broken the truce and were advancing, hoping to take the Scots by surprise. The Scots rallied hastily and battle was joined at a bridge which the Duke of Clarence, with banner unfurled for battle, sought to cross. A detachment of a few hundred men under Sir Robert Stewart of Ralston, reinforced by the retinue of Hugh Kennedy, held the bridge and prevented passage long enough for the Earl of Buchan to rally the rest of his army, whereupon they made a fighting retreat to the town where the English archers would be ineffective.

Both armies now joined in a bitter melee that lasted until nightfall. During the melee Sir John Carmichael of Douglasdale broke his lance unhorsing the Duke of Clarence. Since that day the Carmichael coat of arms displays an armoured hand holding aloft a broken lance in commemoration of the victory. Once on the ground, the Duke was killed by Sir Alexander Buchanan. The English dead included the Lord Roos, Sir John Grey and Gilbert de Umfraville, whose death led to the extinction of the male line of that illustrious family, well known to the Scots since the Wars of Independence. The Earl of Somerset and his brother were captured by Laurence Vernon (later elevated to the rank of knight for his conduct), the Earl of Huntingdon was captured by Sir John Sibbald, and Lord Fitz Walter was taken by Henry Cunningham.

On hearing of the Scottish victory, Pope Martin V reiterated the common medieval saying, "the Scots are well-known as an antidote to the English."

The oldest regiment in the world, according to tradition, certainly the oldest in the British army (until recently), the 1st Royal Scots, lists an engagement during La Guerre de Cent Ans as the first of the many hundreds of battles and sieges in which it has distinguished itself. This first engagement was the Battle of Baugé, fought on the day before Easter Sunday, 1421, and was considered by many at the time to be the turning point in the war, being the first occasion a "French" army inflicted a defeat upon the English in the field. This "French" army was almost entirely Scottish in composition, and included units whom the Royal Scots claim as predecessors, fighting on the side of the French.

Aftermath

In the summer of 1421 the Dauphin campaigned north of the Loire and retook much territory. In gratitude to the Scots he made

• Archibald, 4th Earl of Douglas, Lieutenant-General of the French forces and conferred upon him the title of Duke of Touraine
• Sir John Stuart of Darnley received the lands of Aubigny-sur-Nere and Concressault
• The Earl of Buchan was made Constable of France. 

In 1422 the Dauphin created the "hundred men-at-arms of the King's bodyguard", known as the "Hundred Lances of France", to supplement the 24 archers of the Guarde Ecossaise. The Hundred Lances eventually became the company known as the Gendarmerie of France who distinguished themselves at Fontenoy in 1745.

John Carmichael was elected bishop of Orleans in 1426, and was one of the 6 bishops to attend the coronation of the Dauphin as Charles VII in 1429 at Rheims. Hugh Kennedy, known to the French as Canede, was granted the right to quarter his coat of arms with the fleur de lys of France.

James I was released in 1424, and in 1428 signed the Treaty of Perth whereby a further 6,000 Scots were dispatched to defend France. This occurred at another critical time: the English once again were trying to penetrate south of the Loire and had besieged Orleans hoping to secure it as a crossing point.

The French Royal treasury records, maintained by Raguier, list many Scots salaried by the Dauphin to hold Orleans:

• Sir Thomas Blair is listed as commanding 20 men-at-arms and 29 archers
• Sir Cristin Chambers is listed as the captain of the Guarde Ecossaise, and received the lands of Saintonge in reward for his efforts at Orleans
• Sir John Crichton is listed as commanding a company of men-at-arms and archers of unknown number, and is subsequently made governor of Chatillon
• Archibald, 5th Earl of Douglas, is listed with another company of unknown number
• Sir Henry Galois is listed commanding 10 men-at-arms and 30 archers
• Sir William Hamilton is listed with a company of unknown number, and as a consequence of his contribution the Hamilton's were conferred the title of Dukes of Chatellerault
• Sir Thomas Houston commanded 22 men-at-arms and 71 archers and received the lands of Gournay as reward
• Hugh Kennedy was there with his retinue who had fought at Bauge
• Edward of Lennox is listed as being in command of 42 men-at-arms and 108 archers
• Sir David Melville is listed as commanding 12 men-at-arms and 28 archers, rising to 50 and 32 by January 1429
• Sir Alexander Norwill is listed as commanding 15 men-at-arms and 29 archers
• Sir John Wishart is listed as leading 48 men-at-arms and 105 archers.

On February 8th, 1429, 1,000 Scottish reinforcements arrived at Orleans, commanded by John and William Stuart. These were squandered the next day in an attack on an English convoy from Paris supplying the forces besieging Orleans. The French commander, Charles of Bourbon, Count of Clermont, ordered an attack but abandoned it with his own forces, leaving the Scots to their fate (although subsequent French historians have attempted to spare his blushes, his contemporaries blamed him for the debacle). The Scots lost 250 men including John and William Stuart. This was the so-called "Battle of the Herrings."

La Pucelle

The relief of Orleans was to fall to others. Jeanne d'Arc led a supply convoy from Blois to Orleans to feed the starving garrison. Her escort consisted of 60 Scottish men-at-arms and 70 Scottish archers led by Sir Patrick Ogilvy of Auchterhouse, hereditary sheriff of Angus. Her banner flew proudly in the wind. It had been made by Hamish Powers in Tours at a cost of 25 livres-Tournois, and in gratitude Jeanne had persuaded the dignitaries of Tours to provide Hamish's daughter's dowry. At her subsequent show trial it was noted that the only people who had carried devotional images of her had been Scots.

After the siege had been raised and the English routed at the Battle of Patay, Jeanne prevailed upon the Dauphin to make the perilous journey north to Rheims to be crowned. This journey was fraught with danger, as Rheims was close to territory still held by the English, but in order to be made king, Charles needed to be anointed with the holy oil kept there. Again the escort that accompanied Jeanne d'Arc and the Dauphin, soon to be Charles VII, was composed almost entirely of Scots.

Conclusion

The French recovery made possible by the Scots meant that apres la Pucelle their assistance was called upon less and less. Nevertheless the warm bond between Scotland and France persists to this day. Scottish merchants were given first choice of wine in Bordeaux in gratitude, and so in conclusion it would be fitting to raise a glass of claret and make the toast: "Vive la France, agus Alba gu brath."

Why should I vote No in IndyRef 2?

During the Scottish Independence referendum the Yes Movement, perfectly reasonably, were required to account for their position. They offered some evidence and arguments which ultimately failed to persuade the majority of the electorate, who voted No by a margin of 55% to 45%.

This result was based, at least in part, on the prospectus offered by the No campaign. In addition to basic continuity, this prospectus included the rather vague "Vow" and some other more specific items such as guaranteed EU membership and use of Sterling as a currency. Some of this is no longer deliverable.

If the advocates of a Yes vote had to account for themselves in detail back then, those who argued for a No vote must answer for themselves now, given we are now experiencing the consequences of voting No, and are likely to be presented with a second referendum at some point in the next few years.

For example, if exiting the EU means we should stay in the UK now, why was it necessary to emphasise remaining an EU member back then?

It seems to me the only argument that is both consistent and acceptable would surely be that EU membership is utterly immaterial, which is not the case that was made then. The unacceptable but equally consistent alternative, of course, would be that the UK is effectively an abusive relationship, and we should remain in the UK because, in effect, "nobody else would have us," but I don't expect anyone to make that argument if they want to be taken seriously.

How has the currency argument been affected by the volatility of Sterling? At the moment exports have gone up due to the cheap pound, but in the longer term more expensive imports will cause inflation while wages denominated in Sterling remain static, reducing what our salaries are worth. This ultimately devalues our labour, driving us further down the road of a low wage, low productivity economy. Would other currency options be worth considering now?

Oil price volatility was also presented as a liability. Does that situation remain unchanged? Why is oil price volatility important if currency volatility is not?

There were other arguments unrelated to short term economic performance - social justice, workers' solidarity, environmental concerns, and so on - which were decisive for many. What is now the best vehicle for achieving these objectives?

So if there was a second referendum tomorrow, why should I vote No? Under these changed circumstances I am genuinely interested in the arguments and open to persuasion. How are the arguments of two years ago altered? What remains valid? What are the new arguments, if any?

Do you want to see some puppies?

Donald Trump has destroyed the United Kingdom.

He has inadvertently fired the starting gun on IndyRef 2 and like the big blundering imbecile narcissist he is, he has also determined the inevitable outcome. He has done this by announcing his enthusiasm for Brexit and his eagerness to arrive at an early trade deal with the UK. Why is this a disaster for the Union?

The starting point for the deal will be the aborted TTIP package. This was rejected at an EU level, but can now be resuscitated as the template for a British deal as a result of Brexit. Nevertheless, the objections to TTIP remain. The EU dodged the TTIP bullet but can now be shot in the back with it by Brexit Britain. Now Trump gets to inflict a Britain-only "son of TTIP" on us.

Among the objections to the terms of this agreement are the way it prevents governments supporting a nationalised public health service in preference to private provision on the grounds that this is anti-competitive. This means that the government will be legally obliged to allow US providers to dismember the NHS.

Consider the possible timeline associated with this.

Trump and the UK arrive at a deal based on the provisions of TTIP very rapidly, certainly within the two year framework of Article 50. Except this trade deal will be even more disadvantageous to Britain than TTIP would have been because (a) the UK is no longer negotiating as part of the EU, (b) the UK will bend over backwards to accommodate the US because it has no alternative and (c) the UK needs a deal badly to make Brexit look like a success. It is folly to imagine Trump will be our saviour. The deal will give carte blanche to corporate interests.

This treaty will take effect at one minute after midnight on April 1st 2019, the UK's first day outside the EU. Immediately the corporate vultures will start picking over the corpse of an NHS that has been systematically deprived of resources in order to make privatisation seem attractive.

Scotland is not exempt from this, as the treaty negotiated on its behalf by a tory government in Westminster applies to the Scottish NHS too.

So Trump's announcement of his desire to make a trade deal with the UK is basically a strange man in a raincoat saying "would you like to see some puppies." It is not really something to get too excited about. It is not "good news," as Boris Johnson would assert.

Brexit Britain will be a playground for Dickensian extremes of deregulated avarice and exploitation for the amusement of corporate America. It will be a haven for tax exiles whose whims are catered for by the native British helots. The UK will continue to exist only because successful parasites ensure their host survives. But it will be a Britain in which a sanctioned serfdom coughs with untreated respiratory infections while queuing to apply for a zero hours contract to toil in the manufacture of its own chains to earn some increasingly worthless pounds to save towards the unaffordable price of a consultation and the extortionate medicine prescribed.  

The NHS will be toast once it has to compete with corporate America as a result of the proposed trade deal, because despite the verbiage about anti-competitive practices, there will be no level playing field. Private interests will have the media entirely on their side, conferring all the spurious prestige necessary on private options - spurious, of course, because there is no such thing as a deluxe exclusive business-class gold-plated executive fucking tumour. But there will be no adverts for the NHS, no celebrity glamour, no sport-star endorsements. It will be stigmatised.

This is what the Brexiteers always wanted. The coup that they plotted was about more than just the overthrow of David Cameron. It was about the weakening of democratic institutions that safeguard our workers' rights, our health and safety standards, our environmental standards. We didn't "take back control" on June 23rd. We already had control, by means of the various provisions administered and enforced by our democratically accountable institutions to prevent unrestricted corporations motivated only by profit from nakedly exploiting us. We lost control.

Brexit was about deregulation on behalf of corporate interests. Now Britain is a juicy plump tax free prize for corporate America, ripe for the picking, in the form of a TTIP-like trade deal.

There is only one alternative to this for Scotland, and that is independence.

When Mungo met Merlin - a Glasgow story

Today is the 13th of January, the feast day of St Kentigern, otherwise known as Mungo (the affectionate name by which St Serf, and all Glaswegians since, have known him), the founder and patron saint of Glasgow, who encountered the village of Cathures in his travels and established a bishop's seat there by the Molendinar burn at the site of the current cathedral, turning it into a city.

On this feast day of Kentigern I am reminded of the story of his encounter with Lailoken, who is considered to be Myrddin Wyllt, the prototype and origin of the Merlin of Dark Age legend. This story is preserved in a 15th century manuscript which is likely to be a copy of an 11th century source recording an ealier tradition of events that took place in the 6th century.

The story touched me, because I saw so many parallels in today's experience in Glasgow: the madness of the post-traumatic Merlin after an experience of war; the marginalised and mentally ill figure sleeping rough on the slopes of what is now the Necropolis, accosting people with intense but incoherent ramblings; the desparate need Merlin has to receive the sacrament from Mungo, which reminded me of the drug consumption rooms being set up in Glasgow for heroin addicts; the sanctions he is subjected to, which are reminiscent of today's benefits sanctions; even the sectarian aspect of the conflict between Rydderch and Gwenddolau, which has been interpreted by some scholars as a crisis related in part to the struggle between Chritianity and paganism.

Merlin was living in Partick, and was the bard of Gwenddolau, a pagan king. Gwenddolau found himself competing with Rydderch Hael, king of Strathclyde and "defender of the faith." Merlin set out from Partick to be with his king as the armies lined up for battle. They met at Arfderydd (modern Arthuret, although the battle site is given in the tale as between the Liddel Water and Carwinley burn, which places it slightly to the north of Arthuret, near the confluence of the Liddel and the Esk, not far from Gretna).

The battle was terrible, with great bloodshed. The Welsh Triads list it as one of the Three Futile Battles (the others being the Battle of Camlann, Arthur's final battle, and the mythical Battle of the Trees). Gwenddolau was utterly defeated and Rydderch's authority now ran unchallenged. He re-installed Mungo in Glasgow, who could now return from exile having spent time with St David and St Asaph in Wales, and then in Galloway (where he met St Columba). Jocelyn's Life of Kentigern notes the presence of Merlin as a broken madman pestering the court of Rydderch. Thereafter he fled the company of men to live in the wilderness. It is here that the manuscript picks up the story ...

Lailoken and Kentigern

During the period that St Kentigern used to go into the wilderness it happened that one day, while he was praying in a lonely wood, a naked madman, hairy and completely destitute, came rushing wildly by him. He was known as Lailoken, and some say he was Merlin, who was an extraordinary prophet of the British; but this is not certain.

It is said that when St. Kentigern saw him he accosted him in this fashion: I adjure you by the father, the son and the holy spirit, whatever kind of being you are, to speak to me if you are in any degree of God and believe in God, and tell me who you are and why you wander alone in this lonely place and keep company with the beasts of the wood.’

The madman at once checked his course and answered, ‘I am a Christian, though unworthy of so great a name. I suffer much in this lonely place, and for my sins it has been ordained that my destiny is to be among wild things, since I am unworthy to meet the punishment for my sins among men. For I was the cause of the slaughter of all the dead who fell in the battle — so well known to all citizens of this land — which took place in the plain lying between Lidel and Carwannok. In that fight the sky began to split above me, and I heard a tremendous din, a voice from the sky saying to me, “Lailoken, Lailoken, because you alone are responsible for the blood of all these dead men, you alone will bear the punishment for the misdeeds of all. For you will be given over to the angels of Satan, and until the day of your death you will have communion with the creatures of the wood.” But when I directed my gaze towards the voice I heard, I saw a brightness too great for human senses to endure. I saw, too, numberless martial battalions in the heaven like flashing lightning, holding in their hands fiery lances and glittering spears which they shook most fiercely at me. So I was torn out of my own self and an evil spirit seized me and assigned me to the wild things of the woods, as you see.

With these words he darted off into an isolated area of the forest known but to the wild beasts and birds. St Kentigern was much moved by his distress and prostrated himself on the ground, saying, ‘Lord Jesus, this is the unhappiest of unhappy men, with the life he leads in this foul wilderness, like a beast among beasts, a naked fugitive feeding only on plants. Beasts of the wild have bristles and hair as their natural covering and fields of grass and roots and leaves as their proper food. Our brother here is as one with us in naked form and flesh and blood and frailty, but lacks all that human nature needs, save only the common air. How then does he live among the beasts of the wood in the face of hunger, cold and constant fasting?’

So the pious protector Kentigern wept with tears of compassion pouring down his cheeks, as he gave himself to his accustomed solitary discipline more strictly, for the love of God. He also supplicated the Lord with urgent prayers on behalf of that man of the woods, that filthy, unhappy and possessed man, so that the disasters and tribulations which he was here suffering in the flesh should count in mitigation for his soul in the future.

But it is said that after this madman had come in a number of times from the wilderness, he took to sitting on a certain steep rock which stands up above the stream of the Molendinar practically within sight of Glasgow, on the north side of the church of that same place; and he many times disturbed St Kentigern and his clerics at their task of divine contemplation. For he predicted much of the future there, as if he were a prophet. But because he used never to repeat what he had foretold (though it was extremely obscure and virtually unintelligible), nobody cared to believe him. But they remembered some apparently idle remarks and committed them to writing. But on the day on which the madman was due to leave the miseries of this world, he came as usual to the rock mentioned, while St Kentigern was celebrating an early mass. He was wailing and shouting and in a loud voice asserting his demand to be entitled to be fortified by him with the body of Christ before he took his passage from this world.

When St. Kentigern could no longer tolerate his disrespectful shouting, he sent a cleric to tell him to be silent. The poor but blessed man answered him with mild piety, saying, ‘Pray, sir, go to St Kentigern and beg him for the grace of his charity to deign to fortify me with the Lord’s viaticum, since through him I shall, vile as I am, today pass to blessedness.’

But when the bishop heard this from the mouth of his cleric, he smiled gravely on those around who were urgently beseeching him on behalf of the possessed and shouting man, and said, ‘Has not this poor man often misled all of you, and some of the others, with his words, and passed many years of his life as one possessed among the wild creatures of the woods, and not known Christian communion? Consequently I do not feel it really desirable to grant him the office. But go’ (he said to one of his clerics) ‘and ask him what death he will die and if he will die today.’

So the cleric went and spoke to the madman as he had been bidden by the bishop. The madman answered him, ‘Because today I shall be stoned and die by clubs.’

The cleric then went back to the bishop and told him what he had heard from the madman. The bishop told the cleric to go back, saying that it was ‘because I do not believe this story that he will die thus. But let him say more truly when and by what form of death he will die.’ The bishop said this to see whether the poor man might be found to be truthful and consistent in what he said, at least on the last day of his life. For he never said the same things twice but made indirect and conflicting predictions.

So, when asked again by the cleric, the madman said, ‘Today my body will be pierced by a sharp stake, and thus will my spirit fail.’ The cleric went back once more to the bishop and said what he had heard from the madman.

The bishop called his clerics together and said, ‘You yourselves have just heard why it is I hesitate to grant his request—it is because he preserves no logic in any of his sayings.’ His clerics then said, ‘Revered father, lord, do not be angry with us if we beg once more on his behalf for your indulgence. Let him be tried yet a third time in case he is capable of proving himself rational over some one of his sayings.’

So the bishop, sending a cleric for the third time, asked the poor blessed man what form of end his life would have. The madman answered thus: ‘Today I shall be sunk in water and so end my life on earth.’ The cleric was highly indignant at this answer and said, ‘Brother, you are a lying fraud, and you are acting stupidly and foolishly in asking an holy and honest man to fortify you with that food of the spirit which may be given only to the just and faithful.’

The poor man, mad but already blessed, recovered his senses through the Lord and at once began weeping afresh, saying, ‘Oh wretched that I am, Lord Jesus, how long shall I suffer this awful fate? How long shall I be racked with all these tortures? And why am I rejected only by your believers when I have been directed here by you? See, they do not believe my words, though I have told them nothing but what you have inspired in me.’ Turning to the cleric, he said, ‘I most earnestly beg the bishop himself to come to me, for I am this day above all others consigned by the Lord to his protection, and let him bring with him the sacred viaticum which I ask, and he will hear the matter which God has deigned to convey to him through me.’

The bishop came, yielding to the weight of entreaties from his clerics; and he brought with him the bread and the sacramental wine. As he approached, the poor blessed man climbed down from the rock and fell on his face at the bishop’s feet, breaking forth into a speech in this vein: ‘Hail, reverend father, knight elect of the highest king! I am that poor harmless man who once met you in the wilderness when my fate was to be a lonely straying wanderer, still given over to the angels of Satan. But when I was adjured by you through the living and true God in the name of the trinity, I described the reason for my misfortunes. You were, if you recall, touched with pity for my trials and tribulations, and poured out tearful prayers to the Lord that for me he would turn into eternal joy all the unhappy distress which I was then suffering in the flesh, truly recalling the words of the apostle who said that the sufferings of this time here are not the equal of the future glory which will be revealed among the elect of God. Because the Lord listened to your prayers and had mercy on me, he has today sent me (now restored to my own self and to God the father almighty, as befits a Christian believing in the catholic faith) to you in particular before the other elect, strengthened by these signs so that you will believe what I say, for the purpose that you will send me to him today after I have received of his sacred body and blood.’

When St Kentigern the protector heard that this was he who once appeared to him in the wilderness—and much more that is not written this short book—he was fairly convinced, and overcome with pity; tears coursed down his cheeks. The poor man was weeping and urgently begging for the grace of God, and Kentigern replied in a kindly way, saying, ‘Behold, here is the body and the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the true and eternal salvation of the living who believe in him and the everlasting glory of those who keep themselves worthy of him. So whoever is worthy to receive this sacrament will live forever and will not die, but whoever receives it unworthily will die wholly and will not live. If, then, you feel yourself worthy of such a gift, here is that of Christ set upon the table. But approach in the fear of God, to accept him in all humbleness. May Christ himself yet receive you, for I am afraid either to give to you or to withhold.’

The poor blessed man immediately washed in water, faithfully confessed the one God in the trinity, humbly approached the altar and with a clear faith and true devotion received the protection of the boundless sacrament. As he saw it, he lifted his hands to heaven and said, ‘I give you thanks, Lord Jesus. For now I have attained the most holy sacrament which I desired.’ Then, turning, he said to St Kentigern, ‘Lord, if my earthly life ends today (for which you have accepted my word), then the most outstanding king of Britain, and the most holy of bishops, and the most noble of lords shall follow me within this year.’

The bishop replied, ‘Brother, do you remain still in your foolishness? Have you not thrown off irreverence? Go, then, in peace, and the Lord be with you.’

As soon as he had received the pontifical blessing, Lailoken rushed away like a wild goat breaking out of the hunter’s noose and happily seeking the undergrowth of the wilderness.

But since things ordained by the Lord cannot be passed over as though they need not happen, it came to pass that on the same day he was stoned and beaten to death by some shepherds of King Meldred, and in the moment of death had a fall, over a steep bank of the Tweed near the fort of Dunmeller, on to a very sharp stake which was stuck in a fish pool. He was pierced through the middle of his body with his head bent over into the shallows, and so yielded his spirit to the Lord as he had prophesied.

When St. Kentigern and his clerics realised that all this had apparently fallen out as that possessed man had predicted for himself, they believed and were afraid that what he had foretold about the rest would certainly happen. They all began to tremble and the tears ran profusely down their cheeks. They all began to praise the name of the Lord in all things, he who is marvellous and blessed to his saints for ever and ever. Amen.

The citadel

We are concealed
in an igloo of solidified light.
There is us
and there is the world outside.

Every ray of sun shining in our direction
has twisted and congealed together
to weave this bright burning bower,
this incandescent cordon,
and conspires to keep us hidden,
out of sight, where we can finally love
without regard for anyone else.

Gentle tremors radiate
from the secret epicentres
of our intimate tectonics,
as we shift and slip
over and against each other.

That breath you caught and held
for the indefinite duration
of one moment of divine bliss?
It is released again into my custody.

The friction and pressure of my fingertips
discover you, find pleasures lost,
like ancient amber, among your scattered limbs,
where you least expect it,

as we lie behind a curtain
honey-heavy with sunlight,
soaked with sun, making this room
a slow summer twilight at midday.

Hiding with you in this artificial night,
I listen to the wider world of day outside,
hearing distant car alarms,
dogs barking,
children taunting each other,
shouts and protestations circulating
within the world of their childish play
a million years ago, a million miles away
from our translucent chamber,
the time machine of our love,

and the seclusion
of our private, sequestered reality
mediates a participation in love
made possible only in darkness,
only by pure awareness,
by presence and intimacy
immediate and uninterrupted
by the fragmentation of space and time
that light reveals,
so that our empty, desolate senses
- fit only for the world -
must abdicate their thrones to us,
as we penetrate, explore, extol
the endless worlds we are to each other
with the loud accumulations and crescendos,
the endless recapitulation,
of the million imperceptible earthquakes
our love precipitates with every touch
and propagates to our deepest understanding.

All the world's urgencies and imperatives
recede and merge
into a faint insistent growl, far away,
like the indignation of an old and toothless cur
guarding the threshold of a ruin,
or the distant thunder of irrelevant artillery
besieging the impregnable fortress
the sun has made of our secret city of night
behind the luminous palisade of these curtains,
these unassailable ramparts of light.

I know you at last, and we inhabit
periods of sustained perfection together,
moments where we can dwell forever,
even though the sun itself
will inevitably capitulate
and retreat behind the hills,
even though the world will fall.

The world's last bastions may collapse,
but you reveal your secret body only to me,
safely enveloped in that darkness I concealed
within myself and from myself so long,
hidden behind a monstrous mask, prowling
and patrolling the secret chambers of my heart,
just as the Devil himself tricked God
and imprisoned Him in Hell, and took His place,
and fools the rest of us with his imposture
and pantomime of grace, and make believe
about the mysteries of evil and original sin,
and I did not admit to my darkness until this day,
when I wrapped you in it, when I let you in,
and protected you from the world with it,
the woman whose bright presence endures
beneath the veil of your visible self,
and inspires me to heresies
for which I’ll burn.

Our love is a deep dive,
plunging past shame,
plummeting past guilt,
hurtling past confusion,
and reaching one fathom below Hell's last circle
where the pristine innocence
of the body's first pleasures
are preserved, and we recover it
on the other side of shimmering blindness
and the reset that we press
as we thumb and fumble each other
as though we were the first substance
to emerge from primordial chaos,
our bodies a jigsaw we complete for each other
with our eyes shut in darkness and ecstasy. 

I want
to make every atom in you
throb and palpitate constantly,
engulfed by my severe and unending embrace.
I want
to bind and compress each atom,
intensify and accentuate their mute vibrations,
constrain and command their magnetic tides.
I want
to accelerate their electrons
around the walls of their pit and silo,
the circus cage they rattle in,
until they become electric seeds,
grenades of lust,
bursting with life,
erupting with miracles,
petals unfolding and exploding
to reveal the ignition of new stars in every atom,
unleashing an avalanche of superfluous suns
in the million universes that you are,
and your captivity in my arms,
in the citadel of my darkness,
saves me, and becomes my rescue.

Volcano

Bury the sky deep underground.

Set diamonds where the stars are found.

Turn ice to water then to steam

to fill the air with Earth's dark dream.

Roll up the world small and tight,

turn up the heat, turn out the light

breathe in the day, breath out the night,

and hold my heart close in the dark:

a single beat will make its mark.

A warning from history

The transition of Rome from republic to empire required no constitutional change. No existing institutions were abolished. No new ones were established. No laws were passed. An existing office of state was subverted during a period of crisis. A commander-in-chief accumulated privileges and deferences unrecognised by statute that allowed him to act above the law.

Similarly, the concentration of power in the hands of the general secretary of the communist party of the Soviet Union was achieved by Stalin without any radical legislation or revisions to the constitution. Responsibilities were gradually assumed until an emergent authority was informally recognised which was only subsequently ratified. Then new constitutions could be drafted.

Dictators assume power de facto, not de jure. If you wait to resist their rise until they seek to formally codify their position in law it is already too late. Their authority is not conferred by arguments submitted to courts or parliaments. They develop favourable "facts on the ground" first, and then trump reason with a fait accompli.

Regardless of your opinion of the policies of which it has from time to time been an instrument, the office of President of the United States of America has commanded respect around the world. Individuals who have occupied it have subordinated themselves in service to the democratic ideals it represents. Their various flaws have left the seat itself untarnished. The reputations of those that would have otherwise been considered less than illustrious have benefitted from the general aura of clemency that radiates from the opportunity to think and act on behalf of something bigger than themselves. Their most vehement critics have nevertheless respected the task to which they have applied themselves.

This office is now being turned into a joke.

In a few days it will be occupied by someone who constantly astounds us in the extent to which he is unsuitable. I do not need to reiterate here the litany of actions and utterances with which he continually compounds his disqualification. I expect at some point this will generate its own field of study - trumpology - in which his multiple derangements are described in tones of darkly humorous horror.

But beyond the individual, the office of President itself is subverted by his occupancy of it. American democracy is subverted, with implications for all of us.

Polarisation and paralysis

Ruth Davidson runs as fast as possible in the opposite direction of every gesture of compromise over Brexit from the Scottish government. Her response to Nicola Sturgeon taking IndyRef 2 off the table in the "timescale of Brexit" if a differentiated deal that preserves Scotland's membership of the Single Market is considered was to somewhat petulantly insist it is taken off the table forever.

Meanwhile the Labour Party in Scotland is being deliberately destroyed from within in what must be one of the most sustained acts of political vandalism ever witnessed. Since standing shoulder to shoulder with the tories during IndyRef 1 it has haemorrhaged most of its progressive support to the SNP and is now leaking the remaining unionists to the tories. Internally they concede there is no longer any such thing as a core Labour vote. Nevertheless they continue to indulge in contrariness and incoherence beyond the wildest imaginings of Willie Bain, as though alienation of the electorate was their sole objective.

And perhaps it is.

It seems as if the Labour Party in Scotland is being sacrificed in order to drive voters into two camps, pro- and anti-Independence, represented by the SNP and the tories respectively. At all points disagreement is manufactured, compromise derided, and consensus shunned by the unionists so that these positions can be defined and reinforced.  Party political tit-for-tat will then create the gridlock that bogs down the Movement.

All the evidence suggests that the establishment are running a polarisation and paralysis strategy in Scotland. Eliminate nuance. Eliminate mutual respect. Inflate every bubble, build every echo chamber, degrade every debate into "you would say that,  wouldn't you," instead of discussion about what was actually said.

The ermined establishment, political gangsters sitting on their red benches high above the pay grade of even the most senior office bearers in the Labour Party, have clearly decreed that if Scottish Labour must be destroyed in pursuit of this polarisation and paralysis strategy, as an establishment rearguard action against Scottish Independence, then so be it. Let Ruth's tories inherit Labour's unionist rump, as long as any basis for common cause with the nationalists is destroyed. You can't have bread and circuses without the circus, which is precisely what the unionists want to turn Holyrood into.

Watch as BBC Scotland shifts gear from its familiar uncritical regurgitation, indeed active collusion in the drafting, of every Labour press release, to fawning over the utterances of the Ruth and her fact monkeys with their half-truths. Scottish Government policy will not be reported mainly via the comments of a Labour Party spokesperson any more, as has become the custom at Pacific Quay. Instead it will be the response of the tories that forms the gist of the item, as the focus shifts to the newly anointed unionist champions.

But this is Scotland. We invented the Labour Party. There is no way we will allow it to be destroyed to preserve some unionist establishment hegemony. This is why the relaunch of Labour For Independence is so important. It is a way for the ordinary members to rescue a party being driven onto the rocks by an establishment keen to provide the wreckers with plunder from which the tories will profit.

And the polarisation and paralysis agenda promoted by the unionists is easy to defeat. Get off social media and talk to friends, family and neighbours. Don't listen to reply. Listen to learn. Find out their concerns. Respect those you disagree with and be open-minded. You won't change any minds if you're not prepared to change your own. Create the conditions for all the discussions those who are afraid of debate would shut down.

The very worst outcome from a unionist perspective is the development of a mature political culture which can encompass many points of view all of which have in common the assumption of Scottish Independence.

God is dead

Instead of a cat, imagine Schroedinger put God in that box.

Simultaneously dead, like Nietzsche said, and at one and the same time risen to redeem us all with eternal life.

Not a cat, not some genie in a lamp, not some misappropriated anthropomorphic myth to twist in our distracted imaginations, but God. In a box. That box.

We open the box. We roll the stone away from the sepulchre. And what do we find?

Emptiness. The void within us. Exposed, confronted by us, and collapsing to spare us the knowledge of its nothingness, folded into all the multiple configurations we can impose on nothingness without contradicting ourselves. All the paths we can travel without encountering our dreaded doppelgangers, meeting ourselves walking in the opposite direction, away from Damascus and back to the quiet life we left forever to pursue this physics.

The quantum origami of the Book of Life: "God is dead" just means both God and death exist, as points of view, as ways of seeing deep inside the shadows of our own tomb. As ways of opening the box.

We may stack that emptiness according to some principle that excludes the void and builds a world in its place to which we can put our shoulder, or pack it up inside itself over and over again, indefinitely, to trap it. Just so many fermions and bosons.

But we are inside the box. And we are outside too, opening it. Because otherwise there is no box. Nothing can contain nothing. We are the observer and the observed, and we are marooned from ourselves forever by this false dichotomy, stranded in the illusion of time thinking our fireside yarns are real, our elaborate, engrossing fictions that protect us from the superficial flat and empty world.