Joyce McMillan: Unionism fades, with explosive effect

The connection between us and England is growing ever weaker, causing a minority to panic

THIS WEEK, two significant - perhaps even seismic - events shook the surface of Scottish political life, adding a new edge to what had, until recently, been a lacklustre election campaign.

On one hand, it emerged that real parcel bombs - amateurishly made, but potentially lethal - had been sent from locations in Ayrshire to Neil Lennon, the manager of Celtic Football Club, and to other prominent Celtic supporters.

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And on the other, a new opinion poll showed Alex Salmond's SNP now 11 points ahead of Labour in the race to lead the next Scottish Government. On the face of it, these two news stories are unconnected; as SNP leader, after all, Alex Salmond has always been eager to project an image of a bright, modern 21st century Scotland, which has left the old days of sectarian division far behind.

Yet at another level, both of these events seem to me to reflect a deep shift in the nature of Scottish politics - and therefore in the politics of the United Kingdom, as a political union - which is almost bound to produce some unpredictable and shocking effects.

For what is happening, in a nutshell, is that the old alliance of Scottish opinion which supported the union with England is losing power, at an unprecedented rate. The Conservatives blew their reputation with Scottish voters back in the 1980s, when they threatened the welfare-state deal that was the foundation of the post-war British state.

Now, the post-Blair moral and intellectual weakness of the Labour Party, the last great pillar of unionism in Scotland, has opened the way to a new Scottish politics, dominated by a party which is, at least nominally, committed to the breakup of the UK.

And even at the level of sentiment and symbolism, Scots seem increasingly inclined to opt out of the emotional narrative dreamed up by the London-based media. We do not identify with the posh-boy government of David Cameron and Nick Clegg, at any level. And as for next week's Royal Wedding "fever" - well, if there's anyone at all in Scotland who wants to hold a street party on that day, they are certainly in a very small minority.

It's therefore small wonder that in some places around Scotland, where a traditional form of sectarian and Rangers-supporting unionism has been an important part of collective identity, a kind of panic has set in, a desperate sense that the unionist tribe is dying out; and that a tiny hard core of people has been crazy and criminal enough to express their fear of extinction by trying to kill and maim others.

So far, the public response to the parcel-bomb incidents has tended to take one of two positions; either that they reveal the strength and depth of anti-Catholic sentiment in Scotland, which must be dealt with directly and severely, or that they are the work of a few lunatics whose actions mean nothing, and who do not deserve the oxygen of publicity.

In truth, though, neither of these positions is quite right. The actions of these people do signify something, in their desperate violence; but what they reveal is not the persisting strength of the militant Protestant tradition in Scotland, but its terminal weakness, in an age when even those who identify most strongly with it no longer have any living connection with the religious tradition to which they refer, and when that tradition itself is fast disappearing, in terms of active transmission to the next generation of Scots.

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Today, only 18 per cent of Scots - most of them over 50 - attend church regularly; and despite our frequent depiction in the London media as a nation stuck in the past and riddled with dark sectarian passions, we are in fact - give or take a few percentage points - almost as secular as the English.

These incidents therefore raise some profound questions for the next Scottish government, particularly if it is led by the SNP. Alex Salmond is largely right to see modern Scotland as a mostly secular society, in which religious sectarianism is dying a slow natural death; yet there are still some problems, related to sectarianism, which require action.

One is the plight of working-class communities that have been devastated by economic change, where reactionary and vicious forms of tribal identity sometimes provide young people with their only sense of significance and purpose.

The second is the steady perpetuation of sectarian attitudes through football, and in particular through the confrontation between Rangers and Celtic. That this is now largely an empty form of tribalism - without any real religious or political content - almost goes without saying. Yet still, gangs of men from all walks of life in Scotland get together on match days to bay for violence, and to taste the heady stuff of mindless tribal identity; and it's this reification of hate, with all its grim historic resonances, that the next Scottish government will have to bring to an end, if it is to succeed in portraying Scotland as a modern secular society, with a bright future.

Then finally, there is the question of the union with England, and its place in the Scottish life.It is self-evident that the union, as a political idea, matters less to most Scots than it once did. Yet at the same time, the social, commercial and personal links between Scotland and England have never been closer; or our two societies - in this media-driven global village - more fundamentally similar, united by both contemporary experience, and a remarkable shared history.

It's therefore essential - as we move towards a period of greater devolution and possible independence - to approach these huge changes in the spirit of moderation embodied by Alex Salmond and his ministers, rather than in the spirit of aggression and rejection shown by some SNP supporters.

A spirit, that is, that acknowledges the value of what's past, as well as looking toward the new; and that is prepared - both practically and psychologically - to deal with dangerous corners and explosive reactions, as the old British state begins to drift apart, either to reform itself, or to crumble for good.