Friday 20th January 2017 saw the inauguration of Donald Trump as President of the United States of America. Sadness and despair were emotions shown by many. Anger at his misogyny, racism, ableism, climate change denial and the expropriation of “the voice of the people” were expressed widely. 


Saturday 21st January 2017 saw the Women’s March on Washington and hundreds of sister marches around the world. A living, breathing example of resistance. 


Comrade Angela Davis called for further resistance to racism and heterosexual-normative patriarchy today and during every day of Trump’s presidency. Davis reminded us of Ella Baker’s words: “We who believe in freedom can not rest until we have freedom.”

Here in Scotland, here in Europe, we need to be intentional about inclusion. We can’t challenge the Right’s dominance of globalisation through protectionism or exclusion. Our progressive alliance needs to be about new voices and learning from others.


Class, gender, race and all aspects of identity matter in building a humanity that takes us beyond the right-wing populist backlash.

Stuart Fairweather, National Convener, Democratic Left.

Not My President

Not My President

by David Purdy


In the days that followed Donald Trump’s election victory, protestors took to the streets of American cities chanting “Not My President”. Their angry defiance was understandable. Trump’s campaign had been a tissue of racism, misogyny, xenophobia, arrogance, bullying, lies and self-contradiction and his triumph was hailed with undisguised joy by the organised far right, from Breitbart bloggers to the Ku Klux Klan. The slogan was, nevertheless, ill judged.


It was one thing to argue that Trump was not fit to become Head of State and Commander-in-Chief, but quite another to disavow the President-elect once the votes were counted, and not just because it smacked of sour grapes. We might detest Trump’s character and conduct, deplore his demagoguery and despair of an electoral system that gave him the prize even though his main rival won more votes. But those were the rules of the game and for all his bigotry, it was undeniable that Trump had managed to channel the rage felt by many Americans against the “Washington establishment” and an economic system that showered largesse on the well endowed and well educated, but left millions of others floundering. As citizens, the protesters had a duty to observe democratic norms by respecting the verdict of the voters. In refusing to recognise Trump’s victory, they were staging a symbolic revolt of their own. They were also ceding the moral high ground, for this was precisely what Trump had threatened to do when asked during one of the televised presidential election debates whether he would accept the result if he lost the vote.


There is, of course, a big difference between wearing a Guy Fawkes mask and plotting to blow up parliament. And as street theatre goes, chanting “Not My President” is not in the same league as tearing up a draft card, setting fire to the Stars and Stripes or setting fire to oneself. All the same, symbols matter: they engage emotions, express values, shape attitudes and frame issues. And while the disowning of the President-elect is a relatively anodyne form of protest, it does raise important ethical questions.


The self-styled American public philosopher, Michael Sandel, notes that the dominant moral discourse in contemporary Western societies, which he calls moral individualism, recognises only two categories of moral duty: natural duties and voluntary obligations.1 The former are universal (i.e. we owe them to all humans without exception), and their moral force does not depend on our consent. Examples are the duty to treat everyone with respect and to condemn, or at least not condone, cruel or degrading acts and practices. Voluntary obligations, by contrast, are particular and do require our consent. I’m not obliged to help you out unless I promised to do so or perhaps owe you a favour in return for one you did me.


Sandel insists that there is a third category, which he calls obligations of solidarity. Unlike natural duties, these are particular: we owe them only to some specified sub-set of people with whom we have some significant social relationship: family members, friends, comrades, colleagues, fellow citizens and so on. (It is significant that trade unionists still address each other on public occasions as “brothers and sisters”. The same goes for members of oppressed racial and ethnic groups.) Yet ties of loyalty and solidarity bind us whether we acknowledge and consent to them or not. If this were not so, it would be impossible to explain why we sometimes experience divided or conflicting loyalties. The novelist E.M. Forster once famously said: “If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friends, I hope I would have the courage to betray my country.”


Such dilemmas can be agonising. Sandel cites the case of the man known as the Unabomber, a home-grown American terrorist responsible for a series of package bombs that killed three people and injured twenty-three others. On reading the 35,000-word anti-technology manifesto posted on-line by the Unabomber in 1996, the wife of David Kaczynski, a social worker in Schenectady, New York, drew it to her husband’s attention. He agreed with her that it contained phrases and opinions that sounded like his older brother, Ted, a Harvard-trained mathematician who despised industrial society and was living alone in a mountain cabin in Montana. David had not seen him for a decade. After much anguish, he informed the FBI of his suspicion that the Unabomber was his brother.


Ted was subsequently arrested, convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment without parole, having escaped the death penalty only by dint of plea-bargaining. In court, he refused to acknowledge his brother and in a book manuscript written later in prison described him as “another Judas Iscariot”. For his part, David accepted the $1 million reward offered by the Justice Department for information leading to the apprehension of the Unabomber, but gave most of it away to the families of those killed and injured by his brother. He also became a spokesman for an anti-capital punishment group. “Brothers are supposed to protect each other,” he told one audience, “and here, perhaps, I was sending my brother to his death.”


As Sandel points out, whatever you think of the choice David made, his dilemma only makes sense as a moral dilemma if you acknowledge that the claims of fraternal loyalty can be weighed in the balance against other moral claims, including the duty  of citizens to help bring criminals to justice. The protest against the President-elect involved a  similar moral conflict, though it hardly qualifies as a dilemma. Trump’s opponents had to decide whether to put their duties as citizens of a democratic state above their political allegiances. Should they abide by the results of tolerably free and fair elections and support the peaceful transfer of power or carry on campaigning – whether for Hillary Clinton, the Democratic Party or causes such as free trade, open borders and liberal social values, which they cherished and Trump rejected? The choice was a no-brainer. Upholding democratic institutions and norms trumps partisan commitment and ideological conviction every time.


In this case, moreover, doing the right thing also made political sense. Trump’s election campaign was a disgrace and there was much to criticise in his policy platform. But on two key issues, he was right to highlight bipartisan policy failures: the prolonged stagnation in real wages and endemic job insecurity experienced by blue collar workers and by growing numbers of white collar workers too; and the misguided attempts of successive US administrations to export democracy by force of arms, with soldiers recruited disproportionately from de-industrialised regions and disadvantaged social groups. Trump’s stress on these issues was pivotal to his success in the swing states of the mid-west rustbelt. Conversely, in both cases, with her record of support for neo-liberal trade deals and her hawkish stance on foreign policy, Hillary Clinton was not only on the wrong side of the argument, but also lost votes. And it was both stupid and disrespectful of her to insult Trump’s supporters by calling half of them “a basket of deplorables”.


Clinton and Obama subsequently made up for this lapse by issuing statements conceding defeat and urging their followers to do likewise in the interests of healing the deep divisions in American society. To repeat, this was not just good form, but good politics. In over 200 counties where Trump won this time, Obama won in 2012. There is no reason why voters who deserted the Democrats cannot be brought back into the fold. But if the Democrats are to restore their fortunes, they need to understand why, to quote the title of a recent best-selling study, so many of their former core supporters have come to feel like “strangers in their own land”.2 Exactly the same problem confronts the Labour Party in Britain and its sister parties in continental Europe.



  1. Michael Sandel, Justice: What’s the Right Thing to do? (Allen Lane, 2009).

2. Arlie Hochschild, Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right (The New Press, 2016).




Robin McAlpine: Europe – why I have no answers for you #EUref

Robin McAlpine: Europe – why I have no answers for you #EUref

This article was written for Perspectives magazine, and published on CommonSpace

My friend emails me. Niki is a head teacher on an idyllic island not too far out from Athens into the Agean. She asks me for news of Scotland and sends me pictures of the spring flowers in her garden high above the coast below.

Niki is great. She’s an intellectual, a progressive, a kind and thoughtful person. I have many family and friends in Greece through the marriage of my half sister. I have got to know the place rather well over the years and it is a place I have come to like a lot. It has a thrawn personality, not unlike Scotland – a kind of fatalistic sarcasm is default.

We email about politics and whether we can visit her. Probably not this year, but we’d really love to see her. Will she make it to Scotland any time soon? Nope – in the state Greece finds itself, the headteacher of a secondary school struggles to make ends meet on what is a sharply reduced salary.

That makes me angry, but Niki is more sanguine. With a resigned shrug she is quick to point out that many of the failures that have left her in this position are the fault of the Greek people.

That fatalistic sarcasm led them to turn a blind eye to what was widely understood to be a corrupt, cartel government. It worked for them – for a while – so they put up with it. I don’t think they deserve what they got as a result of this (they weren’t the only people turning a blind eye…). I remain angry at what the EU did.

Where our furies meet is over the migrant situation. This does have Niki enraged – bring a nation to its knees and then, when it’s down, close the borders and decide that since Greece has already sucked up many of the continent’s problems they can just suck up its migrant problem too.

And if that means that Greece is turned into a starving, desolate refugee camp, who cares? It’s expedient to keep the EU’s important member states happy (or less unhappy, at least).

And at that time I found, in the European Social Model, a political philosophy which, while falling short of my own, at least made it a good chunk of the way along there. Progressive tax, social security, nationalised healthcare – I didn’t only feel European, I wanted to be there.

If you want to know what changed, you just have to look at the In campaign (I’m just going to refer to them as In and Out which is in the end what we’re voting for). That it has become Project Fear so seamlessly shows what its strongest adherents now seem to see as the point of the EU.

It is there to impose one global version of ‘economy’ and one global version of ‘security’. And it is the same version of ‘economy and security’ which so alienated me during the Scottish independence referendum.

Only cartel capitalism will keep the banks open. Only cartel capitalism will keep the phones working. Only cartel capitalism will keep you and your loved ones from starvation. Because only the economic order that plunged the continent and the world into crisis can prevent the world from descending into crisis. We’re big, you’re small. Know your place.

Only our neoconservative worldview will stop terrorists. Only our neoconservative worldview constitutes ‘grown up’ diplomacy. If we don’t back the arms trade, the next war, the next crackdown on civil liberties, if we don’t appease the US, China, if we don’t manufacture Russia as a new convenient bogeyman, you’ll suffer.

The In campaign is a banker-corporation-warmonger vision of our future. I have endless friends telling me that I must vote In though they realise I’ll need to hold my nose like they will. Do I? Do I have to vote In while holding my nose, being so conscious of the fact that this is what the bad guys want me to do? Knowing that they are not holding their noses, they are breathing all this in with gusto and loving it?

I cannot identify with an In campaign which is so completely driven by all the motives I oppose.

Then again, I look round at the Out campaign and feel no better. Because this debate is being framed by an England that is strangely socially and politically fractured just now, the options are unattractive. I can find some respect for a Michael Gove argument about sovereignty and accountability, but it still feels like I have to vote against internationalism and instead for one of the versions of nationalism (narrow, angry, inwards-looking, disdainful of others, identity-driven, fearful of ‘the other’) which made that 1992 EU vision seem such a utopia to me.

So I’m making little progress in arriving at a decision. My emotional responses to In and Out, to Inners and Outers, leaves me little room for comfort. Perhaps on this occasion I need to tone down my faith in emotional responses and focus on the ‘rational’.

It’s not going to help, though, because the first thing I cannot overlook is that except for the crushingly conservative bureaucracies of political parties and government and the dogmas of ‘low tax is popular’, my time on progressive policy thinking has found the EU to be probably the biggest barrier to economic (and indeed social) reform.

If I have heard ‘can’t – EU rules’ once, I must have heard it a hundred times. Procurement must go to corporations. Public sector tenders must go to corporations. Basic infrastructure investment that supports smaller and indigenous industries infringes state aide rules. Giant farms are the only farms you’re allowed. Don’t nationalise, privatise.

Now I know that some of what I have heard is a deliberately skewed version of the EU. I know that we have the most restrictive procurement rules in the EU and that this is our fault. But it would be a complete untruth to suggest this is an accidental side-effect of what the EU is trying to do. It is a deliberate grey area which enables neoliberalism to be imposed both through word and deed and through expectation and misunderstanding.

Rationally, don’t ask me to sign a petition against TTIP and then another to stay in the EU. TTIP is not an aberration, some kind of unintended malfunction in the great EU machine. It goes right to the heart of what the EU has become. It is a global economic organising point and its purpose is not to encourage a just transition to a better, greener, healthier, more equal global economy.

It maintains the bare bones of a social settlement. But as far as I’ve ever been able to tell, it’s not that hard to get opt-outs from EU social policies if you want. Getting opt-outs from its overwhelming corporation-friendly agendas? Not so obviously possible.

So if you want me to be rational, coming from my political perspective, explain when and how I’m getting an EU which is not a staging post for US capitalism to get into Europe’s social markets?

Robin McAlpine-Web (1) (2)

Of course, I must then look at the counterfactual – what would be better if it didn’t exist? I can be deeply disappointed at the EU’s handling of the migrant crisis, of trade deals, of state aid rules. But what is the alternative? Every nation investing in more armed border guards? Boris Johnston negotiating directly with Donald Trump over trade? Germany using its economic might to rig trade across the continent in its favour through protectionism and clientelism? And how would we manage a free travel area if it were converted into a fragmented sequence of one-to-one agreements?

We need a means of nation state resolution in Europe. We are far too connected a continent, far too integrated a series of societies not to have such a means of nation state resolution. We have a mechanism that works (kind of) and throwing it away is not necessarily the logical step to a better continent. I realise that.

But – and here’s the big but – it only works if we all think we’re shaping it. And it is here the EU falls down. I know the arguments about how it’s kind of democratic because there are some democratic bits and some of the bits that aren’t democratic are stitched up between other democratic entities. It’s pseudo-democratic.

So explain to me how I can vote against TTIP? This is potentially the single worse thing that is going to be done not only to the continent’s social identity but specifically to the democratic nature of my own nation. It is a move of alarming scope and implication. In a just world it would require specific agreement by referendum in each participating nation state.

Hah! Imagine that. Imagine Europe allowing a democratic veto. Europe views putting its big issues directly to the people affected with utter contempt. No, not a bit of cynicism, utter contempt.

The patchwork pseudo-democracy of the EU is nothing in the face of this contempt. And every progressive Inner is kidding themselves on if they don’t accept this. The European project has become every bit as much about circumventing national democracy as about enhancing it. And that’s a generous interpretation.

Then again, there’s no democracy in each nation state choosing to follow it’s own environmental standards when you’re gulping down fumes your neighbour refuses to regulate. Is a continent of individual nations each with their fingers in their ears really more democratic than a flawed but at least existing mechanism for conflict resolution (which I would feel more comfortable with if it wasn’t for the direction of travel of who we are negotiating with)?

At its outer fringes, the EU now incorporates nations which seem to me to be less than positive partners for the kind of negotiations which I personally believe the EU should be about.

I pick on Poland only because what is happening in that country is so alarming. Shoved fast into Europe for geopolitical reasons, Poland is now turning its back on the principals of Western liberal democracy. Do I wish to negotiate, to compromise, with regimes that seem only loosely attached to the concepts of the rule of law?

And since the EU is now a geopolitical game, we know the pressures to expand the players. Wouldn’t it be useful to have Turkey on board? Not socially, but potentially economically and geopolitically (at least for the US). Who needs a free media or fair elections in that context?

Or the Ukraine, where the role of fascists is constantly written out of the narrative because it is inconvenient in framing Russia as the moustache-twiddling baddy. Let’s get them in because it’s convenient.

This is not an EU for the people of the EU. This is an EU for people who trade weapons and own gas pipelines.

So let us out and we can form a looser negotiating alliance? A Norway/Iceland position? Use them as a club to talk to but not be a member of? It is appealing. It’s just that we’ll end up talking to a club we can’t shape the membership of.

This all means that there is a rational reason for being enthusiastic about some kind of European Union but not that much rational reason to support this particular European Union. Which puts an awful lot of emphasis on the question of reform.

Here I find myself having to return to my own process of making logical decisions. During the indyref I always recognised that, in theory, Westminster could be a force for good. But it’s not enough that something could theoretically be true, it needs to be true in a much more immediate sense.

There needs to be a visible path from here to that truth. In the end, that’s one of the main reasons I was a Yes supporter – because there was simply no credible case for how exactly we were going to get anywhere near that mythical, brilliant Westminster.

My well-meaning Inner friends are horrified that I won’t fully throw my lot in with them and fight first to stay in and then to reform the EU. I just wonder if they are willing first to concrete their feet deep into the shoreline and then to begin the process of preventing the tide coming in.

How? How are we going to reform the EU? Our massed ranks can’t squeeze through the tiniest reform of Westminster. We’ve made no ground reforming anything which the banks and the corporations have their teeth into. Explain the mechanism?

And if that mechanism begins with the words ‘then we can begin a continent-wide conversation…’ I wince. Because that just means ‘we have no idea whatsoever how to go about it’.

There is no coalition we can join, no campaign ready to march beside – hell, there isn’t even a simple shared vision of what reform would roughly look like. It’s not obvious that if we had a united, continent-wide network of reformers backing one big vision that we would win. It is far from obvious that there is any chance of creating a united, continent-wide network of reformers backing one big vision.

It feels a bit like being told to repair a broken computer with a single screwdriver – and then when asking where it is and being told that actually screwdrivers haven’t been invented yet. On balance, I’m pretty sure that the one thing that will kill reform of the EU stone dead is a British In vote.

Every rational bone in my body screams out that it is just the kind of near-death experience that the people who run Europe will take as a prompt to do exactly what they were already doing – and more. I am very deeply sceptical of the idea that surviving intact is going to lead to serious change in the EU.

The way I think some kind of reform genuinely could be promoted would be a crisis – like Britain leaving. It would create the kind of panic which does lead to change. But I recognise two major problems.

First, it’s an act of ‘creative destruction’ which could cause anarchy as well as (or possibly before) reform. It would be a rather large act of faith to burn down the house in the hope of being able to build something better in its place.

The other big problem is that such a vote could be read in exactly any way each person wants it to be read. Eurocrats can just claim that Britain was never really on board in the first place. The left can conclude that we wanted democracy. The right can conclude that it’s all about absorbing greater exclusionary nationalism.

So if you want to change the EU, vote to leave. It’s just that it’s hard to guess what the change would look like.

This is proving to be a real problem for me. There is no good option on the table. Worse, I can’t even identify which is the lesser of two evils. So what if I think cynically, tactically?

If we leave the EU then it’ll solve one major problem come the next Scottish indyref – we won’t need to get bogged down in endless ‘you’ll be thrown out the EU’ debate. It could create a substantial pressure for another referendum. The thought of being stuck on this wet little rock with Boris running the show could prompt a re-evaluation of the merits of independence by many people. Perhaps that’s a good outcome?

Then again, we really will be stuck on a rock with Boris and that in itself could be pretty awful. I could tactically vote for that not to happen (not a positive vote, a negative one). Or equally I could just decide that the bigger the gap between the Scottish ‘In’ and the English ‘Out’ (if that’s what happens), the better. Or really cynically, a Scotland forcing an England that votes ‘Out’ to stay ‘In’ could be just what we want to get agreement for another referendum.

But then again, I simply hate tactical voting of this kind. It’s no way to make a decision.

So, what am I going to do? By this point you may have a better idea of how I’m going to vote than I have. My instincts tell me I’m European and must vote In as much as they tell me I don’t want to be a member of this club.

My rational mind tells me we need a European Union every bit as much as it tells me that the European Union we have is a major block to progress and moving rapidly in the wrong direction.

Logically, therefore I am convinced that the only hope is reform – but I can’t vote for it. I can vote to stay and pretend to myself that there might be reform I don’t for a second believe is coming. Or I could vote to leave and ensure some kind of change – but which might result in something much worse.

Thanks to the people of Perspectives for asking me to explore my uncertainty, confusion and despair so fully and so much in public (thanks offered with only a touch of sarcasm…). It has led me to only two conclusions. The first is that I shall do whatever is in my power to avoid writing about this any more and try to keep wriggling out of the many invitations to talk about this I keep getting.

And the second conclusion? The spring flowers of a foreign country I love make me want to stay; the treatment of the women who looks after them makes me want to leave. I shall make my decision late – and probably dislike myself either way.

Post Referendum – What Kind of Scotland?

Well it’s not boring. Nicola is First Minister with a gender balanced cabinet. Alex looks set to return to London to open up a second front and Jim will lead Scottish Labour and try to find a seat in Holyrood. Added to this all of Scotland’s civil society; the unions, the media, the parties, the churches, culture and citizens have had a democratic shake up like never before.   Now we need to look to the future.

Democratic Left Scotland (DLS) is a wee organisation with big ideas. Ideas and ambitions that we share with others but our size and our heritage also let us ask difficult questions. Questions like: Where are we trying to go and how will we get there? Born as an autonomous organisation in 1999 when the Scottish Parliament was reconvened DLS has Scotland’s future as its centre. Our organisation draws from the rich tradition of independent progressive organisations and individuals that worked for change. Importantly these women and men ‘dug where they stood’ by being part of the daily struggles of their workplaces and communities. They were also critical thinkers and internationalists. Their battles alongside those of their neighbours in England and cousins further afield were all part of changing the fortunes of people and planet for the better.   Our network looks to continue this work.
Scotland’s future is intertwined with what happens across Britain, Europe and the globe: the environmental and the economic impact on relations between worker and owner, state and citizen, women and men. Today’s world creates competition between generations, localities and workforces. So called established communities need to respond to ongoing migration.
The neo-liberal response to the global economic crisis coupled with the British political class’s response to post-imperialism has meant constantly increasing pressure on the many. Cuts, the implications of war and austerity are the social policy back-drop. Monarchy, trident, the Lords, the banks, bonuses and expenses continue. Food banks (emergency food aid), flexibility (wage cuts, redundancy and stress) and welfare reform (sanctions) are imposed, as so called celebrity culture distracts people from this growing normality. Whilst daily discrimination on the basis class, race, gender, sexuality, disability, and faith continues.
In May 2015 we will get a vote (16 and 17 year olds will have to wait). Westminster, the lynch-pin of much of the above inequality is moving further in the direction of the Tory right and UKIP and the parties that pander to the assumed views of ‘middle-England’.   Labour’s ability or desire to put a break on this seems questionable. Still for a few months around May of 2015 Westminster will be the focus. But there is more to democracy than voting. The self-determination that developed around the time of the referendum should be increased not dissipated (and it does not need to be unique to Scotland).  It should not be limited to a cross against one of the parties although we all need to figure out which candidate in each constituency is best placed to move us beyond the broken promises of the palace of Westminster.
A just Scotland is not compatible with the (TTIP) privatisation of the NHS, with Trident renewal, the cutting of local services and the demonization of migrant workers. And if we are to build that different kind of Scotland there is enough to do now: we do not have to wait for the revolution. Working class communities found their voice in September. In alliance with others across Scotland there in a need to oppose fracking, challenge racism, cap rents, introduce a living wage and end the poor-law culture of sanctions and precarious employment. We need to learn from and support activity where it is already taking place. We need to build effective, sustainable, participative communities, local government and Scottish Democracy. Beyond this land, industry and resources need to be employed for the benefit of society if we are to find a route out of austerity. 
The Unionist parties failed to address this with their promised Vow and their approach to the Smith Commission.  All in Labour talk about social justice but they continually fail to understand the new democratic awakening or the developing progressive culture of Scotland.  Until now, they could still have been a part of this but the election of Jim Murphy and Kezia Dugdale make it extremely increasingly unlikely. Importantly we should not disown the traditions of the Labour movement but to attempt to locate them within the context of democratic renewal.
The SNP, the Greens and the Scottish Socialist Party have all gained members.  This is to be welcomed. But the lessons of September 2014 show that alone this is not enough. Discussion of an electoral agreement between these parties for Westminster was always a bit of a side-show. There is more to politics than parties.   There is a need to build an even greater self-determination for a different kind of Scotland. We can’t ignore the Yes and No settlement of September 2014 but we have to move beyond it to an even bigger consensus for Yes – for a different kind of Scotland.
What kind of Scotland will that be? The STUC’s a Just Scotland, the Radical Independence Campaign’s people’s Vow, the work of; CND, the National Collective and Belle Caledonia can all help. As can, Women for Independence asserting the second part of their name ‘independence for women’.   The advent of the National newspaper and the role of the Sunday Herald are pivotal as is social media and importantly real conversations with real people. Common Weal, Engender, NUS Scotland all have ideas. Even small publications like Perspectives and Scottish Left Review have a contribution to make. This is only part of a long list and importantly not all of these organisations and institutions are exclusively or in any way Indy.  ‘Yes Scotland’ needs to speak to No Scotland without bitterness and those impacted by Osborne’s ongoing austerity and other forms of inequality need to be given the space to speak about their experience. The settlement vintage 2014 is not static.
Political spaces, real usable spaces in communities and the policy spaces created by the Community Empowerment Bill, the Strengthening Local Democracy commission and land reform and other legislation need to be use where possible. Tax justice needs to become a reality in Scotland if we are going to pay our bills. The arguments for economic sustainability and appropriate social security need to be nailed.  We need to rethink the relationship between paid and unpaid work. The radical needs to become more common place.
The post referendum Scotland requires us to create even more energy in the run up to May and beyond. We need to start to build the Scotland we want to be. It might not be easy. It will not be boring.