Have you noticed that there is a lot of introspection about devolution just now? I suppose it underlines the fact that devolution is a process rather than a settlement that everyone is still looking at how to tweak it. Maybe it is just the newness of it. The Scottish Parliament is very young as these things go, just ten years old. As such, there is inevitably a sense that we haven’t quite got it right yet.

Mind you, you can never get it “right”, in the sense that everyone will be happy. Westminster is as well-established as they come, and yet people are constantly suggesting reforms from every angle imaginable. That has, of course, gained even more momentum in the past year or so, particularly with expenses scandals and the like.

So it is only natural that people should be wagging their jaws about devolution all the time. But the chat has seemed particularly intense of late. The SNP are having a National Conversation, while the other major parties have thrown their lot in with the recently published Calman report.

I guess you can put a lot of this down to the fact that the SNP are in government. That was an epoch; completely new territory that demanded introspection. What are the reasons for the SNP being in power? Unless it is an anti-Labour vote (which, to be fair, is highly likely), it may be because people are unhappy with the constitutional situation as it stands. An SNP government is perceived to be a major step towards independence, even if a number of major hurdles remain.

The tenth anniversary of the Scottish Parliament is also a good excuse to look back on how devolution has panned out so far and to work out how to refine the system for the future. All of this has been a useful hook on which to hang Patrick Hannan’s latest book, A Useful Fiction, of which I recently received a copy to review.

But that is largely a marketing device. The tenth anniversary of devolution is barely, if at all, mentioned. Meanwhile, thoughts on the Calman Commission feel as though they have been slightly shoehorned in, rushing to mention it lest the book feel out of date by the time people get round to reading it.

But the book could not have been written six months ago. Indeed, the sheer amount of important events that actually happened in the past year or so (chief among them the credit crunch and the collapse of RBS and HBOS) become quite clear as you read the book. For that reason, it probably will feel out of date by the time many people get round to reading it. But that is the peril of writing a book about current events, especially a process as unpredictable as devolution.

Mind you, not all of the book is about current political events. That is simultaneously the book’s main strength and its main weakness. On the one hand, it ensures that the book isn’t completely preoccupied with political points that are very salient in 2009 but will be fish wrapper come 2010. On the other hand, any politics geeks who read the blurb and expect to be able to immerse themselves in interesting constitutional arguments will be disappointed.

While the second half of the book focuses very much on the politics of devolution, it takes a while for the book to reach that point. Much of the front end of the book is preoccupied with more general points about national identity. I spent a lot of my time thinking, “well there’s plenty about cricket, rugby, the meaning of flags and other cultural issues; but not much of the politics I was looking for”.

That is not to say the early part of the book is useless; far from it. These reflections on Britishness and the nature of national identity are fundamental to the subject, not to say interesting to read about. But I did feel as though the book was taking its time to deal with the questions I was seeking answers for.

But when the book does move on to ask these questions, answers are few and far between. In his review of the book, Will Patterson said that A Useful Fiction is a book for moderates, which is a good way of putting it.

It is not exactly to say that Patrick Hannan constantly flits cowardly around the middle ground. I did raise my eyebrows from time to time in the course of reading this book. But after making an interesting suggestion, he often fails to commit it. The reader feels almost like the victim of a practical joker who looks like he is passing you something only to snatch it away as you reach out for it.

This left me finishing the book feeling as though I had read an interesting book, but one that lacked any central themes or arguments. It makes me wonder what Patrick Hannan sat down to write the book for, other than to set out an interesting collection of thoughts on Britain’s constitutional situation.

Nonetheless, I would say it is well worth reading A Useful Fiction because it is an interesting collection of thoughts. It certainly provided me with some fresh perspectives and Mr Hannan is an engaging enough writer.

But if you think you’ll want to read it, I would hurry up before it gets overtaken by events.

One thing that really stuck me about the leaflets from Ukip and the BNP for the recent European Parliamentary election was the fact that they were stuffed full of cheesy patriotic symbols — Union Flags, Spitfires, Winston Churchills and so on. Any electorate in the world will have a certain contingent who are enticed by nationalistic rhetoric at the expense of good policies.

In England, Ukip and the BNP have cornered this market pretty well, with the English Democrats also doing a good job of it. One thing that these three parties have in common — aside from their narrow nationalism — is the fact that they are all pretty vile.

Here in Scotland the nationalist vote is completely mopped up by the SNP. We all know that the SNP uses national symbols which appeal to base instincts which may entice certain types of voters. This gets up some people’s noses, including mine.

But the SNP have done a grand job by keeping a lid on the nastier side of nationalism. For this we can be thankful. All though there is, without a doubt, a nastier side to some of their supporters — as we have seen with the Cybernats — you won’t find these types of views coming from the mainstream of the party.

Indeed, the party is at pains to promote a progressive type of nationalism. They embrace civic nationalism. They reject ideas of Scottishness defined in terms of ethnicity. They avoid anti-English approaches. And we can be especially thankful that violent methods do not form part of the nationalist agenda in Scotland.

This is combined with progressive policies, including an enlightened approach to immigration and a positive agenda towards Europe. While in many other parts of the world nationalism may be equated with right-wing or fascist concepts, the SNP combine a nationalist ideology with a broadly centrist agenda.

Whatever the motives of the voters, the SNP’s form of nationalism is a great deal more tolerant — and tolerable — than the forms of nationalism we see from the likes of Ukip, the BNP, the French National Front, the Movement for a Better Hungary, or any number of extreme parties across the world.

Richard Thomson recently described the SNP as being part of “unquestionably the best behaved nationalist movement in the world”. Looking at the European election results and seeing where nationalist votes seem to go, it’s easy to agree with him.

Flags seem to be in the news a bit at the moment, particularly over that pond. Is there nothing more interesting going on? Obviously not, because I can’t think of anything else to blog about at the moment. Anyway, the World Cup has enough of an excuse for flags to be discussed in the blogosphere anyway!

Anyway, flags. What a load of horse dung. I don’t mean that. I quite like flags themselves, as in the designs of them and so on. While we’re at it, I’ve been reminded of this website about flags that MatGB linked to a while ago. I didn’t link to it at the time because I don’t actually agree with a lot of it. Surely the Brazilian flag is one of the world’s coolest?

But what I really cannot stand about flags is the intense symbolism that surrounds them. Some people act like a flag is the most important thing in the world. I have been led to believe that in some parts of the USA a child could be swimming in his own shit outside a house, yet a passer-by would be more shocked by a tatty stars and stripes. That would probably happen in parts of Britain aswell, come to think of it.

I am one of these people who couldn’t really give two hoots about nationality. Sure, I like good aspects of Scotland / Britain / whatever, but that’s only because I was brought up here, and all of my memories are here. If I was born in Slovakia I would probably quite like Slovakia. Even if I was born in Scotland then moved to England when I was two years old I would probably feel more English than Scottish. Nationality is a load of old pish really. I am sorry if this makes me a wet old hippy. So be it.

So I think it would be kind of pointless to go around waving a Saltire. And I am not one of those people who thinks that it’s some kind of choice between the Saltire and the Union Flag and something else. I’m not a particular fan of either flag. The Union Flag is quite cleverly designed, but it looks like a complete mess.

Meanwhile the light blue used in the the “traditional” Saltire (to the right) just makes it look washed out, as though it’s been left out in the sun for too long (surely an impossibility in Scotland?!).

For what it’s worth, I quite prefer the design of England’s flag. Red and white is such a simple idea, and it works brilliantly. The English flag is bold, minimalist, and a dream for remixers to boot. So says Chris Applegate at least:

There is an important design element to it; many of the St George’s Crosses flying out there have been modified in many different ways. Corporate logos can be added to promote a brand, lions have been placed in the corners (alluding to the England team’s crest), or worst of all, “ENGLAND” is splashed across it (a big no-no in vexillology).

Defacing a flag like this is probably actually a hangable offence, but being a callous flag-hater I actually quite like the fact that people are claiming their flag in this way by adapting it to their own tastes (no matter how tasteless). I like this comment over at Qwghlm:

I think it shows a healthy lack of deference towards our prime patriotic symbol. The George Cross – unlike the Uion Flag – seems to have emerged as something to be enjoyed, not something to be revered. That’s about as healthy an approach to national identity as it gets, I say!

Davo the Bawbag is more a fan of Angola’s flag, so much so that he has adopted it as the header for his blog!

They also have possibly the most terrifying flag in the modern world – black and red with a fucking machete on it. That flag surely makes a statement. That statement being – “Fuck off or lose your legs. Your choice.”
They chose for their flag the colours of fear and blood, then stuck a fuck off big knife right in the middle of it.

Genius.

Anyway, on to the crux of my post. Given my indifference towards flags, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I find flag burning one of the most bizarre activities in the world. I don’t blame the flag burners themselves. They want to cause a fuss and get a big reaction, and setting fire to a particular piece of cloth certainly gets them that with the minimum of effort.

And therein lies the problem. People who act as though burning a flag is an act of war or something! In the USA flag burning is so awful that they are always planning on making it illegal (even though they never seem to have a problem with starting actual wars where people die and stuff). Apparently the American flag is such a strong symbol of freedom of speech that they need to curb freedom of speech in order to protect this symbol of freedom of speech, otherwise freedom of speech will be eroded and the terrorists have won!

Here is Longrider:

I’ve always viewed the behaviour of angry flag burning mobs as little more than playground temper tantrums that never quite made it to the adult world. Libertine views the matter similarly to the burning of books and I guess he has a point. There is something repugnant about it, which is why people do it. The desecration of a national symbol is deeply insulting and it is intended to express maximum displeasure. The counter to this, surely, is to ignore it; refuse to rise to the obloquy.

And via Longrider, in the Times Online News Log (dead tree, geddit?):

Speaking for the protection of Old Glory, the Republican Majority Leader Bill Frist said: “Countless men and women have died defending that flag. It is but a small humble act for us to defend it.”

A load of rubbish. I think if anybody died for the sake of a flag then they must have been a bit thick. As Longrider points out:

Surely they died defending what it represented and in passing this amendment to the constitution, it would no longer represent that, would it?

And, via Guardian Unlimited’s Newslog, Jonathan Alter:

For dad – and me – any member of Congress who supports amending the Bill of Rights for the first time in the history of this country for a nonproblem like flag burning is showing serious disrespect for our Constitution and for the values for which brave Americans gave their lives. Such disrespect is a much more serious threat than the random idiots who once every decade or so try (often unsuccessfully) to burn a flag.

Some people obviously care very much about what a flag represents but at the end of the day I say it is just a piece of cloth. And if people didn’t get so worked up about it, flag burners probably wouldn’t burn flags.

Kirkcaldy flags up the union’s true colours — a Sunday Times journalist dons a union flag t-shirt and tests reaction in Gordon Brown’s constituency.