The cultural production and representation of Scottish democracy

The cultural production and representation of Scottish democracy Introduction This paper begins with a vision – a poet’s vision. To celebrate the opening of the new Scottish parliament building on Oct. 9th 2004 Edwin Morgan wrote: Open the doors! Light of the day, shine in; light of the mind, shine out! We have a building which is more than a building. There is a commerce between inner and outer, between brightness and shadow, between the world and those who think about the world. Edwin Morgan, A Book of Lives, Carcanet, 2007, p. 9. For health reasons Morgan was unable to attend the ceremony in person, and his poem was performed by fellow-poet Liz Lochhead. Similarly, I have not visited Holyrood, but have had to rely on other people’s impressions for the writing of my paper. E. g. Angus Reid, ”A walk around the new Scottish parliament building,” in Scottish Affairs, 63, 2008, pp. 1-30, Charles Jencks, The Scottish Parliament, Scala Publishers, 2005, and David McCrone, “A parliament for a people: Holyrood in an understated nation,” in Scottish Affairs, 50, 2005, pp. 1-25. This work was aided by the parliament webpage, which provides a fine virtual tour of the Miralles building and its surrounding areas. From the beginning, I have thus come to see Scottish democracy as a virtual as well as a physical space, which has motivated the decision to include this contemporary form of political representation in my discussion. The original aim of my inquiry was to demonstrate to what extent the producers of Scottish political culture (i. e. parliamentarians, bureaucrats, journalists and artists) have relied on a rhetoric of national difference, deliberately opting for cultural strategies and symbols that would enable them to carve out a distinctively Scottish niche in British politics. In the course of my research, however, I realised that somehow the vision was larger than this - that we have to study the symbols of Scottish democracy in their own right and not as images created in opposition to British political tradition. In consequence, I shall attempt to meet McCrone’s demand for a Scottish sociology, David McCrone, ”The same but different: why Scotland?,” in Scottish Affairs, 55, 2006, pp. 11-22. presenting political culture for what it is rather than what it is not. The analysis asks how cultural products such as the Holyrood building and the parliament webpage create a specific idea of Scottish democracy. The choice of Miralles’ building is self-explanatory given the amount of attention the project has attracted as well as its symbolic value as the physical embodiment of political power. In comparison, the inclusion of cyberspace is less obvious as the internet is notoriously fluid and transient, which are qualities not traditionally appreciated in political culture. Yet I shall argue that the webpage plays a key role in the construction of Scottish democracy, providing a platform where the poet’s vision of openness, transparency and inclusiveness can be transformed into political reality. Representing Scottish democracy The process of parliament-building – the establishment of a new, national institution – highlights the interconnectedness of political and cultural representation. We have become accustomed to the idea of democracy as a political construct, defined, in the words of Beetham and Boyle, by the “twin principles of popular control over collective decision-making and equality of rights in the exercise of that control.” David Beetham and Kevin Boyle, Introducing Democracy: 80 Questions and Answers, Blackwell, 2004, p. 1. However, the prominent position of First Minister Donald Dewar on the Selection Board for the Scottish parliament building suggests that politics is also about cultural production and about the particular images that politicians, bureaucrats and artists employ in order to display political power. This substantiates Bennett’s claim that culture constitutes a “particular field of government,” Tony Bennett, ”Putting Policy into Cultural Studies,” in Grossberg, Nelson and Treichler (eds.), Cultural Studies, Routledge, 1992, p. 23. sponsored, regulated and expropriated by the political establishment. Central to the construction of democracy is the question of cultural representation or meaning-making. Stuart Hall defines representation as “the production of meaning through language,“ Stuart Hall, Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices, Sage, 1997, p. 16. underlining how our understanding of verbal or visual signs depends on pre-established cognitive systems which we draw on in order to decipher the messages we receive. Meaning is established in relation to something else, in other words, which suggests that the idea of Scottish democracy only makes sense as long as we can imagine something that is not Scottish democracy. I am aware that this contradicts my initial emphasis on the need to read Scotland on its own terms. Yet I find it necessary to provide a semiotic foundation for my argument, highlighting how processes of comparison and imagination have helped turn the Scottish parliament into a meaningful cultural concept. The idea of Scottish democracy begins with a comparison – with Scots comparing the condition of the nation to that of Britain, the Irish Republic, the European mainland and the countries of Scandinavia. Indeed, the urge to define Scotland in relation to its neighbours (read England!) has been so predominant among Scottish intellectuals that McCrone identifies a school of “not-us” sociologists “which tried to convince that Scotland was some kind of colony of England, that it was systematically and deliberately ‘underdeveloped’.” McCrone, “The Same, but Different,” op. cit., p. 11. In relation to Scottish parliament-building, comparisons are inevitable. Politically and ideologically, the Scottish parliament retains a close link to its mother institution at Westminster, and often politicians’ performance at Holyrood can be read as an attempt to connect with or oppose British political culture. Recently, we have thus seen the newly formed SNP cabinet reinventing itself by exchanging the modest “Executive” for the more self-confident brand of “Scottish Government.” Equally important is the historical precedent provided by the first Scottish parliament. When Scottish discontent spread in the 1980s and 1990s, the Scots would refer back to an earlier period of national autonomy, stressing that their political past and future were different from the present. Artists and cultural historians have reinforced this view, claiming the existence of a “democratic intellect” within Scottish religion, education and law.” G. E. Davie, The Democratic Intellect: Scotland and her Universities in the Nineteenth Century, Edinburgh University Press, 1961, and Lindsay Paterson, The Autonomy of Modern Scotland, Edinburgh University Press, 1994. If comparisons define Scottish democracy in relation to alternative political models, the process of imagination represents a visionary approach to parliament building. As Benedict Anderson argues, Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities, Verso, 1983. the strength of a nation state depends on its ability to create among the members a sense of shared experiences, meanings and symbols, which makes it crucial for the politicians to transform the somewhat flurry concepts of nationality and citizenship into a verbal and visual culture that is accessible to ordinary people. In consequence, politicians have engaged with cultural production, using maps, museums and monuments to construct and promote a very particular idea of the nation. Anderson, op. cit. However, in Western tradition, the main condition of nationhood is the parliament, which in physical, legal and ideological terms occupies a position at the heart of the nation. Prior to the 1997 referendum, McCrone would characterise Scotland as the “stateless nation,” David McCrone, Understanding Scotland: The sociology of a nation, Routledge, 2001. dismissed by sociologists as an anomaly because of the relative weakness of Scottish separatism compared to similar movements in Catalunya, Corsica and the Basque Country. Yet, McCrone stresses, David McCrone, op. cit. the Scottish nation was always imaginable to the Scots. The 1707 Union had allowed the Scots to retain a separate church, educational system, legal framework and local administration, which meant that the main institutions affecting people’s lives were defined in Scottish rather than British terms. We should not see the 1997 referendum as the sudden awakening of the nation, in other words, but as the mere addition of a political superstructure to a pre- existing institutional order. The Scottish urge to compare and imagine the nation has contributed to the growth of a distinctively national political culture, but essentially, such processes refer to the past and to previously established meanings and experiences. In comparison, the parliament building and the Holyrood website belong to present and will have to be read in relation to contemporary culture. Hence, the producers of Scottish democracy request that the spectator look for new beginnings, accepting a vision that reflect the political reality of post-devolution Scotland. Holyrood and the poetics of place The Parliament sits in the land because it belongs to the Scottish Land. This is our goal. Since the beginning we worked with the intuition that individual identification with land carries collective consciousness and sentiments. We don’t want to forget that the Scottish Parliament will be in Edinburgh, but will belong to Scotland, to the Scottish Land. The Parliament should be able to reflect the land which it represents. The building should originate from the sloping base of Arthur’s seat and arrive into the city almost out of the rock. Enriq Miralles, ”Full Building Concept Design,” downloaded from www.scottish.parliament.uk on July 29th 2008, p.2. Miralles’ proposal for the Holyrood building reads like a poem. Interwoven with the text are visual images - the surrounding landscape, the iconic topography of Edinburgh, and glimpses of the building the architect envisions – and such a blend of disparate genres and elements seems more at home with the landscape poetry of Ian Hamilton Findlay than the neo-classical school of European parliament building. Yet Miralles found in Donald Dewar a kindred spirit, who was able to appreciate an architect who, in the words of Dewar, “wasn’t trying to build the highest tower in central Scotland as a mark of importance of the parliament.” Donald Dewar, as quoted by Jencks, op. cit., p.18. Perhaps Dewar realised that Scottish democracy needed metaphors rather than monuments, for in its site, landscaping and style, Holyrood reads as a very deliberate attempt to break the mould. The first departure is the choice of site for the parliament building. In the early days of devolution, visionary politicians had imagined a move from Edinburgh to Perth, which, at least in geographical terms, was located at the heart of the nation. To most, the ancient capital of Edinburgh was the obvious candidate, however, which in addition to government offices and infrastructure already had three parliament buildings to offer. The first was Parliament Hall on the Royal Mile, which had been the meeting place of Scottish parliament prior to the 1707. Parliament Hall might lend to the young democracy its mantle of continuity and history, but ideologically, it sent out the wrong kind of message since this was where in 1707 Scottish aristocrats had voted to bring Scottish autonomy to an end. McCrone, ”Holyrood in an Understated Nation,” op. cit., p. 4. The second candidate was the Royal High School on Calton Hill, which was the venue chosen for the assembly promised by Labour in the 1970s. But the ill-fated 1979 referendum had left Scotland in a shambles, and perhaps Calton Hill was rejected to prevent such bad vibes from hijacking the new parliament. The third suggestion was the Assembly Hall on the Mound, which had become a temporary home to the MSPs in 1999. The hall is owned by the Presbyterian church, however, which might be contentious in a country plagued by sectarianism. So the parliament planners abandoned the easy options and went looking for alternative locations. Having considered various possibilities, they ended up with an industrial site at the end of the Royal Mile. With the exception of Queensberry House, this had no previous connection to Scottish political history, which was important as it allowed the parliamentarians to start anew. At the same time, the Holyrood site occupies an iconic spot in Edinburgh, providing the meeting point between the rugged landscape of Salisbury Crags and cultured environment of Canongate, the ancient seat of power at Holyrood Palace and the decentralised democracy demanded by the Scottish people. As McCrone has argued, Op. cit., p. 19. the location adds to the symbolic power of the Scottish parliament, positioning the institution at the heart of the nation. Miralles’ original proposal suggests that he was aware of the historical and cultural significance of the site. He seems more preoccupied with the natural surroundings, however, and with establishing the connection between his building and the Scottish landscape. To readers of Scottish literature, this may sound familiar for Miralles’ placement of his human composition against the elemental backdrop of Salisbury Crag is reminiscent of MacDiarmid’s vision in “On a Raised Beach:” We must be humble. We are so easily baffled by appearances And do not realise that these stones are one with the stars. It makes no difference to them whether they are high or low, Mountain peak or ocean floor, palace, or pigsty. There are plenty of ruined buildings in the world but no ruined stones. Hugh MacDiarmid, ”On a Raised Beach”, The Complete Poems of Hugh MacDiarmid Vol. 1, Martin Brian and O’Keeffe, 1978, p. 425. It is hard to say whether Miralles read MacDiarmid, but I like to think that he did. For the way that he situates the Holyrood building within rather than on top of the landscape expresses the same relationship between man and nature that we have seen in Scottish poetry from Robert Burns to Edwin Morgan. This is a humble man’s vision, asking Scottish politicians to reflect on the temporary nature of their existence and to accept their limitations. The same kind of organicism can be found inside Holyrood. In an impressionistic celebration of Miralles, Angus Reid pursues the landscape motif throughout the building, noting how a walk through the parliament takes you on an imaginary journey from the Old Town of Edinburgh to the North Atlantic, from a landlocked harbour in the east to the rugged cliffs of the west. Reid, op. cit. Reid’s essay leaves the overall impression of unity-in-diversity – the positive image of a Scotland united that was always cherished by cultural and political nationalists. Yet Miralles’ organicism has turned out to be one of the most controversial aspects of his project, with the Scottish press failing to buy into the idea of a parliament as twigs and leaves, “the upturned boats of Lindisfarne.“ Jencks, op. cit., p. 18. Such natural imagery has played a major role in Scottish culture, however, and by choosing space rather than history as his predominant theme, Miralles adds to the Scottishness of the project, reproducing in architecture the poets’ longing for the eternal landscape. Miralles truly breaks the mould when he chooses to compose the parliament in a postmodern vein. As Jencks notes, Jencks, op. cit., p.14. his competitors had suggested a classical style, fearing perhaps that a departure from the conventional monumentality of European parliament building would reflect badly on the image of Scottish democracy. But postmodernism carries its own symbolic message, privileging ambiguity and complexity over the tight structures and systems of previous modes: Modern and classical architecture are based on clear hierarchies, simple geometries, repetition and right angles. Post-Modern architecture, by contrast, is often ambiguous, curved, fractured and ordered by the addition of similar elements. Like growing nature it has a fractal order, shapes that are in the language of geometers, “self-similar” rather than “self-same.” Op. cit., p. 53. Miralles’ style conveys a message of contemporaneity, egalitarianism and transparency. First of all, Holyrood is a product of its age. Unlike most European parliaments, which occupy stern, castle-like structures, the Scottish building is inspired by the postmodern desire for complexity, fusion, aesthetics and visuals, inviting the spectator inside to enjoy and explore the political arena. At Holyrood, artistic concerns appear to be more important than protective measures and barriers, which implies that Scottish democracy is confident enough to open itself to the world. At the same time, Miralles promotes an egalitarian vision, asking MSPs to remember that they are of and not above the Scottish people. No walls separate the political sphere from the neighbouring streets and parks, and reverting to ancient Greek tradition, Miralles places an agora next to the parliament to enable people to congregate and confront their elected body. Jencks, op. cit., p. 54. In the light of recent developments at Westminster, where protesters have been banned from Parliament Square, this is a highly symbolic gesture, reminding the parliamentarians that they are ultimately responsible to the people. The final impression of transparency is created by Miralles’ windows, bright colours and wooden structures. The windows of the Debating Chamber, Reid notes, look out onto the agora, making it impossible for those inside to ignore a crowd of protesters or revellers, Reid, op. cit., p. 7. and windows in other parts of the building offer glimpses of Arthur’s Seat, Holyrood Palace and the Royal Mile. If you can look out, you can also look in, and Miralles thus challenges the separation of policy-makers and voters which has characterised political culture in the twentieth century. Together the Holyrood site, landscape and style create a vision of a united, humble, democratic and transparent Scottish democracy. “A commerce between inner and outer,” Edwin Morgan wrote, noting the all-important link between the politicians inside and the voters outside the parliament. An alternative characterisation is offered by architect Andy MacMillan in his request for a building that was “dynamic, interactive, transparent, in the spirit of open government.” As quoted in McCrone, “Holyrood in an understated nation,” p. 16. Interestingly enough, MacMillan’s terminology is more common to software development than to the solid business of construction. Accordingly, MacMillan provides a neat link to the second part of my discussion, which asks to what extent cyberspace can produce the kind of openness, transparency and interactivity that we found in the Holyrood building. Holyrood in cyberspace Sturken and Cartwright define “virtual” as: “phenomena that seem to exist but in no tanglible or physical way. A virtual version of something is thus capable of functioning in a number of ways that are similar to its actual physical or material counterpart.” Marita Sturken and Lisa Cartwright, Practices of Looking: An Introduction to Visual Culture, Oxford University Press, 2001, p. 369. The concept of virtuality might seem problematic in relation to political culture, which has traditionally aimed to establish a sense of historical legitimacy, and which has tended to prefer forms and discourses that can express the uniqueness and centrality of power. The parallel worlds of cyberspace inevitably challenge this ideal, opting for a contemporary reality of consumer choice, ambiguity, interactivity and multimodality. Over the last decade, cyberspace has become a natural part of our everyday life and interaction, however, and arguably, a political system that cannot use this new media for its cultural production will fail to attract the interest of young voters. The internet presence of the Scottish parliament is a highly significant aspect of its cultural production, enabling politicians to broadcast the values of the new democracy to the widest possible audience. I have found no previous work on the internet construction of Scottish democracy, and the current analysis is therefore experimental and exploratory in nature. Given my detachment from Scottish politics this may be problematic as I find it hard to believe that Danish experts on Scottish cultural history represent a target audience for the Holyrood webpage designers. Like postmodern architecture, however, I believe one may read the internet site as a cultural product, with the analyst looking for features and discourses that support a particular political vision. Accordingly, I have gone “wab stravaigin’” in a search for the qualities of openness, transparency and interactivity that I highlighted in the previous section. I define openness as the way users are received when entering the parliament site. In a physical sense, this could take the form of an open door, a doormat with the homely greeting of “welcome” or perhaps an infrastructure allowing disabled people to move freely around the building. On the internet, openness refers to our early impressions, which are often shaped by the form of the opening page, the tone of its welcoming messages, and the languages on offer. The opening page to the Scottish parliament website might appear fairly similar to the front pages provided by the Westminster and Danish parliaments. As a header, we find the name of the legislative body, and beneath this are placed a series of hyperlinks that will help you navigate around the site. They include facts about the parliament, news items, current business, and information for visitors, catering for the diverse interests of politicians, the press and the general public. If read more closely, however, the Scottish site stands out in at least one respect. The top story of Holyrood on August 1st (the date I last accessed the site) is Annie Lennox’ participation in a “Festival of Politics,” which breaks with the convention that the news items on parliament webpages are inevitably about the conduct of politics. I looked up the “Festival of Politics” and discovered that over the holiday months, members of the public are invited inside the Holyrood Debating Chamber and committee rooms to discuss issues such as HIV, peace-making and Scottish culture. This creates an impression of openness, which is reinforced by the tone and language of the webpage. Compared to Westminster, which addresses the spectator in a somewhat formal medium, the Holyrood site employs a direct and informal style. Rather than leaving Gaelic or Welsh speakers to discover the link “Parliament Translated” for themselves, the designers inquire whether their receiver might “prefer to read this in Gaelic?” and if not, they suggest a range of alternatives (e. g. Scots, Urdu, Bengali, Catalan or British Sign Language) which reflect the multicultural and multilingual reality of contemporary Scotland. To recapitulate, the producers of the Scottish Parliament webpage attempt to welcome the internet users in a number of significant ways, opening up the virtual parliament to people outside the political system. Transparency is the widow-like quality that enables the politicians to look out and the people to look in. As Lewis observes, Jeff Lewis, Cultural Studies: The Basics, Sage, 2002, p. 414. one of the defining principles in modern democracy has been freedom of information, and the internet represents an ideal platform for such knowledge-sharing. As suggested initially, transparency should be regarded as a two-sided process, inviting voters inside the virtual parliament to learn about the political process, while calling the MSPs out to meet the Scots on their home ground, and both processes are reflected on the Holyrood site. On the one hand, the parliament webpage invites the Scots inside their new democracy. We find standard information on visiting hours and guided tours, but the web designers have also tried to accommodate those who watch Holyrood from a distance (a croft in Lewis or an office in Shetland?). Political debates can be accessed through “Holyrood TV,” while the building is presented through panoramic images of the Debating Chamber, the Garden Lobby, the connecting corridors and committee rooms. In addition, the web page brings to our attention cultural events such as the “Festival of Politics” and the “World Press Photo Exhibition,” which are hosted inside the parliament. Holyrood is presented as an arts venue, in other words, which is interesting as this may add to the sense of public ownership. On the other hand, the webpages cater for a political need to look out to the nation. In the tradition of British politics, internet users are encouraged to contact their local MSP by e-mail, which provides a direct link between the politicians and the voters, enabling the elected representatives to keep in touch with the mood of the people. At the same time, the Holyrood site contains information about parliamentarians’ recent and planned visits across the country. In the section “about the Parliament” we are informed about the Presiding Officer’s summer travels through different regions and sectors of Scotland, and Alex Fergusson’s journey conveys a message of involvement with the lives of ordinary Scots, suggesting that the politicians have learnt from the nation’s anger with the centralised governments of the 1980s and 1990s. The final quality of interactivity is crucial to the idea of democracy in the postmodern era. Habermas has argued for the need to (re-)invent civic society, stressing that bureaucrats and politicians must be reminded of their function as public servants, Lewis, op. cit., pp. 425-26. which requires a forum where members of the public can confront the political system. Miralles provided an interesting example of this when he placed an agora outside the Holyrood building in the manner of ancient Greek democracy. But the most convenient way to encourage interaction in the postmodern era is to use the internet, which offers a very democratic, accessible and dialogic platform for communication. Sturken and Cartwright, op. cit., p. 333 ff. The previous discussion has shown how Scots may use the internet to e-mail MSPs, watch political debates on Holyrood TV, or tour around a virtual Holyrood building, and such participatory practices are encouraged by the web designers who have added a hyperlink asking the user to “Visit, Learn and Interact.” If you click on this, you are taken to a page that informs you of the Holyrood opening hours and resources for those seeking more knowledge. But the “Visit, Learn, Interact” pages also suggest that members of the public “register as a committee adviser” or “external research consultant,” which is significant as this facilitates an active involvement with Scottish democracy. A similar kind of interactivity is promoted in the leaflet “Making your voice heard in the Scottish Parliament” which can be downloaded from the Holyrood site. This contains an initial section on “Scottish Democracy in Action” which explains the options for members of the public who would like to become involved in the political process, including the right to vote, “contact your elected representatives”, “contribute to the work of committees”, “submit a petition”, “take part in an online discussion forum” or “stand as a candidate for election.” The Scottish Parliament, ”Making your voice heard in the Scottish Parliament,” Edinburgh, 2008, p. 2. The document is published in the languages of English, Gaelic, Scots, Arabic, Bengali, Chinese, Punjabi, Urdu and Polish, which indicates that the producers would like its message to spread to all sectors of Scottish society. Hence, the Holyrood site underlines the values of interactivity and participation, constructing an idea of the Scottish parliament as a direct democracy emerging from and in touch with civic society. Arguably, the principles of openness, transparency and interactivity are such an integral part of internet culture that the Holyrood web designers have been able to draw on well-established models for their construction of a virtual parliament. Yet a comparison with the sites developed by the British and Danish parliaments shows that the Scottish designers depart from conventional political communication when they stress the relationship between the political system and the public, addressing their receivers as participants in rather than visitors to the parliament. This suggests a democracy that is a product of its time, and which therefore requests postmodern modes of representation. Conclusion In my analysis of the Holyrood parliament building and web pages, I have highlighted the positive values of post-1997 political culture in Scotland, focusing on the way specific cultural products have contributed to a vision of openness, transparency and interactivity. I am aware that the parliament builders have met with opposition along the road – not least in relation to the Miralles’ project which many perceived as too costly and extravagant for a small nation – but somehow they managed to stick to the original idea and to an ambitious and very contemporary representation of Scottish democracy. Jencks is probably right to ascribe the survival of the Holyrood project to the death of protagonists Miralles and Dewar as nobody wanted to cut down on a design that had by then become canonised as “the work of ‘a genius’ and Scotland’s premier statesman.” Jencks, op. cit., p. 24. Yet we have seen similar values embraced by the web designers, which suggests that the vision may be larger than each of its individual components. I am aware that the identification of openness, transparency and interactivity as central to the representation of the Scottish parliament in cyberspace as well as architecture may be a product of the analyst’s rather than the designers’ mind, but I do not think we should underestimate cultural producers’ awareness of their influence on the way we imagine and interact with the political system. When they choose to address ordinary people in a language of participation and to invite them inside Holyrood to enjoy art exhibitions or political debates, the parliament builders inform their Scottish audience that this is your democracy – now make of it whatever you like. To politicians socialised into the castle-like institution of Westminster this is a brave feat and probably where the new Scottish parliament breaks most radically with the traditions of British political culture. We are reminded that this is a parliament for ordinary people, and that the MSPs have been given a mandate to represent but not to control the Scottish people. For, as Edwin Morgan concludes, absolute power is a symptom of the past, while the new Scottish parliament belongs to the present and the future: All right. Forget, or don’t forget, the past. Trumpets and robes are fine, but in the present and the future you will need something more. What is it? We, the people, cannot tell you yet, but you will know about it when we do tell you. We give you our consent to govern, don’t pocket it and ride away. We give you our deepest dearest wish to govern well, don’t say we have no mandate to be so bold. We give you this great building, don’t let your work and hope be other than great when you enter and begin. So now begin. Open the doors and begin. Morgan, op. cit. p.10. PAGE 12