Of all the people I’ve had the privilege of interviewing over the past year or so, Dr Lynne Tammi-Connolly was one of the most impressive.

Dr Connolly is the Scottish academic who, for many years, has sought redress for the thousands of Scottish children – mainly from the gypsy and gypsy traveller communities – who were trafficked from Scotland throughout the 20th century. 

It was one of the most shameful episodes in Scotland’s history and one which the Scottish Government and civic Scotland has repeatedly failed to acknowledge. 

In January of this year, Dr Connolly competed a two-week journey by foot from her home in Montrose to Holyrood to highlight her campaign. 

She had hoped to be met by Emma Roddick, Scotland’s Minister for Equalities, Migration and Refugees. Ms Roddick insisted she was unavailable, however. Only after some light arm-twisting by The Herald and Dr Connolly did Ms Roddick finally agree to meet with this stalwart academic. 

Even then, Dr Connolly was reminded quite firmly of the rules of engagement that govern how politics is conducted in modern Scotland. Put simply, she had to know her place in the grand scheme of things. 

In Scotland, unless you have a platinum card admitting access to Holyrood’s inner sanctum, then your place is on the bottom rung of society and you must wait in a long queue before the government’s courtiers and fluffers summon you.  

For Dr Connolly this meant being told only to speak when spoken to and only on pre-approved topics. 

“I’ve been told I won’t be permitted to discuss anything to do with the tinker gypsy experiments, the child trafficking or the prospect of an official apology,” she said. 

I mention this now only because Dr Connolly, along with other Scots “local heroes”, was treated once more with contempt and disdain at Holyrood last week at an event to mark 25 years of the Scottish Parliament. 

As the tribunes and trumpets of civic Scotland who have all fed richly on Holyrood’s largesse gathered to congratulate each other for their great good fortune, the real people who make this country work were shunted into Holyrood’s hidden vestibules lest they embarrass some of the political roasters taking selfies with each other. 

Many of these talentless and indolent chancers – mainly in the SNP and the Scottish Greens – have been embarrassing Scotland for the last 10 years. It’s they who should have been shunted into cupboards. 

(Image: Gordon Terris)

Pub talk
In a louche tavern on Glasgow’s eastern fastnesses last week, I was being urged to write an alternative guide to accessing political and civic power in modern Scotland. 

However, I’m not sure I’m the chap for the job. I’ve developed a deep loathing for the system and its serpentine rules that determine who gets heard in what we laughably call a liberal democracy.

There are some decent and honest people at Holyrood who genuinely care about improving the lives of ordinary Scots, especially those who were born without the advantages many of the rest of us have. Sadly, they are currently swamped by a sprawling and shape-shifting class of political scavengers who know a good thing when they see it and quickly set about the task of grabbing a piece of the action. 

This mainly involves ditching any principles you might once have possessed and divining which organisations and individuals have the ear of the SNP leadership. 

Thereafter, you solicit informed opinion about the personal preferences and predispositions of the anointed and set about endorsing these on social media. Your conscience must only be formed by sticking your finger in the air to see which way the wind is blowing on the major issues of the day. 

Lobby woe 
ACCESS to Scotland’s power brokers is gained through a suite of shadowy and serpentine channels. It’s reserved to a chosen few. Many of these are employed by the lobbying firms who represent Scotland’s only real growth sector in the devolved era. 

These outfits occupy a treacherous terrain where the secret to success is to agree wholeheartedly with everything the First Minister and his Cabinet say. 

After all, of what use are you to your per diem corporate client base if you were ever to criticise those who hand out the big contracts, or who shape laws that may affect your customers’ business interests? 

In recent years, this hidden system of patronage has grown further tentacles with the emergence of Glasgow University’s John Smith Foundation. There’s also a John Smith Trust and a John Smith Centre. 

At any given time their boards comprise of a dizzying array of baronesses, and legal and academic panjandrums who have played the game successfully and the odd former politician who is deemed capable of walking and talking at the same time (admittedly, a narrow cohort). 

Their collective purpose is to source “exceptional” people who know how to behave themselves and look the other way when required. 
It’s summed up in this prospectus: “In cultivating an active network of Fellows, we motivate and stimulate action to progress shared values of tolerance, respect and openness, as well as governance that is rules-based and people-focused.” 

Loosely translated, this means: “Don’t rock the boat; speak nicely; ditch your beliefs; and you’ll be well looked after. A nod’s as good as a wink to a blind horse.”   

SPAD madness
EVIDENCE of what rewards await those who do the political Hokey Cokey was provided last month by the publication of a lengthy and soporific document co-authored by Stephen Noon and Kezia Dugdale, the former  I’m A Celebrity… contestant. 

It’s dozens of pages long and concludes that the Scottish Secretary should be handed new powers to call for a second referendum. The dogs on the streets know a referendum will never happen any time before Mr Noon and Ms Dugdale access their pensions. 

The report was published by Glasgow University’s Centre for Public Policy. Mr Noon was chief strategist for Yes in 2014 before lately occupying the never-never land of devo max and then alighting on whatever position his academic paper is supposed to represent. Until this month, he was a Glasgow University academic in that Centre for Public Policy. Ms Dugdale, until recently, was director of the John Smith Centre.    

He supported Kate Forbes in the SNP leadership before switching to John Swinney. This was a judicious choice. Last week, he was appointed one of Mr Swinney’s team of special advisers. 

“You put your left leg in, 
your left leg out
In, out, in, out, shake it all about
You do the hokey cokey 
and you turn around
That’s what it’s all about.”