If 'scunnered' was the word of the Scottish election, political language needs to change

This election left me fair scunnered. 

I didn’t feel that way at the outset – back then, I was at times bealin, at others fashed, sometimes even a tad stammygastered.

But now I’m scunnered. Not especially at the outcome (Who of us is 100 per cent hertie when the results are counted? Surely only the most glaikit could expect anything else?) but most definitely at the inability of the political class to sum up the national mood without using, and using, and using that one single word. 

Labour was at it, the SNP was at it, they were all at it. You couldn’t go to a press call without hearing it.

Folks, get a dictionary. There are far more ways to say that people are pissed off. And don’t kid on that you haven’t heard those on the doorstep, particularly the post-watershed ones. 

Yes, the Scottish Languages Act came into force just days ahead of the vote. But that gave equal status to the entire Gaelic and Scots leids, not this single word. So anyone trying to show support for that measure could have done with being that bit more verbose. 

Some of our new MSPs, however, have had a go at saying something else. A score of them managed to say their oaths and affirmations in English and at least one other language, leaving the chamber to ring with the sounds of Dutch, Polish and Hindi, amongst others. Yi-Pei Chou Turvey – born in Taiwan, raised in Belgium and now repping North East Scotland – displayed prowess in an impressive three languages.

After an election in which cultural identity was highly politicised and the Scottishness or Britishness of those with immigrant backgrounds brought into question, it was striking to hear the diversity of our MSPs writ large. Or, in Karen Adam’s case, signed out – the Banffshire and Buchan Coast member once again gave her oath in English and British Sign Language.

It is certainly not a solution to the tensions that have been exposed around race, religion and ethnicity. But it is perhaps a salve to some – a show of multiple identities in our national parliament that gives truth to the claim that this is a legislature for all. 

Parliament has become a place of multiple languages, but always with English to the fore. Rob Gibson was the first to give an oath or affirmation in Gaelic, doing so as a Highlands and Islands MSP in 2003. Before that, Darshan Singh Chhokar – father of murdered waiter Surjit – gave evidence to the Equal Opportunities Committee in Punjabi, with simultaneous translation into English. Before that, the European Committee heard contributions in Swedish, French, Basque and German. Elsewhere, Maureen McMillan used Latin, George Reid used Russian, Colin Campbell used Farsi.

The legislation underpinning it all was, as one former Scottish Parliament official reminded, brought in to encourage the use of Gaelic in Holyrood, and to help overcome communication barriers that some people might face in accessing the parliament and its work because they are not fluent in English. 

It was “genuine good-faith work to address genuine barriers to access”, said Levi Pay, who worked on the policy, and was not designed to allow politicians “to score points relating to their identity or ideology”. 

I dare say that every MSP believes they work in good faith every time. Watching the proceedings of the last session, it was more than tempting to believe that many did not, at least part of the time. There’s plenty of ego in politics, and a good many yet to be disabused of the idea that they and their partymates alone can stand on the moral high ground. 

And, by the same token, there’s no guarantee that those talking in English across the benches are really speaking the same language. Yes, it’s the common tongue, but you have to wonder sometimes if parliamentarians really understand what they’re talking about. 

The surprise around the consequences of the Scottish Elections (Representation and Reform) Act – the legislation that allowed for the election of MSPs on temporary visas – is a case in point. No translation was needed for its scrutiny, and yet the meaning of the reforms somehow passed some members by and led to a post-election fankle – one that was completely avoidable.

As session seven gathers pace, it is to be hoped that this 129-strong group of public representatives will be able to understand each other better than the last. If they can, perhaps we can hope for better law-making, better policy development, better governance, and even a better national mood. 

Maybe, just maybe, we won’t have to keep hearing that people are scunnered any more.