Comment Editor Lara Bevan-Shiraz reports on a discussion with Stephen Flynn, Westminster Leader of the Scottish Nationalist Party, hosted by the KCL Politics Society, covering his background, views on Westminster, and desire for Scottish independence.
Flynn is a good communicator, interspersing humour with seriousness. He is direct, saying things as he sees them. Recalling his arrival at Westminster, he noted many of his parliamentary colleagues, whom he called “people off the telly”, “speak absolute crap…but they’re so confident, so confident… that it makes them seem to know what they’re talking about.” It was a “liberating” revelation for Flynn, who jabs at these privileged politicians’ motivations: “they’ve worked in JP Morgan…[they’re] doing this as a hobby, because their life is sorted”.
Less filtered than some politicians, he is nevertheless still considered, circling back a couple of times to qualify his comedic hyperbole. Asked about parliamentary reform, he instinctively begins “I hate…” then auto-corrects what he himself deems too harsh a position, and ends up admitting a “very strong dislike for people with very deep pockets … [who] get to make decisions” for that quality alone.
Flynn’s political socialisation began at a time when Labour began to distance itself from its working-class base, increasingly tailoring its agenda to the middle class. Seeing his community’s needs left untended by successive Westminster governments brought Scotland’s dilemma sharply into his focus. As did the sudden onset of avascular necrosis (a lack of blood supply to the bones leading to their collapse) as a young teenager.
From being a self-professed “nightmare” at school who “spent most of my time in corridors”, lying down with nothing to do, Flynn turned to books. Dundee, Flynn’s home city, was gutted, “devoid of opportunity” with “not a lot of hope”. Whilst many of his friends left school at 16, Flynn’s trajectory had been altered and he “became the first in [his] family to get a degree”, studying Politics at the University of Dundee. He had considered Law, but decided, “Why practice the law when you can make the law?”
Flynn came of age during the Iraq war: “I was a member of the campaign for disarmament before I was a member of the SNP”, he says. He still maintains those principles, taking issue with the storage of British nuclear warheads and Trident submarines along the Scottish coastline. “We don’t need nuclear weapons in Scotland and we don’t need somebody else’s”, he quips.
He distances himself from Westminster, London, and England, talking about Westminster as if he were an observer, not a participant. Sometimes it’s a subtle hint, others it’s an overt rejection—he repeats three times over the course of the evening: “it’s not my parliament”. He’s there to break the system, not work in it. “It’s why I leave my family”, he says, “to make sure people like me don’t need to come to London”. The problem is, this may not be what they want—polls indicate that Scottish public opinion is undecided.
“It’s not my Parliament”
He exercises a certain dodgeball manoeuvre when asked trickier questions, changing questions to suit his strengths. A question on Swinney’s call for a “pause” of new arrivals of asylum seekers in Glasgow quickly becomes a question on immigration in Aberdeen, Flynn’s own constituency.
When Roar asks how he and the SNP intend to protect Scottish identity from being hijacked by the far-Right, with the saltire now increasingly appropriated to this end, a slight defensiveness kicks in. Flynn seeks to “push back” against the question, saying that “the saltire is not taken over by the far right.” It’s understandable to want to de-centre the far-right from discussions of identity, but such distancing risks being confused with dismissal. The saltire is being used to intimidate. Recognising that isn’t giving in to the far right, it’s acknowledging lived experience and seeing the issue, to then take measures against it. Willing a problem away won’t work unless backed up by concrete action, something Flynn couldn’t outline in his answer.
When asked what collective, cross-party action he’d like to see, he more adeptly deploys this de-centring tactic. “Stop talking about Nigel Farage every chance that they get to”, he says of other Westminster parties. He warns them against adopting Farage’s policies, “cause you’ll never outdo them”. Rather than playing into Farage’s hands, Flynn sees the solution as being to reduce the “strains” on people’s lives. The way to “beat” the far right, he says, is “by creating optimism”. The SNP, he says, offer “hope and optimism”, a nice antidote to contemporary and recent politics.
“Stop talking about Nigel Farage every chance that they get to”
Whilst Flynn recognises that there “has always been that element that has coalesced” now in a broader far-right movement in Scotland, he views it with detachment, as a Labour or a Westminster issue. Claiming a kind of Scottish exceptionalism, he believes that Scotland’s electoral system means Reform is “not likely” to convert support into seats.
The SNP’s political leaning is complex—now considered fairly left-wing, it retains certain contradictions. One of Flynn’s main talking points of the evening is the need for Scotland to take control of its natural resources. However, this is at odds with the party’s manifesto commitment to transitioning to a green economy. The SNP simultaneously wants to profit from North Sea oil and gas whilst appearing to tackle climate change. Being a (mostly) single-issue party comes with such challenges—placing yourself as an opposition party, people read into you what they want to see, but this risks disillusionment.
Devolution handed Scotland a kind of ready-made parallel polis, institutionalising counter-currents for independence. Vaclav Benda’s concept of resistance creating social structures parallel to the state is a precursor for revolution. Yet, this state-sanctioned measure has proved a double-edged sword: blame now splits both ways when things aren’t up to scratch. Flynn spins a more positive narrative when asked about devolution’s effect on independence hopes, focusing on the wins the SNP has made through its higher progressive taxation. However, for him, it’s a roadblock to be cleared: “devolution—we’ve got to the limits of it.” He sees “the diversion of policy” between Westminster and Scotland as putting “great pressure” that can only be relieved through independence.
One student asks Flynn for his prescription for Westminster: “You guys”, he answers, “it’s your future. It’s not my parliament, cheers! Go fix it!”. Flynn rounds off with some parting advice: “If there’s that perception that you should stay in your lane, break out of it”. And of course, a political plug: “if we do become independent, you’re all welcome—the saltire can be yours”.
“It’s your future. It’s not my parliament, cheers! Go fix it!”
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