I am a nationalist by nature and nurture. I did not learn the benefits of self-determination at my mother's breast, more amid the fumes from my father's Glenmorangie and his friends' fags.

Nationalism was introduced loudly, indeed raucously in my living room. This induction took two forms. The first was the way that Scottish history and culture was displayed by the small islands of books that littered a chaotic household. Scottish song was also a regular soundtrack to my early life in Possil, St George's Cross and then Busby. My father hailed from the Highland wastes of northern Possil. However, his knowledge of, and adherence to, what he saw as Scottish values owed little to geography.

It was the final family home in Busby, though, that provided the setting for the second part of the induction. It was there that my father and his friends plotted council and parliamentary election strategies. These late-night sessions, fuelled by malt and fogged by smoke, left a strong impression on my senses and on my thoughts.

The nationalism of the men and women in the room was the only strand that bound these disparate characters. It was an immensely strong one, however. These were people from different walks of life: plumbers, vets, artists, advertising executives, electricians, teachers. They were also people of different political persuasions.

For example, much of the work to elect Winnie Ewing in Hamilton in 1967 and Margo MacDonald in Govan in 1973 was planned, even undertaken, in the Busby living-room. Yet the political differences between Ewing and MacDonald would make the Grand Canyon seem only a small step for man.

The economic backgrounds and the personal, financial and social policies of the participants in this election workroom were rarely articulated. I later learned that communists worked with right-wingers who would make Maggie Thatcher seem a pinko liberal.

This, then, was my political classroom. I learned many valuable lessons that have informed my electoral choices. The greatest lesson was that self-determination was a right. Perversely, like all rights in the modern world, it had to be won.

Half a century of living and working close to Scottish politics has also taught me that nationalism has but one enemy: fear. There is a constituency, one supposes, which regards the union with England as a natural, irrevocable marriage based on lasting vows and on centuries of mostly harmonious co-habitation. These people feel British, rather than Scottish. They believe that Scotland is not an individual nation that needs individual government. I disagree but their stance is consistent, even understandable.

The other arguments against independence seem merely the stuff of bullies. For example, in the sixties there was a scare-mongering campaign that equated nationalism with neo-nazism. This was a wilful, shameful attempt to avoid the real issue and a disgraceful slur on many nationalists who had fought in the war against Hitler. Thankfully, this piece of nonsense has been laid to rest but seems to have been replaced by rhetoric, though less nasty and ill-informed, that is just as flawed.

The political argument against independence is crass and empty of vision. Tony Blair marked the 300th anniversary of the Act of Union by warning that "it would be crazy for Scotland to be wrenched out of the UK". And why would that be, Prime Minister? The answer was, according to Mr Blair: "If Scotland ends up with an independence bill and referendums on Scottish independence, then you are just going to create a situation of enormous uncertainty and instability."

Well, that's the trouble with democracy, Prime Minister, it sometimes stirs up situations that are uncertain and instable. If one wants political stability and certainty, one could simply opt for a Stalinist model and forget all about this messy, expensive business of allowing the public to vote, especially when you are unsure of how they will vote.

Aside from the world-shattering chaos of a nation deciding to govern its own affairs (a situation that has been happening in the post-Soviet era and is not unknown in the wider world), there is the notion that Scots cannot govern themselves. It is as if we lack the nous, the experience of government. If so, we are overcoming these defects by doing a reasonable job in running Britain. Gordon Brown, Douglas Alexander and Alistair Darling are Scots who are praised for standing in the front rank of British government. Admittedly, John Reid makes a decent case for the counter argument.


The next fear-ridden argument is the economic one. The Chancellor himself, the passionate lover of prudence, has told the Scottish Labour Party conference that the economic futures of Scotland and the rest of the UK are inextricably linked. Yup, but surely they can be unlinked. And in an age of globalisation, surely geographical borders are no constraint on investment or communication. Or even joint ventures.

Mr Brown insisted UK links must be kept for "solidarity" in the "interdependence" age. It was if an independent Scotland would shiver and die of some form of economic loneliness.

This may be the case but it need not be. Indeed, many would argue that economic solidarity, where benevolent to both nations, would not be harmed given flexible trading under EU regulations. Some might also say that economic solidarity, when it comes to England and Scotland vying for government business orders, has not been the finest hour of a London executive.

The economic argument is, frankly, the most imprecise aspect of an imprecise affair. One can find an economist to argue passionately for and against the independence argument. Indeed, one can even find an economist who would assert that economists know what they are talking about, although I concede this may sound incredible. But surely there is a case for the economic stability of the nation of Adam Smith, the birthplace of business rulers of most of the world under the age of empire, the crucible of entrepreneurial minds from Carnegie to Sir Tom Hunter. Sir Tom has claimed that Scotland could be the centre for a new Englightenment.

There may, too, be the opportunity to apply specific solutions to specific economic problems.

An independent nation, for example, could concentrate more closely on tourism, offering an integrated and precise Scottish template to meet the nation's needs. In the age of multi-media and instant communication, there is no reason why Edinburgh's place as major player in the money world should be compromised. With proper education policies and tax incentives, Scotland could provide workforces and workplaces for multi-national companies.

But all the above are merely arguments. They are, ultimately, a form of mouth music. We could all argue the theory that would melt before the reality of experience. There is but one consideration. Is there the will for independence? That is, do we believe that there is a moral imperative for us to make our own decisions and that it is a desirable, nay inescapable burden for a grown-up people?

It would be disgraceful if we opted to stay as we were because we felt we could not afford it. It would be shameful if we believed we did not have the intellectual capacity to govern ourselves.

We could, conversely, believe in ourselves. And that leap of faith would involve risk. We would become independent and face huge difficulties politically, economically and socially.

But, then again, that's what nations have to do.

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