Showing posts with label Masculinity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Masculinity. Show all posts

6 March 2013

♫ You take the high road and I'll take the low road ♫

As eager-beaver listeners cannot but have noticed, there was a certain gap in our routine For A' That podcasting last Sunday.  Just a wee dab of damnum fatale. In compensation, we've two episodes of the show scheduled for this week, going back to our usual structure of one of Michael's Scottish independence podcasts appearing on Wednesday, and us, back to our usual Sunday spot.  

Our guest today was Pat Kane, scribbler, chanteur, and currently a board member for Yes Scotland.  Up for the blether this week, who are Britain's narrow nationalists now? Theresa May's human rights trolling, high roads, low roads, ambivalence and storytelling in the Scottish independence debate. Pat asks, is folk singer Karine Polwart right? Last month, she wrote:

"Let the Yes campaign be positive and hopeful, yes. But let’s allow it to be, where it needs to be, angry and bold too, please. And let’s harness more imagination to the urgent transformative telling of better stories about how we want to live."

One year since it came into force, we also had a wee chat about football, masculinity, sectarianism, and the Offensive Behaviour at Football Act. A brave public health measure, exorcising the country's sectarian ghosts, or an instrument which has empowered the police to treat fans in heavy-handed ways? A way of addressing Scottish cultures of toxic masculinity, or a threat to basic rights and freedom of speech?

To tuck away the show for later consumption, you can download it from Spreaker, or from iTunes.  Alternatively, you can listen to our discussion with Pat right away, right here. We'll be back, as usual, on Sunday afternoon.



6 November 2012

Death by the Clyde...

Every year, government statisticians put out a grim butcher's bill of Scotland's homicides, and the statistical detail on the killings is not for the squeamish.  The annual 2011/12 count of deaths was released this morning, recording a total of 90 deaths and 88 homicide cases over the last twelve months.  In the press, you're likely to hear a couple of headline statistics: the total number of deaths is down on last year, falling from 99 to 88 cases.  


A total of 124 persons were accused of committing homicide in the last year, of which 115 (93%) were men, compared to just 9 women (7%).  The vast majority of victims of homicide were also men.  Some 71 of 90 victims of homicide were men (79% of victims), while 19 women were also killed (21% of victims). As ever, alcohol features prominently Once again, the numbers put the prevalent myth of "stranger danger" to the question, particularly for women. Looking at the last ten years, the government statisticians report:

"For homicides recorded in the last ten years, 51% of the female victims aged between 16 and 70 years were killed by their partner or ex-partner, 29% were killed by an acquaintance and 9% were killed by a stranger. For male victims aged 16 to 70 years, only 6% were killed by their partner or ex-partner. Nearly two thirds, 64%, of male victims aged 16 to 70 years were killed by an acquaintance and 17% were killed by a stranger."

This seems borne out by the pre-eminent locations in which homicides occur. In 2011/12, 56 of 88 homicide cases (64%) occurred in a residential setting, which includes houses, but also common stairwells and hostels, hotels and lodging houses.  The vast majority (fifty three of fifty six in 2011/12) of these are confined to houses and dwellings.  That said, things get a wee bit more complicated when we take a decade-long look, and break down cases by recorded motive, gender and location.  Between 2002 and 2012, 840 men have been killed and their homicide cases "solved" by police.  Of these, 442 (53%) have occurred in a dwelling, compared to 397 (47%) which were "not in a dwelling".  In the same period, there have been 2011 solved cases involving female victims.  Of these, 77% occurred in a dwelling, with the remaining 23% occurring elsewhere.

Knives are obviously an important concern in Scottish politics, dominating Labour's agenda in the last Holyrood election. Accordingly, the number of folk killed by "sharp instruments" will likely attract the highest levels of political scrutiny.  Of the 90 victims of homicide recorded in 2011/12 (as opposed to 88 homicide cases recorded, where multiple killings were singly investigated), 52% were slain using a "sharp instrument" as compared to 61 of 101 (60%) of homicide victims in 2010/11.


Death by the Clyde...

This year, I thought I'd focus a little more closely on geography in general, and on Glasgow and Strathclyde in particular. First, some introductory demographics.  According to 2010 population estimates, Strathclyde police force area covers some  2,217,880 people, substantially more than double the next largest - Lothian and Borders police - which attended to public order and the investigation of crime for 939,020 souls. 


Although well shy of half of covering half of the Scottish population, over the last decade, Strathclyde has dominated the homicide statistics, never contributing less than half of the Scottish national total of deaths. As you can see, the national totals have tended to follow fluctuations in Strathclyde's homicide count.  For comprehensibility, I've only included specific numbers of homicide cases for the national and Strathclyde and Lothian and Borders in the chart below:


Taking of of these numbers, over the last decade, 62% of all homicide cases have originated in the Strathclyde police force area, fluctuating up and down over time.


One of the interesting aspects of today's statistics is that in addition to breaking down the figures by police force area, they also include information on a few - four - choice local government areas: Glasgow, Edinburgh, Aberdeen and Dundee City areas.  The findings from Glasgow - historically "no mean city" - trace a highly encouraging downward trend in the number of homicides recorded.


At the start of the last decade (2002/03), Glasgow City actually contributed the majority of homicide cases in Strathclyde.  Since, that number as dramatically fallen, to a low of just fifteen deaths this past year. While the number of homicide cases concerning events in Glasgow city has been falling very substantially in the last decade, it is striking that the rest of Strathclyde exhibits nothing like the same decreasing incline of killings. 


These numbers are mute on the human stories behind the columns and the totals, the abstract "sharp instruments" some distance away from the horror and suffering of a life lost on the end of thrust blade, clubbed or choked from you. The objectivity of the numbers, their bare detail, has an obvious distancing effect which is mute on the devastated lives which lie behind them: the mothers and fathers buckled with grief, consigning sons and daughters to the earth, the tears stinging the eyes of loving friends, the lonely children bereft.  These numbers only thinly tabulate tragedy, both for those killed and for their families and friends, but also for many of killers, who were most likely drunk, most likely young men, most likely caught up in a fight or quarrel, all of whom have made a dreadful, tragic mistakes which will alter and afflict the course of their lives, and the lives of many others.

Reading these numbers at an abstract distance, it's important always to remind ourselves of the sorrow and loss that lies behind them.

14 August 2012

Living in Scotland — imaginatively...

Lately, I’ve been thinking about this famous exchange between Thaw and McAlpin in Alasdair Gray’s first novel:

Glasgow is a magnificent city”, said McAlpin.  “Why do we hardly ever notice that?” “Because nobody imagines living here”, said Thaw. McAlpine lit a cigarette and said, “If you want to explain that I’ll certainly listen.”

“Then think of Florence, Paris, London, New York.  Nobody visiting them for the first time is a stranger because he’s already visited them in paintings, novels, history books and films.  But if a city hasn’t been used by an artist not even the inhabitants live there imaginatively.  What is Glasgow to most of us? A house, the place we work, a football park of golf course, some pubs and connecting streets.  That’s all. No, I’m wrong, there’s also the cinema and the library.  And when our imagination needs exercise we use these to visit London, Paris, Rome under the Caesars, the American West at the turn of the century, anywhere but here and now.  Imaginatively Glasgow exists as a music-hall song and a few bad novels.  That’s all we’ve given to the world outside.  It’s all we’ve given to ourselves.” ~ Alasdair Gray, Lanark (1981).

Living in a place, imaginatively.  It has struck me for a while that Gray’s observation is pertinent well beyond the precincts of the Dear Green Place.  Back when I was composing my masters thesis – on gendered representations of the Faculty of Advocates – I found myself plundering every which school of scholarship I could find, for scraps of pertinent thought on the themes I was trying to deal with : about class, gender, nationality, place.  I shan’t go into it in much detail, but I found that most of the familiar, dominant images and accounts on these themes proved singularly inadequate to my task. 

I found helpful and fascinating scraps in studies in sociology, history, literature, film: the commentary on these foundational ideas was essentially dispersed, fractured, germinal. Bringing it all together was immensely enjoyable, and trying to think through these ideas, but everywhere I was struck by the relative thinness of our civic conversation, the all too often hackneyed inadequacy and crudeness of our dominant images of class, gender, nation, place which I was trying to deploy.  Representations of Scottish masculinities, for instance, overwhelmingly stress the familiar “hard man” of de-industrialised West Central Scotland – a conception which may be entertainingly, but not terrifically productively, juxtaposed with the bewigged and gowned characters of a male-dominated bourgeois institution based in Edinburgh. 

Even the capital itself proves difficult to account for.  The thought that Edinburgh is “not really Scottish” goes back a good while, and – to the chagrin of some of its members - representations of the Faculty strongly locate the Bar and its members in Edinburgh, with all of the attendant associations that has come to imply.  Between the dominating Clydeism and the invisibility of Scottish bourgeois masculinities, it was immensely difficult even to begin to imagine, never mind to conceptualise and write about these issues.  This telling silence, these lacunae in our collective imagination, are significant, and strange.  Not even the inhabitants live there imaginatively.

To anticipate an objection, I’m not attempting to draw any unfavourable contrasts with our near neighbours, nor to imply that slighting evaluation should be drawn, setting a thin Scottish civic life against a rich, elaborated British discourse.  I’m not interested in that.  What does interest me, however, is the way in which the independence referendum represents an imaginative challenge to all of us, far broader than the narrow question, to be independent or to remain within the United Kingdom.  However the Scottish people vote, the process represents an astonishing collective challenge: to imagine different Scotlands, to attend to complexity, to begin to work up more nuanced imagines, finer-grained, fairer imaginings.  And here I part way with Gray’s Thaw: you don’t have to be an artist to set the cogs of imagination spinning.  Why be pessimistic and despair of threadbare myths and crude sketches? Produce your own sharper pencils. Start to fill in the colour.

There are many reasons to be cheerful about the formation of Women for Independence.  As an independence partisan, I’ve been banging on about the gender gap for a goodly while. At the last count, female support for independence sat 17% points behind men’s: a disparity which must change if we’re going to have even a snowball’s chance in hell of carrying this referendum.  In another sense, the emergence of the Women for Independence group adds more welcome texture to the campaign, another locus of activity, another bundling of folk together.  It also reminds us – and at the minute, YesScotland needs reminding – that Scotland is made up of many publics, who will be more and less receptive to different arguments for independence.  The logic of the party line, the unbroken ranks, the in-step discipline in word and deed and argument, will make for an uneasy governor of the sort of coalition of views we’ll need to pull together to convince Scotland that it’d be better off as a independent state.

Even if we cannot achieve that, the referendum represents a stark opportunity – a challenge even – to entertain a serious conversation about our public life, the gap separating the world as we’d wish it, and our civic life as we find it.  The voices of women in Scottish public life ought to be, must be, a vital part of that conversation, that imagining.  It may well prove a tricky conversation at times – reticent, stammering, struggling to find the right words – but by gum, I’m looking forward to it.

29 June 2011

Scottish N(/n)ationalism & class-based politics...

A peaty crony recently sent me an account of a conversation overheard in a bar in the Southside of Glasgow.  The characters are a group of men in middle-to-late middle age. They are smartly dressed, prosperous, with a taste for the finer things in life. Natty watches hang from their joints and swanky shoes are an immediate concern. Sipping a second or third drink, they pass around plates of salade niçoise and moules marinières, discuss the architecture of British cathedrals - when their discussion noisily turns to the working classes. Despite their snobberies and their habits of consumption, none of the speakers show any remote sense of restraint discussing this topic. Their discussion isn't abashed with bourgeois fumblings and they do not envisage working class fellow-citizens as external observers might.  Despite their objective circumstances, and tastes, and manners, and expenditures - each of these men feels themselves to be, at bottom, working class characters.

During May's Holyrood election campaign, I analysed the SNP's party political broadcast with reference to this curious (and often Labour-voting) archetype, which I contended was very accurately depicted by the broadcast's skeptical protagonist, played by Jimmy Chisholm. A number of you found the lineaments of this character recognisable. Last week, I noted but didn't really delve into the class-based  data, generated by Professor James Mitchell et al in the Scottish Election Study 2011. One of the profoundly interesting aspects of the data as generated - positively inviting speculation - is its inclusion of subjective class-identifiers and a contrasting "objective" class identifier, which is to say, a consistent standard applied across the Study sample, based on the occupation of the head of household. These numbers are preliminary, borrowed from slides in which the researchers involved in the Study have presented their findings. Some important points of detail are absent - but this is a blog, not a peer-reviewed social scientific labour, so I don't have to feel too embarrassed about speculation and best-guesses. 

Firstly, the middle classes. I have written before about some of the curiosities which surround the Scotch bourgeois. They are often conceived as Anglicised - and by dint of that, of attenuated Scottishness - the burdens of national representation being devolved onto the working classes, often dominated by urban, west coast sounds and images. Although I have not enlarged on the proposition before here, one of the most irritating manifestations of this tendency is Scottish theatre. All too often, I have sat in middle class audiences, watching middle class actors perform material composed by middle class authors - cheerfully playing out yet another plucky-working-class-touchstone-of-authenticity type tale, without any sense of embarrassment. It is a complex issue, which I'm conscious that I'm only touching on here. I am certainly not attempting to make the case for banishing such material for our stages, nor indeed denying that such parliamo Glasgow offerings are without their charms. It is just the almost hegemonic status of such dramatic material and the delusions it fosters that I find problematic.  The crucial point is the tied presence and absence of the Scottish bourgeoisie. To paraphase (I think) Christopher Whyte or Cairns Craig, it conspires at its own invisibility.

There is also a curious gendered aspect of this. All credit to Gerry Hassan, one of the few folk in our public life to try to talk about Scottish masculinities. Gerry has contended that men are everywhere and nowhere - and that too often, we lack a vocabulary, range of images and narratives about what it means to be a Scottish man.  The same point can be made, forcibly, about Scottish bourgeois masculinities, which are doubly silenced, both on the gendered and classed register. I've made the point previously, in a closer look at some elements of the small body of gender research we have, which engages with Scotland. As some of you may know, for the time being, I live in Oxford. I am always surprised when folk tell me that the town is "very English", struck by the contrast with Edinburgh. Both places are strongly associated with their respective institutions of learning, representations of them overwhelmingly defined by their bourgeois citizens (in the case of the latter, prompting Irvine Welsh's strong dislocating reaction, in Trainspotting) . In English terms, Oxford is also very much part of the South - which are least suggests questions about who dominates representations of Englishness, who can claim to encapsulate its authentic qualities? While Oxford is able to assume such a national mantle without much difficulty, Edinburgh continues to be problematic. Pleasingly paradoxically, the Scottishness of the Scots capital is at best suspect - and has been for some time.  This is just a hastily composed gallimaufry - but I think begins to suggest some of the interest of thinking in a more nuanced way about the commonplace understandings of social class - and what is inexpressible or difficult to express, expelled from our public discourses by embarrassment or long neglect.

While the terse quantitative data of the Scottish Election Survey has limited explanatory potential in such a complex field - its findings are not without their impressionistic interest. Firstly, look at the data on subjective identification as middle class....

Respondents subjectively identifying as middle class...
  • SNP ~ 37%
  • Labour ~ 16%
  • Tories ~ 22%
  • Liberals ~ 8%
  • Greens ~ 9%
  • Others ~ 8%

And according to social grading's objective criteria...

AB voters (upper middle & middle classes)...
  • SNP ~ 41%
  • Labour ~ 25%
  • Tories ~ 14%
  • Liberals ~ 5%
  • Greens ~ 8%
  • Others ~ 7%

And...

C1 voters (lower middle classes)
  • SNP ~ 41%
  • Labour ~ 25%
  • Tories ~ 17%
  • Liberals ~ 8%
  • Greens ~ 6%
  • Others ~ 3%

Professor Mitchell's slides do not record the brute number of people we are talking about here - so it is impossible at this point to see whether subjective identifications as middle class are significantly smaller than those identified as such by "objective" social grading criteria. I suspect so. It is the discrepancies which strike me as particularly interesting. For example, amongst AB and C1 respondents, the Conservative vote is 14% and 17% respectively - but amongst those who subjectively identify as middle class, it runs between 5% and 8% higher at 22%. Although it would be important to look at how many folk we are actually talking about - these findings might suggest an interesting correlation between self-identifying as middle class and voting Tory. Certainly, in anecdotal form, I know a number of folk who recount the idea that certain people of their acquaintance started voting Tory, as a signifier of their conceit of themselves and place in the world. Further to the characters with which this blogpost opened, it is equally interesting to note that Labour support ran at 25% amongst AB and C1 voters - but only 16% of those subjectively identifying as bourgeois voted Labour. Again, we have to be careful here*. The SES data, as presently presented, doesn't allow us easily to compare across subjective and objective categories. We don't know the actual numbers of respondents in each group, so at the moment, we cannot tell for sure (but can guess) how far the objective and subjective class categories overlap. However, the fact that there is a 9% difference between objective classification as middle class, and subjective identification as middle class amongst Labour voters, might well suggest that a significant number of them either believe themselves to be working class, or abstain from a class-based analysis altogether. We'd have to see the figures and not just the percentages, to be sure. As those who read my post the other day will have seen, the working class data (subjective and objective) breaks down as follows...

Respondents subjectively identifying as working class...
  • SNP ~ 47%
  • Labour ~ 33%
  • Tories ~ 7%
  • Liberals ~ 4%
  • Greens ~ 3%
  • Others ~ 6%
C2DE voters (working classes)...
  • SNP ~ 47%
  • Labour ~ 28%
  • Tories ~ 9%
  • Liberals ~ 4%
  • Greens ~ 4%
  • Others ~ 8%

Again, we don't have numbers of respondents - only percentages - but a few interesting points can be picked up. Firstly, while the SNP vote is stable across subjective and objective categories - the Labour vote decreases by a not insignificant 5% when one moves into the objective register. Bluntly, 5% of the Labour vote conceives of itself as working class, but isn't according to occupational criteria. Interestingly, despite protestations to the contrary, the Greenies are attracting only tiny percentages amongst working class respondents, whether subjectively or objectively defined.  Finally, and in some respects, perhaps most interestingly, are the results under the third subjective class category - those who do not identify with any class at all. The data is striking:

Respondents subjectively identifying as having no class...
  • SNP ~ 53%
  • Labour ~ 17%
  • Tories ~ 14%
  • Liberals ~ 4%
  • Greens ~ 4%
  • Others ~ 8%

A truly walloping lead for the Nationalists, 36% ahead of their nearest Labour rivals. There is a fascinating ideological aspect to this. One aspect of Scottish Nationalism - and indeed nationalism as such - which has historically concerned (some) socialists and communists, is its capacity to leech energy from the class struggle. In place of a united working class, contending against the rapacious bourgeoisie, you have nationalist division between English and Welsh and Scottish workers, whose energies are dispersed rather than united by a nationalist politics. I don't share the view - but I know a number of folk who would still hold to and proselytise for it. Unlike the social grading data and the subjective identifiers, we are unable at this point to set subjectivity beside objective criteria, and see how else we might categorise these "classless" respondent, and where in the brute boxes of ABC1 and C2DE most of them might fit - or how they are distributed across social grades. This is a pity, but it does pose a few pungent questions. First and foremost, what are the characteristics of these "classless voters"? Given how problematic middle-class identities can be in Scotland - indeed as I remember, David McCrone once suggested that there is a strong version of Scottish nationalism, which sees class as a wholly alien and English fixation - what does the SNP's majority amongst respondents of this character suggest about N(/n)ationalism's appeal?

Answers and speculation on a postcard, please...

*I'm obliged to James Mackenzie for pointing this out.

Scottish N(/n)ationalism & class-based politics...

A peaty crony recently sent me an account of a conversation overheard in a bar in the Southside of Glasgow.  The characters are a group of men in middle-to-late middle age. They are smartly dressed, prosperous, with a taste for the finer things in life. Natty watches hang from their joints and swanky shoes are an immediate concern. Sipping a second or third drink, they pass around plates of salade niçoise and moules marinières, discuss the architecture of British cathedrals - when their discussion noisily turns to the working classes. Despite their snobberies and their habits of consumption, none of the speakers show any remote sense of restraint discussing this topic. Their discussion isn't abashed with bourgeois fumblings and they do not envisage working class fellow-citizens as external observers might.  Despite their objective circumstances, and tastes, and manners, and expenditures - each of these men feels themselves to be, at bottom, working class characters.

During May's Holyrood election campaign, I analysed the SNP's party political broadcast with reference to this curious (and often Labour-voting) archetype, which I contended was very accurately depicted by the broadcast's skeptical protagonist, played by Jimmy Chisholm. A number of you found the lineaments of this character recognisable. Last week, I noted but didn't really delve into the class-based  data, generated by Professor James Mitchell et al in the Scottish Election Study 2011. One of the profoundly interesting aspects of the data as generated - positively inviting speculation - is its inclusion of subjective class-identifiers and a contrasting "objective" class identifier, which is to say, a consistent standard applied across the Study sample, based on the occupation of the head of household. These numbers are preliminary, borrowed from slides in which the researchers involved in the Study have presented their findings. Some important points of detail are absent - but this is a blog, not a peer-reviewed social scientific labour, so I don't have to feel too embarrassed about speculation and best-guesses. 

Firstly, the middle classes. I have written before about some of the curiosities which surround the Scotch bourgeois. They are often conceived as Anglicised - and by dint of that, of attenuated Scottishness - the burdens of national representation being devolved onto the working classes, often dominated by urban, west coast sounds and images. Although I have not enlarged on the proposition before here, one of the most irritating manifestations of this tendency is Scottish theatre. All too often, I have sat in middle class audiences, watching middle class actors perform material composed by middle class authors - cheerfully playing out yet another plucky-working-class-touchstone-of-authenticity type tale, without any sense of embarrassment. It is a complex issue, which I'm conscious that I'm only touching on here. I am certainly not attempting to make the case for banishing such material for our stages, nor indeed denying that such parliamo Glasgow offerings are without their charms. It is just the almost hegemonic status of such dramatic material and the delusions it fosters that I find problematic.  The crucial point is the tied presence and absence of the Scottish bourgeoisie. To paraphase (I think) Christopher Whyte or Cairns Craig, it conspires at its own invisibility.

There is also a curious gendered aspect of this. All credit to Gerry Hassan, one of the few folk in our public life to try to talk about Scottish masculinities. Gerry has contended that men are everywhere and nowhere - and that too often, we lack a vocabulary, range of images and narratives about what it means to be a Scottish man.  The same point can be made, forcibly, about Scottish bourgeois masculinities, which are doubly silenced, both on the gendered and classed register. I've made the point previously, in a closer look at some elements of the small body of gender research we have, which engages with Scotland. As some of you may know, for the time being, I live in Oxford. I am always surprised when folk tell me that the town is "very English", struck by the contrast with Edinburgh. Both places are strongly associated with their respective institutions of learning, representations of them overwhelmingly defined by their bourgeois citizens (in the case of the latter, prompting Irvine Welsh's strong dislocating reaction, in Trainspotting) . In English terms, Oxford is also very much part of the South - which are least suggests questions about who dominates representations of Englishness, who can claim to encapsulate its authentic qualities? While Oxford is able to assume such a national mantle without much difficulty, Edinburgh continues to be problematic. Pleasingly paradoxically, the Scottishness of the Scots capital is at best suspect - and has been for some time.  This is just a hastily composed gallimaufry - but I think begins to suggest some of the interest of thinking in a more nuanced way about the commonplace understandings of social class - and what is inexpressible or difficult to express, expelled from our public discourses by embarrassment or long neglect.

While the terse quantitative data of the Scottish Election Survey has limited explanatory potential in such a complex field - its findings are not without their impressionistic interest. Firstly, look at the data on subjective identification as middle class....

Respondents subjectively identifying as middle class...
  • SNP ~ 37%
  • Labour ~ 16%
  • Tories ~ 22%
  • Liberals ~ 8%
  • Greens ~ 9%
  • Others ~ 8%

And according to social grading's objective criteria...

AB voters (upper middle & middle classes)...
  • SNP ~ 41%
  • Labour ~ 25%
  • Tories ~ 14%
  • Liberals ~ 5%
  • Greens ~ 8%
  • Others ~ 7%

And...

C1 voters (lower middle classes)
  • SNP ~ 41%
  • Labour ~ 25%
  • Tories ~ 17%
  • Liberals ~ 8%
  • Greens ~ 6%
  • Others ~ 3%

Professor Mitchell's slides do not record the brute number of people we are talking about here - so it is impossible at this point to see whether subjective identifications as middle class are significantly smaller than those identified as such by "objective" social grading criteria. I suspect so. It is the discrepancies which strike me as particularly interesting. For example, amongst AB and C1 respondents, the Conservative vote is 14% and 17% respectively - but amongst those who subjectively identify as middle class, it runs between 5% and 8% higher at 22%. Although it would be important to look at how many folk we are actually talking about - these findings might suggest an interesting correlation between self-identifying as middle class and voting Tory. Certainly, in anecdotal form, I know a number of folk who recount the idea that certain people of their acquaintance started voting Tory, as a signifier of their conceit of themselves and place in the world. Further to the characters with which this blogpost opened, it is equally interesting to note that Labour support ran at 25% amongst AB and C1 voters - but only 16% of those subjectively identifying as bourgeois voted Labour. Again, we have to be careful here*. The SES data, as presently presented, doesn't allow us easily to compare across subjective and objective categories. We don't know the actual numbers of respondents in each group, so at the moment, we cannot tell for sure (but can guess) how far the objective and subjective class categories overlap. However, the fact that there is a 9% difference between objective classification as middle class, and subjective identification as middle class amongst Labour voters, might well suggest that a significant number of them either believe themselves to be working class, or abstain from a class-based analysis altogether. We'd have to see the figures and not just the percentages, to be sure. As those who read my post the other day will have seen, the working class data (subjective and objective) breaks down as follows...

Respondents subjectively identifying as working class...
  • SNP ~ 47%
  • Labour ~ 33%
  • Tories ~ 7%
  • Liberals ~ 4%
  • Greens ~ 3%
  • Others ~ 6%
C2DE voters (working classes)...
  • SNP ~ 47%
  • Labour ~ 28%
  • Tories ~ 9%
  • Liberals ~ 4%
  • Greens ~ 4%
  • Others ~ 8%

Again, we don't have numbers of respondents - only percentages - but a few interesting points can be picked up. Firstly, while the SNP vote is stable across subjective and objective categories - the Labour vote decreases by a not insignificant 5% when one moves into the objective register. Bluntly, 5% of the Labour vote conceives of itself as working class, but isn't according to occupational criteria. Interestingly, despite protestations to the contrary, the Greenies are attracting only tiny percentages amongst working class respondents, whether subjectively or objectively defined.  Finally, and in some respects, perhaps most interestingly, are the results under the third subjective class category - those who do not identify with any class at all. The data is striking:

Respondents subjectively identifying as having no class...
  • SNP ~ 53%
  • Labour ~ 17%
  • Tories ~ 14%
  • Liberals ~ 4%
  • Greens ~ 4%
  • Others ~ 8%

A truly walloping lead for the Nationalists, 36% ahead of their nearest Labour rivals. There is a fascinating ideological aspect to this. One aspect of Scottish Nationalism - and indeed nationalism as such - which has historically concerned (some) socialists and communists, is its capacity to leech energy from the class struggle. In place of a united working class, contending against the rapacious bourgeoisie, you have nationalist division between English and Welsh and Scottish workers, whose energies are dispersed rather than united by a nationalist politics. I don't share the view - but I know a number of folk who would still hold to and proselytise for it. Unlike the social grading data and the subjective identifiers, we are unable at this point to set subjectivity beside objective criteria, and see how else we might categorise these "classless" respondent, and where in the brute boxes of ABC1 and C2DE most of them might fit - or how they are distributed across social grades. This is a pity, but it does pose a few pungent questions. First and foremost, what are the characteristics of these "classless voters"? Given how problematic middle-class identities can be in Scotland - indeed as I remember, David McCrone once suggested that there is a strong version of Scottish nationalism, which sees class as a wholly alien and English fixation - what does the SNP's majority amongst respondents of this character suggest about N(/n)ationalism's appeal?

Answers and speculation on a postcard, please...

*I'm obliged to James Mackenzie for pointing this out.

18 January 2011

"Winning over female voters crucial to SNP ambitions...."


Hamlet, Hamlet, loved his mammy
Hamlet, Hamlet, acting bammy...

One of the perils of being suspected of being a calculating so-and-so is that the suspicious section of your audience has its eyes and ears always upon you, lending even your smallest gesture a sly, premeditated significance. Many folk have interpreted Alex Salmond's recent Desert Island Discs appearance and music selections in this way. Not, as the venerable format suggests, a chance for tight-buttoned public figures to be disclosing and personable, but another way for the strategising political creature to calculate what sort of "inner life" and species of relaxed candour they'd like listeners to imagine they have. Only a rather elementary liar would imagine only two faces are required, mask and phizog. The real past masters recognise that at least three personas are necessary, and there is no more effective way of hoodwinking the credulous than by giving them the impression they've "seen through" your front and have discovered, by simple operation of their own wit and clarity, some bashfully concealed real quality of your character. In most cases, when the vanity which  accompanies apparently clear-eyed perception vies with suspicion, the latter rarely triumphs. 

If you are of a doubt filled disposition, you might think that it was hardly coincidental that Salmond used his radio spot to harp on the string of the debts of affection and influence owed to his mammy,  rewarded with references to the importance of a female influence in his life. This is by no means to take cynicism too far and to imply that he was fibbing. Rather, we might see it as a significant example of sincerity and self interest happily coinciding.  Yesterday's Holyrood poll furnishes us with another, electorally extremely concerning example of the SNP's gender gap, which is by now well-kent phenomenon on this blog. In a Scotsman column published last August, former Salmond aide Jennifer Dempsie contended that "Winning over female voters crucial to SNP ambitions", continuing:

"... gender balance is taken seriously within the SNP leadership. Efforts have been made to soften the party's image. During the 2007 election a major push was made in education and health policy to attract the female vote. However if real gains are to be made in this department a concentrated campaign is needed and the adoption of a more women-friendly approach to campaigning."

If she is correct and the late polling even broadly captures the underlying quality of public opinion, we're in for a drubbing unless real progress is made and made swiftly.  The latest data shows the SNP some 18% behind Labour amongst female respondents in the constituency and 29% behind amongst those women who identify as "committed voters". On the regional list, we are lagging behind Labour to the tune of 15% amongst women, rising to a 24% gap amongst those women voters, committed to exercising their franchise. In the last Ipsos MORI poll which I covered in any detail, published at the end of last November, the SNP were lagging behind Labour in female support to the tune of 18% on the constituency ballot and a significantly smaller 3% on the list. An earlier YouGov poll from August, the "gap" between the SNP and Labour amounting to 6% in constituencies, while the party actually recorded a lead of 1% over Labour amongst women on the list. The data suggests that the gap is shifting and implies something of the complexity of the social phenomenon only partially pinned down by crude quantitative categories. It also suggests that the results from recent polling  diagnose the widest end of any gender gap. Few I think, would seriously suggest that the gap is merely phantasmal, a pollster's spectre. 
 
In a paper by James Mitchell, Robert Johns and Lynn Bennie, "Gendered Nationalism: Women and the SNP" (2009), they wrote:

"... there has been little research aimed at explaining this gender gap. One possible explanation lies in national identity, which as already indicated is a key mobiliser in support for the SNP. It might be that Scottish national identity has greater appeal for males, not least because of its associations with sport (football and rugby, for example). The evidence here contradicts that possibility. If anything, men’s identities are more British than are those of women, although the differences are small (and only marginally statistically significant). The SNP’s particular appeal to men – or problems in attracting support from women – must have some other basis."

The main focus of the rest of this piece, quite understandably, was on the significant quantity of data unearthed in the course of their ESRC funded project on the SNP party membership.  They need no lectures from me on how generalising from the party membership to the general voting population is problematic. Nevertheless, they tentatively suggest that there may be some relationship between differentially gendered attitude towards the constitution and support for the SNP. Entangled issues of (a) support for nationalism and (b) support for Nationalists. As we are often reminded, support for the SNP is oft-times greater than support for independence, encompassing a number of folk who may be undecided about, or actively hostile to, the prospect of Scottish independence. By focussing on independence by referendum, the party has actively fostered the notion that a vote for the SNP is not a vote for independence per se (at most it is a vote for a vote on independence). Independence being a "detachable issue", Unionists can vote SNP with consciences clear. Mitchell et. al and others hypothesise that women may not vote SNP because of their more conservative constitutional attitudes. For my own part, I'd rather focus the issue in a different way, and instead of rooting the problem of lower female support in women, focus on how the party needs to change its approach, whether substantially or in terms of communication.

Given the urgency of the issue and the necessity to think through these issues - now and in the longer term - I thought it might be helpful to bring together recent discussions of the issue across the blogs and the various other explanations and solutions people have adduced to the N(/n)ationalist problem. Inspired by Dempsie's piece, I set down my initial thoughts in a post on the SNP and its gender voting gap.

Spectator blogger Alex Massie rooted the problem more specifically in the Maximum Eck's personality, styling it Alex Salmond's women problem and suggesting that women may find his style alienating.

Analysis aided by the virtue of being a lassie herself, La Corbie offered her burdz eye view on The SNP's problem with wimmin, earlier writing about the Scottish parliamentary representation of women in Work, Work, Work.

Bella Caledonia hosted an interest range of authoresses who particularly focussed on the constitutional rather than the partisan issue of SNP strategy. Given the (albeit complex) connection between attitudes to the constitution and attitudes to the SNP, these articles contain much that is relevant and worthy of consideration. Caitlin O'Hara was Bella's first Independent Woman, while Lena the Hyena was their second.  Joan McAlpine echoed the title of her blog in Go Lassies Go. It wasn't the wild mountain thyme she was after, but some of the whys and wherefores on Scottish women's attitudes towards the prospect of an independent Scotland and more concretely, towards the SNP .

Scotland Deformed? asks Kirsten Stirling. Analysing the work of Alasdair Gray, she concludes:

"In Poor Things Gray takes a tradition of seeing Scotland as essentially divided and transforms its allegorical potential into something still monstrous yet potentially positive, reappropriating the celebratory approach to the Caledonian antisyzygy found in Smith and MacDiarmid. The deformed body of Bella Caledonia need not be read negatively. Gray highlights the discourses of monstrosity in the cultural and literary construction of Scotland and proposes an allegorical body in which different constructions of Scotland can co-exist. He opens the door to new narratives of Scotland in which both Scotland and women can be theorised without being critically deformed in the process."

Finally, I tried to approach the issue from the side of Scottish masculinities, and their implications for an analysis of Scottish women's feelings and attitudes, in Will you go laddie go?

15 November 2010

Will you Go Laddie Go?


“... the paradox facing women in Scotland is that the debate on nationalism in Scotland has ignored gender, and feminist debates on nationalism have ignored Scotland.” Breitenbach, Brown and Myers, 1997)

Over at Bella Caledonia, they've been having a week long celebration of women writers which commenced with a piece from Caitlin O'Hara, who asks two questions which I suspect reflect the discussion at Positively Independent. O'Hara asks, firstly, why is the image of Scottish nationalism so male? and secondly, why do fewer women support independence? Contrawise, Lena the Hyena is less convinced by the idea that Scottishness is hegemonically masculine:

"Historically women have been engaged in all kinds of causes and movements during very masculine periods of history i.e. throughout the whole of time. Women support and engage with struggles for what they have to gain through them. There has to be a reason for participation. Surely it doesn’t matter if the independence message comes in a male or female voice. It is what is contained in the message that will spark an interest or not."

Joan McAlpine responds by suggesting we should focus on the "cultural reasons why men are more likely to be attracted to independence than women.", contending that perceptions are "not about gender representation" in institutions, but instead should focus on the "social factors". Among these, she argues that "Women are more emotionally driven, they have strong ties to friends and family in England" and that it is crucial that the independence campaign acknowledges these bonds." Moreover, Joan plucks out a few

"cultural issues that could explain the gender divide. One is football. While more women are now interested in the game, it does remain a predominantly male obsession. Supporting the Scotland team is an expression of cultural nationalism that many men absorb as boys".

I read these contributions with interest, not least because they echo many issues sketched elsewhere before.  I was particularly struck by the extent to which the contributions at Bella echo an edition of Scottish Affairs from more than a decade ago, in 1997. In her introduction on gender and national identity, Alice Brown writes about the ways "in which the discourse on national identity and nationalism itself tends to be gendered, often excluding both the experience and contribution of women." In a pre-devolutionary political context, she argued that this could be:

"...illustrated by examining the data from the Scottish Election Survey carried out at the last general election which demonstrates a gender gap in the constitutional preferences of men and women and the way in which they describe their identity. More women than men stated their support for a Scottish 'Assembly' (52.5% as against 46.1%), while more men than women preferred independence in the European Community (20.7% compared to 14.1%) and also total independence (7.2% men and 4.3% women). Asked to say which statement best described how they saw themselves, more men than women described themselves as 'Scottish not British' (20.7% as against 18%) and 'Scottish more than British' (42.9% versus 37.7%). However, more women than men saw themselves as 'equally Scottish and British' (36.5% women and 28.5% men). This is just one example of the way in which issues related to national identity and nationalism may be interpreted differently by women and men. The point is that we have little understanding of the explanations for such differences and whether or not they would be reproduced if we examined other indicators."

In the same number, Breitenbach published ‘“Curiously rare?” Scottish women of interest or The suppression of the female in the construction of national identity’. Engaging with the partialities of the historical record, Breitenbach speaks about the historical elision of women and takes Hugh McDairmid to task for his claim that “Scottish women of any historical interest are curiously rare. Our leading Scotswomen have been almost entirely destitute of exceptional endowments of any sort”.  On Joan's issue of football, I thought you might be particularly interested in this paper by Dr Irene Reid, published in 2004, which examines the issue much more concertedly, entitled ‘“What about the flowers of Scotland?” Women and sport in Scottish Society’.  In the second edition of his Understanding Scotland: the Sociology of a Nation (2001), David McCrone reiterates Alice Brown's argument, but draws on different opinion-research to rebut her central contention. There is, he suggests:

‘a general assumption that women have a different relationship to national identity from men, that the iconography of Scottishness is so overwhelmingly masculine – war, work, football, tartan and so on – that being Scottish is not open to them … analysis of the survey data does not support this. In each case, more women than men opt for Scottish identity if asked to choose’ (p. 168).

We could exchange figures all day and invest our doubloons in study after study. For myself, I find McCrone more convincing, not least because the differences Brown outlined don't always strike me as particularly significant (a word used here in a resolutely unstatistical sense). Indeed, what seems to me to be the more interesting question is how people conceive of the ‘alternative ways of being Scottish’ (McCrone 2001, 144), rather than asking them brute binary questions demanding affiliation one way of t'other. This more nuanced, contextual, qualitative approach towards gender analysis is still in a nascent stage in Scotland. Academically speaking, whether researching the social lives of contemporary Scotland or its historical worlds, Scottish gender analyses are transdisciplinary, unfocussed, scattered. 

'A constant feature of writing on women in Scotland is a lamentation of the fact that there is so little work on the subject. It would indeed be true to say that many studies of Scottish society, history and culture have been gender blind, and that it is only recently that this is beginning to be remedied through the development of a feminist analysis’ (Breitenbach et al. 1998, 44)

I am equally conscious that a pro-feminist male writer ought to be cautious about how he engages with these discussions. Some feminist writers go further, arguing that "the authorisation of men as critics and speaker for feminist concepts indicated the victory of a male feminist perspective that excludes women" (Modleski 1991, 14). There is something deeply paradoxical about men who adopt a feminist analysis who then employ this analysis to recover the patriarchal dividends and recommence lecturing women on what they ought to be. In short, they forgo a chauvinist theory but not their chauvinist practice.  This character has innumerable clones in other settings and movements. Consider the  phenomenon of the alfalpha males of the political left, who may talk about emancipation and freedom from oppression, but in the aggressive, lecturing accents of tyrants.  This is at its most problematic when one meets (often) young women, conceptually thirled to a post-feminist story, who often prove highly resistant to the discussion of any social phenomena in terms of gender.

However, in the interests of brevity, I thought I'd pick up on one issue raised in all of the pieces at Bella - the male, Scottish masculinity and "its" relationship with national identity and constitutional attitudes. My case is it is useful to recognise that the concept is no less problematic and in trying to understand why women may think differently about these issues, we should be exceedingly cautious about rebuilding and maintaining the hackneyed stereotypes about masculinity which dominate our public discourses about gender and Scottishness. The issue first struck me particularly strongly in the reading of a Scottish “glass-ceiling” article, first published in the Sunday Times in 1996. The discussion focussed on “high powered” classically bourgeois occupations and the relative absence of women promoted into such circles. Barbara Littlewood afforded this analysis which neatly captures many of the problems about talking about masculinity in a Scottish context:

Scotland’s culture is very macho, the images of working-class culture are masculine and don’t portray women very positively. There is an admiration for machismo that’s difficult to break through.” (My emphasis) 

What was striking about this analysis is how impertinent it seemed to the issues being discussed. The article concerned commercial executives, higher-echelon professionals. More pointedly, in a single sentence, Littlewood (presumably somewhat unconsciously) suggests that Scottish masculinity can be unproblematically located in (or conflated with) working class masculinities. Others have noticed this phenomenon before. Joan and Caitlin’s references to manhood, masculinity, being very male – can be read as drawing precisely on this ‘prevalent Scottish myth of an aggressively dominant masculinity, played out against an industrial backdrop’ (Scullion 1995, 179).

Interestingly, the idea of a hegemonically masculine Scottishness and hegemonic conceptions of masculinity seem strongly connected. Christopher Whyte has described the ‘representational pact’ of the Scottish middle classes, manifesting as the ‘demand on the part of the Scottish middle class for fictional representations from which it is itself excluded; a demand, in other words, for textual invisibility. This would connect with the widespread perception of the Scottish middle classes as ‘denationalised’ as less Scottish in terms of speech and social practice than the lower classes. The task of embodying and transmitting Scottishness is, as it were, devolved on the unemployed, the socially underprivileged, in both actually and representational contexts’ (Whyte 1998, 275). McMillan writes specifically about the bourgeois Scottish man, ‘encouraged through schooling and convention to anglify his speech, such distance from the ideal proletarian type results in feelings of both denationalisation and feminisation. He may be economically empowered, but if he has any investment either in national identity of a sense of manhood, or both, he must disavow his lack through identification with working-class forms’ (2003, 69 – 70). For myself, I think this assessment is too extreme. Although subordinated as part of the national story, there are many male historical figures who furnish resources by means of which the questing effete bourgeois Scotsman, without any passion for sport (for the avoidance of doubt, this is a fair description of yours truly), can resist this logic of denationalisation, drawing strength from the memory of David Hume, Adam Smith, Robert Louis Stevenson and so on. Equally, by unweaving this ideological woof and questioning the absurdly stereotyped way we talk about masculinities at a Scottish level, we're alerted to the other questions we ought to be asking. What about the role of place in the construction of gendered and national identities? How might this differ in Scotland's different "city states"? What about the masculinities of rural Scotland, fishing Scotland, islander Scotland, gay Scotland? - and so on, and so on.

So Joan's question recurs. We know the figures. We know that fewer women vote for political nationalism than men. To be clear, I'm resolutely not suggesting that this subject should be exclusively or primarily addressed as an issue of masculinity. However, if one conceives of gender concepts as being related to one another and mutually transformative, it is important to recognise that the maleness invoked in these discussions on independence and women is not in itself unproblematic, unambivalent, easily universal. Nor should I be taken to imply that it is the suffering, white, bourgeois, heterosexual Scottish men who we should really be feeling for. Women's subordination in the semiotics of Scotland is undeniably far more radical and consequently demands much more attention and emphasis. My point is that we shouldn't take the analytic turn of imagining this as a women's issue which reifies rather than subverts "hard man Scotland". If we look beyond the tropes of Scottish masculinity - not as uninteresting or invalid in particular parts of the nation, but as a wildly skewed representation of the whole - we can pose exactly the same questions Joan, Lena and Caitlin ask about women and independence. We can try to understand the many different ways in which folk theorise, imagine, negotiate, reject or escape the connection between Scottish national identity and gender and  the struggles of definition and self-definition involved.

12 September 2010

Gang membership & knife carrying in Scotland...

There seems every indication that Scottish Labour intend to revive their policy on mandatory prison sentences for those caught possessing a knife in their 2011 Holyrood manifesto. I have been and remain an inveterate opponent of this policy and dearly hope that the party is never in a position to realise their misplaced goals. It was with significant interest, then, that I read two pieces of  germane independent research, lately published by the Scottish government. Both were conducted by researchers associated with the Scottish Centre for Crime and Justice Research and contend with the phenomenon knife-carrying and gang-membership among the young in urban Scotland. I'm not going to attempt any in-depth analysis of their findings here. Rather, I thought I'd outline their reports in an accessible fashion, so that you may winkle out the elements that may be of particular interest to you.

The first report was produced by Susan McVie, Professor of Quantitative Criminology at the University of Edinburgh's School of Law and treats a similar subject, albeit within a more confined geography. In Gang Membership and Knife Carrying: Findings from The Edinburgh Study of Youth Transitions, McVie draws on data collected in the course of the longitudinal Edinburgh Study of Youth Transitions and Crime which has been running since the late 1990s. This second study is far more quantitative in nature than the qualitative data presented in the subsequent paper, using statistical methods to examine respondents' answers to a questionnaire. For myself, I'm far more interested in qualitative social research, so I'll be focusing more on the second report here. Composed by the scholarly criminological phalanx that is Jons Bannister and Pickering, Susan Batchelor, Michele Burman, Keith Kintrea and Susan McVie, Troublesome Youth Groups, Gangs and Knife Carrying in Scotland outlines its aims in this brisk executive preamble:

1. Recent years have witnessed growing concern about the existence of youth gangs and the engagement of their members in violent conflict involving knives and other weapons. However, there is limited reliable evidence relating to the nature, form and prevalence of youth 'gangs' and knife carrying in Scotland. Recognising these information shortfalls, the research reported here set out to: 

  • Provide an overview of what is known about the nature and extent of youth gang activity and knife carrying in a set of case study locations. 
  • Provide an in-depth account of the structures and activities of youth gangs in these settings. 
  • Provide an in-depth account of the knife carrying in these settings.
  • Offer a series of recommendations for interventions in these behaviours based on this evidence.
2. The research was conducted in 5 case study locations, namely: Aberdeen, Dundee, Edinburgh, Glasgow and West Dunbartonshire. There were two major data collection components. First, the research interviewed those engaged in the delivery of services designed to manage and challenge problematic youth behaviours, inclusive of youth gangs and knife carrying. Second, the research gained access (via these services) to a large sample of young people. Despite the intention to interview distinct samples of gang members and knife carriers, most of the young people identified through this methodological approach held some form of group affiliation.

Helpfully, the report also outlines relevant sources of available data on "youth gangs" and "knife carrying" in Scotland. The authors' conclusions encapsulate the more elaborated data which follows and can be comfortably (and quickly) read to get a sense of the whole piece. For those wanting a substantial but limited summary of the report's findings, I'd suggest you read this.
 
The substance of the study are interviews conducted in five urban locations across Scotland - Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dundee, Aberdeen and West Dunbartonshire, both with those involved in "youth gangs" and with folk working in relevant local government and police agencies in the respective locations, speaking to the diversity in understandings and approaches researchers encountered there. I read with particular interest the "detailed discussion of gang structures and characteristics, as depicted by young people themselves". Sections have been abstracted from interviews and deal with broad themes of group characteristics and dynamics, including their relationship to territoriality, symbols, the presence or absence of explicit "gang" identities - and also the role of young women in these associations. They report also collates data on how respondents entered these groups and the difficulties facing attempts to withdraw from these associations.

From our starting point, the most relevant section concerns attitudes towards and experiences of knife and weapon carrying and use reported by respondents and seeks to:

"report the reasons cited by young people as to why they avoid carrying (and/or using) knives (and other weapons), including their awareness of the risks of doing so"

Attitudes varied significantly, bearing out the conviction that knife possession is my no means a straightforward social practice and strongly counsels that overly simple accounts of the phenomenon of knife carrying will not serve us well as we strive to judge and understand why people behave the way they do. Responses included ideas of knife as symbolic reinforcer of reputation, knife as weapon and knife as protection, but also significantly emphasised a gamut of reasons for eschewing the possession of a bladed or pointed weapon. In sum:

6.2  It is important to stress that the attitudes towards, and experiences of, carrying and/or using weapons varied considerably across the participants in this study. For example, many gang members were also knife carriers; however, others were vehemently opposed to carrying knives. Some young people carried knives frequently, others rarely.

And I think, equally significantly "Some young people interviewed for this study could not offer an explanation of why they carried a knife." Others spoke with a terrible conviction on their experiences of violence, its pleasures, their familiarity with its risks, both in terms of prosecution and in terms of permanent injury, disfigurement and death. The bottom line seems to be this. Knives ought not to be seen in isolation. For instance, the research also notes that it is striking how "gang membership and violent group behaviour are regarded as a normal part of growing up in particular families and neighbourhoods". Interestingly, too, the research suggests that "The significance of 'place attachment' is not nearly so strong in the East of Scotland." The main focus of the subsequent section is on these groups' violent activities, including territorial and inter-group violence. The authors suggest that:

5.34 ... street-orientated youth gangs have not evolved into organised criminal groups, but remain groups of adolescents looking for friendship, something to do, belonging, status and identity. Many aspects of their lifestyle are conventional and reflect those of other young people who do not associate with gangs.

5.35 Nevertheless, these young people often get involved in antisocial or criminal behaviour, ranging from breach of the peace to interpersonal and violence. Very serious offending was, however, largely the preserve of a few 'core' gang members.

Whatever one's political hue or one's convictions about specific policy expedients, we can all agree that any approach ought to be an informed one. Labour and Tories in favour of ratcheting up compulsory minimums may well point to particular quotations, noting the deterrence potential of the threat of imprisonment. Certainly, unsurprisingly, fear of detection and punishment was reported by some respondents:

6.19 Some interviewees were keenly aware of the risks of being caught with a knife. Increases in police stop and searches and the risk of a prison sentence, if caught carrying or using a knife, were cited as a key reason for not carrying a knife. Interviewees who were approaching 16 years in age, or who were older, were more sensitive to this issue. That said, many were unclear or incorrect as to the precise legal consequences of knife carrying/using. Further, other interviewees reported the limited impact of police stop and searches or reported that they switched the type of weapon that they carried.

However, one of the great benefits of this report, it seems to me, is its emphasis on uncertainty, ambivalence, difference. Nobody denies that fear of punishment can play a part in individuals' decisions to carry weapons. In contrast, proponents of mandatory prison sentences claim it would play a clear and decisive role. This research confirms that life isn't so easy nor are attempts at deterrence so unerring. For me, this variability and the ambivalent potential of deterrence only reinforces the point I started with. Just as there seems to be no mandatory reason why the young people interviewed carried bladed weapons - no iron law of causation or reasoning on their part - so too there is no reason to impose sentences of mandatory imprisonment on them. We can shut our eyes to the reality and sing lulling penal choruses that might make us feel better. But they'll only make us feel better, not solve the problem.

11 September 2010

(Gendered) Tales from Parliament House Vol. 7.

A gallimaufry of legal titbits has been accumulating of late in the dim litigious light of Edinburgh's Parliament House. Time again, I think, to give some of these scenes legs and form them up in an orderly review. Interestingly, all three of the issues I've picked out have some gendered theme, whether touching on prevailing conceptions of Scottish masculinity, attitudes towards women, or potentially sinister implications for the prosecution of domestic abuse, broadly conceived.

Self defence: "I turned round to give him a punch and forgot I had a glass in my hand"

One suspects the High Court of Justiciary was  rather reluctant to quash Ray Sneddon's conviction. Our setting is the car park of the Calderwood Inn in Bonnyrigg. Our dramatis personae were seemingly as sober as Court of Session judges (during the heavy-drinking days of Kames, Monboddo and Braxfield). The jury found that the accused had been provoked by the victim, but it doesn't sound if he made the best of himself during his stint in the witness box:

"The appellant gave evidence in support of the plea of self-defence and during his evidence in chief he maintained that position, the sheriff observes only just, in that he said "I turned round to give him a punch and forgot I had a glass in my hand". The sheriff comments that, in cross-examination, he proved to be an appalling witness so far as his own interests were concerned and he gave evidence so poorly that before speeches "I gave active consideration to the issue of whether or not the self-defence could remain before the jury". Effectively his position was that he was drunk and angry and that if he was hit by anyone in that situation his proper and ordinary reaction was, as it was here, to hit back. He made no attempt to indicate that he would remove himself from such a situation even if he could, or that his reaction be measured to deal with the attack proportionately for self-protection purposes."

As hapless as his defence appears and as grim as his violent common sense seems, the sheriff got rather muddled in his directions to the jury - and in a bound Sneddon was free. The incident has many clones across the country, the attitude exemplary, while the complainer's serious injuries are just one more indelible testament to the miasma of what Gerry Hassan has called "Scotland’s heady brew of toxic tartan masculinity".

Football: "this is like the wee tickly bit before you come"

It'll no doubt stun you all to learn I'm not a football man, myself. I've no loyalties, no interest in the flying bladder, no familiarity with the characters of the sport or of their travails. Keen observers will no doubt have read recently of John McCormack's action in the Session, arguing he had been unfairly dismissed from his position as manager by his employers, football club Hamilton Academical. Lord Woolman was presiding and found in McCormack's favour, but didn't find him a wholely favourable figure. Much of the interest of the case is puerile. Like many others, I find the combination of dry, technical legal language and the freer "fuck" spattered parlance of the football pitch quite irresistible. That said, the way McCormack conducted himself towards Jillian Galloway is scandalous and contemptible, yet another manifestation of how odious stickily homosocial groups of men can be. Galloway was a twenty-one year old trainee physiotherapist working part-time at the Club. I quote from the facts narrated in the judgement:

[28] Before the final match against Dundee United, Mr McCormack gave a team talk in the dressing room. Both Mr McAvoy and Miss Galloway were present. Mr McCormack told the players "this is like the wee tickly bit before you come". He then added words to the effect "even Jillian is excited - look how hard her nipples are". Mr McCormack said that these comments were made in a jovial manner. His aim was to break the tension that the players felt. He regarded his remarks as standard locker room banter, which helped to motivate the players.

[29] After the final, Miss Galloway was sitting outside the dressing room. She had ascertained that none of the Hamilton players required treatment. Mr McCormack told her that the physiotherapist should be in the dressing room at all times, in case treatment was required. He instructed her to go back inside with him. As they went into the dressing room, Mr McCormack said "get your tackle out lads, Jillian's coming to see who's got the biggest tadger".

[30] Mr McCormack decided to take a shower before boarding the team bus home. At that stage Miss Galloway was in a corner of the dressing room. She felt uncomfortable at being there and was pretending to attend to things in her treatment bag. Mr McCormack went over and undressed in front of her. He returned to the same spot after his shower and dressed there.

[31] Miss Galloway said that she felt very embarrassed by these incidents. On the bus trip home, Mr McCormack spoke to her and said that he hoped she was not embarrassed by his remarks. She did not reply. She explained that she found it was difficult to do so, as she was a female aged 21 and he was a 50 year old male. She felt intimidated by his status within the club and was concerned not to say or do anything that might harm her career.

McCormack told the court that Galloway had fabricated her account on him undressing in front of her. Lord Woolman wasn't having it, saying "where there was any conflict in the evidence, I unhesitatingly prefer the evidence of the other witnesses to the testimony of Mr McCormack. In my view, the starkest contrast occurs between his evidence and that of Miss Galloway. I found her to be a transparently honest and reliable witness." I abhor McCormack's casual, thoughtless sexism and sexualisation of this young woman, his heedless, careless undermining of her professional position, disregard for her feelings and the disparities of power in their positions, eyes no doubt twinkling all the while with a misplaced sense of his gallus, waggish charm. McCormack is undoubtedly a fool and a knave, but we shouldn't get lost in the cul de sac of his individual responsibility. Personal bastards trade in social conventions and here he was no doubt applying his gendered common sense that told him that men's sexualisation of women in the public sphere is perfectly acceptable. And for that matter, similar rules seem to haunt the hegemonic psyche in relation to other men whose masculinities are perceived to be less robust. 

Publicity, private jealousies and breach of the peace...

And finally, to round off these gendered tales of Scots law, this month has seen another case on the continually vexed question of what constitutes a breach of the peace in Scots Law. I'm sure this case will be an important and concerning judgement for those concerned with domestic abuse and its prosecution in Scotland, broadly conceived. Indeed, I'm sure they will be mightily scandalised by Lord Bonomy's opinion, quashing David Hatcher's conviction on the grounds that the incident lacked the constituting element of publicity in a breach of the peace. Hatcher had embroiled his wife in a "blazing row",  driven by his own possessive and domineering attitude towards her. He would not permit her to leave or to sleep. She phoned the police. The sheriff's full findings of fact are set out in the judgement. I may well return to the case in more detail when I have more time, but I thought it was important to highlight it here. It may have very significant implications for the use of breach of the peace charges in cases of domestic violence, abuse and disorder in future.