![be open to interpretation but the broad parameters are stated with varying
degrees of clarity in some written form. Entrenched constitutions are
those which have fixed principles which cannot be changed by normal
legislation. The customary constitution ‘lays great store by a capacity to
leave principles inexplicit, relying instead on what people feel from past
experience, to be appropriate in the circumstances’ (Johnson 2004: 19).
Johnson emphasises the role of elites in both ensuring legitimacy with a
wider public and negotiating political accommodations (Ibid.). One criti-
cal reviewer of Johnson’s work remarked that the ‘customary constitution
that Johnson celebrates proves elusive’ (Russell 2005: 457). This elusive-
ness was what made it attractive to many of its advocates across the main
political parties and amongst the political elite until very recently. Indeed,
the customary constitution remains very much alive in the UK today,
albeit alongside significant institutional change.
The customary constitution, defended on the right by Johnson, also had
its support on the left, though with a very different understanding of what
was constitutionally permissible. John Griffith’s famous description of the
UK constitution as a ‘political constitution’ highlights this elusiveness:
‘The constitution of the United Kingdom lives on, changing from day to
day for the constitution is no more and no less than what happens. Every-
thing that happens is constitutional. And if nothing happens that would
be constitutional also’ (Griffith 1979: 19). Griffith argued for a strength-
ening of the House of Commons and that the ‘fundamental objection [to
proposals for a written constitution, Bill of Rights, greater power for the
Lords, regional assemblies and Supreme Court] is this: that law is not and
cannot be a substitute for politics’ (Ibid.: 16). His was an argument for a
‘very positivist view of the constitution; of recognising that Ministers and
others in high positions of authority are men and women who happen to
exercise political power but without any such right to that power which
could give them a superior moral position; that laws made by those in
authority derive validity from no other fact or principle, and so impose no
moral obligation of obedience on others; that so-called individual or
human rights are no more and no less than political claims made by indi-
viduals on those in authority; that a society is endemically in a state of
conflict between warring interest groups, having no consensus or unifying
principles sufficiently precise to be the basis of a theory of legislation’
(Ibid.: 19). This was a classic leftist statement against comprehensive
constitutional reform.
Significant change occurred during the 1980s that resulted in support
on the left for a range of constitutional reforms, including devolution.
Nonetheless, the UK constitution remains rooted in past ideas, institutions
and interpretations. No understanding of today’s constitution is complete
without an appreciation of these roots. In this sense, the UK constitution
is as much a historic constitution as a political constitution.
2 Devolution in the UK
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![The unitary state paradigm
At a popular level, people living in the United Kingdom are well aware
that it consists of distinct national communities. Yet constitutionally, this
diversity often causes confusion. Confusion even surrounds the name of
the state itself. Richard Rose noted that it was difficult to name the nation
associated with the Government of the UK, stating ‘One thing is for
certain: No one speaks of the UKes as a nation’ (Rose 1982: 11). The
absence of an adjective associated with the state does not mean the
absence of a collective national identity or state nationalism. However, the
UK ‘stands apart [from other European states] for its lack of an official
nationalist ideology’ (Keating 1988: 56). When the term ‘nationalism’ is
used in the UK it is more often assumed to refer to one of the sub-state
nationalisms – Scottish, Welsh or Irish nationalism. Indeed, British/UK
nationalists – state nationalists – quite often rail against ‘nationalism’
unaware of their own (state) nationalism. UK nationalism operates in a
‘banally mundane way’ (Billig 1995: 6). It is not only liberal Western
academics who ‘today find it easier to recognize nationalism in “others”
than in themselves’, as Billig maintains (Ibid.: 15), but also a wider public
in the UK who rarely question the nationalism of the state itself. National
identity is not only defined in terms of the state in relation to its external
world but internally too. Recent constitutional change has shaken up the
sense of identity amongst at least some sections of the UK’s population.
The absence of an explicit state nationalist discourse and the rise of sub-
state nationalism led to state nationalism in the UK being referred to as
‘unionism’ in the twentieth century. In earlier times, state nationalism was
referred to as ‘patriotism’ (Weight 2002: 727). Unionism is a term still
commonly used in Scotland and Northern Ireland. In both cases, the
‘union’ originally referred to was the British union with Ireland. The Scot-
tish Tories were known as the Scottish Unionist Party between 1912 and
1965 and for this period the ‘union’ was explicitly that with Ireland;
latterly, the focus of attention in Scotland has been on the Anglo-Scottish
union. Opponents of Irish home rule styled themselves as ‘unionists’,
reflecting their support for the union. They did not style themselves as
British nationalists. In part, this may be explained by the sense that the
state was not entirely integrated. Ironically, then, the term unionist
acknowledges the limited nature of the union.
Britain is often inaccurately used as a synonym for the UK. Official and
popular understandings are often quite different. This is not surprising
given the history of the state and also ambivalence concerning its official
designation. In 1961, Duncan Sandys, the Conservative Secretary of State
for Commonwealth Relations, sent a memorandum to the Cabinet
arguing that public relations with Commonwealth countries were made
more difficult by referring to ‘the United Kingdom’ or ‘the UK’, as this
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![‘soulless, official designation is totally lacking in popular appeal and
inspires no emotions of affection or loyalty’ (TNA C (61) 46, 24 March
1961). He proposed the adoption of the terms ‘Britain’ and ‘British’ in all
official correspondence, public statements and information in relations
with the Commonwealth. In Commonwealth countries the Government
representative would be called the ‘British High Commissioner’. He
proposed two exceptions: in treaties and legal documents when the formal
designation, ‘United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland’
would be necessary and in the definition of citizenship. He rejected the
idea of using ‘Great Britain’ as that would be abbreviated to ‘GB’ which
he thought would be as ‘unattractive as UK’. The Cabinet accepted the
proposal though it was thought preferable to make no formal announce-
ment (TNA CC (61), 28 March 1961).
This concern was not confined to Conservative politicians. Labour
Premier Harold Wilson recounted how he had fought a battle with the
Foreign and Commonwealth Office to prevent the Government being
seated at a Commonwealth conference behind a placard marked ‘United
Kingdom’. Wilson insisted that he represented Britain (Rose 1982: 11).
What is striking about these episodes is that nobody appears to have
considered how this might be construed in Northern Ireland. As Richard
Rose later suggested, any description of the UK as the nation of Britain
‘leaves unclear whether Ulstermen are included’ (Ibid.). Sandys main-
tained that before 1939 it was ‘rightly felt that other member countries [of
the Empire] might resent it, if we arrogated to ourselves the term
“British”, which was common to them all’ but, he felt, changes in the
Commonwealth meant this was no longer the case. Northern Ireland was
then a largely forgotten part of the UK.
The creation of the UK, like any other state, came about through the
amalgamation of previously autonomous or separate entities. The manner
in which these amalgamations occurred and the nature of the new politi-
cal entities influenced future developments. Significantly, the creation of
the UK did not mean the eradication of its constituent elements.
In his study of territory and power in the United Kingdom, Jim Bulpitt
argued that it was hard not to conclude that the terms confederation,
federation and unitary system ‘should be pensioned off and left to the
second oldest profession, the lawyers, to play with’ (Bulpitt 1983: 19).
Most text books, even books on Scottish politics, refer to the United
Kingdom as a unitary state. The term ‘unitary state’ has been used rather
loosely, and rarely defined. The Royal Commission on the Constitution
(Kilbrandon) described the UK as a unitary state:
The United Kingdom is a unitary state in economic as well as in political
terms. It has, for example, a single currency and a banking system respon-
sible to a single central bank. Its people enjoy a right of freedom of movement
of trade, labour and capital and of settlement and establishment anywhere
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![Administrative devolution in Scotland 17
catering for Scottish distinctiveness. It had both a symbolic and a substan-
tive function. Symbolically, it represented recognition by government at
the centre that Scotland was different. Substantively, it developed a
considerable range of responsibilities.
Towards the end of the First World War, the Haldane Committee on the
Machinery of Government considered the organisation of central govern-
ment. Haldane saw two main alternatives: organising according to the
persons or classes to be dealt with, or by function, according to the serv-
ices to be performed. The Committee preferred the functional basis of
organisation (Cd. 9230 1918: 8) but acknowledged later in the report that
Scotland and Ireland should be treated separately (Ibid.: 58). Acknowl-
edging this territorial dimension for Scotland and Wales cut across the
functional basis. Education, for example, was a function which, according
to Haldane’s preference, would have been the responsibility of a single
Whitehall department, but recognising the territorial dimension meant
that it would be split between a functional department (covering England
and Wales) and Scottish and Welsh central administrations. The territorial
dimension was an aberration from the functional norm and was endorsed
over fifty years later in another significant official document, a White
Paper on the reorganisation of central government issued by Edward
Heath’s Government in 1970. Once more, though more explicitly this
time, the territorial basis was accepted as a departure from the dominant
method and only because there were ‘strong reasons for moderating its
[functional] application’ (Cmnd. 4506 1970: para. 10).
The evolution of separate Scottish and Welsh administration was not
simply a consequence of responding to sentiment, though that played its
part. Questions of good government were also important. It was the inter-
action of the two – national sentiment and governmental efficacy – which
led to the evolution of a very unusual structure of British central govern-
ment and what later came to be called ‘administrative devolution’. But not
all matters affecting Scotland came under the Scottish Office. A Treasury
memorandum prepared for the Royal Commission on Scottish Affairs in
the 1950s outlined the factors which have ‘favoured the retention of a
Great Britain basis of administration for many services’:
(a) First, there are what may be described as the consequences of the Treaty
of Union. Scottish affairs are determined by the Parliament of the United
Kingdom and in the executive field by a United Kingdom Cabinet, that
is to say, by bodies which have regard to the well-being of the United
Kingdom as a whole. This inevitably colours the administrative pattern.
(b) As the Haldane Committee (Cmd. 9230 of 1918) pointed out, it has
usually been thought better that the functions of Departments should be
allocated according to the services to be performed rather than accord-
ing to the persons or classes to be dealt with. This arrangement of
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![province of his duties as statutorily defined’ (HMSO 1937b: 19). Twenty
years later, Sir David Milne, Permanent Secretary at the Scottish Office,
1946–59, commented on this ‘no-man’s land’ into which the Scottish
Secretary had to venture because he is popularly regarded as Scotland’s
Minister. Matters on which the Scottish Secretary is ‘most violently
assailed in Parliament or in the Scottish press’ were often ones which he
has ‘no direct duty to defend’:
If [the Scottish Office] seek to intervene unduly in matters for which other
Ministers are directly responsible, they will be an intolerable nuisance to their
colleagues; if they fail to intervene when their close acquaintance with Scot-
tish conditions makes intervention seem desirable, they will be blamed, and
probably justly. (Milne 1957: 7)
Gilmour’s recommendations in 1937 rested on three arguments: that
Scots wanted to see Scottish administration in Scotland; that the ‘haphaz-
ard growth’ had developed without any clear principle; and that the
construction of a new headquarters in Edinburgh would facilitate the
consolidation of responsibilities. The vast bulk of work had long been
done in Edinburgh but it was scattered throughout the city with little co-
ordination. The system of boards was criticised and it was proposed that
the boards should come directly within the Scottish Office under the Scot-
tish Secretary. The Reorganisation of Offices (Scotland) Act, 1939 was
duly passed coinciding with the opening of St Andrew’s House on Edin-
burgh’s Calton Hill. What emerged was a mini-Whitehall almost all under
one roof. In the event, St Andrew’s House was not big enough to house all
Scottish Office civil servants. The Scottish Office was organised along
functional lines with divisions and departments corresponding loosely
with English departments of state. Twenty years later, there was still a
tendency to regard the Scottish departments as separate from the Secre-
tary of State which, as the Scottish Office’s most senior civil servant then
suggested, was probably a survival of the days when the boards or depart-
ments had a legally independent existence prior to 1939 (Milne 1957: 6).
The reforms of 1939 have frequently, but inaccurately, been seen as
transferring people and power to Scotland. This was the way in which the
Government wanted to present the changes. Administrative devolution
was presented as a form of Scottish self-government, serving to appease
Scottish demands for greater control over Scottish affairs. This coupling
of administrative needs with the expression of national identity in the
development of the Scottish Office was most evident in the use of the term
‘administrative devolution’. The term started to be used in internal Scot-
tish Office discussions of the office’s reforms in the early 1930s though the
idea that the administrative arrangements represented a form of self-
government pre-dated this. In the 1920s, defenders of the board system
argued that the Edinburgh boards, appointed by patronage, were a form
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![of ‘Scottish control of Scottish affairs’ in so far as they consisted of Scots
governing Scotland in Scotland. That they were unelected and unrepre-
sentative was overlooked.
The development of the Scottish Office’s responsibilities had not always
been smooth. On some occasions there was strong resistance in Whitehall
to giving the Scottish Office more responsibilities. An example occurred at
the time when the Scottish Board of Agriculture was set up under the Scot-
tish Office in 1912. There was a fear in London that the Scots might be
less stringent in administering the Diseases of Animals Acts, resulting in
sick animals straying over the border and infecting healthy English
animals, thus starting an epidemic which would sweep throughout
England. This led to animal health being withheld from Scottish Office
jurisdiction. Animal health was only transferred to the Scottish Office
from the Ministry of Agriculture in 1955.
The post-war Scottish Office
The scope of government intervention expanded with the development of
the welfare state after 1945 with repercussions for Scotland’s position
within the union. Agitation for Scottish home rule at this time was an
important backdrop to these changes, forcing Attlee’s Labour Govern-
ment to pay attention to the Scottish dimension of state intervention and
welfare. Separate legislation was required for the National Health Service
in Scotland: the new NHS came under the Scottish Office but other
aspects of the developing welfare state, most notably changes in National
Insurance, resulted in uniformity across the state. National Insurance was
a rare example of reverse devolution, an expanding policy which was
removed from a distinct Scottish body and placed under a UK-wide
ministry and therefore deserves special attention. Separate National Insur-
ance Commissions had been established for England, Scotland, Wales and
Northern Ireland in 1911 under the National Insurance Act. This Act
introduced a system of compulsory, though restricted, insurance. In 1919,
the Scottish Insurance Commission came under the Scottish Board of
Health within the Scottish Office. That same year, the English and Welsh
Commissions came under the newly established Ministry of Health. In
1945, National Insurance in Scotland was moved to the UK Ministry of
National Insurance.
In December 1943, the Cabinet’s Machinery of Government Committee
argued, ‘We consider that unified responsibility in this sphere [social
insurance] is essential; we agree that careful arrangement will be necessary
for local administration in Scotland . . . Scotland should be regarded as a
special case . . . it is desirable that sufficient authority should be devolved
to enable Scotland’s position to be strong on the spot with the minimum
of reference to London and that in the settlement necessary in London on
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![has gone furthest, in Scotland, that the rejection of the present system of
local and central government has gone furthest’ (Mackintosh 1968: 130–
131).
North Sea oil played a significant part in the SNP’s electoral success in
the early 1970s and the Labour Government felt it had to respond. There
was reluctance in Whitehall to allocate oil funds specifically to Scotland
but it was felt necessary to make some concession. Towards the end of
1974, it was decided that the Industry Department’s responsibility for
some aspects of regional assistance should be transferred to the Scottish
Office. More symbolically significant was the decision to create a new
economic regeneration body for Scotland. In July 1974, a Treasury offi-
cial pointed out that the Treasury could not ‘concede [that] a great deal of
extra expenditure can be provided for the Scots from North Sea oil’ but,
the creation of a development agency ‘would be attractive just because it
might make it possible to buy off some of the pressures from Scotland
without a substantial addition to expenditure there’ (TNA T 328/1031).
The idea of a Scottish Development Agency (SDA) emerged. As Sir
Douglas Henley of the Treasury remarked in a note in late summer 1974,
the SDA was ‘intended to contain the pressure for benefits to Scotland
“associated with” North Sea oil without, as we sincerely hope, an undue
proportion of resources and environmental development in Scotland’
(TNA T 227/4253). In a letter to Tony Benn, Scottish Office Minister
Bruce Millan reminded the Industry Minister that, ‘the SDA concept had
its genesis in the necessity we all saw of demonstrating to Scottish public
opinion that Scotland would receive tangible benefits from North Sea oil.
We must not lose the initiative and momentum on this as our opponents
will be ready to seize on any opportunity of denigrating what we are
trying to achieve’ (TNA PREM 16/266). Concern that Scotland should
not receive too much from North Sea oil was also voiced by politicians. In
November 1974, Tony Crosland, Environment Secretary, warned Wilson
that, ‘Opinion in the North of England is on the watch to see that Scot-
land and Wales do not steal a march, and we shall be very hard pressed
indeed unless we have something on offer’ (TNA PREM 16/266).
The SDA came into existence as a political response to Scottish nation-
alism but cut out an important role for itself. While party political motives
explain the political logic of its establishment, this built on a long-
standing planning tradition (Halkier 2006: 187–191). It went through a
number of changes, reflecting the changing economic environment and
economic policy thinking. Most significantly, from the perspective of
administrative devolution, it became an institutional expression of central
government’s recognition of the existence of a Scottish economic dimen-
sion requiring Scottish institutions.
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![in terms of public expenditure without creating a degree of disturbance that
would have created a row . . . In other words, the Barnett formula established a
new pattern of negotiation between the Treasury and Departments, a pattern
which had already been partly in operation but which was legitimated by
Barnett. The Treasury settled with the main English Departments what alter-
ations were to be made in the various functional Votes. The total Scottish Votes
were then altered by the formula, and it was left to the Secretary of State to sort
out the balance within the Scottish Votes. (Ibid.)
Ross’s account of the introduction and operation of Barnett lays empha-
sis on the convergence intentions of the formula, the pressures from
outside for change and the backdrop of devolution. In its origins, Barnett
involved far more continuity with past practice than has generally been
appreciated. Its long-term convergence consequences would have been
well understood by Treasury officials but as an interim measure these
would not have been seen as important. As happened with the Goschen
formula, a temporary expedient took root. During the Conservative years,
as the formula attracted attention, it became less significant. Ian Lang, as
Secretary of State, maintained that the formula was often by-passed in
special deals with the Treasury (Lang 2002: 194). Indeed, the evidence
suggests that the Barnett formula only existed as an expedient and was not
applied rigorously with the effect that converging levels of expenditure did
not occur at any time prior to the establishment of the Scottish Parlia-
ment. Nevertheless its symbolic importance grew throughout the period
and, like Goschen, it has generated more heat than light in discussions of
levels of territorial public spending.
Conclusion
John Mackintosh set out a number of tests to measure the success of
administrative devolution:
The first is whether being closer in geographical terms to the field of opera-
tion, and having a smaller population to deal with, enables the Department
to know more about its tasks and its subject and so to have a better intelli-
gence service. Secondly, there is the question of how far being under a single
minister permits swifter co-ordination and action. Then there is the test of
whether national policies when applied through St. Andrew’s House [Scottish
Office headquarters] can be and are adapted to any particular circumstances
in Scotland which do not arise elsewhere, and finally, does this remove the
grievance about remote government? Is the electorate conscious of a differ-
ence, a greater sense of local flavour about the administration and does this
satisfy, in any way, the desire for more local control? (Mackintosh 1968: 112)
The ability of Scottish Office officials to know local conditions, local
councillors and local officials is inevitably greater than that of functional
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![natale, pauvre moribond, et de ne pas finir comme il avait vécu, en
combattant pour elle, pour son honneur, pour sa régénération.
O Anzani! si un génie pareil au tien avait présidé aux combats de
la Lombardie, à la bataille de Novare, au siége de Rome, l’étranger
ne souillerait plus la terre natale et ne foulerait pas insolemment les
ossements de nos preux!
La légion italienne, on l’a vu, avait peu fait avant l’arrivée
d’Anzani; lui venu, sous ses auspices, elle parcourut une carrière de
gloire à rendre jalouses les nations les plus vantées.
Parmi tous les militaires, les soldats, les combattants, parmi tous
les hommes portant le mousquet ou l’épée enfin, que j’ai connus, je
n’en sais pas un qui puisse égaler Anzani dans les dons de la nature,
dans les inspirations du courage, dans les applications de la science.
Il avait la valeur bouillante de Massena, le sang-froid de Daverio, la
sérénité, la bravoure et le tempérament guerrier de Manara[2]
.
[2] Le lecteur ne connaît pas encore ces trois autres martyrs de la
liberté italienne; mais bientôt il fera connaissance avec eux. Garibaldi,
qui n’écrivait pas pour être imprimé, parle, en quelque sorte, à lui-même,
et non aux lecteurs.
A. D.
Les connaissances militaires d’Anzani, sa science de toutes
choses, n’étaient égalées par personne. Doué d’une mémoire sans
pareille, il parlait avec une précision inouïe des choses passées, ces
choses passées remontassent-elles à l’antiquité.
Dans les dernières années de sa vie, son caractère s’était
sensiblement altéré; il était devenu âcre, irascible, intolérant, et,
pauvre Anzani, ce n’était pas sans motif qu’il avait ainsi changé!
Tourmenté presque constamment par des douleurs, suites de ses
nombreuses blessures et de la vie orageuse qu’il avait menée
pendant tant d’années, il traînait une intolérable existence, une
existence de martyr.](https://image.slidesharecdn.com/25619425-250517140957-07377b59/85/Devolution-In-The-Uk-1st-Edition-James-Mitchell-64-320.jpg)
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- 6. Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page i
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- 8. Devolution in the UK James Mitchell Manchester University Press Manchester and New York distributed in the United States exclusively by Palgrave Macmillan 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page iii
- 9. Copyright © James Mitchell 2009 The right of James Mitchell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. Published by Manchester University Press Oxford Road, Manchester M13 9NR, UK and Room 400, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010, USA www.manchesteruniversitypress.co.uk Distributed in the United States exclusively by Palgrave Macmillan, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010, USA Distributed in Canada exclusively by UBC Press, University of British Columbia, 2029 West Mall, Vancouver, BC, Canada V6T 1Z2 British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data applied for ISBN 978 0 7190 5358 0 hardback First published 2009 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 The publisher has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or any third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. Typeset by Action Publishing Technology Ltd, Gloucester Printed in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham, Wiltshire 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page iv
- 10. Contents List of boxes and tables vi Preface vii Abbreviations ix 1 Constituting the UK 1 2 Approaching to Arch-angelic: administrative devolution in Scotland 16 3 Staggering forward little by little: administrative devolution in Wales 40 4 Encouraging conformity, not emphasizing differences: Northern Ireland 67 5 A chaos of areas and bodies: the English dimension 92 6 The settled will of the Scottish people 111 7 Devolution is a process: Wales 142 8 In search of legitimacy: Northern Ireland since 1972 167 9 The English Question 195 10 Ever looser union 219 Bibliography and sources 227 Index 251 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page v
- 11. List of boxes and tables Boxes 3.1 Membership of Council of Wales and Monmouthshire 50 Tables 2.1 Scottish Secretaries, 1885–1999 33 3.1 Division of functions between Whitehall and the Welsh Office (1996) 60 3.2 Secretaries of State for Wales 63 4.1 Imperial contributions paid by Northern Ireland and amount that would have been paid on strict population basis 79 6.1 1979 Scottish devolution referendum 132 6.2 1997 Scottish devolution referendum 132 6.3 Results of Scottish Parliament elections, 1999–2007 134 7.1 The 1979 and 1997 Welsh devolution referendums 155 7.2 Results of Welsh Assembly elections, 1999–2007 163 8.1 Results of the referendums on the Belfast Agreement, May 1998 188 8.2 Northern Ireland Assembly election results 1998–2007 193 9.1 Whitehall’s ‘regional turn’ 212 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page vi
- 12. Preface This book is the culmination of many years of research and builds on much previous work in which I argued that the UK is best conceived as a union state rather than a unitary state. This drew on Rokkan and Urwin’s seminal work on state formation and was developed particularly with reference to the union between Scotland and the rest of Britain. While Rokkan and Urwin focused particularly on the formation of the union, my interests were in how the union evolved, particularly during the twentieth century. In this book, I have taken this forward in two ways: first I have explored the other unions which make up the United Kingdom and secondly considered the implications of devolution for the nature of the state as a whole. I find myself in the unusual position of criticising the notion that the UK is a union state, with which I am closely associated, having witnessed this view become the new orthodoxy after its initial rejection. The significance of how we conceive of the UK is important as it has consequences for how we expect it to evolve. The approach adopted in this book will be recognised by anyone famil- iar with my earlier work. My focus has been on institutions, both formal and informal, and is historical. In order to appeal to a wider audience, I have avoided emphasising the theoretical literature that has informed this work. I have used primary sources in all empirical chapters, some of which have never before, to my knowledge, been used. This has involved extensive use of public records and I am extremely grateful to the staffs of the National Archives at Kew in west London, the National Archives of Scotland in Edinburgh and the Public Records Office Northern Ireland in Belfast. Hundreds of files were studied and have been referred to, though many others were studied and formed part of my understanding of events and processes which could not be included in the book. I have attempted to balance the need for detail, all too often lacking in the broad overview offered by some political scientists but admirably provided by historian colleagues, with an attempt to ensure that the wood would emerge from the trees. Many other primary sources were consulted. Nigel Smith of Scotland Forward allowed me to study papers he had collected over the years which proved extremely interesting. 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page vii
- 13. Occasionally, the products of interviews conducted in recent and not so recent years have been used in the book, though rarely are these expli- citly acknowledged but, rather, have helped back up other sources. An array of different newspapers and other primary sources from political parties and other organisations have also been used. Many people have assisted me over the years with this book and indeed others who have had little direct input into the book have shared thoughts and discussions on material in it. The following deserve particu-lar thanks for reading parts or all of the manuscript and provided criticisms, sugges- tions and corrections: Sir Kenneth Bloomfield, Jonathan Bradbury, Laura Cram, Russell Deacon, Dylan Griffiths, Charlie Jeffrey, Laura McAllister, Cathal McCall, Bob Purdie, Duncan Tanner, Alys Thomas, John Tomaney, Graham Walker and Barry Winetrobe. Particular thanks also to Eilidh McPhail who read the entire manuscript and Gareth Mulvey who checked the bibliography. The book has evolved from being a short introduction on devolution into a research monograph and during this evolution I was fortunate to receive a grant under the ESRC’s Devolution and Constitu- tional Change Programme. I directed a project on Devolution and the Centre (ESRC L219 25 2026) and was involved in other related programme initiatives with a number of colleagues from whom I gained a great deal. Charlie Jeffrey was an outstanding director of the programme, not least in bringing together various people from different backgrounds. Charlie provided many opportunities to present ideas and work on devo- lution, not just matters directly related to the project funded by the ESRC. These meetings were invariably useful and interesting. I would like to thank colleagues at the Constitution Unit, University College London, where I held an Honorary Senior Research fellowship for a period, for the many conversations and discussions. Robert Hazell directed the Leverhulme Project on the Nations and Regions with which I was asso- ciated: I headed the Scottish end of the Devolution Monitoring project between 1999 and 2005 (partly funded by the ESRC) and worked with David Bell on a project on territorial finance. Some of the work I did for these projects has found its way into this book. As well as Robert, I should like to thank Alan Trench, Scott Greer, Oonagh Gay and Meg Russell as well as two research assistants, Roger Masterman and Guy Lodge. Richard Wyn Jones in Aberystwyth offered important insights into Welsh politics. Others who deserve especial thanks include Jonathan Bradbury, with whom I have worked intermittently over many years, Dan Wincott and the excellent Scot- tish Monitoring team: John Curtice, Neil McGarvey, Philip Schlesinger, Mark Shephard and Alex Wright. Despite all my debts of gratitude there will remain errors in this work but these are, of course, my own. Finally, I must thank my family – Laura, Euan and Kirsty. Laura is always a useful sounding board and critic. Together they have put up with a lot while I have researched and written this book. viii Preface 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page viii
- 14. Abbreviations AES Alternative Economic Strategy AM Assembly Member AMS Additional Member System ARS Alternative Regional Strategy CEC Campaign for Equal Citizenship CPRS Central Policy Review Staff CSA Campaign for a Scottish Assembly CSG Consultative Steering Group CSJ Campaign for Social Justice CWM Council of Wales and Monmouthshire DEA Department of Economic Affairs DEFRA Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs DETR Department of the Environment, Transport and the Regions DTI Department of Trade and Industry DTLR Department for Transport, Local Government and the Regions DUP Democratic Unionist Party EEC European Economic Community ERDF European Regional Development Fund GLA Greater London Authority GLC Greater London Council GOR Government Office for the Region HIDB Highlands and Islands Development Board HMSO Her/His Majesty’s Stationary Office HMT Her Majesty’s Treasury ILEA Inner London Education Authority IMF International Monetary Fund INLA Irish National Liberation Army IRA Irish Republican Army JEB Joint Exchequer Board JMC Joint Ministerial Committee LCC London County Council MBW Metropolitan Board of Works MCC Metropolitan County Councils MLA Members of the Legislative Assembly MP Member of Parliament 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page ix
- 15. MSP Member of the Scottish Parliament NCC Nature Conservancy Council NEC National Executive Committee NHS National Health Service NICS Northern Ireland Civil Service NIO Northern Ireland Office ODPM Office of the Deputy Prime Minister PESC Public Expenditure Survey Committee PIU Performance and Information Unit PPP Private-Public Partnership PRONI Public Records Office Northern Ireland RDA Regional Development Agency RSG Rate Support Grant SC(DI) Scottish Council (Development and Industry) SDLP Social Democratic and Labour Party SEC Scottish Economic Conference SEPD Scottish Economic Planning Department SNP Scottish National Party SSP Scottish Socialist Party STV Single Transferable Vote TECs Training and Enterprise Councils TNA The National Archives UDA Ulster Defence Association UDI Unilateral Declaration of Independence UUP Ulster Unionist Party UUUC United Ulster Unionist Coalition UWC United Workers’ Council WDA Welsh Development Agency x Abbreviations 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page x
- 16. 1 Constituting the UK At the hands of its interpreters, the British constitution is an oracle which can only tell you why any and every particular change contemplated will not work. Whereas in some nations the existence of a written constitution means that almost anything can be done (or at least justified), in Britain the unwrit- ten constitution is read to mean that almost nothing can be done. Its principles are ethereal bodies unable to offer any positive guidance but always ready to descend on any change as a violation of their spirit. To summon these Harpies, you need only suggest something different. (Heclo and Wildavsky 1981: 340–341) What is the UK constitution? In an article written in 1999, Peter Riddell of the London Times wrote, ‘The British dislike thinking constitutionally. It is somehow alien to our much-valued pragmatism’ (The Times, 18 January 1999). Professor Sir David Edward, former Judge of the European Court of Justice, went further. In a lecture in 2005 he argued, ‘We have become constitutionally illiterate, to the extent that we do not understand our own constitution’ (Edwards 2005: 9). The reason for this constitutional illiteracy is partly that there is no agreement on what constitutes the UK constitution. De Tocqueville is sometimes quoted as saying that England has no constitu- tion. What this is normally taken to mean is that the UK’s constitution is not codified. Conflating two different meanings of constitution – ‘how a country is constituted’ and ‘its constitution’ – is common but, according to a leading defender of the pre-devolution constitutional order, should be guarded against (Johnson 2004: 18; see also King 2001: 3–6). One solution to finding the constitution is offered by Neil MacCormick: ‘If a state has at some time been set up, “constituted” by some deliberate act or acts, can these constituent acts be other than constitutions?’ (MacCormick 1978: 1). Indeed, if a state exists, can it fail to have a constitution, however contested it may be? In his study of the British constitution, Nevil Johnson distinguished between customary and codified constitutions. Codified constitutions may 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 1
- 17. be open to interpretation but the broad parameters are stated with varying degrees of clarity in some written form. Entrenched constitutions are those which have fixed principles which cannot be changed by normal legislation. The customary constitution ‘lays great store by a capacity to leave principles inexplicit, relying instead on what people feel from past experience, to be appropriate in the circumstances’ (Johnson 2004: 19). Johnson emphasises the role of elites in both ensuring legitimacy with a wider public and negotiating political accommodations (Ibid.). One criti- cal reviewer of Johnson’s work remarked that the ‘customary constitution that Johnson celebrates proves elusive’ (Russell 2005: 457). This elusive- ness was what made it attractive to many of its advocates across the main political parties and amongst the political elite until very recently. Indeed, the customary constitution remains very much alive in the UK today, albeit alongside significant institutional change. The customary constitution, defended on the right by Johnson, also had its support on the left, though with a very different understanding of what was constitutionally permissible. John Griffith’s famous description of the UK constitution as a ‘political constitution’ highlights this elusiveness: ‘The constitution of the United Kingdom lives on, changing from day to day for the constitution is no more and no less than what happens. Every- thing that happens is constitutional. And if nothing happens that would be constitutional also’ (Griffith 1979: 19). Griffith argued for a strength- ening of the House of Commons and that the ‘fundamental objection [to proposals for a written constitution, Bill of Rights, greater power for the Lords, regional assemblies and Supreme Court] is this: that law is not and cannot be a substitute for politics’ (Ibid.: 16). His was an argument for a ‘very positivist view of the constitution; of recognising that Ministers and others in high positions of authority are men and women who happen to exercise political power but without any such right to that power which could give them a superior moral position; that laws made by those in authority derive validity from no other fact or principle, and so impose no moral obligation of obedience on others; that so-called individual or human rights are no more and no less than political claims made by indi- viduals on those in authority; that a society is endemically in a state of conflict between warring interest groups, having no consensus or unifying principles sufficiently precise to be the basis of a theory of legislation’ (Ibid.: 19). This was a classic leftist statement against comprehensive constitutional reform. Significant change occurred during the 1980s that resulted in support on the left for a range of constitutional reforms, including devolution. Nonetheless, the UK constitution remains rooted in past ideas, institutions and interpretations. No understanding of today’s constitution is complete without an appreciation of these roots. In this sense, the UK constitution is as much a historic constitution as a political constitution. 2 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 2
- 18. The unitary state paradigm At a popular level, people living in the United Kingdom are well aware that it consists of distinct national communities. Yet constitutionally, this diversity often causes confusion. Confusion even surrounds the name of the state itself. Richard Rose noted that it was difficult to name the nation associated with the Government of the UK, stating ‘One thing is for certain: No one speaks of the UKes as a nation’ (Rose 1982: 11). The absence of an adjective associated with the state does not mean the absence of a collective national identity or state nationalism. However, the UK ‘stands apart [from other European states] for its lack of an official nationalist ideology’ (Keating 1988: 56). When the term ‘nationalism’ is used in the UK it is more often assumed to refer to one of the sub-state nationalisms – Scottish, Welsh or Irish nationalism. Indeed, British/UK nationalists – state nationalists – quite often rail against ‘nationalism’ unaware of their own (state) nationalism. UK nationalism operates in a ‘banally mundane way’ (Billig 1995: 6). It is not only liberal Western academics who ‘today find it easier to recognize nationalism in “others” than in themselves’, as Billig maintains (Ibid.: 15), but also a wider public in the UK who rarely question the nationalism of the state itself. National identity is not only defined in terms of the state in relation to its external world but internally too. Recent constitutional change has shaken up the sense of identity amongst at least some sections of the UK’s population. The absence of an explicit state nationalist discourse and the rise of sub- state nationalism led to state nationalism in the UK being referred to as ‘unionism’ in the twentieth century. In earlier times, state nationalism was referred to as ‘patriotism’ (Weight 2002: 727). Unionism is a term still commonly used in Scotland and Northern Ireland. In both cases, the ‘union’ originally referred to was the British union with Ireland. The Scot- tish Tories were known as the Scottish Unionist Party between 1912 and 1965 and for this period the ‘union’ was explicitly that with Ireland; latterly, the focus of attention in Scotland has been on the Anglo-Scottish union. Opponents of Irish home rule styled themselves as ‘unionists’, reflecting their support for the union. They did not style themselves as British nationalists. In part, this may be explained by the sense that the state was not entirely integrated. Ironically, then, the term unionist acknowledges the limited nature of the union. Britain is often inaccurately used as a synonym for the UK. Official and popular understandings are often quite different. This is not surprising given the history of the state and also ambivalence concerning its official designation. In 1961, Duncan Sandys, the Conservative Secretary of State for Commonwealth Relations, sent a memorandum to the Cabinet arguing that public relations with Commonwealth countries were made more difficult by referring to ‘the United Kingdom’ or ‘the UK’, as this Constituting the UK 3 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 3
- 19. ‘soulless, official designation is totally lacking in popular appeal and inspires no emotions of affection or loyalty’ (TNA C (61) 46, 24 March 1961). He proposed the adoption of the terms ‘Britain’ and ‘British’ in all official correspondence, public statements and information in relations with the Commonwealth. In Commonwealth countries the Government representative would be called the ‘British High Commissioner’. He proposed two exceptions: in treaties and legal documents when the formal designation, ‘United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland’ would be necessary and in the definition of citizenship. He rejected the idea of using ‘Great Britain’ as that would be abbreviated to ‘GB’ which he thought would be as ‘unattractive as UK’. The Cabinet accepted the proposal though it was thought preferable to make no formal announce- ment (TNA CC (61), 28 March 1961). This concern was not confined to Conservative politicians. Labour Premier Harold Wilson recounted how he had fought a battle with the Foreign and Commonwealth Office to prevent the Government being seated at a Commonwealth conference behind a placard marked ‘United Kingdom’. Wilson insisted that he represented Britain (Rose 1982: 11). What is striking about these episodes is that nobody appears to have considered how this might be construed in Northern Ireland. As Richard Rose later suggested, any description of the UK as the nation of Britain ‘leaves unclear whether Ulstermen are included’ (Ibid.). Sandys main- tained that before 1939 it was ‘rightly felt that other member countries [of the Empire] might resent it, if we arrogated to ourselves the term “British”, which was common to them all’ but, he felt, changes in the Commonwealth meant this was no longer the case. Northern Ireland was then a largely forgotten part of the UK. The creation of the UK, like any other state, came about through the amalgamation of previously autonomous or separate entities. The manner in which these amalgamations occurred and the nature of the new politi- cal entities influenced future developments. Significantly, the creation of the UK did not mean the eradication of its constituent elements. In his study of territory and power in the United Kingdom, Jim Bulpitt argued that it was hard not to conclude that the terms confederation, federation and unitary system ‘should be pensioned off and left to the second oldest profession, the lawyers, to play with’ (Bulpitt 1983: 19). Most text books, even books on Scottish politics, refer to the United Kingdom as a unitary state. The term ‘unitary state’ has been used rather loosely, and rarely defined. The Royal Commission on the Constitution (Kilbrandon) described the UK as a unitary state: The United Kingdom is a unitary state in economic as well as in political terms. It has, for example, a single currency and a banking system respon- sible to a single central bank. Its people enjoy a right of freedom of movement of trade, labour and capital and of settlement and establishment anywhere 4 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 4
- 20. within the Kingdom (though there is an exception in Northern Ireland in a restriction on employment imposed in the interests of Northern Ireland workers). Similarly, all citizens are free to participate in trading and other concessions obtained by the United Kingdom abroad. (Kilbrandon 1973: 19, para. 57) In this respect, Kilbrandon was heavily influenced by conventional academic opinion at that time. What also makes this definition interesting is its application to debates on the future of the European Union today. The notion that a polity with a single currency, various freedoms of move- ment, even allowing for exceptions, constitutes a unitary state might suggest that the EU has the hallmarks of such a state. The alternative view, however, is that this is an inadequate definition of a unitary state. The notion that the UK is something other than a unitary state was suggested by Gaspare Ambrosini, an Italian scholar, in the 1930s (Ambrosini 1946). Ambrosini put forward the possibility of an alternative state type, neither unitary nor federal. The third category he proposed was a state characterised by regional autonomy. He maintained that a number of states at certain times conformed with this type. Amongst the constitu- tions he felt followed a third way were that of Austria before and after 1918, the Spanish Republican constitution of 1931, the Weimar constitu- tion and the Soviet constitutions of 1924 and 1936. He tentatively included the UK, given the status of Northern Ireland and Scotland. Mackenzie and Chapman later suggested that this was accurate and could best be understood with reference to ‘Continental jurists’ distinction between autarchic and autonomous bodies within the state’ (Mackenzie and Chapman 1951: 186). Each had corporate personality and a measure of discretion. The former drew their powers from the legislatures within the state while the latter drew their powers from the constitution and did not give the central legislature a superior status: the former were polities constituted from laws as distinct from those based on fixed principles. Mackenzie and Chapman noted that regional states are those in which autonomous bodies exist but do not possess any ‘national’ or ‘sovereign’ powers as of right. The essence of this third type (Mackenzie and Chapman rather grandly called it a theory) is that there is ‘ample consti- tutional experience to justify the substitution of a scale of unity – for the traditional dichotomy between federal and unitary States; and it is only by applying this criterion that one can obtain what might be called a grad- ation of Statehood’ (Ibid.: 186). Most pertinently, and with prescience, they argued that the UK was a regional state and that once this is recognised it should be easier to face the issue of Home Rule for Scotland and Wales free from the old bogey of separatism. Regionalism is not a step to separatism, but a safeguard against it. (Ibid.: 198) For many years, the orthodox view was that the United Kingdom was a Constituting the UK 5 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 5
- 21. unitary state but, as discussed earlier, a new orthodoxy, which viewed the UK as a union state, replaced this. This drew on Rokkan and Urwin’s typology of state formation which distinguished between four models: unitary, union, mechanical and organic federal (Rokkan and Urwin 1982: 11). This typology, however, was important for understanding more than state formation and it was argued that it was important in understanding how the state had developed post-union (Mitchell 1997). Even the House of Lords Select Committee on the Constitution identified the UK’s union state nature as one of the five basic principles of the constitution (House of Lords 2001). However, while the practice of the UK’s territorial consti- tution may have conformed with the union state conception, which acknowledged its diverse components, it operated alongside a dominant unitary state understanding which was often the ‘conceptual lens’ through which constitutional politics was viewed and which informed and constrained thinking on which reforms were possible (Mitchell 1997). The idea of the union state implies, though this is not explicit, that there were two parties to the union when, in fact, the United Kingdom consisted of a number of unions each with a different legacy. Each of these unions has been significant and requires to be taken into account in any under- standing of devolution. The new orthodoxy of the UK as a union state already looks rather ragged in its inability to help us conceive of the United Kingdom after devolution. It is now better to conceive of the UK not as a union state but as a state of unions. Indeed, the logic of devolu- tion has differed in each case. As Morgan and Mungham noted, ‘The rationale for devolving power to the nations and regions of the UK has involved one or more of the following: a political rationale (devolution as a step towards deeper, more pluralistic democracy); an administrative rationale (devolution as a means to more efficient, locally-attuned policy- making); an economic rationale (devolution as a stimulant to regional development); and a cultural rationale (devolution as a means of protect- ing and promoting civic and ethnic identities’ (Morgan and Mungham 2000: 24). Failure to appreciate the different legacies of these diverse unions results in a failure to appreciate these different rationales and the UK’s asymmetric nature as well as the likely path of each. The key insight of this conceptual lens is that the UK is far more likely to develop an organic federal constitution, even arrangements in which some part attains some measure of independence, than some more mechanical federal constitution. England as a unitary polity England was created as a unitary state and this has had considerable implications for the UK. The assumption that the UK is unitary because England was created as a unitary polity has affected devolution debates. 6 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 6
- 22. Ignoring England is perverse not only because it is the largest constituent of the state but it is often seen as the state’s core. The medieval historian James Campbell maintains that the history of the United Kingdom cannot be understood without consideration of how ‘some thousand years ago, England became a United Kingdom, but failed to incorporate the far West and the long North of our island’ (Campbell 1995: 47). That legacy remains relevant. Historians may argue over the beginning of England as a political and social entity (Jones 1998) but there is less argument over the importance of the myth of England as an ancient kingdom. Campbell has argued that England was a nation-state by 1066 and that there is ‘no question of there having been anything comparable to the English state in France, Spain or Italy’ (Campbell 1995: 31). He distinguishes between three zones in England around the time when England was unified: ‘first a zone of palaces and councils; second, a zone lacking palaces and royal meeting-places, but having uniform institutions; third, a frontier zone’ (Ibid.: 43). It could be contended that the first is the true heart of the UK, not only England, especially given that the ‘ordinary residences of all the rulers of England until Queen Victoria were within the same southern and western zone’ (Ibid.: 44). More significant is the claim that a ‘system of government which was substantially uniform’ existed in the area surveyed by the Domesday commissioners from south of the Tees and the Ribble (Ibid.: 31). England, it would appear, was the prototypical unitary polity from very early times. Provincial particularism and loyalties existed but these marked the success of the state as they had been created by the central authority and ‘did not so much contradict as reinforce that author- ity’ (Ibid.: 35). Of course, this raises questions about the meaning of the state. The state as we know it today is wholly different from that in medieval times. There may well have been a ‘substantially uniform’ system of government but its reach and remit was so limited as to be almost non-existent by today’s standards. Nonetheless, the territorial pattern set by state formation in England lasted. Occasional jocular references to the ancient heptarchy of seven English kingdoms is made by opponents of devolution and federa- tion. This says much about how English history is interpreted in contemporary political discourse. Political regions and regionalism are simply seen as either antediluvian or alien to the English tradition, only relevant in an earlier, more backward period. The most important legacy of England as the prototypical unitary polity in the context of debates on the territorial constitution in the twentieth century was the myth of parliamentary sovereignty. The idea of parlia- mentary sovereignty was central to A.V. Dicey’s arguments against Irish home rule and would influence debates on Scotland and Wales later. As far as Dicey and later Diceyans were concerned, Parliament at Westminster was sovereign and no other body could be contemplated which might Constituting the UK 7 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 7
- 23. undermine or threaten that sovereignty. For Diceyans, sovereignty was one and indivisible. Though Dicey had a far more sophisticated under- standing of the territorial constitution, his legacy has been to limit the scope of autarchic institutions and rule out autonomous bodies. Union with Wales Historically, religion and language, rather than the apparatus of the state, made Wales different. The initial union of England and Wales conformed more to the unitary state model of state formation than the union state model discussed above. The Acts of Union of 1536 and 1543 were assim- ilationist, quite different from the Treaty of Union of 1707 between England (and Wales) and Scotland. From Tudor times, Welsh counties had been run on English lines, subject to English law, with English as the offi- cial language and with Wales given representation in Parliament in return (Kiernan 1993: 6). Nonetheless, Welsh continued to be spoken, even if by a declining minority, partly kept alive by the non-conformist denomin- ations, which ensured that this facet of Welsh distinctiveness never entirely disappeared. One problem, however, was that two parts of Wales emerged after 1945 – Welsh Wales, where Welsh was the main language, and English Wales, where English was the main language. Before that, many areas of Wales were mixed. Wales was more fully absorbed into the English core than Scotland ever was but, according to Robbins, neither was ‘absorbed in any simple fashion’ (Robbins 1988: 11). The intention of the 1536 and 1543 Acts was to introduce ‘uniformity in the legal codes of England and Wales, to have uniformity also in their administration’ (Williams 1950: 38). The Wales and Berwick Act, 1746 provided that references in Acts of Parliament to England should also be taken to refer to Wales. But assimilation was never complete and Welsh distinctiveness found expression in different forms. In 1588, the Privy Council ordered that a Welsh translation of the Bible should be placed in every church in Wales (Williams 1950: 76). The nineteenth century was important in terms of tensions between Welsh and British nationalism or, as Thomas expressed it, between particularist and assimilationist attitudes, which followed through into the twentieth century (Thomas 1981). Assimilation in the nineteenth century came to be associated with the Conservative Party and the Anglican Church in Wales. The Conservatives opposed disestablish- ment and disendowment of the Church. Disestablishment eventually occurred in 1920. But the assimilationist tendency ran deeper than this. In words echoing those of a nineteenth-century Austrian diplomat comment- ing on Italy, the Bishop of St Davids declared in 1886 that Wales was just a ‘geographical expression’ (Morgan 1982: 41). Modernisation, or at least developments associated with it, had a mixed effect. It encouraged both 8 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 8
- 24. assimilation and particularism. As the state’s reach stretched beyond that of the night-watchman state, this involved both centralisation and uniformity but also the development of distinct Welsh administration. The Welsh Courts Act, 1942 allowed for the limited use of Welsh in courts. The Hughes-Parry Report of 1965 on the legal status of the Welsh language, set up in 1963 by Sir Keith Joseph when he was responsible for Welsh affairs, argued for ‘equal validity’ with English for official, governmental and legal purposes (Ibid.: 389). The Welsh Language Act, 1967 finally carried this through into statute. Wales, it has been contended, has had ‘no continuous history of a distinctly Welsh dimension in British political institutions since union with England’ (Thomas 1981: 2). This distinguished Wales from Scot- land and Ireland (Randall 1972: 353). Wales was reborn (or perhaps only born) as a nation in the twentieth century. It would be wrong to suggest that Welsh identity grew commensurately with the development of the state’s functions. The growth in the state’s functions posed threats and opportunities to Welsh identity. Thomas maintains that economic assimilation was dominant in all the major UK parties in Wales. Economic integration with the rest of Britain, which meant England, was something on which Labour, Conservatives and Liberals were largely in agreement even if they differed as to how this should be achieved. Interdependence and redistribution were key elements of integration (Thomas 1981: 14). But state intervention also involved the creation of Welsh public bodies and institutions. The twentieth century witnessed a complex relationship between Welsh and British identities. There was an uneasy, possibly irresolvable, but creative tension between these two identities. Scotland and the union The union of Scotland and England involved the creation of a new state without the eradication of pre-existing nations. This was the archetypal union state. The protection afforded to Scottish institutions is frequently commented upon. More significant was the perceived need to enshrine such protection in a treaty, indicating an expectation that assimilation might otherwise occur. Taxation, parliamentary representation, law and legal jurisdictions proved the most contentious issues at the time of union (Ferguson 1990: 47–48). These are also likely to prove the most contentious issues in the era of legislative devolution. As well as provid- ing for a united Parliament, the Treaty of Union prescribed the number of Scottish MPs (45) and members of the House of Lords (16), freedom of trade and a common flag, coinage and system of weights and measures. Taxation would be common and Scotland would receive money for assuming a share in the English national debt. The Scottish Church, Scots law and legal systems were given protection under the Treaty. The Constituting the UK 9 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 9
- 25. provision of education in Scotland would also be treated separately by virtue of the protection afforded to the Church of Scotland, at least so long as a close relationship existed between education and religion. As Dicey and Rait put it, the union was the most conservative of revolutionary measures. To put the matter shortly, it repealed every law or custom of England or of Scotland inconsistent with the political unity of the new State, but it did not make or attempt any change or reform which was not necessary for the creation of the new United Kingdom. (Dicey and Rait 1920: 244–245) Dicey and Rait preferred the term ‘Act’ of Union, signifying that it was a measure passed by Parliament, upholding notions of parliamentary sovereignty. Others note that the agreement was embodied in a treaty agreed by two parliaments, enshrining rights which could not simply be overruled by the new Parliament and therefore see it as above normal laws, having the status, if in sketchy form, akin to an entrenched written constitution (MacCormick 1978). Most significant was the attempt to protect institutions which would help maintain a sense of Scottish national identity. The protected institu- tions were of great significance at the time of union. Over time, changes in politics and society would alter the balance. Scottish private law was protected and public law was to be assimilated but the rise of public law would alter the Scottish–British balance. The decline in the role of the established Church would also diminish the Scottish element in the settle- ment. As the state gradually took over the role of the Church in the provision of education, especially towards the end of the nineteenth century, another Scottish feature of the union would diminish. It was hardly surprising that the union settlement would become dated and that the desire to protect Scottish distinctiveness would be a recurring feature of British history. The union was not simply a settlement which preserved particular Scottish institutions but an agreement that Scottish institutions should be protected. In other words, the underlying principle was that Scottish national identity should be protected but that might take differ- ent institutional forms at different times. The consensus around this view has been widespread throughout most of British political history. Scot- land’s constitutional status was archetypically that of a component of a union state, not a unitary state. As in the case of Wales, the nature of the Scottish union with England changed over time. In common with other parts of the UK, economic integration occurred. Gaelic is now spoken by only a tiny proportion of the population (1.4 per cent), concentrated in the west Highlands and Islands, but a strong sense of Scottish cultural identity persists. A Scot- tish elite exists in business and finance as well as a public administrative elite. The labour movement played its part in Scotland too in the process 10 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 10
- 26. of integration (Keating and Bleiman 1979) but the development of state intervention, as discussed in a later chapter, has played as much a part in the maintenance of a distinct Scottish politics as it has been assimila- tionist. Ireland and the union The Acts of Union of 1800, passed by the Irish and British Parliaments, created a new state which shall ‘for ever after, be united into one Kingdom’ (O’Day and Stevenson 1992: 6). It was analogous with the Treaty of Union between Scotland and England, creating a new dimension to the UK union state. The 1800 Union was a less complete union than that of 1707. The Act made provision for Irish representation at West- minster ‘consistent with the concept of a United Kingdom. But there was no such positive application of principle in respect of government’ (Mansergh 1991: 14). There was little concern for how Ireland would be governed. Consequently, Ireland retained many institutions from pre- 1800. As Robert Peel said, Ireland ‘is a country separated by nature from that to which she is united by law; a country having once had an inde- pendent existence – having within twenty years had an independent legislature – having still her separate courts of justice, and distinct depart- ments of executive government’ (Jenkins 2001: 42). Over the course of the nineteenth century, the offices of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, based in Phoenix Park, and Chief Secretary of Ireland, in Dublin Castle, governed Ireland, overseeing a system of departments and boards which developed incrementally. Normally, either the Lord Lieutenant or Chief Secretary were members of the Cabinet. Mansergh has commented that the ‘most lasting impression of Castle administration was of structural confusion’ (Mansergh 1991: 15). The 1800 Union had the characteristics of a union state. Its piecemeal evolution reflected changes in state intervention with new and existing Irish bodies given new and extended roles. But unlike the development of the institutions of union with Scotland, the politics of the Irish union were inseparably linked with Catholic emancipation, land reform and, indeed, famine. In 1968, Harry Calvert argued that though the Acts of Union are no longer in force in the Republic of Ireland, ‘they retain their full vigour so far as Northern Ireland is concerned’ (Calvert 1968: 10). The issues of Ireland’s relations with Britain and the civil rights of Catholics dominated Irish politics, were interconnected and had ‘already assumed a recognized shape in the 1780s and 1790s’ (Jackson 1999: 23). This relationship has run through the history of the politics of Irish home rule and devolution. The plantation of Ulster in the seventeenth century by Protestants, mainly from Scotland, was to create a population of immigrants who would continue to look to Britain as its own in a way that the rest of the Constituting the UK 11 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 11
- 27. population did not. In the case of Ireland, it was not simply that the process of creating a single state was incomplete. There never was a serious effort to integrate Ireland with the rest of the state; it was treated more as a colony than an integral part. The legacy of this approach remains. Czeslaw Milosz could have been referring to Northern Ireland’s relations with Britain in his Nobel lecture when he said that it is possible that there is no other memory than the memory of wounds (Milosz 1980: 20). Collective memories and interpretations of the past have been more important in recent history than the institutional arrangements themselves. Whereas Scotland was allowed to retain its own church, Irish Catholi- cism after the Reformation was seen as disloyal and even a threat to London. Land ownership became enmeshed in the troubled relations. The minority who identified with London did so on the basis of religion or rights granted by London rather than geography. In the twentieth century, however, a territorial dimension emerged with the creation of Northern Ireland but, as Lee has noted, ‘Ulster’ was ‘less a place than a state of mind, however insistently this mentality expressed itself in the idiom of the territorial imperative’ (Lee 1990: 5). From its creation, Northern Ireland had a relationship with the rest of the UK that had the characteristics of a union state. It had been created by treaty. Integration was imperfect and indigenous elite recruitment existed, including a political elite elected to Stormont. However, the nationalist community looked to Dublin and maintained a sense of community with the rest of Ireland. The unionist community did not so much look to London but to the Protestant elite in Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland’s autonomy and lack of integration were not, of course, a sign of regional nationalist agitation. The unionist majority were adamant in their support for the union but one with union state characteristics. The irony has frequently been noted that home rule came to that part of the UK where greatest opposition to it had existed. Structure of the book Each component nation of the UK developed its own distinctive institu- tions separate from the others. Occasionally one would influence another but there was remarkably little formal attempt to coordinate these devel- opments. This is not to say that developments were centrifugal. This distinctiveness was evident in autarchic, rather than autonomous institu- tions in Scotland and Wales and operated with a core executive under Cabinet government. This all operated within the myth of parliamentary sovereignty. However mythical parliamentary sovereignty may have been, it fuelled a strong centralist mentality that severely constrained the param- eters of the autarchic institutions of the UK’s state of unions. The extent to which autarchic institutions spawned expectations that sat uneasily 12 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 12
- 28. with notions of parliamentary sovereignty became clear in the years leading up to devolution. This book follows these developments by considering each component nation in turn. There were occasions in the 1970s when debates on devolution were relevant to more than one component of the United Kingdom. To avoid repetition, these debates are discussed in whichever chapter seemed most appropriate, with the use of cross referencing and comparisons with other components of the UK where relevant. This structure is not only a useful means of organising a complex pattern of institutional development but also largely reflects the way in which institutions developed. Territorial management was ad hoc, operating within a customary constitution, and each chapter on Scotland, Wales, England and Northern Ireland draws out the issues and pressures for change that recurred over time. The first section attempts to describe the nature of the pre- devolution institutions of the component nations of the UK. Too much that has been written about devolution adopts what might be called Year Zero assumptions: that devolution has no predecessor institutions and that the politics of devolution can be understood without any historical background. This error leads to all sorts of mistaken claims – exagger- ations concerning devolution’s novelty and failure to appreciate the continuities from pre-devolution institutional arrangements. Much that is thought to be new has merely come to wider notice or has become formalised, codified or more pronounced. It also becomes clear that while the customary constitution has a ‘capacity to leave principles inexplicit’ (Johnson 2004: 19), there were remarkable similarities in the broad outlines of territorial management, especially in the three non-English components of the UK. Though Northern Ireland had autonomy, its Unionist rulers imposed self-constraints in many areas which resulted in its Assembly resembling the autarchic institutions which existed in Scot- land. Where it operated autonomously, it often did so in an unrestrained manner which undermined its legitimacy. The inexplicit principles that emerge might best be captured in the notion of parliamentary sovereignty, which may have been a legal fiction but operated as a powerful idea that informed behaviour, limiting autonomy. This is not to understate the extent to which devolution has been new, as becomes clear in the second section in which the devolved polities are examined. However, formal institutions do not exist in isolation. The questions to be addressed are whether the inexplicit principles of the customary constitution remain, whether they have been altered or whether new competing principles now operate. Formally, it appears that new competing principles do exist but these operate alongside the old principles of the customary constitution. The context of the early years of devolution needs to be taken into account: Northern Ireland’s institutions operated sporadically, public money was plentiful relative to what went Constituting the UK 13 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 13
- 29. immediately before and after, and Labour was in power in London as well as in Edinburgh and Cardiff. While context is vitally important, intima- tions of the operation of distinct autonomous institutions growing out of autarchic bodies are evident. The diverse institutions which operated fairly successfully under the terms of the customary pre-devolution consti- tution were untested in these early years as compared to what might be expected in a very different context, which is only now beginning to emerge. It is not difficult to identify the areas in which tensions might emerge. Conclusion United Kingdom constitutional development has never been uniform. As MacCormick has noted (1999: 49), an ‘evolved state’ is bound to differ from a deliberately constituted one based on a historic constitution. The unions which contributed towards the establishment of the United Kingdom differed markedly. The most significant was that which created England. It was most significant for three reasons: first, it was the found- ing union; secondly, a unitary state was created and thirdly, England would become the largest component of the United Kingdom. This resulted in a widespread assumption that the United Kingdom was and is a unitary state, one and indivisible despite other quite different unions which contributed towards its creation. At its heart lay the notion that Parliament at Westminster was sovereign. It would be wrong to conclude that England is perverse within the United Kingdom. It is the asymmetri- cal nature of the United Kingdom, its competing centripetal and centrifugal pressures, and the differing experiences and understandings of union that are relevant. However, England’s size and perceptions of its experience have had profound effects on territorial government in the UK as a whole. F.W. Maitland commented that the ‘State that Englishmen knew was a singu- larly unicellular State, and at a critical time they were not too well equipped with tried and traditional thoughts which would meet the case of Ireland or of some communities, commonwealths, or corporations in America which seemed to have wills – and scarcely fictitious wills – of their own’ (Maitland 1900: Introduction). This myth of centralisation and uniformity in its largest component would be a significant hurdle in reforming the territorial constitution. Two different types of pressure have affected the territorial distribution of government functions in the UK as elsewhere. The first has its origins in how the state was formed. The UK was formed through the amalga- mation of territories. In England, this meant the near eradication of regional and local autonomy and the creation of a unitary state. However, in the case of the other constituent nations of the UK, there was always 14 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 14
- 30. some attempt to allow for or even encourage distinctiveness. This created tensions. There were different models of state formation and evolution operating within the same state. The English model of the unitary state was important if only because England was by far the largest component of the state but this ran contrary to other models, particularly in Ireland and Scotland. This became more significant as the state’s intervention in society and the economy increased. The second pressure came about as a result of social and economic forces which resulted in changes in state intervention. These altered the balance between diversity and integration, often undermining the former but, ironically, also requiring local and regional administration and thereby potentially creating greater diversity. The new devolved institutions cannot be understood by simply looking at their founding legislation, policy output or the resources available to them. They did not involve a revolution in constitutional design though they represent significant change. They owe far more to past practice and the informal customary constitution than is often appreciated; continu- ities have tended to be played down in the early discussion of the new arrangements. Devolution retains the features of a state of diverse unions rather than characteristics of a federal (organic or mechanical) state, but it makes any drift towards a unitary state unlikely. The term ‘union state’ is no longer adequate to capture the variety of forms that devolved government takes and the different institutional forms and practices that have been adopted at the centre in response. A more accurate conceptual- isation of the UK today is as a state of unions. Constituting the UK 15 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 15
- 31. 2 Approaching to Arch-angelic: administrative devolution in Scotland Even the Stewarts rarely attempted to place the management of Scottish government in the hands of Englishmen; a Scottish tyrant or a Scottish bigot would, they felt, be likely to give less offence to Scotsmen than would an energetic and fair-minded Englishman who failed to understand the feeling of a country with which he was not connected by descent or education. The care with which this conviction has been followed since the Union is the more remarkable when contrasted with the free admission of Scotsmen to every form of governmental or official life throughout Great Britain, or the British Dominions. (Dicey and Rait 1920: 329) . . . the men who drafted the Treaty of Union carefully left every institution in England and every institution in Scotland untouched by the Act, provided that the existence of such an institution was consistent with the main objects of the Act. Hence the extraordinary success of the Act. It destroyed nothing which did not threaten the essential unity of the whole people; and hence, lastly, the supreme glory of the Act, that while creating the political unity it kept alive the nationalism both of England and of Scotland. (Dicey and Rait 1920: 362) What are your feelings about the Secretaryship for Scotland? The work is not very heavy – the dignity (measured by salary) is the same as your present office – but measured by the expectations of the people of Scotland it is approaching to Arch-angelic. We want a big man to float it – especially as there is so much sentiment about it. (Letter from Lord Salisbury inviting the Duke of Richmond and Gordon to become the first modern Scottish Secre- tary, 7 August 1885: Hanham 1965: 229) Introduction Administrative devolution is the term used to describe the Scottish and Welsh Offices. Significantly, a different term – direct rule – is used to describe the Northern Ireland Office. Though similar in many respects, there are differences between the two British territorial departments and the Northern Ireland Office. The Scottish Office has always been headed by politicians with a political base in Scotland and since 1945 always with a Scottish seat in the Commons. The Scottish Office was a concession 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 16
- 32. Administrative devolution in Scotland 17 catering for Scottish distinctiveness. It had both a symbolic and a substan- tive function. Symbolically, it represented recognition by government at the centre that Scotland was different. Substantively, it developed a considerable range of responsibilities. Towards the end of the First World War, the Haldane Committee on the Machinery of Government considered the organisation of central govern- ment. Haldane saw two main alternatives: organising according to the persons or classes to be dealt with, or by function, according to the serv- ices to be performed. The Committee preferred the functional basis of organisation (Cd. 9230 1918: 8) but acknowledged later in the report that Scotland and Ireland should be treated separately (Ibid.: 58). Acknowl- edging this territorial dimension for Scotland and Wales cut across the functional basis. Education, for example, was a function which, according to Haldane’s preference, would have been the responsibility of a single Whitehall department, but recognising the territorial dimension meant that it would be split between a functional department (covering England and Wales) and Scottish and Welsh central administrations. The territorial dimension was an aberration from the functional norm and was endorsed over fifty years later in another significant official document, a White Paper on the reorganisation of central government issued by Edward Heath’s Government in 1970. Once more, though more explicitly this time, the territorial basis was accepted as a departure from the dominant method and only because there were ‘strong reasons for moderating its [functional] application’ (Cmnd. 4506 1970: para. 10). The evolution of separate Scottish and Welsh administration was not simply a consequence of responding to sentiment, though that played its part. Questions of good government were also important. It was the inter- action of the two – national sentiment and governmental efficacy – which led to the evolution of a very unusual structure of British central govern- ment and what later came to be called ‘administrative devolution’. But not all matters affecting Scotland came under the Scottish Office. A Treasury memorandum prepared for the Royal Commission on Scottish Affairs in the 1950s outlined the factors which have ‘favoured the retention of a Great Britain basis of administration for many services’: (a) First, there are what may be described as the consequences of the Treaty of Union. Scottish affairs are determined by the Parliament of the United Kingdom and in the executive field by a United Kingdom Cabinet, that is to say, by bodies which have regard to the well-being of the United Kingdom as a whole. This inevitably colours the administrative pattern. (b) As the Haldane Committee (Cmd. 9230 of 1918) pointed out, it has usually been thought better that the functions of Departments should be allocated according to the services to be performed rather than accord- ing to the persons or classes to be dealt with. This arrangement of 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 17
- 33. business has ensured that the acquisition of knowledge and the devel- opment of specialised capacity by those engaged in the several Departments could be encouraged to the full. It follows that, in allocat- ing business between Departments, there have been strong arguments for dividing the work, by services, on a Great Britain basis rather than by the nationalities of the persons with whom a Department deals. In any event, the small size of Scotland, in comparison with England, has meant that the separation of the Scottish work would not afford much relief to an over-burdened Great Britain Department. (c) The expansion of regional devolution during and after the late war has greatly improved the adaptability of Departments covering Great Britain as a whole. The regional organisation has made it possible for administra- tors to be more closely in touch with local conditions and more accessible to those affected by their work. Moreover, since the principle of devolution of authority from the centre has been accepted, the extent to which this is done can to some extent be regulated according to the circumstances of different parts of the country; and in some cases it has been thought right to give a greater measure of devolution to Scottish branches of Great Britain Departments than has been accorded to the corresponding English regional offices. (TNA T 222/632) Establishing the Scottish Office In a lecture in 1885, a prominent Scottish judge remarked on the state of the union just before the establishment of the Scottish Office. The union had succeeded, he maintained, for two reasons: access to Empire and because London had decided that there should be ‘no attempt to interfere unduly with our domestic institutions, or to frame them on the English pattern’. The establishment of the Scottish Office would restore a separate administration and it ‘secures to us for the future the Scotland of the past’ (Smith 1885: 233). The Scottish Office did not quite ‘restore a separate administration’ as Smith claimed. A number of boards appointed by patronage existed dealing with a range of matters. The use of boards was favoured by London because of the difficulties of communication, with the consequence that Dublin and Edinburgh had a degree of administra- tive independence (Willson 1955: 44). The Scottish boards were based in Edinburgh and, at least in theory, accountable to Government Ministers in London. Poor law and public health, education, prisons, fisheries, lunacy and mental deficiency (to use the language of the times) and agri- culture were all administered by these boards, largely made up of Edinburgh lawyers (Milne 1957: 212–215). This conformed with the pattern of central administration that had existed in England until the Northcote-Trevelyan reforms towards the end of the nineteenth century which marked a move towards a professional civil service appointed by competitive examination. The pressure for a Scottish Secretary emerged in the mid–late nineteenth 18 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 18
- 34. century because a growing body of Scots felt that Scottish distinctiveness was being ignored. Changes in the range of central government interven- tion were believed to have undermined this distinctiveness. There had been special procedures catering for Scottish distinctiveness but these were thought to have become ineffective. Both the Conservatives under Lord Salisbury and the Liberals under Gladstone accepted that the office should be established (Hanham 1965; Mitchell 2003: 11–28). However, there was less agreement on the administrative functions of the office. Under one set of proposals, education would come under its remit and under another law and order was proposed. While Scotland appeared fairly united on the need for a Scottish Secretary, sectional interests could not agree on its administrative tasks. The teachers’ professional body, the Educational Institute for Scotland (EIS) argued against education coming under its remit while lawyers did not want it to include law and order. Both sets of interests feared that their interests might be relegated to a parochial backwater but both supported a Scottish Office in principle. Prime Minister Salisbury invited the elderly Duke of Richmond and Gordon to be the first holder of the office. In fact, Richmond and Gordon was Salisbury’s fourth choice. His first choice, the Marquess of Lothian, had been a supporter of the office and was later to accept the post (Roberts 2000: 351). Richmond and Gordon was privately opposed to the office’s establishment (Hanham 1965: 228). Salisbury summed up the nature of the office better than he probably realised: ‘. . . the dignity (measured by salary) is the same as your present office – but measured by the expectations of the people of Scotland it is approaching to Arch- angelic . . . It is really a matter where the effulgence of two Dukedoms and the best salmon river in Scotland will go a long way’ (Ibid.: 229). In a further letter to Richmond and Gordon, Salisbury remarked that the ‘whole object of the move is to redress the wounded dignities of the Scotch people – or a section of them – who think that enough is not made of Scot- land’ (Ibid.: 230). The office’s symbolic function would always be important. Salisbury had accepted that Scottish opinion had to be taken into account; Scotland may have been an irritant but it was not irrelevant. His description of the expectations of the ‘Scotch’ with reference to the Scot- tish Secretaryship as ‘approaching to Arch-angelic’ was adopted as the title for an article by a future Scottish Secretary over a century later (Ross 1978). Scottish Secretaries would be expected to articulate Scottish inter- ests regardless of whether the department had legal jurisdiction in the area in question. The Scottish Secretary was Scotland’s representative in the Cabinet. Administrative devolution in Scotland 19 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 19
- 35. The development of administrative devolution in Scotland Over time, the office’s functions grew. The turnover of politicians to hold the office was high in the first few years after its establishment. A.J. Balfour became Scottish Secretary in 1886 for seven months. He was to be the only Scottish Secretary to go on to become Prime Minister (1902–06). During his brief tenure at the Scottish Office, he took advantage of distur- bances on Skye to widen the scope of competencies to include law and order. This began a long process of accumulating responsibilities. In 1912 agriculture was added and health, including housing, was added after the First World War. A Parliamentary Under-Secretary, a junior minister, was also attached to the Scottish Office at this time. Over the course of time, other responsibilities were added and the scope of central government expanded in these and many other areas already devolved. The Scottish Office’s extensive scope was noted by Robert Munro, Scottish Secretary between 1916 and 1922: A Secretary for Scotland must put a severe curb upon his personal predilec- tions, and endeavour to deal with those branches of his activities, whatever they may be, that call for immediate attention. He cannot, being merely human, expand habitually to the width such a catalogue would demand. He has to live from day to day, to attend Cabinets, to think of Upper Silesia as well as, let us say, Auchtermuchty. (Munro 1930: 282) Membership of the Cabinet had its advantages, most obviously bringing access to the centre of power, but it also added to his burdens, requiring the Secretary to consider wider matters. The multi-functional character of the office limited the nature of the Scottish Secretary’s role. He could leave initiatives to his officials or follow English precedents. However, much depended on the predilections and personal influence of the individual holding the office. By the 1930s, the office’s responsibilities had grown but some boards continued to exist semi-independently, although the Scottish Secretary had formal responsibility for their activities. Scottish central administration had grown incrementally with no clear pattern. An official enquiry was set up under Sir John Gilmour, a former Scottish Secretary, which reported in 1937 (HMSO 1937b). It noted a number of significant developments since the office’s establishment. The Scottish Secretary was ‘popularly regarded as “Scotland’s Minister”’ (Ibid.: 19). Some years before, the London Times had commented on that ‘great Pooh-Bah, the Secretary for Scot- land, who combines in his person, in respect of half the kingdom, all those offices for which a more complex England requires half a dozen separate Ministries’ (The Times, 7 April 1925). More than this, the Gilmour Report noted the ‘increasing tendency to appeal to him on all matters which have a Scottish aspect, even if on a strict view they are outside the 20 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 20
- 36. province of his duties as statutorily defined’ (HMSO 1937b: 19). Twenty years later, Sir David Milne, Permanent Secretary at the Scottish Office, 1946–59, commented on this ‘no-man’s land’ into which the Scottish Secretary had to venture because he is popularly regarded as Scotland’s Minister. Matters on which the Scottish Secretary is ‘most violently assailed in Parliament or in the Scottish press’ were often ones which he has ‘no direct duty to defend’: If [the Scottish Office] seek to intervene unduly in matters for which other Ministers are directly responsible, they will be an intolerable nuisance to their colleagues; if they fail to intervene when their close acquaintance with Scot- tish conditions makes intervention seem desirable, they will be blamed, and probably justly. (Milne 1957: 7) Gilmour’s recommendations in 1937 rested on three arguments: that Scots wanted to see Scottish administration in Scotland; that the ‘haphaz- ard growth’ had developed without any clear principle; and that the construction of a new headquarters in Edinburgh would facilitate the consolidation of responsibilities. The vast bulk of work had long been done in Edinburgh but it was scattered throughout the city with little co- ordination. The system of boards was criticised and it was proposed that the boards should come directly within the Scottish Office under the Scot- tish Secretary. The Reorganisation of Offices (Scotland) Act, 1939 was duly passed coinciding with the opening of St Andrew’s House on Edin- burgh’s Calton Hill. What emerged was a mini-Whitehall almost all under one roof. In the event, St Andrew’s House was not big enough to house all Scottish Office civil servants. The Scottish Office was organised along functional lines with divisions and departments corresponding loosely with English departments of state. Twenty years later, there was still a tendency to regard the Scottish departments as separate from the Secre- tary of State which, as the Scottish Office’s most senior civil servant then suggested, was probably a survival of the days when the boards or depart- ments had a legally independent existence prior to 1939 (Milne 1957: 6). The reforms of 1939 have frequently, but inaccurately, been seen as transferring people and power to Scotland. This was the way in which the Government wanted to present the changes. Administrative devolution was presented as a form of Scottish self-government, serving to appease Scottish demands for greater control over Scottish affairs. This coupling of administrative needs with the expression of national identity in the development of the Scottish Office was most evident in the use of the term ‘administrative devolution’. The term started to be used in internal Scot- tish Office discussions of the office’s reforms in the early 1930s though the idea that the administrative arrangements represented a form of self- government pre-dated this. In the 1920s, defenders of the board system argued that the Edinburgh boards, appointed by patronage, were a form Administrative devolution in Scotland 21 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 21
- 37. of ‘Scottish control of Scottish affairs’ in so far as they consisted of Scots governing Scotland in Scotland. That they were unelected and unrepre- sentative was overlooked. The development of the Scottish Office’s responsibilities had not always been smooth. On some occasions there was strong resistance in Whitehall to giving the Scottish Office more responsibilities. An example occurred at the time when the Scottish Board of Agriculture was set up under the Scot- tish Office in 1912. There was a fear in London that the Scots might be less stringent in administering the Diseases of Animals Acts, resulting in sick animals straying over the border and infecting healthy English animals, thus starting an epidemic which would sweep throughout England. This led to animal health being withheld from Scottish Office jurisdiction. Animal health was only transferred to the Scottish Office from the Ministry of Agriculture in 1955. The post-war Scottish Office The scope of government intervention expanded with the development of the welfare state after 1945 with repercussions for Scotland’s position within the union. Agitation for Scottish home rule at this time was an important backdrop to these changes, forcing Attlee’s Labour Govern- ment to pay attention to the Scottish dimension of state intervention and welfare. Separate legislation was required for the National Health Service in Scotland: the new NHS came under the Scottish Office but other aspects of the developing welfare state, most notably changes in National Insurance, resulted in uniformity across the state. National Insurance was a rare example of reverse devolution, an expanding policy which was removed from a distinct Scottish body and placed under a UK-wide ministry and therefore deserves special attention. Separate National Insur- ance Commissions had been established for England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland in 1911 under the National Insurance Act. This Act introduced a system of compulsory, though restricted, insurance. In 1919, the Scottish Insurance Commission came under the Scottish Board of Health within the Scottish Office. That same year, the English and Welsh Commissions came under the newly established Ministry of Health. In 1945, National Insurance in Scotland was moved to the UK Ministry of National Insurance. In December 1943, the Cabinet’s Machinery of Government Committee argued, ‘We consider that unified responsibility in this sphere [social insurance] is essential; we agree that careful arrangement will be necessary for local administration in Scotland . . . Scotland should be regarded as a special case . . . it is desirable that sufficient authority should be devolved to enable Scotland’s position to be strong on the spot with the minimum of reference to London and that in the settlement necessary in London on 22 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 22
- 38. large matters of principle Scottish aspects should be fully considered . . . the official in charge in Scotland should be carefully selected and should have sufficient standing to make his advice valuable and his voice effec- tive in the higher councils of his department in Whitehall: he should visit London frequently in order to share in the formulation of general policy’ (TNA PIN 8/83). The Committee recognised the sensitivities involved. An inevitable Scottish backlash against centralisation had to be met by some concessions. In Parliament, Walter Elliot, former Scottish Secretary, chal- lenged this reversal of devolution (Hansard, Commons, col. 1875, 14 November 1944). He was supported in sections of the Scottish press (The Bulletin, 15 November 1944). Correspondence between the Scottish Office, including Scottish Secre- tary Tom Johnston, and the Ministry of Reconstruction focused on what might be conceded. Johnston warned that the view expressed in The Bulletin ‘indicates an attitude which may so develop that it will completely bedevil and sabotage the new Ministry’ (TNA PIN 8/83). Scot- tish officials asked for a number of special procedures but the general attitude was to avoid making any specific concessions. One official, in a note to Sir William Jowett, Reconstruction Minister, argued that it was ‘not really necessary (except for reasons of national prestige) that this position should be recognised by way of a special official rank or salary, and the concession of such rank or salary would impair the efficient organisation of the Regions generally. Similar demands have been made, and resisted, in connection with the Regional Office of the Ministry of Labour for Scotland, though there is not in that case the argument from past practice which can be argued in connection with Health and Pensions Insurance’ (Ibid.: Note to Minister, 22 November 1944). Refusing Scottish institutions in new areas of government activity was easier than removing existing arrangements, even when these existing arrangements would necessarily have to be overhauled due to major changes in workload. In October 1947, Arthur Woodburn, Scottish Secretary, wrote a Cabinet memorandum noting cross-party support for greater Scottish control of Scottish affairs. He proposed changes in parliamentary proce- dures to take greater account of Scottish affairs and that ‘in association with the Minister for Economic Affairs I should seek to bring about a greater co-ordination of economic affairs in Scotland’ (TNA CAB 21/3329). He noted that those pressing for a review of Scottish adminis- tration were primarily concerned with economic affairs and the organisation of the nationalised industries. He proposed the creation of a Scottish Economic Conference under his chairmanship to provide a forum for discussion of economic questions, to enable the Scottish Secretary to keep in touch with Scottish economic issues and to advise ministers, particularly the Chancellor of the Exchequer. A Cabinet Office civil servant noted that the Scottish Secretary had no Administrative devolution in Scotland 23 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 23
- 39. responsibility for economic affairs and that an ‘official Council which is dealing with a Minister without responsibility is likely to become a focal point for irritation and annoyance rather than an assistance to the Government’ (TNA CAB 21/3329). As President of the Board of Trade, Stafford Cripps had attempted to ‘rid himself of some of the tiresome Scottish economic problems by pushing responsibility (but not power) on to the Secretary of State for Scotland’ (Ibid.). This had been resisted by the Scottish Office under Joseph Westwood but Arthur Woodburn, appointed Scottish Secretary in 1947, took a different line. The Cabinet Office memorandum warned that Woodburn would be ‘very foolish if he takes on these tasks and then finds, as he will find, that he is absolutely power- less to give effect to any economic recommendations which may be made to him’ (Ibid.). The warning sounded remarkably similar to that given by Lord Salisbury back in 1885 when he suggested that as far as the Scottish Office was concerned, ‘power limped lamely behind responsibility’ (Ross 1978: 9). The problem was, as a future Chief Economic Adviser to the Secretary of State noted, that successive Scottish Secretaries over the post- war period became concerned with economic matters ‘although largely lacking statutory economic functions’ (McCrone 1985: 207). Nonetheless, a White Paper on Scottish Affairs was issued in 1948 (HMSO 1948). It proposed changes in parliamentary procedure to take greater account of Scottish affairs. As Woodburn had recommended, the Government also proposed to set up a Scottish Economic Conference (SEC) to meet regularly under the chairmanship of the Secretary of State (Ibid.: 3). An annual review of the main developments and trends in Scot- tish economic affairs was also proposed. This was a significant landmark. Not only was it accepted that there was a distinct Scottish central admin- istration but also a distinct Scottish economy with attendant expectations. The machinery of government would be kept under continuous review. Special procedures within the nationalised industries for Scotland were also proposed (Chester 1975: 1031). The Scottish Economic Conference’s terms of reference were that it ‘would meet from time to time for the inter- change of information on developments and trends in economic affairs and to confer with the Secretary of State on questions of economic impor- tance in Scotland’. However it had little impact and was quietly forgotten about until its revival in the 1990s by Michael Forsyth, Conservative Secretary of State for Scotland, who was seeking a means of demonstrat- ing to the Scottish public that his party took the Scottish dimension seriously. Taking account of Scottish demands without conceding too much was difficult. Compared with Wales, where expectations were lower and insti- tutional development less advanced, Scotland was seen by Whitehall officials as presenting more challenges. Demands were articulated around substantive public policy concerns. A Cabinet Office official remarked to 24 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 24
- 40. a colleague in March 1950, that though the Scots felt strongly about ‘their national rights’, this did not mean ‘they would relish the kind of flatter- ing, flamboyant but untruthful document which might appeal to the Welsh’ (TNA CAB 21/3329). The Scottish Office at mid-century In 1950, the four main Scottish central departments were: the Department of Agriculture for Scotland; the Scottish Education Department; The Department of Health for Scotland; and the Scottish Home Department. The scale of Scottish Office activities was considerable. In June 1946, a Treasury memorandum was issued to departments on the status, organi- sation and staffing of regional offices in Scotland which stated that ‘Departments with a strong regional organisation throughout Great Britain should devolve upon their Scottish Representatives sufficient authority for business to be settled on the spot’ (quoted in Mackenzie and Grove 1957: 275). Departments should strengthen their Scottish offices ‘even if the result is an official or an organisation of greater weight and standing than on ordinary staffing canons would be thought more appro- priate’ (Ibid.: 275–276). The Conservatives came back to power in 1951. In opposition, they had played the Scottish card. They were critical of the unwillingness of the Attlee Government to cater for Scottish distinctiveness and had produced a document, ‘Scottish Control of Scottish Affairs’ in 1949, making four recommendations: i. the establishment of a Minister of State, a ‘Deputy to the Secretary of State for Scotland’; ii. the appointment of an additional Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State; iii. the appointment of a Royal Commission ‘to review the whole situa- tion as between Scotland and England in the light of modern developments, and to make recommendation’; and iv. the creation of separate executive authorities for Scotland ‘for those industries which it will be impossible to denationalise’ (Scottish Unionist Party 1949). In office, the Conservatives established a Minister of State with Lord Home, future Prime Minister, the first Minister of State. Prime Minister Churchill told Home to ‘Go and quell those turbulent Scots, and don’t come back until you’ve done it’ (Home 1976: 103). Labour now played the Scottish card – a common electoral strategy of parties in opposition – and noted that the office of Minister of State was not quite as powerful as Conservative rhetoric in opposition had suggested. The new Minister’s Administrative devolution in Scotland 25 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 25
- 41. access to the Cabinet proved no different from that of the Parliamentary Under-Secretaries at the Scottish Office. An additional Parliamentary Under-Secretary was also appointed. In addition, the Conservatives in opposition had announced that they would set up a Royal Commission on Scottish Affairs, which they did in 1952 under Lord Balfour. It reported two years later. The Balfour Commission argued that Scotland’s ‘needs and points of view should be known and brought into account at all stages in the formation and execu- tion of policy’ (Balfour 1954: 12). It considered why discontent had become evident: It has, we think, been aggravated by needless English thoughtlessness and undue Scottish susceptibilities, but deeper than this lie some more tangible causes. First, there has been a profound change during the last forty years in the functions of government and consequently in the machinery necessary to exercise them. But since then its encroachment on private activities has mounted with what has seemed to be ever-increasing intensity. Restrictions arising from two world wars, steps to meet the depression and unemploy- ment in the inter-war period, the allocation of scarce materials, the rationing of capital investment, the need to channel production – all these have called for regulations and controls, most of which have been organised on a Great Britain basis with ultimate authority resting in London. (Ibid.) A book on central administration in Britain published four years later made a similar point: ‘it is natural that the Scotsman should resent what he, perhaps wrongly, regards as insensitive “English” government’ (Mackenzie and Grove 1957: 275). As Balfour argued, ‘When the State’s interference with the individual was insignificant, it mattered little to the Scotsman whether this came from Edinburgh or London. But when so many domestic affairs are no longer under control of the individual and so many enterprises require some form of official authorisation, he begins to wonder why orders and instructions should come to him from London, to question whether Whitehall has taken sufficient account of local condi- tions and to criticise not government but what he regards, however, erroneously, as the English government’ (Balfour 1954: 13, paras 17–18). Some proposals were made to tidy up the arrangements for administra- tive devolution. In October 1954, the Cabinet agreed proposals from the Chancellor of the Exchequer and Scottish Secretary accepting Balfour’s recommendation that responsibility for roads, piers and ferries should be transferred from the Minister of Transport to the Scottish Office, the appointment of justices of the peace from the Lord Chancellor’s office and animal health, except in the case of control of epidemic diseases among animals throughout Britain, from the Ministry of Agriculture (TNA CC (54) 71 (3)). Home rule pressure had subsided by the time Balfour had reported and this was evident in his conclusions. It was an unexceptional enquiry with unexceptional conclusions. Nonetheless, there were some 26 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 26
- 42. unintended consequences of the few transfers of responsibilities it proposed. Added together with existing Scottish Office responsibilities, they would give the office a more comprehensive remit for economic plan- ning when it became fashionable in the 1960s. In 1957, Sir David Milne’s official study of the Scottish Office was published as part of the New Whitehall series of books on Whitehall departments. Milne had been Permanent Secretary at the Scottish Office from 1946. He commented on the evolution of the office: Some of the alterations may have been made for political reasons, others out of a desire for administrative tidiness; the river may have flowed erratically, but its main course has been clear. There has been a definite and increasing tendency to assign to a Scottish minister matters in which there is a distinct- ive Scottish tradition of body of law or where Scottish conditions are notably different from those in England and Wales. The present administrative struc- ture is not the result of design, but of constant change and adjustment over a period of 250 years. It is unlikely that it is complete but no one can say what the future changes will be. Time finds its own solutions. (Milne 1957: 20–21) The era of planning Further changes did indeed occur. The Scottish Council (Development and Industry), a body set up in the 1930s bringing together local authorities, trade unions, business and the Scottish Office, set up an enquiry under John Toothill, which produced an influential report (Toothill 1961) that led to the establishment of the Development Department within the Scot- tish Office in 1962. That year also saw the introduction of economists into the Scottish Office, though an annual White Paper on industry and employment had long existed and the Secretary of State had long had an economic adviser. In 1964, the Scottish Economic Planning Board was set up within the Scottish Office, consisting of officials from relevant Scottish and UK departments. This was seen as the Scottish equivalent of the ill- fated Department of Economic Affairs. In addition, the Scottish Economic Planning Council, chaired by the Secretary of State, was set up in 1965 (MacDonald and Redpath 1979: 103). By the late 1960s, the Scottish Office consisted of four departments: the Development Department; Home and Health Department; Agriculture and Fisheries Department; and Education Department. With an economic and statistics unit added in 1970, the Scottish Office seemed well kitted out to plan the Scottish economy, create economic growth and provide jobs. The discovery of North Sea oil gave impetus for this role. In May 1973, a minister with special responsibility for oil devel- opment was appointed to the Scottish Office and the Scottish Economic Planning Department (SEPD) was set up alongside the existing four departments. The SEPD took over regional development and economic Administrative devolution in Scotland 27 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 27
- 43. responsibilities from other departments within the Scottish Office. The scene seemed set for a major period of economic growth with the Scottish Office playing a central role. This was not to be. Just as the Scottish Office acquired the institutional machinery to act, the economic situation changed dramatically. Governments across the world were hit by economic crises following the first oil crisis in late 1973. Crisis manage- ment became the objective. One significant institutional innovation was the establishment of the Highlands and Islands Development Board (HIDB) in 1965. The area the Board had responsibility for was vast – one-sixth of the land mass of the UK and just under half of Scotland’s – but with a small population of about 320,000 people. Like the Scottish Office, the HIDB had its institu- tional antecedents. In 1918, a book on public administration in the Highlands and Islands noted that this area had ‘become something of a laboratory for administrative and legislative experiments’ (Day 1918: 6). The Scottish Office argued from the 1920s for more money from the Treasury on the grounds that the Highlands and Islands were a special case (Cameron 1996: 158). An Advisory Panel on the Highlands and Islands had been set up in 1946 and produced a report that fed into the idea that emerged in the 1950s of some over-arching Highland develop- ment authority, but the Balfour Royal Commission on Scottish Affairs rejected the idea (Balfour 1954: 83–85, paras 284–289). This long series of efforts to tackle the problems of the crofting communities, congested districts and Highlands and Islands culminated in the establishment of the HIDB (Cameron 1996; Mitchell 2003: 81–83) with a remit to assist the local population to improve their economic and social conditions and enable the area to play a more effective part in the economic and social development of the country. Responding to the Scottish National Party Following the victory of the Scottish National Party (SNP) in the Hamil- ton by-election in 1967, Harold Wilson set up a committee to explore further devolution to Scotland and Wales (TNA CAB 164/658). Dickson Mabon, the Scottish Office’s Minister of State, produced a paper propos- ing that the Scottish Office should take over the Ministry of Public Building and Works’ responsibilities in Scotland and have a general responsibility for tourism. In April 1968, a Cabinet Office official noted that the Scots were ‘in some difficulty’ as ‘their proposals amount to much less than possible devolution for Wales, since they already control most of the domestic functions of Government’ (TNA CAB 165/298). In a book published that year, John Mackintosh, political scientist and future Labour MP, echoed this point in his warning that extending administra- tive devolution would be inadequate as, ‘it is precisely where this process 28 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 28
- 44. has gone furthest, in Scotland, that the rejection of the present system of local and central government has gone furthest’ (Mackintosh 1968: 130– 131). North Sea oil played a significant part in the SNP’s electoral success in the early 1970s and the Labour Government felt it had to respond. There was reluctance in Whitehall to allocate oil funds specifically to Scotland but it was felt necessary to make some concession. Towards the end of 1974, it was decided that the Industry Department’s responsibility for some aspects of regional assistance should be transferred to the Scottish Office. More symbolically significant was the decision to create a new economic regeneration body for Scotland. In July 1974, a Treasury offi- cial pointed out that the Treasury could not ‘concede [that] a great deal of extra expenditure can be provided for the Scots from North Sea oil’ but, the creation of a development agency ‘would be attractive just because it might make it possible to buy off some of the pressures from Scotland without a substantial addition to expenditure there’ (TNA T 328/1031). The idea of a Scottish Development Agency (SDA) emerged. As Sir Douglas Henley of the Treasury remarked in a note in late summer 1974, the SDA was ‘intended to contain the pressure for benefits to Scotland “associated with” North Sea oil without, as we sincerely hope, an undue proportion of resources and environmental development in Scotland’ (TNA T 227/4253). In a letter to Tony Benn, Scottish Office Minister Bruce Millan reminded the Industry Minister that, ‘the SDA concept had its genesis in the necessity we all saw of demonstrating to Scottish public opinion that Scotland would receive tangible benefits from North Sea oil. We must not lose the initiative and momentum on this as our opponents will be ready to seize on any opportunity of denigrating what we are trying to achieve’ (TNA PREM 16/266). Concern that Scotland should not receive too much from North Sea oil was also voiced by politicians. In November 1974, Tony Crosland, Environment Secretary, warned Wilson that, ‘Opinion in the North of England is on the watch to see that Scot- land and Wales do not steal a march, and we shall be very hard pressed indeed unless we have something on offer’ (TNA PREM 16/266). The SDA came into existence as a political response to Scottish nation- alism but cut out an important role for itself. While party political motives explain the political logic of its establishment, this built on a long- standing planning tradition (Halkier 2006: 187–191). It went through a number of changes, reflecting the changing economic environment and economic policy thinking. Most significantly, from the perspective of administrative devolution, it became an institutional expression of central government’s recognition of the existence of a Scottish economic dimen- sion requiring Scottish institutions. Administrative devolution in Scotland 29 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 29
- 45. The Scottish Office under the Conservatives The election of Margaret Thatcher and the Conservatives in 1979 marked an unusual period in the history of the Scottish Office. Throughout its history, governments of all complexions had presented themselves as supporters of administrative devolution and each further responsibility gained for the office was presented as a major victory for the Scots. Willie Ross, Scottish Secretary under Harold Wilson, had, for example, made sure that he was given credit in 1968 for the establishment of the Scottish Transport Group. Under Mrs Thatcher, the Conservatives continued the long process of administrative devolution but singularly failed to capi- talise on it. This may have been because it was felt that there was less pressure given that the SNP were in the electoral doldrums. Nonetheless, George Younger gained a reputation in sections of the London-based media for warning of a nationalist threat when he felt it necessary (Daily Telegraph, 21 March 1984). The perception developed that the Conser- vatives were ‘anti-Scottish’ and Mrs Thatcher particularly so (Mitchell and Bennie 1996). Yet after 1979, Scotland was increasingly used not simply as a regional unit of a British-wide department or body but as a separate unit from England (Hogwood 1995: 288). This was evident in housing, nature conservancy, training and enterprise, higher education and the arts. Some of these had involved the transfer of programmes with large amounts of public expenditure. One reason for the perception that the Conservatives were anti-Scottish was the length of time they were in power; parties in Opposition, as we have seen, tend to ‘play the Scottish card’. The rhetoric and attitudes of the Conservatives did not help. Mrs Thatcher’s views became explicit after she left office but nevertheless these views were far from hidden while she was Prime Minister. Though the Conservatives had been in power when the Scottish Office was established and played a greater part than any other party in its development, she had less sympathy for a distinct Scot- tish dimension than any of her predecessors. Her perception of the Scottish Office was outlined in her memoirs: ‘The pride of the Scottish Office – whose very structure added a layer of bureaucracy, standing in the way of reforms which were paying such dividends in England – was that public expenditure per head in Scotland was far higher than in England’ (Thatcher 1993: 627). To a politician who set out to cut public spending and roll back the state, the Scottish Office was bound to appear more than just an impediment: it was a cause of problems. But at no stage was there any serious prospect of it being abolished by Mrs Thatcher. This reflected the enormous difficulties and costs which would have been involved in integrating Scottish public administration into the rest of Whitehall. 30 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 30
- 46. Scottish Office ministers The number and status of Scottish Office ministers changed over time too. The initial demand in the 1880s had been for a Secretary of State for Scot- land. The ‘of State’ signified a senior minister who would, it was assumed, be a member of the Cabinet by right. The legislation establishing the office created a Secretary for Scotland, a minister with a more lowly status. In practice, Scottish Secretaries more often than not were in the Cabinet and, war cabinets apart, were continuously members of the Cabinet from 1892. In 1926, the Secretaryship for Scotland was finally upgraded to a Secretaryship of State and much was made of this symbolic gesture by the Conservative Government at the time (Mitchell 1990: 21–22) though, in fact, little really changed. Even the Secretary’s salary remained less than that of other Cabinet Ministers, and it was only upgraded in 1937. Addi- tional junior ministers were added as the office’s portfolio grew. A Parliamentary Under-Secretary was added to the office in 1919 and a further in 1940, then a third in 1952 at the same time as the Minister of State was appointed. The tendency to have a Minister of State in the Lords was established though this has not always been the case. From the 1920s, the Scottish Secretary was a member of the Commons. The one exception was the brief period between May and July 1945, between the end of the wartime coalition and the 1945 election, when the Conservatives were in power and the Earl of Rosebery held the office. The office of Scottish Secretary did not rank highly in the Cabinet hierarchy. One study written over forty years ago on ministerial hierarchy noted the lowly position of the Scottish Secretary in the inter-war period and concluded that the Scot- tish Secretary always ‘brought up the rear’ throughout the 1950s (Heasman 1962: 325). The junior minister attached to the Scottish Office in 1919 had specific responsibility for health. This was written into the legislation but very soon the remit widened beyond that defined by statute. The definition of responsibilities was changed when the Secretaryship was upgraded in 1926 and the junior minister was given a more general responsibility. The Gilmour Committee considered a proposal to add another junior minister to the Scottish Office but made no specific recommendation (HMSO 1937b: 52). After the war, when the Scottish Office had two junior minis- ters, the Secretary of State, Joe Westwood, proposed that one should be given special status and recognised as directly responsible for housing and town planning in Scotland and be answerable to the Cabinet and the House of Commons. It would have represented a return to the period between 1919 and 1926. The idea proved unacceptable. Amongst those opposed was David Milne, later Permanent Secretary at the Scottish Office, who had a private meeting with Edward Bridges, Cabinet Secre- tary, and made it clear that he disagreed with his Secretary of State. Administrative devolution in Scotland 31 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 31
- 47. During this meeting the idea emerged of allowing the junior minister to attend Cabinet committee meetings in place of the Secretary of State. This would include special meetings on housing presided over by the Prime Minister, but the junior minister would not be able to attend the full Cabinet (TNA CAB 21/3328). In his paper to the Prime Minister, Bridges noted the problems which would arise from Westwood’s proposal: If legislation for this purpose were introduced, it would give rise to a number of awkward questions. Thus, what would be the status of the Under Secre- tary charged with these duties? Would he be on a level with the Secretary of State for Scotland, or intermediate between a Minister of Cabinet rank and an Under Secretary? Either solution would be troublesome, since, if he were of intermediate rank, it would be complained that housing had been depressed by being assigned to a Minister of lower rank. If he was on the same level, the Secretary of State for Scotland would lose his general over- sight over all Scottish affairs. Further, if a special Bill were introduced to assign responsibility for housing in Scotland to a single Minister charged with these duties and no other, would this not stir up the old controversy – happily now dormant – that a separate Minister of Housing should be appointed in England? (Ibid.) Stuart Murie, Milne’s successor as Permanent Secretary at the Scottish Office, then at the Cabinet Office, wrote a memorandum responding to the Secretary of State’s desire for a Minister of State in which he conceded that the Scottish Secretary’s job was a ‘very hard one, since it means switching one’s mind among a wide variety of subjects and suffering the wear and tear of frequent journeys to Scotland’. However, he argued that conditions had recently been unusual with a series of significant bills going through Parliament and that this would change. He also questioned the assertion that the Scottish Secretary and the two Parliamentary Under- Secretaries could not count on being in Scotland on more that one day each week. Murie argued that the Scottish Secretary would normally be able to spend Friday, Saturday and Monday in Scotland. The Scottish Secretary could also be there for considerable periods in the recess as Cabinet and committees usually met on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Murie’s objections to an additional Cabinet-ranking Scottish Office Minister were that the Scottish Secretary would continue to be the main source of griev- ance and would not get ‘much more protection than from a good Under Secretary of State’; there would be friction between the Secretary of State and the Minister of State as indeed there had been between Secretaries of State and ambitious Under-Secretaries of State; and any new legislation would ‘open up the whole question of more devolution to Scotland at an awkward time’ (Ibid.). The awkwardness of the timing referred to the growing demand in Scotland for home rule. These arguments were simply ignored when the Conservatives came to power in 1951. Having played 32 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 32
- 48. Administrative devolution in Scotland 33 Table 2.1 Scottish Secretaries, 1885–1999 Name Party Period Duke of Richmond and Conservative Aug. 1885 – Jan. 1886 Gordon George Otto Trevelyan Liberal Feb. 1886 – March 1886 Earl of Dalhousie Liberal April 1886 – July 1886 Arthur Balfour Conservative Aug. 1886 – March 1887 Marquess of Lothian Conservative March 1887 – Aug. 1892 George Otto Trevelyan Liberal Aug. 1892 – June 1895 Lord Balfour of Burleigh Conservative June 1895 – Oct. 1903 Andrew Murray Conservative Oct. 1903 – Feb. 1905 Marquess of Linlithgow Conservative Feb. 1905 – Dec. 1905 John Sinclair Liberal Dec. 1905 – Feb. 1912 (Baron Pentland) Thomas McKinnon Wood Liberal Feb. 1912 – July 1916 Harold Tennant Liberal July 1916 – Dec. 1916 Robert Munro Liberal Dec. 1916 – Oct. 1922 Viscount Novar Conservative Oct. 1922 – Jan. 1924 William Adamson Labour Jan. 1924 – Nov. 1924 Sir John Gilmour Conservative Nov. 1924 – June 1929 William Adamson Labour June 1929 – Aug. 1931 Sir Archibald Sinclair Conservative Aug. 1931 – Sept. 1932 Sir Godfrey Collins Conservative Sept. 1932 – Oct. 1936 Walter Elliot Conservative Oct. 1936 – May 1938 John Colville Conservative May 1938 – May 1940 Ernest Brown National Liberal May 1940 – Feb. 1941 Thomas Johnston Labour Feb. 1941 – May 1945 Harry Primrose, Earl of Conservative May 1945 – July 1945 Rosebery Joseph Westwood Labour Aug. 1945 – Oct. 1947 Arthur Woodburn Labour Oct. 1947 – Feb. 1950 Hector McNeil Labour Feb. 1950 – Oct. 1951 James Stuart Conservative Oct. 1951– Jan. 1957 John Maclay Conservative Jan. 1957 – July 1962 Michael Noble Conservative July 1962 – Oct. 1964 William Ross Labour Oct. 1964 – June 1970 Gordon Campbell Conservative June 1970 – March 1974 William Ross Labour March 1974 – April 1976 Bruce Millan Labour April 1976 – May 1979 George Younger Conservative May 1979 – Jan. 1986 Malcolm Rifkind Conservative Jan. 1986 – Nov. 1990 Ian Lang Conservative Nov. 1990 – July 1995 Michael Forsyth Conservative July 1995 – May 1997 Donald Dewar Labour May 1997 – May 1999 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 33
- 49. the Scottish card in opposition and promised a Minister of State, they were obliged to deliver. This office owed more to electoral politics than to anything else and never assumed the significance which the Conservatives had attached to it when in opposition. From Goschen to Barnett In common with other Whitehall departments, Scottish central adminis- tration’s relations with the Treasury could be tense, with private disputes occasionally spilling into the public domain. The Scottish central admin- istration’s allocation of public expenditure was based primarily on what had been spent in the past year, altered each successive year by a mixture of the outcomes of battles elsewhere in Whitehall, a formula, and an element of political manoeuvring. Heclo and Wildavsky’s comment on balancing decisions on spending – ‘highways versus hospitals versus schools versus houses’ – can be applied to determining Scottish Office spending: ‘Avowed empiricists by profession, British political administra- tors are at times secret idealists . . . They love politics, but they are secretly disappointed at their inability to substitute a rational formula for politi- cal conflict’ (Heclo and Wildavsky 1981: 360). Most attention, both within Whitehall and in wider public debates, has tended to focus on the formulae used, whether the old Goschen formula or the more recent Barnett formula. In neither case was the formula designed for the purpose it subsequently acquired. Goschen was intro- duced in 1888 as a convenient tool with which to decide the allocation of public funds to the component parts of the UK (for its origins and devel- opment see Mitchell 2003: 149–181). Goschen’s intention had been to transfer tax receipts to local government. Local government found itself burdened with responsibilities as a result of law and policy decided by the centre but without the necessary financial capacity. However, the prior existence of markedly different structures of local government in the components of the state required that some intermediary device between the Treasury at the centre and the local authorities themselves was neces- sary. There was no such need in the case of Wales which was well integrated into the English system, but both Ireland and Scotland required to have their own Local Taxation Accounts. Determining the method of payments into each Local Taxation Account (for England and Wales, Ireland, and Scotland) was the first stage of the process and it was this which came to be known as the Goschen equivalent or formula. Relative share of population was not used but instead, as Goschen explained in Parliament, each would receive a share ‘in proportion to the general contributions of that country to the Exchequer. On this principle, England will be entitled to 80 per cent, Scotland to 11 per cent, and Ireland to 9 per cent’ (Hansard, Commons, vol. 324, 26 March 1888, col. 301). As the 34 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 34
- 50. poorest component of the state, Ireland was treated generously. The formula survived Ireland’s departure from the UK and Goschen became a relationship between English and Welsh expenditure and that for Scot- land, the 11/80ths formula. It was convenient to use it well after it was first introduced to determine changes in educational spending in the Education (Scotland) Act, 1918. Though it was never applied across all lines of Scottish Office expenditure, it attained totemic status. Relative need was lost in arguments as Goschen assumed an importance beyond its original purpose. The Scottish Office, Scottish politicians and the media would all invoke Goschen to make the case for more money for Scotland as did the Treasury when it suited its opposite purpose. Even after its formal demise in the late 1950s, there were signs that it continued to be used simply for convenience and it remained for many years the yardstick of fairness. But as noted, Goschen was only a small part of the story of Scottish Office funding. The absence of transparency in these matters probably contributed to an emphasis in public (or at least elite) preoccupations with Goschen. Simple politics, the art of negotiation and lobbying were vital in ensuring that during the Scottish Office’s long history, it managed to gain significant, often cumulative, expenditure increases. Scotland’s unique status within the union, relatively small compared with the state as a whole and with little prospect of its victories leading to comparable demands elsewhere, was exploited by successive Scottish Secretaries and, more often, officials. Scottish Secretaries took pride in winning funds from the Treasury. This applied across time and the political spectrum. In 1955, for example, Tory Scottish Secretary James Stuart was credited with increasing Scotland’s share of expenditure (Hutchison 2001: 76). However, the opportunities to gain additional resources had to be set against the constraints imposed by the same institutional arrangements. An example from a response from John Simon, Chancellor of the Ex- chequer, to the Scottish Secretary following a request for special support for a housing initiative in 1938, typified the prevailing view: ‘I feel quite certain that it would be impossible to apply a special stimulus to Govern- ment assistance to Scotland without arousing demands from the rest of the United Kingdom for corresponding treatment. In fact we should see the reverse of the familiar process under which England initiates a series of social schemes and Scotland demands that a proportion of the expenditure contemplated should be applied to her needs’ (NAS, HH/36/120). It was not only the lack of political leadership nor problems of legitimacy that account for the absence of policy initiatives. Institutional impediments stood in the way of allowing Scotland scope, especially where spending money was concerned, for innovation. Scottish Office expenditure had traditionally been determined function- ally, that is by each Scottish Office function, with the Scottish Office Administrative devolution in Scotland 35 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 35
- 51. reaching agreement with the corresponding functional department for England and the Treasury. This arrangement encouraged the adoption of the same priorities and policies across Britain. In the late 1960s, John Mackintosh remarked that the ‘great pride of the civil service is not that it has developed special methods or a different emphasis in Scotland, but rather that no gap can be found between Edinburgh and London methods so that no politically awkward questions can be raised’ (Mackintosh 1968: 132). There were, nonetheless, opportunities for the Scottish Office to priori- tise spending across the services for which it was responsible in a different manner from priorities in England. In the late 1960s, with the backdrop of Scottish nationalist pressure, it was suggested that this flexibility might be increased. Douglas Haddow, Permanent Secretary at the Scottish Office, responded to this idea in a letter to the Treasury in late 1968 in which he pointed out that it was ‘rarely possible for us to depart markedly from the pattern of expenditure in England save in special circumstances’ though there were occasions when ‘at the margins of our programmes, Scotland and Wales may wish to shade the allocations a little differently from England’ (TNA CAB 151/45). Willie Ross, Scottish Secretary, was opposed to any formal change: I see no reason for thinking that, either presentationally or in terms of prac- tical benefit, there is anything to be said for a system under which Scotland and Wales are given total allocations for public service spending, and left to distribute these as they wish. Apart from anything else, I cannot imagine on what basis the size of such allocations could be fixed, except by aggregating the existing allocations for particular services or projections of these alloca- tions. I do not believe that we should commission a major official exercise on this, for which the current official work on control of public expenditure has not produced even a relevant starting point. What matters is that Scottish (and Welsh) needs should be, and should be seen to be, the basis for Scottish (and Welsh) allocations. (Ibid.) The existing arrangements suited Ross. These discussions heard what would become a familiar call in meetings discussing territorial levels of spending in debates on legislative devolution with Social Services Minis- ters and officials insisting that ‘common GB standards’ had to be maintained across a range of services (Ibid.). The Barnett formula was credited to Joel Barnett, Chief Secretary to the Treasury from 1974 to 1979, by David Heald: ‘All formulae need a name. In the apparent absence of an official one, I now name this the “Barnett formula”, after Joel Barnett MP, the then Chief Secretary of the Treasury with responsibility for public expenditure. Perhaps, some day, this will make Joel Barnett as famous as Lord Goschen!’ (Heald 1980: 12). Barnett has willingly taken credit for the formula, although since it became polit- ically salient after the establishment of the Scottish Parliament, he has 36 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 36
- 52. argued that it should be abolished. However, in 1985 in response to ques- tions about the formula, his answer corresponded better with the public records: I was aware of what you describe as the ‘Barnett Formula’ but I had not been aware that the particular formula has been thought of as my special creation. My understanding is that the allocations in the proportions of England 85%, Scotland 10%, and Wales 5%, is a fairly long standing formula that has been used over many years before I became Chief Secretary to the Treasury. All I can tell you is that the formula was indeed used during the whole of my period in office and to the best of my knowledge and belief is still being used. (Barnett 1985) Barnett made no reference to the formula in his book on his years as Chief Secretary (Barnett 1982) but explained this in evidence to the Treasury Select Committee in 1997, ‘When I wrote the book I was not too concerned with that particular issue. I was concerned with many more’ (Barnett 1997: 1). The formula had been used before Barnett became Chief Secretary. A paper prepared by a Treasury civil servant in response to the Kilbrandon Commission on the Constitution in January 1974 noted, ‘For some serv- ices, notably health and the personal social services, there are very few objectively defined standards for the provision of services, and significant differences in the levels of provision. Present policy is designed to ensure that the growth rates in England, Scotland and Wales are broadly compa- rable, and that additional expenditures on reduced allocations are calculated on a population basis (85 England, 10 Scotland, 5 Wales)’ (TNA T 227/4253). This was the formula. Changes in expenditure would be determined functionally across Britain, that is for each service, and then these changes would be applied to amounts spent in previous years on this 85:10:5 ratio between England, Scotland and Wales or, depend- ing on the service, 90:10 between England and Wales, and Scotland. Barnett took on particular relevance in the devolution debates in the late 1970s. Jim Ross, Scottish Office civil servant in charge of devolution policy in the late 1970s, explained that the background to Barnett ‘reflected the devolution debate in that it reflected the conviction of all Departments other than the Scottish Office and all MPs other than Scot- tish ones that the Scots had been getting away with financial murder’ (Ross 1985). Scotland had done well because it was allowed to negotiate each of the functional blocks individually and there had been little inter- est in how Scotland had done overall: The purpose of Barnett was both to simplify the Treasury’s bargaining processes and to ensure that, when increases in Votes were negotiated, the total Scottish increase over all Votes should be no more than a reasonable one. The 10/85 formula was intended gradually to reduce the then existing Scottish advantage Administrative devolution in Scotland 37 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 37
- 53. in terms of public expenditure without creating a degree of disturbance that would have created a row . . . In other words, the Barnett formula established a new pattern of negotiation between the Treasury and Departments, a pattern which had already been partly in operation but which was legitimated by Barnett. The Treasury settled with the main English Departments what alter- ations were to be made in the various functional Votes. The total Scottish Votes were then altered by the formula, and it was left to the Secretary of State to sort out the balance within the Scottish Votes. (Ibid.) Ross’s account of the introduction and operation of Barnett lays empha- sis on the convergence intentions of the formula, the pressures from outside for change and the backdrop of devolution. In its origins, Barnett involved far more continuity with past practice than has generally been appreciated. Its long-term convergence consequences would have been well understood by Treasury officials but as an interim measure these would not have been seen as important. As happened with the Goschen formula, a temporary expedient took root. During the Conservative years, as the formula attracted attention, it became less significant. Ian Lang, as Secretary of State, maintained that the formula was often by-passed in special deals with the Treasury (Lang 2002: 194). Indeed, the evidence suggests that the Barnett formula only existed as an expedient and was not applied rigorously with the effect that converging levels of expenditure did not occur at any time prior to the establishment of the Scottish Parlia- ment. Nevertheless its symbolic importance grew throughout the period and, like Goschen, it has generated more heat than light in discussions of levels of territorial public spending. Conclusion John Mackintosh set out a number of tests to measure the success of administrative devolution: The first is whether being closer in geographical terms to the field of opera- tion, and having a smaller population to deal with, enables the Department to know more about its tasks and its subject and so to have a better intelli- gence service. Secondly, there is the question of how far being under a single minister permits swifter co-ordination and action. Then there is the test of whether national policies when applied through St. Andrew’s House [Scottish Office headquarters] can be and are adapted to any particular circumstances in Scotland which do not arise elsewhere, and finally, does this remove the grievance about remote government? Is the electorate conscious of a differ- ence, a greater sense of local flavour about the administration and does this satisfy, in any way, the desire for more local control? (Mackintosh 1968: 112) The ability of Scottish Office officials to know local conditions, local councillors and local officials is inevitably greater than that of functional 38 Devolution in the UK 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 38
- 54. departments in Whitehall simply by virtue of the smaller size of Scotland. The Scottish Office adapted policies to suit Scotland. However, as Mack- intosh further noted, ‘financial, administrative and heavy political pressures brought to bear’ on the Scottish Office ‘make it operate in a manner and according to priorities which are as close as possible to those of Whitehall’ (Ibid.: 132). Public policy in Scotland may not have paral- leled that south of the border but operated within a broad notion of parity while acknowledging diversity. However, it was never clear how aware Scots were of the impact of the Scottish Office. The Kilbrandon Commis- sion conducted a poll asking whether people were aware of the Scottish Office, which showed that is appeared not to have a high profile. Another poll in 1985 had similar findings (Mitchell 1996: 44). But even if the Scot- tish public were unaware of the Scottish Office, it played a central part in Scottish politics, contributing to a sense of a Scottish ‘political system’ (Kellas 1973). The Scottish Office was established because it fitted with the nature of the union, that ‘most conservative of revolutionary measures’ as Dicey and Rait had called it (1920: 244). It allowed for the preservation of Scot- tish distinctiveness while maintaining the essential supremacy of Parliament. It had been created in the nineteenth century in large measure in response to Scottish demands and developed as a consequence of tate intervention in the twentieth century. It remained an essentially nineteenth-century institution. Although it allowed for Scottish distinc- tiveness, it failed to cater for Scottish democracy in the sense that it remained accountable to Parliament at Westminster, a UK rather than a Scottish forum. In large measure it proved significant as a symbol of central government’s willingness to accept that union did not mean uniformity, but there was always the danger that the Scottish Secretary would be seen as the Cabinet’s man in Scotland rather than Scotland’s man in the Cabinet though, in fact, every holder of the office has attempted to perform both roles. But it was more than merely symbolic. Once established, a precedent had been set. Indeed, the boards and admin- istrative arrangements which preceded it had already created the precedent, so that new public responsibilities and government duties would be provided for on a Scottish basis. The Scottish Office, more than any other institution, represented the union state nature of the Anglo- Scottish relationship. That was its strength but ultimately became its prime weakness. Formal acceptance of a distinct Scottish politics had been given. This would strengthen the case for legislative devolution, especially when its political head was out of sympathy with the Scottish public. Administrative devolution in Scotland 39 3303 Devolution 31/3/09 08:42 Page 39
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- 56. IX J’ÉCRIS AU PAPE Ce fut vers ce temps que j’appris, à Montevideo, l’exaltation au pontificat de Pie IX. On sait quels furent les commencements de ce règne. Comme beaucoup d’autres, je crus à une ère de liberté pour l’Italie. Je résolus aussitôt, pour seconder le saint-père dans les généreuses résolutions dont il était animé, de lui offrir mon bras et celui de mes compagnons d’armes. Ceux qui croient à une opposition systématique de ma part à la papauté verront, par la lettre qui va suivre, qu’il n’en était rien; mon dévouement était à la cause de la liberté en général, sur quelque point du globe que cette liberté se fît jour. On comprendra cependant que je donnasse la préférence à mon pays, et que je fusse prêt à servir sous celui qui paraissait appelé à être le messie politique de l’Italie. Nous crûmes, Anzani et moi, que ce sublime rôle était réservé à Pie IX, et nous écrivîmes au nonce du pape la lettre suivante, le priant de transmettre à Sa Sainteté nos vœux et ceux de nos légionnaires: «Très-illustre et très-respectable seigneur, »Du moment où nous sont arrivées les premières nouvelles de l’exaltation du souverain pontife Pie IX et de l’amnistie qu’il concédait aux pauvres proscrits, nous avons,
- 57. avec une attention et un intérêt toujours croissants, compté les pas que le chef suprême de l’Église a faits sur la route de la gloire et de la liberté. Les louanges dont l’écho arrive jusqu’à nous de l’autre côté des mers, le frémissement avec lequel l’Italie accueille la convocation des députés et y applaudit, les sages concessions faites à l’imprimerie, l’institution de la garde civique, l’impulsion donnée à l’instruction populaire et à l’industrie, sans compter tant de soins, tous dirigés vers l’amélioration et le bien-être des classes pauvres et vers la formation d’une administration nouvelle, tout, enfin, nous a convaincus que venait enfin de sortir, du sein de notre patrie, l’homme qui, comprenant les besoins de son siècle, avait su, selon les préceptes de notre auguste religion, toujours nouveaux, toujours immortels, et sans déroger à leur autorité, se plier cependant à l’exigence des temps; et nous, quoique tous ces progrès fussent sans influence sur nous-mêmes, nous les avons néanmoins suivis de loin, en accompagnant de nos applaudissements et de nos vœux le concert universel de l’Italie et de toute la chrétienté; mais, quand, il y a quelques jours, nous avons appris l’attentat sacrilége au moyen duquel une faction fomentée et soutenue par l’étranger,—n’étant point encore fatiguée, après un si long temps, de déchirer notre pauvre patrie,—se proposait de renverser l’ordre de choses aujourd’hui existant, il nous a semblé que l’admiration et l’enthousiasme pour le souverain pontife étaient un trop faible tribut et qu’un plus grand devoir nous était imposé. »Nous qui vous écrivons, très-illustre et très-respectable seigneur, nous sommes ceux qui, toujours animés de ce même esprit qui nous a fait affronter l’exil, avons pris les armes à Montevideo, pour une cause qui nous paraissait juste, et réuni quelques centaines d’hommes, nos compatriotes, qui étaient venus ici, espérant y trouver des jours moins tourmentés que ceux que nous subissions dans notre patrie.
- 58. »Or, voilà cinq années que, pendant le siége qui enveloppe les murailles de cette ville, chacun de nous a été mis à même de faire preuve de résignation et de courage; et, grâce à la Providence et à cet antique esprit qui enflamme encore notre sang italien, notre légion a eu occasion de se distinguer, et, chaque fois que s’est présentée cette occasion, elle ne l’a pas laissée échapper; si bien que—je crois qu’il est permis de le dire sans vanité—elle a, sur le chemin de l’honneur, dépassé tous les autres corps qui étaient ses rivaux et ses émules. »Donc, si, aujourd’hui, les bras qui ont quelque usage des armes sont acceptés par Sa Sainteté, inutile de dire que, bien plus volontiers que jamais, nous les consacrerons au service de celui qui fait tant pour la patrie et pour l’Église. »Nous nous tiendrons donc pour heureux, si nous pouvons venir en aide à l’œuvre rédemptrice de Pie IX, nous et nos compagnons, au nom desquels nous vous portons la parole, et nous ne croirons pas la payer trop cher de tout notre sang. »Si Votre illustre et respectable Seigneurie pense que notre offre puisse être agréable au souverain pontife, qu’elle la dépose au pied de son trône. »Ce n’est point la puérile prétention que notre bras soit nécessaire qui nous fait l’offrir; nous savons trop bien que le trône de saint Pierre repose sur des bases que ne peuvent ni ébranler ni raffermir les secours humains, et que, d’ailleurs, le nouvel ordre de choses compte de nombreux défenseurs qui sauront vigoureusement repousser les injustes agressions de ses ennemis; mais, comme l’œuvre doit être répartie parmi les bons, et le dur travail donné aux forts, faites-nous l’honneur de nous compter parmi ceux-là. »En attendant, nous remercions la Providence d’avoir préservé Sa Sainteté des machinations dei tristi, et nous faisons des vœux ardents pour qu’elle lui accorde de
- 59. nombreuses années pour le bonheur de la chrétienté et de l’Italie. »Il ne nous reste plus maintenant qu’à prier Votre illustre et très-vénérable Seigneurie de nous pardonner le dérangement que nous lui causons, et de vouloir bien agréer les sentiments de notre parfaite estime et du profond respect avec lequel nous sommes de Sa très-illustre et très- respectable Seigneurie les bien dévoués serviteurs. »G. Garibaldi, »F. Anzani. »Montevideo, 12 octobre 1847.» Nous attendîmes vainement; aucune nouvelle ne nous arriva, ni du nonce ni de Sa Sainteté. Ce fut alors que nous prîmes la résolution d’aller en Italie avec une partie de notre légion. Mon intention était d’y seconder la Révolution là où elle était déjà en armes, et de la susciter où elle était encore endormie, dans les Abruzzes, par exemple. Seulement, aucun de nous n’avait le premier sou pour faire la traversée.
- 60. X JE REVIENS EN EUROPE—MORT D’ANZANI J’eus recours à un moyen qui réussit toujours près des cœurs généreux: j’ouvris une souscription parmi mes compatriotes. La chose commençait à marcher, lorsque quelques mauvais esprits essayèrent de soulever parmi les légionnaires un parti contre moi, en intimidant ceux qui étaient disposés à me suivre. On insinuait à ces pauvres gens que je les conduisais à une mort certaine, que l’entreprise que je rêvais était impossible, et qu’un sort pareil à celui des frères Bandiera leur était réservé. Il en résulta que les plus timides se retirèrent, et que je restai avec quatre-vingt-cinq hommes, et encore, sur ces quatre-vingt-cinq, vingt-neuf nous abandonnèrent-ils, une fois embarqués. Par bonheur, ceux qui demeuraient avec moi étaient les plus vaillants, survivants presque tous de notre combat de San-Antonio. En outre, j’avais quelques Orientaux confiants dans ma fortune et, parmi eux, mon pauvre nègre Aguyar, qui fut tué au siége de Rome. J’ai dit que j’avais provoqué, parmi les Italiens, une souscription pour aider à notre départ. La plus forte partie de cette souscription avait été fournie par Étienne Antonini, Génois établi à Montevideo. Le gouvernement, de son côté, offrit de nous aider de tout son pouvoir; mais je le savais si pauvre, que je ne voulus accepter de lui que deux canons et huit cents fusils, que je fis transporter sur notre brick. Au moment du départ, il nous arriva, avec le commandant du Biponte-Gazolo, de Nervi, la même chose qui arriva aux Français, lors de la croisade de Baudouin avec les Vénitiens, ceux-ci ayant
- 61. promis de les transporter en terre sainte: c’est que son exigence fut telle, qu’il fallut tout vendre, jusqu’à nos chemises, pour le satisfaire, si bien que, pendant la traversée, quelques-uns restèrent couchés faute d’habits pour se vêtir. Nous étions déjà à trois cents lieues des côtes, à peu près à la hauteur des bouches de l’Orénoque, et je m’amusais avec Orrigoni à harponner des marsouins sur le beaupré, quand tout à coup j’entendis retentir le cri «Au feu!» Sauter du beaupré sur la poulaine, de la poulaine sur le pont, et me laisser couler par le panneau, fut l’affaire d’une seconde. En faisant une distribution de vivres, le distributeur avait eu l’imprudence de tirer de l’eau-de-vie d’un baril avec une chandelle à la main; l’eau-de-vie avait pris feu, celui qui la tirait avait perdu la tête, et, au lieu de refermer le baril, avait laissé l’eau-de-vie couler à flots; la soute aux vivres, séparée de la sainte-barbe par une planche épaisse d’un pouce à peine, était un véritable lac de feu. C’est là que je vis combien les hommes les plus braves sont accessibles à la peur, quand le danger se présente à eux sous un aspect autre que celui dont ils ont l’habitude. Tous ces hommes, qui étaient des héros sur le champ de bataille, se heurtaient, couraient, perdaient la tête, tremblants et effarés comme des enfants. Au bout de dix minutes, aidé d’Anzani, qui avait quitté son lit au premier cri d’alarme, j’avais éteint le feu. Le pauvre Anzani, en effet, gardait le lit, non pas qu’il fût tout à fait dénué de vêtements, mais parce qu’il était déjà violemment atteint de la maladie dont il devait mourir en arrivant à Gênes, c’est- à-dire d’une phthisie pulmonaire. Cet homme admirable, auquel son plus mortel ennemi, s’il avait pu avoir un ennemi, n’aurait pas su trouver un seul défaut, après avoir consacré sa vie à la cause de la liberté, voulait que ses derniers moments fussent encore utiles à ses compagnons d’armes; tous les
- 62. jours, on l’aidait à monter sur le pont; quand il ne put plus y monter, il s’y fit porter, et, là, couché sur un matelas, souvent s’appuyant sur moi, il donnait des leçons de stratégie aux légionnaires, rassemblés autour de lui à l’arrière du bâtiment. C’était un véritable dictionnaire des sciences que le pauvre Anzani; il me serait aussi difficile d’énumérer les choses qu’il savait que de trouver une chose qu’il ne sût pas. A Palo, à cinq milles environ d’Alicante, nous descendîmes à terre pour acheter une chèvre et des oranges à Anzani. Ce fut là que nous sûmes, par le vice-consul sarde, une partie des événements qui se passaient en Italie. Nous apprîmes que la constitution piémontaise avait été proclamée et que les cinq glorieuses journées de Milan avaient eu lieu,—toutes choses que nous ne pouvions pas savoir lors de notre départ de Montevideo, c’est-à-dire le 27 mars 1848. Le vice-consul nous dit qu’il avait vu passer des bâtiments italiens avec le drapeau tricolore. Il ne m’en fallut pas davantage pour me décider à arborer l’étendard de l’indépendance. J’amenai le pavillon de Montevideo, sous lequel nous naviguions, et je hissai immédiatement, à la corne de notre bâtiment, le drapeau sarde, improvisé avec un demi-drap de lit, une casaque rouge et le reste des parements verts de notre uniforme de bord. On se rappelle que notre uniforme était la blouse rouge à parements verts, lisérés de blanc. Le 24 juin, jour de la Saint-Jean, nous arrivâmes en vue de Nice. Beaucoup étaient d’avis que nous ne devions pas débarquer sans plus amples renseignements. Je risquais plus que personne, puisque j’étais encore sous le coup d’une condamnation à mort. Je n’hésitai pas cependant,—ou, plutôt, je n’eusse pas hésité, car, reconnu par des hommes qui montaient une embarcation, mon nom se répandit aussitôt, et à peine mon nom fut-il répandu, que Nice
- 63. tout entière se précipita vers le port, et qu’il fallut, au milieu des acclamations, accepter les fêtes qui nous étaient offertes de tous les côtés. Dès que l’on sut que j’étais à Nice, et que j’avais traversé l’Océan pour venir en aide à la liberté italienne, les volontaires accoururent de toutes parts. Mais j’avais, pour le moment, des vues que je croyais meilleures. De même que j’avais cru dans le pape Pie IX, je croyais dans le roi Charles-Albert; au lieu de me préoccuper de Medici, que j’avais expédié, comme je l’ai dit, à Via-Reggio, pour y organiser l’insurrection, trouvant l’insurrection organisée et le roi de Piémont à sa tête, je crus que ce que j’avais de mieux à faire était d’aller lui offrir mes services. Je dis adieu à mon pauvre Anzani, adieu d’autant plus douloureux que nous savions tous deux que nous ne devions plus nous revoir, et je me rembarquai pour Gênes, d’où je gagnai le quartier général du roi Charles-Albert. L’événement me prouva que j’avais eu tort. Nous nous quittâmes, le roi et moi, mécontents l’un de l’autre, et je revins à Turin, où j’appris la mort d’Anzani. Je perdais la moitié de mon cœur. L’Italie perdait un de ses enfants les plus distingués. O Italie! Italie! mère infortunée! quel deuil pour toi le jour où ce brave parmi les braves, ce loyal parmi les loyaux, ferma les yeux pour toujours à la lumière de ton beau soleil! A la mort d’un homme comme Anzani, je te le dis, ô Italie! la nation qui lui a donné naissance doit, du plus profond de ses entrailles, pousser un cri de douleur, et, si elle ne pleure pas, si elle ne se lamente pas comme Rachel dans Rama, cette nation n’est digne ni de sympathie ni de pitié, elle qui n’aura eu ni sympathie ni pitié pour ses plus généreux martyrs. Oh! martyr, cent fois martyr fut notre bien-aimé Anzani, et la torture la plus cruelle soufferte par ce vaillant fut de toucher la terre
- 64. natale, pauvre moribond, et de ne pas finir comme il avait vécu, en combattant pour elle, pour son honneur, pour sa régénération. O Anzani! si un génie pareil au tien avait présidé aux combats de la Lombardie, à la bataille de Novare, au siége de Rome, l’étranger ne souillerait plus la terre natale et ne foulerait pas insolemment les ossements de nos preux! La légion italienne, on l’a vu, avait peu fait avant l’arrivée d’Anzani; lui venu, sous ses auspices, elle parcourut une carrière de gloire à rendre jalouses les nations les plus vantées. Parmi tous les militaires, les soldats, les combattants, parmi tous les hommes portant le mousquet ou l’épée enfin, que j’ai connus, je n’en sais pas un qui puisse égaler Anzani dans les dons de la nature, dans les inspirations du courage, dans les applications de la science. Il avait la valeur bouillante de Massena, le sang-froid de Daverio, la sérénité, la bravoure et le tempérament guerrier de Manara[2] . [2] Le lecteur ne connaît pas encore ces trois autres martyrs de la liberté italienne; mais bientôt il fera connaissance avec eux. Garibaldi, qui n’écrivait pas pour être imprimé, parle, en quelque sorte, à lui-même, et non aux lecteurs. A. D. Les connaissances militaires d’Anzani, sa science de toutes choses, n’étaient égalées par personne. Doué d’une mémoire sans pareille, il parlait avec une précision inouïe des choses passées, ces choses passées remontassent-elles à l’antiquité. Dans les dernières années de sa vie, son caractère s’était sensiblement altéré; il était devenu âcre, irascible, intolérant, et, pauvre Anzani, ce n’était pas sans motif qu’il avait ainsi changé! Tourmenté presque constamment par des douleurs, suites de ses nombreuses blessures et de la vie orageuse qu’il avait menée pendant tant d’années, il traînait une intolérable existence, une existence de martyr.
- 65. Je laisse à une main plus habile que la mienne le soin de tracer la vie militaire d’Anzani, digne d’occuper les veilles d’un écrivain éminent. En Italie, en Grèce, en Portugal, en Espagne, en Amérique, on retrouvera, en suivant ses traces, les documents de la vie d’un héros. Le journal de la légion italienne de Montevideo, tenu par Anzani, n’est qu’un épisode de sa vie. Il fut l’âme de cette légion, dressée, conduite, administrée par lui, et avec laquelle il s’était identifié. O Italie! quand le Tout-Puissant aura marqué le terme de tes malheurs, il te donnera des Anzani pour guider tes fils à l’extermination de ceux qui te vilipendent et te tyrannisent! G. G.
- 66. XI ENCORE MONTEVIDEO Avant de commencer le récit de la campagne de Lombardie, exécutée par Garibaldi en 1848, disons, à propos de Montevideo, tout ce que lui, dans sa modestie, n’a pas pu dire, racontons tout ce qu’il n’a pas pu raconter. * * * On se rappelle le combat du 24 avril 1844, le périlleux passage de la Boyada; on sait de quelle façon les légionnaires italiens s’y comportèrent. L’officier qui faisait le rapport au général Paz se contenta, à propos des légionnaires, de lui dire: —Ils se sont battus comme des tigres. —Ce n’est pas étonnant, répondit le général Paz, ils sont commandés par un lion. * * * Après la bataille de San-Antonio, l’amiral Lainé, qui commandait la station de la Plata, frappé d’étonnement par ce merveilleux fait
- 67. d’armes, écrivit à Garibaldi la lettre suivante, dont l’autographe est entre les mains de G.-B. Cuneo, ami de Garibaldi. L’amiral Lainé montait la frégate l’Africaine. «Je vous félicite, mon cher général, d’avoir si puissamment contribué, par votre intelligente et intrépide conduite, à l’accomplissement du fait d’armes dont se seraient enorgueillis les soldats de la grande armée qui, pour un moment, domina l’Europe. »Je vous félicite également pour la simplicité et la modestie qui rendent plus précieuse la lecture de la relation dans laquelle vous donnez les plus minutieux détails d’un fait d’armes duquel on peut, sans crainte, vous attribuer tout l’honneur. »Au reste, cette modestie vous a captivé les sympathies des personnes aptes à apprécier convenablement ce que vous êtes arrivé à faire depuis six mois, personnes parmi lesquelles il faut compter, au premier rang, notre ministre plénipotentiaire, l’honorable baron Deffaudis, qui honore votre caractère et dans lequel vous avez un chaud défenseur, surtout lorsqu’il s’agit d’écrire à Paris dans le but d’y détruire les impressions défavorables que peuvent faire naître certains articles de journaux, rédigés par des personnes peu habituées à dire la vérité, même lorsqu’elles racontent des faits arrivés sous leurs propres yeux. »Recevez, général, l’assurance de mon estime. »Lainé.» Ce ne fut pas tout que d’avoir écrit à Garibaldi, l’amiral Lainé voulut lui porter ses compliments en personne. Il se fit débarquer à Montevideo et se rendit dans la rue du Portone, où habitait Garibaldi. Ce logement, aussi pauvre que celui du dernier légionnaire, ne fermait point et était, jour et nuit, ouvert à tout le
- 68. monde, particulièrement au vent et à la pluie, comme me le disait Garibaldi en me racontant cette anecdote. Or, il était nuit; l’amiral Lainé poussa la porte et, comme la maison n’était pas éclairée, il se heurta contre une chaise. —Holà! dit-il, faut-il absolument que l’on se casse le cou lorsqu’on vient voir Garibaldi? —Hé! femme, cria Garibaldi à son tour, sans reconnaître la voix de l’amiral, n’entends-tu pas qu’il y a quelqu’un dans l’antichambre? Éclaire. —Et avec quoi veux-tu que j’éclaire! répondit Anita, ne sais-tu pas qu’il n’y a pas deux sous à la maison pour acheter une chandelle? —C’est vrai, répondit philosophiquement Garibaldi. Et il se leva; et, allant ouvrir la porte de la pièce où il était: —Par ici, dit-il, par ici!—afin que sa voix, à défaut de lumière, guidât le visiteur. L’amiral Lainé entra; l’obscurité était telle, qu’il fut obligé de se nommer pour que Garibaldi sût à qui il avait affaire. —Amiral, dit-il, vous m’excuserez, mais, quand j’ai fait mon traité avec la république de Montevideo, j’ai oublié, parmi les rations qui nous sont dues, de spécifier une ration de chandelles. Or, comme vous l’a dit Anita, la maison, n’ayant pas eu deux sous pour acheter une chandelle, reste dans l’obscurité. Par bonheur, je présume que vous venez pour causer avec moi et non pour me voir. L’amiral, en effet, causa avec Garibaldi, mais ne le vit pas. En sortant, il se rendit chez le général Pacheco y Obes, ministre de la guerre, et lui raconta ce qui venait de lui arriver. Le ministre de la guerre, qui venait de rendre le décret qu’on va lire, prit aussitôt cent patagons (cinq cents francs) et les envoya à Garibaldi.
- 69. Garibaldi ne voulut pas blesser son ami Pacheco en les refusant; mais, le lendemain, au point du jour, prenant les cent patagons, il alla les distribuer aux veuves et aux enfants des soldats tués au Salto San-Antonio, ne conservant pour lui que ce qu’il en fallait pour acheter une livre de chandelles, qu’il invita sa femme à économiser, pour le cas où l’amiral Lainé viendrait lui faire une seconde visite. Voici le décret que rédigeait Pacheco y Obes, lorsque l’amiral Lainé était venu faire un appel à sa munificence: ORDRE GÉNÉRAL «Pour donner à nos preux compagnons d’armes qui se sont immortalisés dans les champs de San-Antonio, une haute preuve de l’estime dans laquelle les tient l’armée qu’ils ont illustrée comme eux dans ce mémorable combat; »Le ministre de la guerre décide: »1º Le 15 courant, jour désigné par l’autorité pour remettre à la légion italienne copie du décret suivant, il y aura une grande parade de la garnison, qui se réunira dans la rue du Marché, appuyant sa droite à la petite place du même nom et dans l’ordre qu’indiquera l’état-major. »2º La légion italienne se réunira sur la place de la Constitution, tournant le dos à la cathédrale, et, là, elle recevra la susdite copie, qui lui sera remise par une députation présidée par le colonel Francesco Tages, et composée d’un chef, d’un officier, d’un sergent et d’un soldat de chaque corps. »3º La députation, rentrée dans ses corps respectifs, se dirigera avec eux vers la place indiquée en défilant en colonne d’honneur devant la légion italienne, et cela tandis que les chefs de corps salueront du cri de Vive la Patrie! vivent le général Garibaldi et ses braves compagnons!
- 70. »4º Les régiments devront être en ligne à dix heures du matin. »5º Il sera donné copie authentique de cet ordre du jour à la légion italienne et au général Garibaldi. »Pacheco y Obes.» Le décret portait: 1º Que les mots suivants seraient inscrits en lettres d’or sur la bannière de la légion italienne: Action du 8 février 1846 de la légion italienne aux ordres de Garibaldi. 2º Que la légion italienne aurait la préséance dans toutes les parades; 3º Que les noms des morts tombés dans cette rencontre seraient inscrits sur un tableau placé dans la salle du gouvernement; 4º Que tous les légionnaires porteraient pour marque distinctive, au bras gauche, un écu sur lequel une couronne entourerait l’inscription suivante: Invincibili combatterono, 8 febraio 1846. En outre, Garibaldi, voulant donner une suprême attestation de sa sympathie et de sa reconnaissance aux légionnaires qui étaient tombés en combattant à ses côtés, dans la journée du 8 février, fit élever sur le champ de bataille une grande croix qui portait sur une de ses faces cette inscription: Aux XXXVI Italiens morts le 8 février MDCCCXLVI. Et de l’autre côté:
- 71. CLXXXIV Italiens dans le champ San-Antonio. * * * Si pauvre que fût Garibaldi, il trouva cependant, un jour, un légionnaire plus pauvre que lui. Ce légionnaire n’avait pas de chemise. Garibaldi l’emmena dans un coin, ôta sa chemise et la lui donna. En rentrant chez lui, il en demanda une autre à Anita. Mais Anita, secouant la tête: —Tu sais bien, dit-elle, que tu n’en avais qu’une; tu l’as donnée, tant pis pour toi! Et ce fut Garibaldi qui resta à son tour sans chemise, jusqu’à ce qu’Anzani lui en eût donné une. Mais c’est qu’aussi Garibaldi était incorrigible. Un jour, ayant capturé un navire ennemi, il partagea le butin avec ses compagnons. Les parts faites, il appela à lui ses hommes, les uns après les autres, et les interrogea sur l’état de leur famille. Aux plus besoigneux il faisait une part sur la sienne, disant: —Prenez ceci, c’est pour vos enfants. Il y avait, en outre, une forte somme d’argent à bord; mais Garibaldi l’envoya au trésor de Montevideo, n’en voulant pas toucher un centime. Quelque temps après, la part de prise était si bien partie, qu’il ne restait plus que trois sous à la maison.
- 72. Ces trois sous sont l’objet d’une anecdote que m’a racontée Garibaldi lui-même. Un jour, il entendit sa petite fille Teresita pousser de grands cris. Il adorait l’enfant; il courut voir ce dont il s’agissait. L’enfant avait roulé du haut en bas de l’escalier; elle avait la figure en sang. Garibaldi, ne sachant comment la consoler, avisa trois sous qui formaient toute la fortune de la maison et que l’on réservait pour les grandes circonstances. Il prit ces trois sous, et sortit pour acheter quelque jouet qui pût consoler l’enfant. A la porte, il rencontra un émissaire du président Joaquin Souarez, qui le cherchait de la part de son maître pour une communication importante. Garibaldi se rendit aussitôt chez le président, oubliant le motif qui l’avait fait sortir et tenant machinalement les trois sous dans sa main. La conférence dura deux heures; il s’agissait, en effet, de choses importantes. Garibaldi, au bout de ces deux heures, rentra chez lui; l’enfant était calmée, mais Anita était fort inquiète. —On a volé la bourse! lui dit-elle dès qu’elle le vit. Garibaldi pensa alors aux trois sous qu’il avait toujours dans la main. C’était lui le voleur.
- 73. XII CAMPAGNE DE LOMBARDIE Maintenant, nous allons, avec l’aide d’un ami de Garibaldi, du brave colonel Medici, que l’on jugera, d’ailleurs, par la simplicité de ses paroles, reprendre notre récit où Garibaldi l’a interrompu. Son départ pour la Sicile nous forcerait d’arrêter ici ses Mémoires, si Medici ne se chargait de les continuer. Et, nous l’avouons, cette manière de parler de Garibaldi nous plaît mieux que de le laisser parler lui-même de lui-même. En effet, lorsque Garibaldi raconte, il oublie sans cesse la part qu’il a prise aux actions qu’il narre pour exalter celle qu’y ont prise ses compagnons. Or, puisque c’est spécialement de lui que nous nous occupons, mieux vaut, pour le voir dans son véritable jour, qu’il y soit placé par un autre que lui-même. Nous allons donc laisser le colonel Medici raconter la campagne de Lombardie en 1848. * * * Je partis de Londres pour Montevideo vers la moitié de l’année 1846. Aucun motif politique ni commercial ne m’appelait dans l’Amérique du Sud: j’y allais pour ma santé.
- 74. Les médecins me croyaient atteint de phthisie pulmonaire; mes opinions libérales m’avaient fait exiler de l’Italie; je me décidai à traverser la mer. J’arrivai à Montevideo sept ou huit mois après l’affaire du Salto San-Antonio. La réputation de la légion italienne était dans toute son efflorescence. Garibaldi était alors le héros du moment. Je fis connaissance avec lui, je le priai de me recevoir dans sa légion: il y consentit. Le lendemain, j’avais revêtu la blouse rouge aux parements verts, et je me disais avec orgueil: —Je suis soldat de Garibaldi! Bientôt je me liai plus intimement avec lui. Il me prit en amitié, puis en confiance, et, lorsque tout fut décidé pour son départ, un mois avant qu’il quittât Montevideo, je partis sur un paquebot faisant voile pour le Havre. J’avais ses instructions, instructions claires et précises, comme toutes celles que donne Garibaldi. J’étais chargé d’aller en Piémont et en Toscane et d’y voir plusieurs hommes éminents, et, entre autres, Fanti, Guerazzi et Beluomini, le fils du général. J’avais l’adresse de Guerazzi, caché près de Pistoia. Aidé de ces puissants auxiliaires, je devais organiser l’insurrection; Garibaldi, en débarquant à Via-Reggio, la trouverait prête; nous nous emparerions de Lucques et nous marcherions où serait l’espérance. Je traversai Paris lors de l’émeute du 15 mai; je passai en Italie, et, au bout d’un mois, j’avais trois cents hommes prêts à marcher où je les conduirais, fût-ce en enfer. Ce fut alors que j’appris que Garibaldi était débarqué à Nice. Mon premier sentiment fut d’être vivement blessé qu’il eût ainsi oublié ce qui était convenu entre nous.
- 75. J’appris bientôt que Garibaldi avait quitté Nice et y avait laissé Anzani mourant. J’aimais beaucoup Anzani; tout le monde l’aimait. Je courus à Nice; Anzani était encore vivant. Je le fis transporter à Gênes, où il reçut l’hospitalité de l’agonie au palais du marquis Gavotto, dans l’appartement qu’y occupait le peintre Gallino. Je m’établis à son chevet et ne le quittai plus. Il était préoccupé, plus que cela n’en valait la peine, de ma bouderie contre Garibaldi. Souvent il m’en parlait; un jour, il me prit la main et, avec un accent prophétique qui avait l’air d’avoir son inspiration dans un autre monde: —Medici, me dit-il, ne sois pas sévère pour Garibaldi; c’est un homme qui a reçu du ciel une telle fortune, qu’il est bien de l’appuyer et de la suivre. L’avenir de l’Italie est en lui; c’est un prédestiné. Je me suis plus d’une fois brouillé avec lui; mais, convaincu de sa mission, je suis toujours revenu à lui le premier. Ces mots me frappèrent comme nous frappent les dernières paroles d’un mourant, et bien souvent, depuis, je les ai entendus bruire à mon oreille. Anzani était philosophe et pratiquait peu les devoirs matériels de la religion. Cependant, au moment de mourir, et comme on lui demandait s’il ne voulait pas voir un prêtre: —Oui, répondit-il, faites-en venir un. Et, comme je m’étonnais de cet acte, que j’appelais une faiblesse: —Mon ami, me dit-il, l’Italie attend beaucoup en ce moment de deux hommes, de Pie IX et de Garibaldi. Eh bien, il ne faut pas que l’on accuse les hommes revenus avec Garibaldi d’être des hérétiques. Sur quoi, il reçut les sacrements.
- 76. La même nuit, vers trois heures du matin, il mourut entre mes bras sans avoir perdu un instant sa connaissance, sans avoir eu une minute de délire. Ses derniers mots furent: —N’oublie pas ma recommandation à propos de Garibaldi. Et il rendit le dernier soupir. Le corps et les papiers d’Anzani furent remis à son frère, homme entièrement dévoué au parti autrichien. Le corps fut ramené à Alzate, patrie d’Anzani, et le cadavre de cet homme qui, six mois auparavant, n’eût pas trouvé, dans toute l’Italie, une pierre où poser sa tête, eut une marche triomphale. Lorsqu’on apprit sa mort à Montevideo, ce fut un deuil général dans la légion; on lui chanta un Requiem, et le docteur Bartolomeo Udicine, médecin et chirurgien de la légion, prononça une oraison funèbre. Quant à Garibaldi, pour faire autant que possible revivre son souvenir lors de l’organisation des bataillons de volontaires lombards, il nomma le premier bataillon: bataillon Anzani. Après la mort d’Anzani, j’étais parti pour Turin. Un jour, le hasard fit qu’en me promenant sous les arcades, je me trouvai face à face avec Garibaldi. A sa vue, la recommandation d’Anzani me revint à la mémoire; il est vrai qu’elle était secondée par la profonde et respectueuse tendresse que je portais à Garibaldi. Nous nous jetâmes dans les bras l’un de l’autre. Puis, après nous être tendrement embrassés, le souvenir de la patrie nous revint à tous deux en même temps. —Eh bien, qu’allons-nous faire? nous demandâmes-nous. —Mais, vous, lui demandai-je, ne venez-vous point de Roverbella? n’avez-vous point été offrir votre épée à Charles-Albert?
- 77. Sa lèvre se plissa dédaigneusement. —Ces gens-là, me dit-il, ne sont pas dignes que des cœurs comme les nôtres leur fassent soumission. Pas d’hommes, mon cher Medici: la patrie toujours, rien que la patrie! Comme il ne paraissait pas disposé à me donner les détails de son entrevue avec Charles-Albert, je cessai de l’interroger. Plus tard, j’appris que le roi Charles-Albert l’avait reçu plus que froidement, le renvoyant à Turin pour qu’il y attendît les ordres de son ministre de la guerre, M. Ricci. M. Ricci avait daigné se souvenir que Garibaldi attendait ses ordres, l’avait fait venir et lui avait dit: —Je vous conseille fortement de partir pour Venise; là, vous prendrez le commandement de quelques petites barques, et vous pourrez, comme corsaire, être très-utile aux Vénitiens. Je crois que votre place est là et non ailleurs. Garibaldi ne répondit point à M. Ricci; seulement, au lieu de s’en aller à Venise, il resta à Turin. Voilà pourquoi je le rencontrai sous les arcades. —-Eh bien, qu’allons-nous faire? nous demandâmes-nous derechef. Avec les hommes de la trempe de Garibaldi, les résolutions sont bientôt prises. Nous résolûmes d’aller à Milan, et nous partîmes le même soir. Le moment était bon; on venait d’y recevoir la nouvelle des premiers revers de l’armée piémontaise. Le gouvernement provisoire donna à Garibaldi le titre de général, et l’autorisa à organiser des bataillons de volontaires lombards. Garibaldi et moi (sous ses ordres), nous nous mîmes à l’instant même à la besogne.
- 78. Nous fûmes tout d’abord rejoints par un bataillon de volontaires de Vicence, qui nous arrivait tout organisé de Pavie. C’était un noyau. Garibaldi créait le bataillon Anzani, qu’il eut bientôt porté au complet. Moi, j’avais charge de discipliner toute cette jeunesse des barricades qui, pendant les cinq jours, avec trois cents fusils et quatre ou cinq cents hommes, avait chassé de Milan Radetzki et ses vingt mille soldats. Mais nous éprouvions les mêmes difficultés que Garibaldi éprouva en 1859. Ces corps de volontaires, qui représentent l’esprit de la Révolution, inquiètent toujours les gouvernements. Un seul mot donnera une idée de l’esprit du nôtre. C’était Mazzini qui en était le porte-drapeau, et une de ses compagnies s’appelait la compagnie Medici. Aussi commença-t-on par nous refuser des armes: un homme à lunettes, occupant une place importante au ministère, dit tout haut que c’étaient des armes perdues et que Garibaldi était un sabreur, et pas autre chose. Nous répondîmes que c’était bien; que, quant aux armes, nous nous en procurerions, mais qu’on voulût bien nous donner, au moins, des uniformes. On nous répondit qu’il n’y avait pas d’uniformes; mais on nous ouvrit les magasins où se trouvaient des habits autrichiens, hongrois et croates. C’était une assez bonne plaisanterie à l’endroit de gens qui demandaient à se faire tuer en allant combattre les Croates, les Hongrois et les Autrichiens. Tous ces jeunes gens, qui appartenaient aux premières familles de Milan, dont quelques-unes étaient millionnaires, refusèrent avec
- 79. indignation. Cependant il fallut se décider; on ne pouvait pas combattre, les uns en frac, les autres en redingote; nous prîmes les habits de toile des soldats autrichiens, ceux qu’on appelle ritters, et nous en fîmes des espèces de blouses. C’était à mourir de rire: nous avions l’air d’un régiment de cuisiniers. Il eût fallu avoir l’œil bien exercé pour reconnaître, sous cette toile grossière, la jeunesse dorée de Milan. Pendant qu’on retaillait les habits à la mesure de chacun, on se procurait des fusils et des munitions par tous les moyens possibles. Enfin, une fois armés et habillés, nous nous mîmes en marche sur Bergame, en chantant des hymnes patriotiques. Quant à moi, j’avais sous mes ordres environ cent quatre-vingts jeunes gens, presque tous, je l’ai dit, des premières familles de Milan. Nous arrivâmes à Bergame, où nous fûmes rejoints par Mazzini, qui venait prendre sa place dans nos rangs et qui y fut reçu avec acclamation. Là, un régiment de Bergamasques, conscrits réguliers de l’armée piémontaise, se joignit à nous, traînant à sa suite deux canons appartenant à la garde nationale. A peine étions-nous arrivés, qu’un ordre du comité de Milan nous rappela; le comité se composait de Fanti, de Maestri et de Restelli. L’ordre portait que nous eussions à revenir à marche forcée. Nous obéîmes, et commençâmes notre retour sur Milan. Mais, arrivés à Monza, nous apprîmes, à la fois, que Milan avait capitulé et qu’un corps de cavaliers autrichiens était détaché à notre poursuite. Garibaldi ordonna aussitôt la retraite sur Como; notre jeu était de nous rapprocher autant que possible des frontières suisses.
- 80. Garibaldi me plaça à l’arrière-garde pour soutenir la retraite. Nous étions très-fatigués de la marche forcée que nous venions de faire. Nous n’avions pas eu le temps de manger à Monza, nous tombions de faim et de lassitude; nos hommes se retirèrent en désordre et complétement démoralisés. Le résultat de cette démoralisation fut que, arrivés à Como, la désertion se mit parmi nous. Sur cinq mille hommes qu’avait Garibaldi, quatre mille deux cents passèrent en Suisse; nous restâmes avec huit cents. Garibaldi, comme s’il avait toujours ses cinq mille hommes, prit, avec son calme habituel, position à la Camerlata, point de jonction de plusieurs routes en avant de Como. Là, il met en batterie ses deux pièces de canon et expédie des courriers à Manara, à Griffini, à Durando, à d’Apice, enfin à tous les chefs de corps volontaires de la haute Lombardie, les invitant à se mettre d’accord avec lui dans les fortes positions qu’ils occupaient, positions d’autant plus sûres, et tenables jusqu’au dernier moment, qu’elles étaient appuyées à la Suisse. L’invitation demeura sans résultat. Alors Garibaldi se retira de Camerlata sur ce même San-Fermo où, en 1859, nous battîmes si complétement les Autrichiens. Mais, avant de prendre position sur la place de San-Fermo, il nous réunit et nous harangua.—Les harangues de Garibaldi, vives, pittoresques, entraînantes, ont la véritable éloquence du soldat. Il nous dit qu’il fallait continuer la guerre en partisans, par bandes, que cette guerre était la plus sûre et la moins dangereuse, qu’il s’agissait seulement d’avoir confiance dans le chef et de s’appuyer sur ses compagnons. Malgré cette chaleureuse allocution, de nouvelles désertions eurent lieu pendant la nuit, et, le lendemain, notre troupe se trouvait réduite à quatre ou cinq cents hommes.
- 81. Garibaldi, à son grand regret, se décide à rentrer en Piémont; mais, au moment de traverser la frontière, une honte le prend. Cette retraite sans combat répugne à son courage; il s’arrête à Castelletto sur le Tessin, m’ordonne de parcourir les environs et de lui ramener le plus de déserteurs possible. Je vais jusqu’à Lugano, je ramène trois cents hommes; nous nous comptons, nous sommes sept cent cinquante. Garibaldi trouve le nombre suffisant pour marcher contre les Autrichiens. Le 12 août, il fait sa fameuse proclamation, dans laquelle il déclare que Charles-Albert est un traître, que les Italiens ne peuvent plus et ne doivent plus se fier à lui, et que tout patriote doit regarder comme un devoir de faire la guerre pour son compte. Cette proclamation faite, au moment où, de tous côtés, on bat en retraite, nous seuls marchons en avant, et Garibaldi, avec sept cent cinquante hommes, fait un mouvement offensif contre l’armée autrichienne. Nous marchons sur Arona; nous nous emparons de deux bateaux à vapeur et de quelques petites embarcations. Nous commençons l’embarquement; il dure jusqu’au soir, et, le lendemain, au point du jour, nous arrivons à Luino. Garibaldi était malade; il avait une fièvre intermittente contre les accès de laquelle il essayait vainement de lutter. Pris par un de ces accès, il entra à l’auberge de la Bécasse, maison isolée en avant de Luino, et séparée du village par une petite rivière sur laquelle est jeté un pont; puis il me fit appeler. —Medici, me dit-il, j’ai absolument besoin de deux heures de repos; remplace-moi et veille sur nous. L’auberge de la Bécasse était mal choisie pour un fiévreux qui voulait dormir tranquille. C’était la sentinelle avancée de Luino, la première maison qui dût être attaquée par l’ennemi, en supposant l’ennemi dans les environs.
- 82. Nous n’avions aucune nouvelle des mouvements des Autrichiens, nous ne savions pas si nous étions à dix lieues d’eux ou à un kilomètre. Je n’en dis pas moins à Garibaldi de dormir tranquille, l’assurant que j’allais prendre mes précautions pour que son sommeil ne fût pas troublé. Cette promesse faite, je sortis; les fusils étaient en faisceaux de l’autre côté du pont, nos hommes campés entre le pont et Luino. Je plaçai des sentinelles en avant de l’auberge de la Bécasse, et j’envoyai des paysans explorer les environs. Au bout d’une demi-heure, mes batteurs d’estrade revinrent tout effarés, en criant: —Les Autrichiens! les Autrichiens! Je me précipitai dans la chambre de Garibaldi en poussant le même cri: —Les Autrichiens! Garibaldi était en plein accès de fièvre; il sauta à bas de son lit, en m’ordonnant de faire battre le rappel et de réunir nos hommes; de sa fenêtre, il découvrait la campagne et nous rejoindrait quand il serait temps. En effet, dix minutes après, il était au milieu de nous. Il divisa notre petite troupe en deux colonnes; l’une, barrant la route, fut destinée à faire face aux Autrichiens; l’autre, prenant une position de flanc, empêchait que nous ne fussions tournés, et même pouvait attaquer. Les Autrichiens parurent bientôt sur la grande route; nous évaluâmes qu’ils pouvaient être mille à douze cents; ils s’emparèrent immédiatement de la Bécasse. Garibaldi donna aussitôt à la colonne qui fermait la grande route l’ordre de l’attaque; cette colonne, qui se composait de quatre cents hommes, en attaqua résolument douze cents.
- 83. C’est l’habitude de Garibaldi de ne jamais compter ni les ennemis ni ses propres hommes; on est en face de l’ennemi: donc, on doit attaquer l’ennemi. Il faut avouer que, presque toujours, cette tactique lui réussit. Cependant, les Autrichiens tenant bon, Garibaldi jugea qu’il devenait nécessaire d’engager toutes ses forces; il appela la colonne de flanc et renouvela l’attaque. J’avais devant moi un mur, que j’escaladai avec ma compagnie; je me trouvai dans le jardin; les Autrichiens faisaient feu par toutes les ouvertures de l’auberge. Mais nous nous ruâmes au milieu des balles, nous attaquâmes à la baïonnette, et, par toutes ces ouvertures, qui, un instant auparavant, vomissaient le feu, nous entrâmes. Les Autrichiens se retirèrent en pleine déroute. Garibaldi avait dirigé l’attaque à cheval, en avant du pont, à cinquante pas de l’auberge, au milieu du feu; c’était un miracle, qu’exposé comme une cible au feu de l’ennemi, aucune balle ne l’eût atteint. Dès qu’il vit les Autrichiens en fuite, il me cria de les poursuivre avec ma compagnie. La désertion l’avait réduite à une centaine d’hommes, à peu près, et, avec mes cent hommes, je me mis à la poursuite de onze cents. Il n’y avait pas grand mérite: les Autrichiens semblaient pris d’une véritable panique; ils se sauvaient, jetant fusils, sacs et gibernes; ils coururent jusqu’à Varèse. Ils laissaient dans la Bécasse une centaine de morts et de blessés, et dans nos mains quatre-vingts prisonniers. J’entendis dire qu’ils s’étaient arrêtés à Germiniada; je revins sur Germiniada, ils en étaient déjà partis. Je me mis sur leurs traces; mais, si bien que je courusse, je ne pus les rejoindre.
- 84. Pendant la nuit, la nouvelle arriva qu’un second corps autrichien, plus considérable que le premier, marchait sur nous. Garibaldi m’ordonna de tenir à Germiniada; je fis, à l’instant même, faire des barricades et créneler les maisons. Nous avions une telle habitude de ces sortes de fortifications, qu’il ne nous fallait guère qu’une heure pour mettre la dernière bicoque en état de soutenir un siége. La nouvelle était fausse. Garibaldi envoya deux ou trois compagnies dans différentes directions; puis, à leur retour, réunissant tout son monde, il donna l’ordre de marcher sur Guerla et, de là, sur Varèse, où il fut reçu en triomphe. Nous avancions droit sur Radetzki. A Varèse, nous occupâmes la hauteur de Buimo-di-Sopra, qui domine Varèse et qui assurait notre retraite. Là, Garibaldi fit fusiller un espion des Autrichiens. Cet espion devait donner des renseignements sur nos forces à trois grosses colonnes autrichiennes dirigées contre nous. L’une marchait sur Como, l’autre sur Varèse; la troisième se séparait des deux autres et se dirigeait sur Luino. Il était évident que le plan des Autrichiens était de se placer entre Garibaldi et Lugano, et de lui couper toute retraite, soit sur le Piémont, soit sur la Suisse. Nous partîmes alors de Buimo pour Arcisate. D’Arcisate, Garibaldi me détacha avec ma compagnie, qui faisait toujours le service d’avant-garde, sur Viggia. Arrivé là avec mes cent hommes, je reçus l’ordre de me porter immédiatement contre les Autrichiens. La première colonne dont j’eus connaissance était la division d’Aspre, forte de cinq mille hommes.
- 85. Ce fut ce même général d’Aspre qui fit depuis les massacres de Livourne. En conséquence de l’ordre reçu, je me préparai au combat, et, pour le livrer dans la meilleure situation possible, je m’emparai de trois petits villages formant triangle: Catzone, Ligurno et Rodero. Ces trois villages gardaient toutes les routes venant de Como. Derrière ces villages se trouvait une forte position, San-Maffeo, rocher inexpugnable, duquel je n’avais, en quelque sorte, qu’à me laisser rouler pour descendre en Suisse, c’est-à-dire en pays neutre. J’avais divisé mes cent hommes en trois détachements; chaque détachement occupait un village. J’occupai Ligurno. J’y étais arrivé pendant la nuit avec quarante hommes, et m’y étais fortifié du mieux que j’avais pu. Au point du jour, les Autrichiens m’attaquèrent. Ils s’étaient d’abord emparés de Rodero, qu’ils avaient trouvé abandonné; pendant la nuit, sa garnison s’était retirée en Suisse. Je restais avec soixante-huit hommes. Je rappelai les trente hommes que j’avais à Catzone, et, au pas de course, je gagnai San-Maffeo; là, je pouvais tenir. A peine y étais-je établi, que je fus attaqué; de Rodero, le canon autrichien nous envoyait des boulets et des fusées à la congrève. Je jetai les yeux autour de nous: le pied de la montagne était complétement entouré par la cavalerie. Nous ne résolûmes pas moins de nous défendre vigoureusement. Les Autrichiens montèrent à l’assaut de la montagne; la fusillade commença. Par malheur, chacun de nous n’avait qu’une vingtaine de cartouches, et nos fusils étaient plus que médiocres. Au bruit de notre fusillade, les montagnes de la Suisse voisines de San-Maffeo se couvrirent de curieux. Cinq ou six Tessinois, armés
- 86. de leurs carabines, n’y purent pas tenir; ils vinrent nous rejoindre et firent avec nous le coup de feu en amateurs. Je gardai ma position et soutins le combat jusqu’à ce que mes hommes eussent brûlé leurs dernières cartouches. J’espérais toujours que Garibaldi entendrait le canon des Autrichiens et viendrait au feu; mais Garibaldi avait autre chose à faire que de nous secourir; il venait d’apprendre que les Autrichiens s’avançaient sur Luino, et il marchait à leur rencontre. Toutes mes cartouches brûlées, je pensai qu’il était temps de songer à la retraite. Guidés par nos Tessinois, nous prîmes, à travers les rochers, un chemin connu des seuls habitants du pays. Une heure après, nous étions en Suisse. Je me retirai avec mes hommes dans un petit bois; les habitants nous prêtèrent des caisses où nous cachâmes nos fusils, afin de les y retrouver à la prochaine occasion. Nous avions tenu plus de quatre heures, soixante-huit hommes contre cinq mille. Le général d’Aspre fit mettre dans tous les journaux qu’il avait soutenu un combat acharné contre l’armée de Garibaldi, qu’il avait mise en complète déroute. Il n’y a que les Autrichiens pour faire de ces sortes de plaisanteries!
- 87. XIII SUITE DE LA CAMPAGNE DE LOMBARDIE Garibaldi marchait, comme je l’ai dit, sur Luino; mais, avant d’y arriver, il reçut la nouvelle que Luino était déjà occupé par les Autrichiens, en même temps que la colonne d’Aspre, après sa grande victoire sur nous, s’emparait d’Arcisate. La retraite de Garibaldi sur la Suisse devenait dès lors très- difficile. Il se décida donc à marcher droit à Morazzone, position très- forte et, par conséquent, très-avantageuse. D’ailleurs, le bruit du canon qu’il avait entendu lui avait fait venir l’eau à la bouche. A peine y fut-il campé, qu’il se vit complétement entouré par cinq mille Autrichiens. Il avait cinq cents hommes avec lui. Pendant toute une journée, avec ses cinq cents hommes, il soutint l’attaque des cinq mille Autrichiens. La nuit venue, il forma ses hommes en colonnes serrées, et s’élança sur l’ennemi à la baïonnette, Favorisé par l’obscurité, il fit une sanglante trouée, et se retrouva en rase campagne. A une lieue de Morazzone, il licencia ses hommes, leur donna rendez-vous à Lugano, et, à pied, avec un guide déguisé en paysan, il partit pour la Suisse. Un matin, j’appris à Lugano que Garibaldi, que l’on disait tué, ou tout au moins pris à Morazzone, était arrivé dans un village voisin.
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