Yesterday, I had lunch and a blether with a journalist who is about to complete a review of the Nicola Sturgeon memoir, Frankly.
I have to say it was refreshing to hear the kind of honest and empathetic, yet forensic viewpoint, that is naturally entirely absent from social media. I suggested to him that while the former First Minister’s personal thoughts and fears came across as entirely human and genuine – and they are – perhaps it was far too early for her to try to defend a legacy that will take years to determine. But my friend countered that the biographies of political figures are caught in a trap these days. Publishers feel they must be available very soon after politicians leave office as the market will dry up. So, yes, it feels too early for her; too raw, and she’s still trying to process everything – but she clearly wanted to do a book early to secure a lucrative advance – reportedly £300,000.
My journalist friend also talked about the disconnect in the book between her much-vaunted love of literature and the almost complete absence of any cultural hinterland in almost 460 pages – apart from the obligatory few lines from Burns. It almost feels like books were a sanctuary, rather than intellectual stimulation. I hope that’s not true, because she’s going to need a lot of hinterland in the days and years ahead.
The job takes its toll
I found myself thinking of an interview that I had heard with Rishi Sunak once he had left office – a position he held for a much shorter period than Sturgeon – he admitted that he didn’t actually enjoy a single day of it; not one. You get the impression that Nicola Sturgeon wasn’t far off that position. The contrast with Alex Salmond is total – you always got the impression that the guy was having the time of his life. I’ve a great picture of my youngest, Lachlan, with Nicola Sturgeon during her visit to Stranraer in 2017. Big smiles from them both. When did you see any of that in late career Nicola? The job gets to them all, in the end.
Sympathy for Sturgeon seems almost entirely absent, but given her stated lack of confidence, shyness and her doubt in her own judgement and ability, part of me really feels for her. She pushed herself well beyond her comfort zones. You get the impression she was more comfortable as a manager than a First Minister, and that she never really believed she was a leader. There’s a real sense of imposter syndrome there, and perhaps we are all complicit in that. “I kent her faither”, we say. “Dinnae get above yourself”. “Know your place”. Nicola’s is a very Scottish story, and not in a good way. We all need a challenge, but it must be terrifying to work the peak of your career far from your happy place. And, in the book, that’s what she is essentially saying – she did it for nearly a decade.
A life after politics
I’m chairing an event with Henry McLeish next month. He strikes me as the kind of guy who has really grown in public respect in the two decades since he was First Minister. He’s really engaged with civic Scotland, not least in his contributions to the future of Scottish football.
My fear is that without any indication that she will engage similarly, her reputation, as she fades into obscurity in London, will go in a different direction.
But the dogs bark and the caravan moves on. And maybe the book draws a line under the whole affair and allows the party – and the movement – the chance to rethink, renew and restrategise. Because it’s later than we think.
A couple of things don’t sit right with me
Firstly, Nicola Sturgeon used an English publishing house. Wouldn’t some normal sized Scottish firm have gladly welcomed the business? What does it say about a self-proclaimed proud Scot when she offshores the contract? And, secondly, she’s strongly hinted that she’s off to London for a wee while. This maybe shouldn’t matter much in the greater scheme of things, but I think it’s instructive and what kind of message does it send? Maybe, deep down she thinks that London is bigger and better. Maybe she always did. I think she believes in independence on some theoretical level but not on an immediate, practical one. And, with a fresh referendum nowhere to be seen, and that really is on her, that may also be true for most of Scotland.
It feels like a line is about to be drawn under the whole affair, which is positive and provides an opportunity. Perhaps we should now accept that she didn’t move the dial on independence by one iota. I hope that she finds her peace, and then say – right, what now?
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