The man who rekindled the nation's interest and changed the face of Scottish politics, then handled his historic victory with compassion and good graceAS a former economist with Royal Bank of Scotland, Alex Salmond is a man who both likes and understands numbers. And the number the First Minister likes and understands best of all is number one. You wouldn't mistake him for a modest man, but you have to hand it to him for chutzpah.
When it comes to politicians, the public believes in those who believe in themselves. This year, Salmond has proved that his belief in his own abilities is justified. He did what he said he would do – now there's a political novelty. The fact is that we have become jaundiced about politics and politicians. Beliefs, ideals and public duty? Or expediency, back-handers and self-service?
The public assumes politics is full of weasel-worded individuals who creep through policy areas in their rubber-soled shoes, trying not to leave a mark of where they've been, like dodgy bishops in a brothel. But in 2007, Salmond cut through that public ennui and achieved the impossible: rekindling a nation's political imagination by convincing them they had a choice.
Even those who do not share Salmond's political aspirations recognise the scale of his achievement. There was the personal victory of winning his own Lib Dem-held Gordon seat, which required a swing of more than 10% to take the SNP from third to first place.
But in the country as a whole, the party overturned 50 years of Scottish allegiance to the Labour Party. The fact that it was even possible took a bit of getting used to. It was as though Salmond had gone along to the nation's granny's sherry party and told the old dear that, this year, it was cocktails only.
It was a hugely personal achievement. That is both Salmond's strength and the SNP's foible. It makes him undisputed 2007 Scot of the Year on his own merits but it also makes the party vulnerable. God forbid that Salmond should be run over by the proverbial bus (though there are plenty of political opponents who would willingly queue up for a Stagecoach uniform to give it a go), but if he were, who would inspire the same level of public confidence? How many senior figures in the SNP could the general public even name?
The fact that the vote for the SNP was a personal vote for Salmond, and not for independence, is borne out by post-election polls showing only 31% of the electorate wanted an independent Scotland; 49% were against. A vote for Salmond was seen as a vote for a strong Scotland within the UK. Why? Because he's a street-fighter of a politician, robust and gutsy, and without any of the humility that might make him wobble during confrontation.
At the last election, he claimed he was changing his style, becoming more mellow. He no longer needed to humiliate his opponents in an argument, he told me on polling day. So he no longer needed to be right all the time? "No, I know I'm right all the time," he flashed back instinctively. "I just don't need to get people to admit it."
He's bright, shrewd and articulate. His verbal weapons, with opponents and interviewers alike, include dry wit and scathing pomposity. He can also be very engaging, but you can't help noticing that the dark eyes can harbour a hardness that would rival the grey granite of his Aberdeenshire constituency. He acknowledges the "Scottish prejudice" coursing through his veins, though one sometimes suspects it might more accurately be described as an elegantly suppressed but bubbling anger, an anger directed at anyone who dares underestimate his country.
Our panel, though, noted and admired the fact that Salmond had conducted his first term in office with a graciousness that was refreshing. Certainly, his acceptance speech to the Scottish parliament showed a less caustic Salmond than we are familiar with. He congratulated outgoing First Minister Jack McConnell on leaving Scotland a better place than he found it, citing his smoking ban and the fight against sectarianism. While we all waited expectantly for the Salmond punchline that never came, McConnell gritted his teeth, nodded in acknowledgement, and looked uncomfortably like he'd just swallowed something particularly large and inedible that was stuck halfway down his gullet.
Salmond's speech that day was witnessed by his father, who had never seen his son in a debating chamber before because he refused to set foot in the Palace of Westminster. His father was so left wing he was nicknamed Joe, after Stalin, and one wonders what he makes of his son's assertion that an independent Scotland would still have the Queen at its head, that the union of crowns would still stand, that we would continue to be England's best pal. Since Salmond is believed to be left of centre, a monarchy – and an English one at that – seems an unlikely scenario for him to aspire to. Does he really believe in it? Or is it political pragmatism to express it? A way of making independence seem that bit more familiar, that bit safer, to the cautious Scottish electorate.
And that underlines the question mark that hangs over Salmond for some commentators. What does he really believe in past the issue of independence? He can, at times, seem just a bit too calculated and calculating. Take, for example, his list of favourite books, as described to The Wall Street Journal. Was there ever a more considered, deliberately symbolic list to claim sits by your bedside than Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations (yes, we know you're a Scottish economist and general clever-clogs); Sunset Song and The Works of Robert Burns (wonderful, both, but perhaps a tad clichéd for a Scottish nationalist politician); How the Scots Invented the Modern World (zzzzz… asleep already); and the quintessentially English The Wind in the Willows (just to show there's no Scottish chip on his shoulder – or was that what he wanted us to think, as not many people know that the book's author Kenneth Grahame was born in Edinburgh)?
But which character in Grahame's morality tale of the English classes would Salmond fashion himself on? The conceited and self-satisfied Mr Toad? Surely not – too upper class. It would be middle-class Ratty… or more likely the earthy, working-class Mole. And if this actually is a proper list of his favourite books, and not a typically clever Salmond answer to an American audience, then he really is a cliché – and that's more worrying still.
Still, while it's best to keep our critical faculties around politicians, let's not be too churlish. Salmond has had a remarkable 2007. His achievements were seen by the panel to be in direct contrast to Gordon Brown's, another senior Scottish politician who might have been expected to have had a stellar year. Brown fulfilled a long-held ambition to become Prime Minister but was not thought by the panel to have fulfilled the promise of a new beginning in the way Salmond has. Maybe Brown's time is yet to come.
Every politician has a honeymoon period in power. Even Brown. Salmond's first months as First Minister were greeted by polls showing high satisfaction with his leadership. The honeymoon has been extended by the Scottish Labour Party's gift to the SNP of a dodgy £950 (in the form of Jersey-based businessman Paul Green's illegal donation to Wendy Alexander's leadership campaign). Had Salmond known popularity came so cheap, he'd have surely moved house and contributed himself.
On such little things does the mighty politician fall, a fact Salmond might care to muse on when using his trump card to deal with US businessmen. Salmond's hubris in his dealings with Donald Trump might yet lead him into difficulties. There is no better opposition politician than Salmond, but now he has to perform from the inside. He has to prove himself. Whatever happens, 2007 was the year of promise, the beginning of a new relationship between Salmond and the Scottish people. Will it turn out to be a genuine love affair or a mere flirtation? As the song says, "Is this a lasting treasure, or just a moment's pleasure?" Will we still love him tomorrow?
Catherine Deveney
The full article contains 1397 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
