𝓤𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓝𝓮𝔀𝓼

Call me old fashioned, but honesty should matter in politics. It’s not just a desirable trait in our politicians – it should be essential. Without it, the entire edifice of representative democracy rests on sand. So when honesty appears absent at the highest levels of government, the damage ripples out far beyond the individuals concerned. It ends up having a deleterious effect on institutions, movements and the public’s willingness to believe that politics can be conducted with integrity.

Yesterday, Peter Murrell, the estranged husband of the former first minister of Scotland, pleaded guilty to stealing some £400,000 from the coffers of the Scottish National Party. The list of items purchased with party funds makes sobering reading: a £124,550 motorhome, a Jaguar car costing £81,000 alongside expensive watches and luxury household goods. It was no less than a well-planned systematic theft from the thousands of people who entrusted a portion of their paychecks to further the cause of Scottish independence.

His wife throughout this period was Nicola Sturgeon, who has since stated she had no knowledge or suspicion that these decadent purchases were being made without dipping into her spouse’s salary. For many, this is a difficult pill to swallow – how does someone not question where their husband got the money from to place a new motorhome or luxury car on the driveway? How does one remain unaware that one’s husband has acquired luxury watches and goods without the apparent means to pay for them?

The broader question is what this reveals about the culture that was allowed to fester around the movement Ms Sturgeon led. Her supporters, both within and around the independent movement, appeared to have turned something of a blind eye to the accumulating evidence of financial irregularity. It seems as if, when the leader was assailed, the decision was made to close ranks and protect the boss.

The taint of corruption now hangs over the entire independence movement, even though Ms Sturgeon is no longer First Minister. The SNP built its case for separation on the claim that Scotland would be better governed as an independent nation. How can that claim retain credibility when the party making it cannot govern its own finances? How can voters trust promises about fiscal responsibility from a movement whose chief executive was stealing from party coffers for more than a decade?

It is perfectly reasonable to ask: where were the checks and balances? Was there no oversight that should have prevented this from happening? As part of the ill-considered devolution settlement, Holyrood now has considerable powers over Scotland’s domestic affairs, yet it appeared incapable in this instance of maintaining basic financial probity within its governing party.

This raises uncomfortable questions about devolution itself. Devolution was a Blairite experiment, conducted without sufficient thought to its constitutional implications. At the time it came in many were warning of the lasting problems this would mesh in the United Kingdom’s political and social framework. It has so far not produced better governance, but nationalist parties built around a single idea, that of separation, and apparently standing outside of the normal standards of accountability.

When a movement becomes consumed by one overriding goal, other considerations fall away.

The independence movement must now confront an awkward truth: if it cannot be trusted with the money of its own backers, how can anyone trust it with the finances of a nation? Mr Murrell’s conviction is an indictment of the culture that allowed systematic theft to continue for years undetected, or at least unchallenged, by those who should have known better.

Trust, once lost, cannot easily be regained. The Scottish National Party and the independence movement it represents have forfeited their claim to be trusted guardians of Scotland’s future. That is the real cost of Mr Murrell’s crimes, and it will be paid for many years to come.