IN almost every parliamentary democracy, voters divide sharply on partisan lines and seem barely able to conceive of their opponents as human beings. Recently, I’ve had this feeling: if the 1990s were the era of centrism, this is the era of tribalism. But how tribal is our own politics? To what extent do we think, and vote, on the principle of “my party, right or wrong”? There is no simple answer to these questions, because it all depends on what political conversation you’re listening to.

On the one hand, Scottish political insiders are divided from one another by an ever widening abyss. I disagree with Kezia Dugdale on many issues, but it’s interesting that, in trying to bridge divides, she ended up scorned by her colleagues and hounded by some, although not all, of her rivals. She is, in a sense, an unlikely martyr to Scotland’s new tribal politics. In divided Holyrood, the mantras are clear: you are either with us or against us! Nuance is for weaklings, unity is for traitors, and objective facts are for pedants.

The virus of tribalism, as I’ve said, isn’t confined to Holyrood. It’s spreading everywhere. But, in most national parliaments, this reflects a fundamental clash of values between (anti-abortion, anti-immigration, anti-sexual freedom) traditionalists and cultural liberals, or, to a lesser extent, between social democrats and neoliberals. Scotland has no obvious party divide on these issues. Holyrood is highly conformist, sometimes in a good way, and politicians on rival benches often have very similar value systems. Yet MSPs seem doubly convinced of the rightness of their party and the unvarying wrongness of all others.

I used to think we’d moved past that. When we formed Radical Independence, everyone was running around celebrating the birth of a new pluralism. Naively, I believed the hype, and I wasn’t alone. After 2014, it was common to hear people say that Scottish politics had changed forever. Yes, including myself. But I’m not above knowing when I was wrong. Because, of course, Scottish politics hadn’t changed forever. The positive case for a new politics was quickly trumped by a desire to see opponents humbled and humiliated by any means necessary.

Yes, Scottish Labour deserved their comeuppance for Better Together, Iraq, PFI, and so much more. But people felt the same way about the SNP after 1979, when they became the “Tartan Tories”, pariahs who let Thatcher into power. Notably, nationalists used a parallel term for post-2014 Scottish Labour, labelling them, without irony, the “Red Tories”. And so Scottish history repeated itself, with roles reversed, but more importantly following the oh-so-well-trodden path from tragedy to farce.

Among Scotland’s insiders, then, tribalism is back, and arguably worse than ever. But are everyday voters following the same pattern? Are they party loyalists who believe that all opposing leaders are evil incarnate?

Looking worldwide, it’s quite possible that they could be. For many ordinary Americans, the idea of talking to, far less dating, a Trump voter fills them with disgust, and the feeling is reciprocated. They fall quite neatly into tribal camps that resemble their party benches. To a lesser extent, this is also true in England with Leave and Remain (or Tory and Labour) supporters. Notably, though, these divides reflect a serious divergence in cultural values between metropolitan core and post-industrial/rural periphery.

In Scotland, political attitudes are more nuanced and disordered. While many nationalist activists would rather chew their own knuckles off than date a Labour voter, this isn’t really replicated in wider society. The old Scottish tribalism – my grandfather voted Labour, so I will too – has collapsed, and people seem likely to chop and change between quite similar rival parties.

This view has been backed by an authoritative study by the Electoral Reform Society (ERS). “For older politics watchers it might be surprising that there has not been a settling into a period of one-party dominance as many predicted, but a shifting back to multi-party politics,” said Willie Sullivan, ERS Scotland director. “There are relatively few stable waymarks in the political landscape. Shock changes can take place very quickly and are exaggerated by the electoral system. Victories are precarious, and the possibility of another election in the medium term could mean all change again soon. We have left behind the ‘tectonic plates’ of the political mainland on to a choppy ocean of promiscuous tactical voting.”

The tribalism of insiders, then, may conversely reflect the new promiscuity of Scottish voters. Where political landscapes can shift suddenly, ruling parties are eternally paranoid and unwilling to concede arguments, while their opponents are always on an opportunist footing, looking to take advantage of rapid shifts in attitudes. Party leaders reward activists who reliably trot out the party line. Activists seek stability, and reward the views of those who reassure them that their party allegiances reflect a fundamental difference of right and wrong. But for those on the outside of the Scottish political sweatbox, fidelity might not be so clear cut, so cheer on your own side with caution.