SCOTLAND today is in a moment of generational shift, and a moment of re-evaluation of our position within the Union. For those of us in our twenties, who grew up with the new Scottish Parliament as a functioning part of national life, the idea that Scotland should govern at least some of its own affairs through its own legislature seems perfectly ordinary and reasonable.

It is almost hard to believe that anyone had to argue for something so basic, and for so long – but they did, over many decades of hoping and trying, and failing, and hoping and trying again. The new settlement has become the norm, but for many of us there is also a sense of incompletion to the story, and an appetite for so much more.

As the UK offers us symbols of the past – a new royal yacht, Union flag branded fighter jets and a more “assertive” approach to devolved nations – many young Scots are simply turning away. Turning away is not just a political choice, but a moral one too. There is demand for a fairer, more equal, more socially conscious way of doing things – and a way of doing things which is incompatible with the way the UK is currently run.

At the back of Edinburgh’s Calton Hill, tucked away behind the classical columns and the imposing tower, there is a decorated brazier perched on top of a pile of stones. It’s the smallest and least prominent monument on the hill, but is perhaps its most significant. This is the Democracy Cairn, built using stones from all over Scotland as well as further afield. It stands in tribute to the generation of activists and campaigners who worked over many years to make the case for a Scottish Parliament and the renewal of Scottish democracy.

More specifically, the Democracy Cairn celebrates the Vigil for a Scottish Parliament, a makeshift campaign base which once occupied a position beside the Old Royal High School, the building once mooted as a potential site for a new Scottish legislature. The Vigil lasted for 1980 days from 1992 to 1997, when Scotland finally voted “Yes, Yes” for a new Scottish Parliament.

The Vigil campaign was sparked by the result of the 1992 General Election, in which Scotland was landed with the fourth consecutive Conservative government it didn’t elect. For many Scots it gave the case for self-government a renewed urgency, and bolstered the democratic argument.

If four Conservative governments in a row was Scotland’s tipping point to secure a Scottish Parliament, it’s worth considering that Scotland today is yet again in a parallel situation, with the last four UK General Elections, in 2010, 2015, 2017 and 2019, returning the same party to power, governing over Scotland without Scotland’s consent.

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Even with the Scottish Parliament now securely in place, with some ability to mitigate the worst effects of UK decision-making, the challenge posed by the old campaign slogan of “Democracy for Scotland” doesn’t seem to have been fully answered or resolved. Proper democracy and representation are still very much seen as ongoing aspirations for many Scots.

I can still vaguely remember the school trip to the empty site where the new Parliament would be built, down at the bottom of Edinburgh’s Canongate. “This will be your parliament,” somebody told us. But we were too young to know what it meant.

Twenty years later, and that shiny new work of modern architecture, designed by the Catalan architect Enric Miralles, has settled into our national life. It has grown in stature and confidence, in the scope of its powers as well as in the public imagination, and has replaced Westminster as the focal point of modern Scottish politics.

According to polling there is a consistent majority for independence amongst the under 50s, with support particularly strong amongst the under 35s. Last month, a Panelbase survey for The Sunday Times found support for independence at a remarkable 62% among Scots aged between 16 and 35. However, the survey also found that support would dip if young Scots could be convinced they would be financially worse off.

Whilst some may have welcomed this caveat as a glimmer of hope for the future of the Union, and a potential route to winning back generational support, it actually just revealed a kind of emptiness at the core of the Unionist argument. If young Scots can only be convinced to stay by frightening them, it’s perhaps not a particularly meaningful or healthy Union to remain part of.

Back in April, a different poll commissioned by Believe in Scotland and carried out by Panelbase found that an even more astonishing 72% of 16 to 35-year-olds supported independence. Support was even higher, at 77%, for young women in particular. Whatever the truth might be, we know from various polls carried out over a considerable period that it’s remarkably high.

THE pomp and ceremony of old ideas, and of Britain as an old imperial power, along with the bold new assertiveness of so-called “muscular Unionism”, simply aren’t chiming in Scotland’s shifting political landscape.

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Away back in 2004, at the opening event of the new Scottish Parliament building, the poet Edwin Morgan issued these words of caution: “Trumpets and robes are fine, but in the present and the future you will need something more. What is it? We, the people, cannot tell you yet, but you will know about it when we do tell you.”

It may not be the most quoted line from Morgan’s great opening address, which was recited on the day by Liz Lochhead, but it’s an important one to consider at the present moment. It tells us that, while the devolution settlement was a celebrated milestone for its time, it cannot be assumed that it will always be enough – and it cannot be assumed that Scottish aspirations will always fit within its limits. Future generations may want something more, and when they decide what that something is, their voices should be heard.

Morgan’s words are perhaps an echo of something said earlier by Donald Dewar, Labour politician and Scotland’s first First Minister, who described devolution as a journey “which has no end”. Even from the very inception of the new Scottish Parliament there seemed to have been a degree of acceptance, amongst both Unionists and nationalists, that future generations of Scots may wish to change the relationship further, and should have the freedom to do so.

That’s why the UK Government’s present refusal to allow a referendum on Scotland’s future feels like such a departure from the founding principles of devolution. The foundation of the new Parliament promised future generations the right to continue the journey if they wished. Polls suggest they’re ready to make that choice.

If the old question was “Why should Scotland run its own affairs?” the new question is “Why shouldn’t it?”. The limitations still placed upon Scottish devolution are making less and less sense, and are being challenged by the new generation. As recent events on Glasgow’s Kenmure Street have demonstrated, many younger Scots are starting to question whether various policies currently reserved to Westminster could be fairer, or kinder, or more compassionate, if managed here at home instead.

Back in 2015, when Jeremy Corbyn became leader of the Labour Party, some made a cautious prediction that a new style of grassroots politics would attract young Scots back to Labour, and therefore back to the Union. It wasn’t an unreasonable prediction, but it perhaps underestimated the scale of the generational shift which had already taken root in Scotland.

Many Scots, of all ages, have now come to the realisation that a fairer and more equal society can only be realised with independence. The Labour Party would ask Scots to wait for them to return to power at Westminster, but such a request can only disempower the Scottish public, taking democracy out of our hands and expecting us to wait for the English electorate to one day change its mind. Scotland’s younger generations show little appetite for waiting.

The promise of further powers for the Scottish Parliament, or even federalism, as an alternative to full independence, already feels too late. Variations of the idea have been repeatedly promised, without much substance, but haven’t been delivered. Paradoxical as it may sound, further devolution is now only ever offered as a way to limit Scottish self-government, not as a way to expand it.

BRITAIN’S decision to leave the European Union has also radically altered the nature of the debate around Scotland’s future, with specific consequences for younger generations.

The freedom that many Scots until recently had the right to enjoy, by working, studying or living on the European mainland, has now been restricted by a Brexit policy which Scotland as a country never consented to. It would be difficult to imagine any other country, say Denmark or Portugal or the Netherlands, having to give up its European citizenship because a neighbouring country made the decision on its behalf. Old expectations that Scotland should simply toe the line now belong to a bygone era.

Fundamentally, Scots are being asked to remain part of a UK in which they have no real say over its terms or direction. Independence therefore is not only an argument over economics but a question of Scotland’s democratic rights. We’re tired of being told we have to stay in the Union for the sake of solidarity and togetherness when neither of these principles are actually embodied in the way the UK is run.

For Scotland’s new generations to engage in politics with confidence, they need to know that their votes will matter and their voices will be heard. It would be easier to convince them of that if Scotland wasn’t being ruled by a party it hadn’t voted for in 60 years – or if Scotland’s democratic choices weren’t being routinely side-lined and ignored.

That is why independence is so necessary for the health of our democracy, and for future Scottish generations to have a meaningful stake in the future of the country. Some of the young people who first became engaged in politics during the 2014 referendum campaign actually stood for office at the recent Scottish Parliament elections, such is the pace of generational change now taking place in Scotland.

Outside of politics, young Scots are also taking the lead in bold new cultural initiatives. From those campaigning to promote a revival in the Scots language, to a variety of exciting developments in music and the arts, new generations are emerging across the board to reshape and renew Scottish culture and identity.

Slowly, Scotland is starting to feel more empowered. Old assumptions about Scotland’s inabilities aren’t ringing true. Attempts to play down Scotland’s chances as an independent country seem controlling and unkind. In amongst all this, the Union isn’t making itself present or relevant, and the more it tries to enforce itself through red, white and blue re-branding projects, the more distant and outdated it appears.

It took Scotland two referendum attempts to achieve a Scottish Parliament, the first in 1979 and the second in 1997. Between the two, the celebrated writer and artist Alasdair Gray created an intriguing but little-known design hidden beneath the dust jacket of one of his novels, A History Maker.

The illustration shows a tree which has been cut to a stump, but out of one side grows a hopeful new shoot, already covered with leaves. The writing reads: Try again, Scotland. A spider hangs from the bottom of the design, presumably representing the legend of Bruce’s spider – “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try and try again”.

The importance of trying and trying again is ingrained throughout Scotland’s story. To see 2014 as a dead-end for independence is to misunderstand the nature of Scotland’s political journey over many decades.

Just when you think you know where Scotland stands, the landscape can always shift.