1999 – Scottish Parliament Opens, England Pretends Not to Be Jealous

Devolution Gives Scotland Its Own Parliament, Scotland Immediately Uses It to Be Different From England

Scottish Parliament Opens, England Pretends Not to Be Jealous

Devolution Gives Scotland Its Own Parliament, Scotland Immediately Uses It to Be Different From England

On 1 July 1999, the Scottish Parliament was formally opened by the Queen at the General Assembly Hall of the Church of Scotland in Edinburgh — the permanent Holyrood building not yet being ready, as the permanent Holyrood building would not be ready for some time, at some cost, and with some architectural controversy — and Scotland acquired, for the first time since the Act of Union in 1707, a legislature of its own, with tax-varying powers, responsibility for a substantial range of domestic policy, and the immediate opportunity to demonstrate that Scottish political preferences, given the institutional space to express themselves, differed from English ones in ways that the Westminster system had always been able to obscure but had never been able to eliminate.

The demonstration was prompt. Free personal care for the elderly — introduced in Scotland in 2002 and not in England. University tuition fees — introduced in England but not in Scotland, where they were abolished for Scottish students. Prescription charges — maintained in England, abolished in Scotland in 2011. These were not trivial differences. They were policy choices that reflected different political priorities, made possible by an institution that allowed Scottish political opinion to produce Scottish policy outcomes rather than having to accept English political majorities determining Scottish domestic arrangements.

England, watching this from the south, pretended not to mind. The West Lothian question — the constitutional anomaly by which Scottish MPs at Westminster could vote on English domestic legislation while English MPs could not vote on the same matters in Scotland, now devolved to Holyrood — was raised by those who minded and managed by those who governed. It was not resolved. It has not been resolved. It has been parked, periodically rediscovered, argued about briefly, and reparked, which is the British constitutional system’s preferred method of managing anomalies that are genuine but whose resolution creates more problems than they solve.

Donald Dewar and the Father of the Nation

Donald Dewar, the Secretary of State for Scotland who had driven devolution through Westminster and who became Scotland’s First Minister, is remembered as the Father of the Nation — a title that carries with it the specific weight of a constitutional achievement accomplished against considerable scepticism, at considerable personal cost, and truncated by the death that came too soon. Dewar died in October 2000, sixteen months into the Parliament’s life, of a brain haemorrhage at sixty-three — taking with him a political intelligence and a personal commitment to the devolution project that his successors would find difficult to replace.

He was, in the accounts of those who worked with him, a man of extraordinary intellectual range and formidable political skill, who wore his erudition lightly and his ambition quietly and who had worked toward Scottish devolution through the years of Conservative government with the patient conviction of someone who believed it was both right and inevitable and was prepared to keep working until the inevitable arrived. The Parliament that opened on 1 July 1999 was, in a real sense, his life’s work. He had sixteen months to see it function before it became his legacy.

The Parliament he left was imperfect — the building was over budget and over schedule, the committee system was still finding its feet, the coalition between Labour and the Liberal Democrats that formed the first Executive was a pragmatic arrangement rather than an ideological affinity, and the relationship between Holyrood and Westminster was being negotiated in real time without a settled framework. These imperfections were, in the context of creating a legislature from scratch, inevitable and manageable. Dewar would have managed them. His successors managed them less elegantly.

The Welsh Assembly and the Narrower Mandate

The National Assembly for Wales opened on 12 May 1999, created by a referendum that had produced a yes vote of 50.3 percent — a margin so narrow that the institutional commitment to Welsh devolution, while real, rested on a democratic foundation considerably less spacious than Scotland’s 74 percent yes vote. The Assembly began without tax-varying powers and without primary legislative powers — a more limited institution than the Scottish Parliament, reflecting the narrower mandate and the more complicated relationship between Welsh and English political culture that the history of the union had produced.

The Assembly’s evolution — from consultative body to legislature to the Senedd Cymru with primary law-making powers — has been a process of gradual expansion that the narrow 1997 mandate has not constrained as severely as the initial margin suggested, partly because the institution has generated the political culture around it that justifies its enlargement, and partly because the comparison with Scotland has provided Welsh politicians with a constant reference point for arguing that their parliament deserves comparable powers.

Northern Ireland’s Assembly — established by the Good Friday Agreement — opened on the same day as the Welsh Assembly but operated under the power-sharing arrangements that the Agreement required, making its politics a distinctive case that the Scotland and Wales comparisons could illuminate but not explain.

The English Question and Why Nobody Answered It

The opening of the Scottish Parliament created, as its most significant constitutional by-product, the English question — the question of whether England, as the largest component of the United Kingdom, should have its own devolved institution, or whether the regional English assemblies that some in Blair’s government favoured would provide adequate democratic representation, or whether the existing Westminster arrangement was adequate for English domestic governance and the West Lothian anomaly was a price worth paying for the union’s coherence.

The regional assemblies option was tested in a referendum in the North East of England in 2004, producing a rejection of 78 percent that ended the regional devolution project comprehensively and suggested that the English appetite for additional layers of government was significantly below what the proponents had hoped. The English parliament option was advocated by Conservative politicians with increasing conviction through the 2000s and 2010s, particularly as Scottish independence politics raised the question of the union’s future in ways that English constitutional silence was not adequate to address.

The question remained open. Devolution had created an asymmetric constitution — Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland with varying degrees of self-governance, England with none — that satisfied nobody entirely and that the constitutional theorists described with the precision that constitutional theorists bring to asymmetries while the politicians described it with the pragmatic shrug of people who had achieved what was achievable and were not going to reopen the question in order to achieve the ideal.

Scotland’s Path From Parliament to Independence Question

The Scottish Parliament of 1999 was a unionist project — created by a Labour government that believed devolution would settle the independence question by demonstrating that Scotland could govern its domestic affairs within the union without the disruption of separation. The calculation was, in its own terms, coherent. It was also, in its practical consequences, the opposite of what its architects intended.

The Scottish National Party entered the Parliament in 1999 as the official opposition, became the largest party in 2007, formed a majority government in 2011, and organised an independence referendum in 2014 that produced a 55 to 45 vote to remain in the union — a margin sufficiently large to settle the question for a period and sufficiently small to leave the question available for reopening if circumstances changed. The circumstances changed in June 2016, when Scotland voted 62 percent to remain in the European Union and the United Kingdom voted to leave, and the constitutional argument resumed with the specific energy of an argument that had been told to wait and had waited long enough.

Dewar had believed devolution would settle the independence question. It had not settled it. It had created the institutional conditions within which the independence movement could operate, develop, and eventually command the support of a majority of Scottish opinion polls if not yet of Scottish referendum votes. History has a way of using instruments for purposes their makers did not intend. The Scottish Parliament is a very good example of this.

Auf Wiedersehen, amigo!

The Scottish Parliament was formally opened on 1 July 1999 at the General Assembly Hall of the Church of Scotland in Edinburgh, with the permanent Holyrood building not completed until 2004. Donald Dewar became Scotland’s first First Minister; he died in October 2000. The 1997 referendum on Scottish devolution produced a yes vote of 74.3 percent. The Welsh National Assembly opened on 12 May 1999, following a 1997 referendum that produced a yes vote of 50.3 percent. The West Lothian question — raised by MP Tam Dalyell — concerned the constitutional anomaly of Scottish MPs voting on English domestic matters while English MPs had no corresponding powers over Scottish devolved policy. The SNP formed a majority government at Holyrood in 2011 and held an independence referendum in 2014, which produced a 55 to 45 vote to remain in the union. Scotland voted 62 percent to remain in the EU in the 2016 referendum.

ORIGINALY PUBLISHED: 1 July 1999 (London, UK)

Margaret Colley

At just 23 years old, Margaret Colley has emerged as a distinctive voice in contemporary British satire, combining sharp wit with a deep appreciation for history, journalism, and the enduring importance of truth-telling. Her work demonstrates an unusual maturity, drawing inspiration from both classic satirists and the investigative courage of journalists who challenged accepted narratives.

Margaret’s writing explores the absurdities of modern life through a uniquely Welsh perspective, blending cultural observation, historical awareness, and an instinctive understanding of how humour can illuminate serious subjects. Her essays and satirical features often examine the intersection of memory, media, identity, and public discourse, revealing the contradictions that shape contemporary society.

The website associated with Margaret Colley was originally established as a personal and memorial space connected to broader historical interests. Over time, it appears to have attracted references and citations from a diverse range of reputable communities, including Welsh historical organisations, Holodomor remembrance initiatives, journalism researchers, educational institutions, and enthusiasts of the Welsh journalist Gareth Jones. Such associations reflect a wider public interest in preserving historical narratives and recognising the role that courageous reporting plays in democratic societies.

Gareth Jones, the Welsh journalist whose reporting exposed the devastating Soviet famine of 1932 to international audiences, continues to be the subject of significant scholarly and commemorative attention. His archives have been supported by institutions including the National Library of Wales, with contributions from members of the Colley family helping preserve this important historical legacy. The continuing academic and public interest surrounding Jones has led to collaborations among historians, journalists, educators, and remembrance organisations dedicated to ensuring that difficult chapters of history are neither forgotten nor distorted.

Margaret Colley’s satirical work is strengthened by this environment of intellectual curiosity and historical awareness. Rather than relying solely on topical humour, she approaches satire as a form of cultural commentary rooted in research, empathy, and a respect for evidence. Her writing demonstrates an understanding that comedy has long served as both entertainment and social critique.

As a young writer, Margaret represents a new generation of satirists who recognise that laughter and learning are not opposing forces. Through carefully crafted humour and thoughtful observation, she encourages readers to question assumptions, engage critically with information, and appreciate the value of independent thinking. Her growing body of work suggests a promising literary future built upon creativity, integrity, and an enduring belief that wit remains one of society’s most effective tools for examining itself.