There are few hard and fast rules in modern politics but one of them certainly is this: if you are reading your own private messages in a national newspaper, something has gone badly wrong.
Matt Hancock knows this. Derek Mackay certainly knows this. Boris Johnson knows this to such an extent that he has forgotten his phone password in a bid to avoid it.
Into this illustrious gathering we can now add Elena Whitham.
The SNP drugs and alcohol policy minister has been enjoying – if that is the right word – a rather eventful recess.
Initially, she was wheeled out of obscurity to front the latest nationalist attempt to make constitutional hay out of its own muddy incompetence, in this case by demanding Westminster legalise drug possession.
If she had then hoped to fade back into anonymity, she was to be sorely disappointed.
Earlier this week, The Daily Record published a series of leaked private WhatsApp messages in which Whitham branded Deputy First Minister Shona Robison a “cold fish” and “painful to listen to”, made fun of Constitutional Secretary Angus Robertson’s ego, and made an obscene reference to the late Queen Elizabeth II’s Platinum Jubilee.
Statement on Daily Record story:
These comments were not acceptable and I apologise sincerely.— Elena Whitham MSP (@ElenaWhitham) July 18, 2023
Much of the focus has been on the indelicate but essentially frivolous content of the messages themselves.
Who, after all, could not agree that Robison is painful to listen to, or that Robertson has an ego?
Of far greater significance is the fact the messages were leaked in the first place.
As the gang of three above indicates, the airing of private messages in a public forum is a sure-fire sign of dysfunction on either a personal or party level – and sometimes both at the same time.
In this case, the leaking of Whitham’s WhatsApps is the clearest indication yet that the SNP is not just declining but is actively splitting apart.
‘Personal animosities bursting into the open’
Factionalism is replacing party discipline, self-interest is replacing unity.
Rivalries and personal animosities – once hidden behind the shining veneer of high poll ratings and electoral success – are suddenly bursting into the open with alarming regularity.
As the SNP’s rivals know from bitter personal experience, the outcome of such a transition is never good.
Certainly, it is an indication of how much Scottish politics has radically changed in the last six months that Scottish Labour’s Jackie Baillie can now comment with glee on leaks from another party.
It was not such a short time ago that Scottish Labour was so riven with briefing and counter briefing that the party’s press office contemplated replacing its entire operation with an answering machine message simply stating: “We don’t comment on leaks.”
The internecine conflict was so severe I know of one lobby correspondent who claimed – with only a hint of hyperbole – it was Scottish Labour MSPs’ propensity to brief against each other that kept him in gainful employment.
The precedent for the SNP following the leak of Whitham’s WhatsApps is, then, not good.
More than any poll, this reveals a party that is not just in decline but also incapable of recovery. As Scottish Labour’s experience shows, once the rot starts it can take years, if not decades, to reverse.
But the biggest problem for the SNP is that this is just the beginning.
There is more bad news expected over the coming weeks and months, not least the much-anticipated conclusion of Police Scotland’s investigation into the SNP’s party finances, as well as a likely by-election defeat in Rutherglen and Hamilton West.
When those get going, we can expect the recriminations in the SNP to really start.
Godfather legacy
Over the last few weeks, I have been wrestling with a question: what, in a secular age, does it mean to be a godfather?
I do not, of course, mean this in the Al Pacino sense – almost 10 hours across three films answers that question pretty clearly – but in the literal sense, after my wonderful friends Al and Lucy asked me to be godfather to their new baby, Rory.
It seems there are two schools of thought here. One is that the role of the godfather is to be responsible and reliable – the person to remember birthdays and attend special occasions, the person who can take on baby-sitting and holiday organising.
You turn up on time and leave early.
The other role of the godfather is to be the reprobate and the rascal – the person to dispense sage and worldly advice, to take them to 18-rated movies when they are 13, and the pub when they are 16.
You turn up late and, if the food and wine are good – as they always are with Al and Lucy – you never leave.
I have a good idea which of these categories I am best suited to. I only hope Al and Lucy do too.
