Aug

28

 Dearest Scotland,

In only days you can choose to cleave yourselves from our United Kingdom. We sit one of the five or six greatest nations and mightiest economic powers on this earth: wedded together in a marriage begun almost three hundred years ago. Please don't end our great union together.

As an Englishman and Welshman, I feel great love for Scotland. As a child I would travel from Liverpool to holiday in the beautiful Welsh Ogwen valley. I would be abroad but at home. I would travel to the wonderful Fort William or idyllic Skye: refreshed and energised in my own nation state. I would no more wish to see this separated than the Lake District carved out and floated off into the Irish Sea.

As in every great marriage, both man and woman take occasion to think: "Did I make the right choice? Am I better or worse in this relationship? Am I fulfilling my potential or being taken advantage of?" And it is good to take stock.

So what have we achieved in our centuries long union?

Together, did we not build the world's greatest empire, bestow it with all of our verdant statecraft and know how, then set it free?

Together, did we not fight off Napoleon, in ships commanded by the Earl of Dundonald?

Together, did we not underpin the defense of the first world war? Would you now deny our United Kingdom a great man like Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig, who so valiantly led the British Army? At the Somme and Ypres, at Amiens and Arras, would you have us separated?

Together, did we not fight off Hitler, the greatest evil the globe has known? It was Monty and Patton versus Rommel: the three generals everyone recalls from that most vicious of wars. One third Scottish! What great debt do we owe to 1st Viscount Montgomery of Alamein? Would you deny him us?

Together, did we not pioneer industrialisation? Medicine? Enlightenment thought? Scotland is eight percent of our headcount. But in prestige, in know-how, in capability, in pride, it is so much more.

Your countrymen have led us seven times from around fifty prime ministers: a big overshoot relative to your population weight. Do not deny our United Kingdom your capability and leadership. Did you not give us James Ramsay MacDonald? A man who changed the British political landscape forever? Who set the political scene for all that was to come for the labour movement?

Mr. Darling has argued from security and risk. And he makes strong points: the currency, the volatility of oil, the curmudgeon of the European Union. But I say - of course Scotland can be great and secure alone! It is a great country! But let us be greater and more secure together.

As with a marriage, one partner makes complaint and the other responds "we've got it great, why are you carping?" But that is not the right response. They want to hear "I love you, I need you." Scotland, we love you. We need you.

Mr. Salmond talks about NHS privatisation, about Trident, about the Bedroom tax. These are important issues. But they are issues of today, not tomorrow. They can be solved and soon. The decision of independence is forever. It is binding. We have not yet had our great generational challenge. Our World War One. Our World War Two. It is yet to come. But it will. Would you have us face it apart?

Our biggest trial so far has been the financial crisis. We have come through it together arm in arm.

The Royal Bank of Scotland: Fred Godwin's bank. Its equity was almost wiped out and stood vast relative to your GDP. Its assets were at great risk: they dwarfed Scotland's GDP. But we got through it, together.

Why was the Old Lady of Threadneedle trusted throughout the world during the crisis? Because of her centuries long history as a great central bank. Her name respected because of all of our collective credit and productivity. Without Scotland, without your prudence, she is less. Without Scotland, our United Kingdom is less.

But you ask: is Scotland just mistreated property? Can't she get on better alone? Just like a marriage, sometimes you crave freedom to forget all ties and run. But just like a marriage, we can discuss and negotiate. Do you want more devolved powers? Let us devolve more powers. Do you want more freedom and leeway? We can give you that. We can perfect our marriage over time. But like a marriage, each obeys certain restrictions for the mutual good and insurance of all.

And in this decision, let us not discount Mr. Salmond's vanity. He wishes to go down in history as the man who brought Scotland glorious and independent. He wants to make his personal history by tearing up our great communal history. Scotland is already glorious, is already independent. But she is also part of our great union!

Mr. Salmond gave us his final question, what he says it all comes down to: "who decides?" for Scotland.

When the UK negotiated the great post war settlement at Versailles, Scotland was there, deciding. Alone, her voice would be quieted.

When the United Nations Security council was formed from the top five powers on earth, Scotland was named to it. Alone, her voice would be excluded.

When the UK joined with the USA to stymie and defend against communism and the cold war, Scotland was there, deciding. Alone, she would be muted.

In a world where the USA is dominant, the BRICS are growing, where the international scene is as complex as ever, would you cut Scotland from its might within the UN, the IMF, the World Bank? At peace and at defense?

Stay with us Scotland. For you are a great nation. But together, we are one of the very greatest of all!

David Lillienfeld replies: 

A very nice love letter. Please permit me to play devil's advocate for a moment (I have no interest in the outcome of the vote, seeing merits in both sides' arguments).

Dearest England,

I do so appreciate your most recent missive. I cried throughout my reading of it with those sweet memories of days past, when the future seemed boundless. Then my German mother noted that one needs to keep one's head at such times and be frugal and focused on what is best for oneself. I had to keep reminding myself of her comments while reading your wistful note.

You list our accomplishments in the past. They have indeed been great. But, dear England, let's be honest. They are in our past. We are no longer spring chickens, you and I.

But now I find myself the scolded, battered spouse. You've taken my dowry and spent it, and on what?! Estates in and around London. Military adventures in parts of the world in which we had no business. At least you had the good sense not to arm your police.

And those wonderful vacation homes in America. You did a fine job of ruining that effort. All I asked was that you build the house there. Maybe a modest estate, even. That's all. Nice and simple. But no, first you insist on taking those nice people in Africa and take them to work on the estate. They didn't want to be there, but you insisted. Then you bullied France. She was so much fun before you did that to her. You know I've a sucker for French accents, dear. But no, you said, I have to make that estate pay for itself, so you had to tax, tax, tax the hired help. Haven't you learned yet that exacting money from people at gunpoint, even if it is legal, is hardly endearing? Oh, England, when will you ever learn. You manage to mess up so much once you've succeeded with your plan. We were poor once, and you managed to beat the Dutch and the Spanish at their own game. And you looked so regal in doing so. I was so proud of you, dear England, so proud. So now we're left with that island in the Atlantic and its gaudy pink beaches and those shorts which men have the temerity to show off their legs. Well, I never!

At least you had the good sense to send those felons off to that island down under. That was one of your inspired moves—something you haven't had in a while. You left them to fend for themselves, and see? They created a nation all by themselves.

And that empire of yours—the one where the sun never sets. I didn't want an empire, some of us like the night. We used to have so a good time after the sun had set, before you filled ever hour of the day thinking about that damned empire of yours!. You had to send me our son, the one who had nothing more worthwhile than issuing a new version of the Bible, to get me to stay in the family, and I went along with it despite my better instincts. United would be stronger, you said. For a while, you were right. But I caught on to your ways, England. You couldn't even decide what your religion would be at first. When you finally did decide, it wasn't mine. And my favorite clothing—those kilts, my favorite instrument—the bag pipes. You've always pretended to like them. And when I celebrate cultural achievements, where are you? Sunning yourself in Spain. You know I'm too fair for that—I'd burn if I did that. Do you drink any of my libations? I spend so much effort and wait years before it's ready to drink. No, you go for the port. Edinburgh now feels so unwanted when you do that. "Scotch on the rocks" to you means taking some of my best creations and putting him or her in that tower of yours down in London. Really, dear, what were you thinking? That I would welcome such treatments? And that gin you favor. Your people had so much of it that you created a set of laws just to control the drinking. A lot of good that did you. They just switched to beer instead! Not something I made, but beer. Honey, if you wanted beer, you should have married Germany. Mother was right, you are incorrigible.

Now let's go back to my dowry. That oil. You can't seem to keep your hands away from it. I keep telling you not to push, but you do. I wouldn't mind if you spent some of it on me, but like I said, England, you've wasted it. The that gambling on Persia pay off? I grant you that it did for a while, but once again, you managed to make a mess out of success.

And if I so much as mention any of this to you during those few occasions you let me talk, there's little I get besides a slap. So now I sit in my lawyer's office, working on the divorce papers. I'll serve you with them just as soon as I can. You know, England, I went to the bank yesterday, and they told me that you had assumed the mortgage, but you cut off my credit line. And my access to the checking account!. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Do you think this is a way to tell me that you again want to waltz with me through those omnipresent formal gardens of yours. Haven't you realized I have an allergy to roses. If you hadn't taken my wealth all the time, I could have afforded the allergy shots at the doctor's office. No, you said, better to spend on some fast aircraft that no one could afford to fly. I know, you said that getting the French involved would help matters. Well, dearie, did it? Not much.

Well, England, I could go on and on. That nasty man Marx for instance. Not Groucho. He was American. No dear, I mean Karl. He wasn't funny at all. Don't you realize how many people died because of his drivel.

You'll be hearing from my attorneys, Dodson and Fogg, soon enough. And they've warned me that you'll try to drag this out so long that no one will remember what the case is about. England, you better set yourself in because I'll remember.

It's time for a divorce, England, time for me to salvage what remains of my dowry, time to get the bankers to look at me and realize that I have wealth, too, time for you and the rest of the world to see me for what I am—proud, able, with lots of resources and a rich heritage.

Good-bye England my my love. Maybe next time, you can get that bard of yours—yes, Shakespeare—to talk about Scotland some time rather than England all the time. And get it straight, dear. No sex is because you're English. Did you hear me English. It's you, not me. It never was me. So say "No sex please, we're English." You'll have to speak to Foot and Marriott, but given the result you got from Shakespeare—after you promised you'd speak with him about that line of his you know I can't stand, nothing changed. I wasn't the problem England. I never was. You always did have problems raising your flags. especially when we in my castles and not yours. You said you could change, learn, be better. Well, how much does it take to raise a flat! And then your promises to change? That's the problem England, there's never any change outside of appearances. Even haggis. You kept telling me I made a great dish, and you kept drinking that infernal gin of yours to wash it down.

So England, I'm sure you'll come out on top some how. You always do.

As for me, I need to see my lawyers. They keep telling me I have quite a case. And they keep suggesting something going on between you and America. They call it a "special relationship." Really, England, how could you? It will all come out in court in due time.

Just realize England, we're done, au revoir, and all that. Maybe you can get America to take it, but won't. Not anymore. I need to finish this letter right now any way, before my haggis overcooks. I have to eat lunch before going to the tailor. He's made me a whole set of clothes using Harris Tweed to wear just for our divorce case. Assuming you decide to make it a public affair. For your sake, England, I hope you come to your senses and realize that it's over. It will be so much easier for you to let go.

Yours,

Scotland


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1 Comment so far

  1. Rob Ivanoff on August 29, 2014 1:19 pm

    What prevents England from having a peaceful working relationship post the break-up? Nothing. Scottland should go ahead and manage itself solo. Solo is mature. Solo is wise. Just like England, which needs to re-learn to manage itself. In fact, nations should not be too large, because largeness is the opposite of fitness. Also, let us not disguisse the reasons why the divorce. London extended itself in many imperial global adventures for centuries in the process losing its focus and balance sheet. Now it is time for Scottland to be free to choose. Nothing better than free to run.

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