Edinburgh is a city of tenements. Where urban England is generally built from winding rows of terraced houses, each with their own front door, we Scots are more often stacked in blocks of low-rise flats. The streets of our metropolitan centres are lined by four-to-five-storey façades with symmetrical rows of living-room and kitchen windows.

Wandering through those streets in recent weeks – in central Edinburgh or Glasgow – a particular flash of colour would repeatedly catch the eye: a lurid green, standing out against the soft sandstone shades which characterise these buildings. And looking closely, you would have seen words written across them in bold black ink: “Vote Green”.

At the previous Scottish Parliament election, in 2021, the Scottish Green Party (which is independent from but friendly with the one Zack Polanski leads in England and Wales) got 8.1 per cent of the vote and eight seats – a record result. On 7 May this year, the Greens got 14 per cent, and 15 of the 129 members of the Scottish Parliament (MSPs). They won only two fewer MSPs than Labour and the far-right Reform, which came second equal, and finished ahead of both the Conservatives and Liberal Democrats.

As well as winning a record number of seats, mostly through the proportional “list” system, the Scottish Greens won their first ever constituencies. They got the most votes in Edinburgh Central, where they unseated a prominent minister of the Scottish National Party (SNP), and in Glasgow Southside, which was previously represented by former first minister Nicola Sturgeon (she decided not to run this time).

A block of flats in Glasgow’s Waverley Street, with Vote Green posters in multiple windows. May 2026. Credit: ©John Smith

Scotland wants out

This exceptional result for the Greens was matched by another extraordinary success. The SNP – a centre-left party which supports independence and a return to the EU, and, before Brexit, sat alongside the Green group in the European Parliament as part of the European Free Alliance – won 58 seats, and so a fifth consecutive term in government.

The SNP’s critics point out that turnout was down, enthusiasm has waned, and the party looks tired and out of ideas as it limps towards its third decade in power. These things are all true: the SNP’s constituency vote fell from nearly 1.3 million in 2021 to less than 900,000 this time. But it’s also true that it has achieved an astonishing run of victories since 2007, despite broad opposition from the press and the British establishment. These results are all the more impressive since, in the middle of a cost-of-living crisis, this isn’t exactly an era when incumbency has been an electoral advantage. The SNP is, surely, the most successful centre-left party in Europe this century.

The relationship between the Greens and the SNP is generally as convivial as two groups of competing politicians can be. For much of the SNP’s time in power, it has been a minority government, often relying on Green votes to pass budgets. The Green complaint about the SNP isn’t usually that it is taking the country in the wrong direction, but that it is ambling in the right direction far too slowly, and is too often nudged off course by powerful vested interests. Scottish voters get two ballot papers – one for their local constituency MSP, and one for a proportional regional list. Greens don’t run in many constituencies, and their voters usually lend support to the SNP on that ballot.

Perhaps most significantly, both parties support Scottish independence and a return to the EU. Together, at this election, they won the biggest pro-independence majority in Scotland’s history, and so a clear mandate for a referendum. Should such a vote take place, most recent polls suggest a narrow victory for Yes, with the overwhelming majority of younger voters supporting independence. As it has been for a decade now, this generational divide is remarkable. One recent poll by the agency Survation (which predicted the recent election most accurately) showed that around two-thirds of Scots under 35 support independence, with only 20 per cent saying they would vote No, and the rest undecided. The majority persisted through the 45-55 age bracket, where Yes support was at 55 per cent, compared to 33 per cent opposing independence. However, only 40 per cent of those aged between 55 and 65 supported independence, and two-thirds of Scots over 65 wanted to stay in the Union.

Most worryingly for supporters of the Union, there is now strong evidence that this split is about generation rather than age. In other words, as younger voters have got older, they have continued to support independence. Millennial support for independence hasn’t dropped off as we’ve become parents and got mortgages – it’s embedded.

Securing such a referendum legally, however, requires the consent of the UK government, which it has so far refused to give since Scotland’s last independence vote in 2014. In Britain’s ancient and uncodified constitution, Westminster ultimately has absolute authority to legislate as it pleases, and no prime minister wants to be the one to have lost Scotland.

The whispers of separation

Still, as John Swinney – the re-elected first minister – argues for a new referendum, he will have some new, powerful allies. Wales held an election to its parliament – the Senedd – on the same day as Scotland. The result there was even more extraordinary: Labour had won every major election in the country for more than a century. But it was thrashed by the SNP’s sister party, Plaid Cymru, which came first with 43 of 96 seats. The far-right Reform, which had hopes of coming first, got second place with 34 seats, while Labour was reduced to nine. The Greens, who had never had a member of the Senedd before, managed to break through and win two – a remarkable achievement given that many progressive voters scrambled to back Plaid Cymru at the last minute, for fear of Reform coming first.

As in Scotland, both Plaid Cymru and the Welsh Greens support Welsh independence. Likewise, in Northern Ireland, Sinn Féin, which supports Northern Ireland leaving the UK to unite with the rest of Ireland, is now the largest party. First minister Michelle O’Neill has been quick to align with the Scottish and Welsh independence movements. While the Good Friday Agreement peace deal – which ended the civil war known euphemistically as “The Troubles” in 1998 – requires that parties from each side of Northern Ireland’s old constitutional and cultural divide share political power, O’Neill’s election in 2024 marked the first time ever that the resultant government has been led by a first minister who supports leaving the UK and joining Ireland.

Though there isn’t yet majority support for either Welsh independence or Irish unity, polls show rapid growth in favour of separating from the UK over the decade since the Brexit referendum. Majorities of young people in both places are consistently in favour, and a desire to leave the UK is now the standard position on the Left in both Northern Ireland and Wales.

Notably, support for independence is not limited to the three smaller countries in the Union. The Green Party of England and Wales has long supported the constitutional aspirations of its northern sister party, and been in favour of Welsh independence since 2020 (I am told that the Welsh Greens becoming their own party is now a matter of “when, not if”). When I interviewed English Green leader Zack Polanski about independence last year, he was an enthusiastic supporter.

The astonishing rise of the English Greens under Polanski has been well documented, and the 7 May English local elections were another profound milestone for the party. The Greens came second to Reform in the national vote share, winning hundreds of new local councillors and securing their first two elected mayors.

What  has  been less discussed is that this result means England now has a large and powerful party which supports the break-up of the UK. The very fact that this isn’t headline news is, in itself, remarkable. Over the last few months, Labour, Reform, and the UK’s famously right-wing press have attacked Greens on almost every plausible subject. The party’s positions on drugs, sex work, Palestine, and peace have been twisted into moral panics smeared across endless front pages of oligarch-owned newspapers. Yet there’s barely been a word about the fact that the Greens back the Break-up of Britain – presumably because these opponents know that most voters in England are, at most, ambivalent about the subject.

Resisting Reform

Just as significant for the UK’s future is the rise of Reform. While the far-right party finished in second place in Scotland (with Labour) and Wales, it came first in England. Like many of its counterparts across Europe, Reform doesn’t exactly have a coherent programme. But one thing which is clear is that it is a loud proponent of what I would call Anglo-British nationalism: the party has openly flirted with the idea of shutting the Welsh parliament, and has proposed reducing the size and power of the Scottish parliament, imposing more direct rule from Westminster. In England, Reform is aligned with the racist movements which have been tying English flags to lampposts across the country as part of a wider anti-immigration backlash. A fandom for Britain’s colonialist past, the party is obsessed with the old imperial institutions of the British state.

For many in Scotland, the desire for independence is bound up with the fear of being governed by that sort of right-wing, Anglo-British nationalism. Shortly after his re-election as first minister, John Swinney sought to tap into that concern, saying that Scotland must achieve independence before Reform leader Nigel Farage likely becomes British prime minister at the next UK general election.

In Scotland, many people feel that the country is trapped. Supporters of independence feel stuck in a Union they want to leave, and which they can see is careering towards a far-right government Scotland is very unlikely to have voted for (every single local authority area in the country opposed Brexit in 2016, and Reform didn’t win a single constituency in this Scottish parliament election, implying they may fail to win any MSPs at the next UK general election). For these people, there is a lingering, as-yet unanswered question: what is the mechanism for Scotland to leave the UK, should most Scots want to do so? Under the Good Friday Agreement, UK government ministers are required to hold a referendum on Irish unity if they have reason to believe it would pass. Scotland, however, has no such exit route.

On the other hand, for opponents of independence, there is a parallel frustration at being trapped in what they see as an endless, pointless conversation about our constitutional future.

A broken system

It’s not clear what the escape route from this trap might be. But one thing is obvious: this is only one part of a much larger constitutional crisis in the UK. The rise of both the Greens and Reform renders the first-past-the-post electoral system used at Westminster obsolete. The system, whereby the candidate with the most votes in each constituency wins the election regardless of whether this produces nationally proportional results, can’t possibly express voters’ views sensibly. Worse still for the Scots and Welsh, over the last two hundred years,  first-past-the-post has disproportionately delivered Conservative governments for which we haven’t voted.

 At the same time, the monarchy – long the ideological guardrail for the Westminster system – has been bruised both by the death of Elizabeth II and by the revelations about her son Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor’s relationship with Jeffrey Epstein. The default pro-Americanism of British foreign policy has been profoundly damaged by Trump; and millions have turned against it because of British complicity in Israel’s genocide of Gaza. 

While faith in representative structures has corroded across the Western world, polls consistently put Britain towards the very bottom of international rankings for trust in our politics. This isn’t surprising: Britain doesn’t have a “normal” political set-up. Where almost every other European country had a revolution or independence moment at some point, after which people gathered and wrote a constitution, Britain has a medieval system with multiple democratic features retrofitted. We have one of the most centralised systems of state power in the Western world, with almost all major decisions made at the core (particularly in England). Despite its theoretical sovereignty, our parliament has remarkably little capacity to hold that core to account. And, with the House of Lords’ entrenching cronyism, the inadequacy of the first-past-the-post system, the power of millionaire- and corporate-funded cliques, and tight control of our traditional parties through the whipping system, voters have surprisingly little influence over who sits in our parliament and what our government does, leaving a flood of corporate cash to shape the policies of our state.

In the past, British voters were willing to accept a relatively less democratic state than our European neighbours, because its imperialism delivered us all (to differing degrees) the wealth which came from the plunder of empire. Now, with the empire gone, the British state staggers from crisis to crisis, and voters feel little sense that we even have control over the direction of the staggering. Inequality is rampant, the economy is – for all but the hyper-rich – stagnant. The centres of towns across the UK are rotting.

Ultimately, it is this dysfunctionality of the Westminster system which drives the desire to leave the UK, and that problem isn’t about to be resolved. There may not be any obvious mechanism for Scotland to get its referendum, but the pressure to allow one isn’t going anywhere. And with the real risk of a Faragist government on the horizon, the demands will become increasingly desperate.

Walk through those streets in Edinburgh and Glasgow, and look up at those flats. The majority of people who live in them don’t want to live under Westminster rule, and are eager to return to the EU. How will that desire express itself over the next five years? The answer to that question could have profound implications for British – and European – politics.