The Scottish Parliament was founded with noble ambitions. Twenty-five years ago, Holyrood was meant to be a modern legislature: open, democratic and accountable. It was supposed to be a Parliament of the people, not of the politicians.
It has failed.
Today, Holyrood is a place where debate is scripted, questions are rehearsed, and dissent is punished. It has become an institution designed not to hold government to account, but to protect it. The spirit of the early Parliament — pluralist, curious and confident — has been replaced by a culture of control.
That failure begins with how power is exercised inside the building. In theory, authority rests with the Presiding Officer and the chamber. In practice, it lies with the party whips. They decide who speaks, when they speak and, too often, what they say.
The result is a Parliament where loyalty matters more than thought, and performance matters more than persuasion. The Scottish Parliament was founded on the principle of consensus, symbolised by its hemispheric chamber. But that spirit has faded. Today, parties no longer strive for agreement; they manufacture division to gain political advantage. Party control has tightened to the point that MSPs are discouraged from thinking or acting independently, making genuine cross-party collaboration almost impossible.
You can see it in the debates. Too many MSPs rise to their feet, deliver a pre-written speech, and sit down again without taking a single intervention. Time limits are so tight that serious argument is impossible. Replies rarely build on what came before. Exchanges that should be spontaneous and sharp instead feel choreographed and predictable.
At times, the stage-management has been almost comic. Nicola Sturgeon once read out the wrong answer — twice — because both the question and response had been scripted in advance. Holyrood was meant to be a Parliament of ideas; it has become a Parliament of scripts.
In this environment, it’s not ability that advances a career, but loyalty. The scripted nature of Parliament serves those at the top, both in government and opposition, allowing leaders to push their lines and maintain control. Ambitious MSPs quickly learn that success comes from conformity, not creativity. Those who toe the party line rise swiftly; those who think for themselves are quietly sidelined. Independent thought has become a liability, while obedience is the surest route to promotion. We now have a legislature that is deferential, uninspired and dangerously weak.
The consequences are obvious. Poorly drafted laws are rushed through with little scrutiny, only to end up in court. Major public services are in crisis, yet the chamber obsesses over set-piece rows and tribal point-scoring. Holyrood’s committees, once the pride of the devolution settlement, now struggle to fulfil their purpose.
When the Parliament was designed, its committees were meant to be the engine room of scrutiny: cross-party spaces where evidence mattered more than ideology. For a time, they worked. But over the years, that independence has been hollowed out. Committees are now overworked, under-resourced and often steered by party interests rather than public ones.
Conveners are chosen through political favour, not parliamentary confidence. Witness lists are too often filled with organisations reliant on government funding. Committees that were meant to test government policy now often serve it: their conveners appointed with ministerial approval and many witnesses reliant on government funding, leaving little room for genuine scrutiny. For example, during the parliamentary inquiry into the Scottish Government’s handling of historic sexual harassment complaints, for example, the then-SNP MSP Linda Fabiani, as convener, repeatedly shut down lines of questioning that proved uncomfortable for the Government.
Yet the very features that once made Holyrood distinctive — its committees, its openness, its consensus-seeking — can still be its salvation. Holyrood can be repaired, but only if we shift power away from the parties and back to the Parliament. That means reforming two things above all: the committees and the chamber.
Their independence must be rebuilt from the ground up. Conveners should be elected by the whole Parliament in a secret ballot, not handed out as political rewards. That is how it works at Westminster, where directly elected conveners of select committees such as the Public Accounts Committee have proven highly effective at holding governments to account.
Convenerships should be allocated proportionally using the D’Hondt method so that every major party has a stake in oversight. And because conveners carry real responsibility, they should be properly paid for it.
The structure of committees also needs reform. At present, each committee must examine legislation line by line while also undertaking long-term policy work. They do neither well. Separate Bill Committees and Subject Committees would allow proper focus and genuine expertise, ensuring that both legislative scrutiny and policy development are done thoroughly.
Transparency must also be enforced. Anyone giving evidence on behalf of a publicly funded organisation should be required to declare the taxpayer support they receive. Scotland’s civic sector is filled with government-funded “stakeholders” presenting themselves as independent experts. That must end.
Holyrood should be the beating heart of Scotland’s democracy, but right now it barely has a pulse. MSPs need time to speak, space to argue and freedom to think.
Speech limits should be extended to at least eight minutes. That would allow MSPs to build real arguments and respond to others, not just deliver short set pieces. Every MSP should be allowed two interventions per speech and given extra time for doing so. That simple change would revive real debate and make the chamber a forum for persuasion, not performance.
The Presiding Officer should have discretion to extend debates into the evening or to add sittings on Mondays or Fridays. Holyrood’s timetable is absurdly restrictive for a Parliament entrusted with Scotland’s future.
Backbenchers must also be free to speak. They should be able to apply directly to the Presiding Officer for a slot in a debate, without having to seek permission from their party whips. Party hierarchies will hate the idea, which is precisely why it is necessary.
Transparency should extend to Question Time too. All questions submitted for Urgent and Topical Questions should be published, and those for First Minister’s Questions should no longer need to be lodged days in advance. That would make FMQs less of a theatre piece and more of a genuine exchange. Ministers should face strict time limits on answers. No more waffle to run down the clock.
If we still believe in devolution, we must also believe in its improvement
And finally, MSPs must be granted full Parliamentary Privilege. Right now, they do not enjoy the same legal protections as MPs when raising matters of public interest. That makes Holyrood a timid legislature when it should be a fearless one.
These reforms will not fix everything, but they would begin to rebalance power between parties and Parliament — and between Parliament and people.
If we still believe in devolution, we must also believe in its improvement. The Scottish Parliament was meant to be a living institution of democracy. A quarter of a century on, that dream is fading, but it can still be revived.
Holyrood can still become what it was supposed to be: a robust, independent Parliament worthy of Scotland. But that will only happen if MSPs have the courage to break free from the control of their own parties.
The people of Scotland deserve a Parliament that speaks with its own mind, not one that reads from a pre-written speech. They deserve scrutiny that holds power to account, not one that shields it.
Holyrood is broken, but not beyond repair. The test now is whether those within its walls still have the courage to rebuild it into the Parliament Scotland was promised.
