Another week, another defection from the Conservative benches to Labour. Penny Mordaunt, who presides over the House of Commons as if auditioning for Game of Thrones, described Natalie Elphicke’s defection to the enemy camp, close on the heels of Dan Poulter, as a “personal tragedy”.

Despite Mordaunt’s love of drama, this is not the stuff of tragedy. Cynics might view it as evidence that, with the Tory ship taking on water and in imminent danger of sinking, its members are seeking to save their own skins. Yet that’s not my take. Call me naïve - and plenty will – but what I see is a politician who can no longer sign up to the party line. Even though she is standing down at the next election, her convictions are so misaligned with those of Rishi Sunak and his cabinet that she feels she has no option but to cross the political divide.

Is she a rat, as Winston Churchill described himself, when he ping-ponged between Conservatives and Liberals and back again? Without a doubt, but that doesn’t mean she, or Poulter, were wrong to change their colours. Following their consciences, they have taken a difficult step, and good luck to them and their constituents.

The Herald: Natalie ElphickeNatalie Elphicke (Image: free)

If nothing else, this latest loss to the Tory benches is symptomatic of a fact well known within the halls of Westminster and Holyrood – and of any democratic parliament you care to name – that the rhetoric from all sides of the house is, at times, little more than grandstanding.

While onlookers are led to believe that parties are ideologically separated by a chasm as deep as the Grand Canyon, the gulf between moderate Conservative, Labour, LibDem, Green and SNP politicians is – the issue of independence aside – far shallower than you might imagine. Contrary to appearances, our parliamentarians do not inhabit entirely separate planets. On certain issues – though it would be electoral suicide to admit it – they might even agree.

When the First Minister John Swinney expressed a wish for Holyrood to move away from divisive, polarised political discourse, he was quick to admit he has been guilty of such behaviour. Within the bubble of parliament, it is all too easy to hurl insults or denigrate the opposition as if they were brain dead or useless. As politicians harangue those on the other side, you’d think that their opponents are either ignorant, or have their snouts in the trough, or have spent the past decade with their fingers in their ears.

In this merciless gladiatorial arena, the one-liner is king. Those who are not super-confident or swift thinking at the despatch box are at a severe disadvantage. They are Christians to the big debating beasts’ lions, and very bloody it can be.

No wonder the idea of a career in politics is unthinkable for some who would otherwise be an asset to the country. If you can’t grow a thick skin, the prospect of entering this intimidating environment must be terrifying. Bad enough the flak that you must take from the public, but even worse when the salvo comes from a red-faced, spittle-mouthed, table-thumping MSP standing 20 feet away, who you’ll bump into an hour later in the canteen.

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As Swinney has recognised, it doesn’t have to be this way. After an assured start to his leadership this week, it’ll be interesting to see if he can gradually elevate the tone of proceedings and introduce a better way of doing things. When faced with a tempting opportunity to heckle like a Gatling gun or deliver a crushing put-down, will he and his colleagues be able to resist? We shall see.

Since Humza Yousaf’s resignation, much has been made of the way Holyrood is meant to function: not as a monopoly by one party, but as a forum for deliberation and compromise on all sides; not as a place for political point scoring but for measured discussion of what’s in the best interests of the country.

But it’s not just our leaders who need to adopt a less aggressive and confrontational way of doing business. So should all of us. One of the defining features of Scottish politics for the last century has been its punishing tribalism. Once the Conservatives and Liberals were riding high, then it was Labour, whose grip on the country seemed so entrenched that to be Scottish was almost de facto to support Keir Hardie’s party. Then the momentum shifted seismically, putting the SNP into power in a way unimaginable a few years earlier.

Through all these iterations, swathes of the electorate have pledged their loyalty to a party as if committing to a religion or a football club. For them anyone who thinks differently is suspect: possibly misguided, but more likely stupid. To witness arguments raging across the political divide, you’d almost think we live in a totalitarian state, where only one credo is acceptable.

The Herald: The chamber at HolyroodThe chamber at Holyrood (Image: free)

I have many family and friends, some of whom have been politicians, who support different parties from me, and whose hopes for Scotland’s future don’t chime with mine. Even so, I sometimes find myself in sympathy with their view of where the country is going wrong. Occasionally their outlook lies at the opposite end of the spectrum from mine, yet even if I can’t agree, their reasons are considered and thoughtful.

Listen to the different perspectives on show at Holyrood, and it is obvious that good ideas come from all quarters of the house. To think otherwise would be to treat those who don’t adhere to a particular line as if they were pariahs. That’s akin to the situation in Russia, where no opposition to Putin is possible. As we strive for a more collegiate political environment, it’s worth remembering how fortunate we are that our politicians can take an entirely contrary position to those in power without fearing for their safety.

Of course, if totalitarianism or dictatorship were the only alternatives, then I’d choose ferocious debate any day. But that is not the case. For all its flaws, our democracy allows everyone a voice. So, rather than question the integrity of those of a different stripe, or drown them in contempt, we should listen to every side of an argument. What is needed, in a word, is maturity. On the eve of its 25th birthday, the Scottish Parliament has surely reached the age of reason.