I RECENTLY spent time in the United States, mostly Arkansas, a fascinating mid-South state of almost three million inhabitants that takes in the beautiful Ozark mountains, extensive forests and stunning lakes, and vast plains of flat, fertile farmland. And yes, it voted Trump.

Johnny Cash and Bill Clinton are among Arkansas’ famous sons, and spending time there over Thanksgiving with my partner, who is also a native, I was struck by how friendly and open the people are, how genuinely hospitable. In short supply, however, was self-confidence and hope among the good folk I ate with, in a state that is at the very bottom of the heap on a range of socio-economic factors including health, education, crime and infrastructure. The American Dream, say people here, packed up and left in the 1960s.

As we talked about the differences between life in Arkansas and Scotland, Trump and Brexit, the economy, who provides public services, what emerged was two very different approaches to government.

Perhaps the most striking contrast was the fact that I still feel invested in a social contract with the state: I pay taxes and receive a range of services in return, including the NHS and social care, education to university level, libraries, museums and culture, bins emptied and waste recycled. These services are not perfect, but I support their existence and accept that everyone should get access to them, regardless of wealth. I pay my taxes without much complaint; I at least feel part of the system, even if that system is creaking.

The people I met in Arkansas simply don’t have this contract, not because they don’t feel part of society, but because they simply don’t get many public services, and those they do receive are poor in quality in comparison to what we get in Scotland.

As for healthcare, one member of my partner’s family in her early sixties spends $800 a month on drugs to treat long-standing health problems, while her husband’s health insurance cover costs $700 a month and has a litany of exclusions. Unless you are wealthy, being ill in the US costs a fortune. As does being elderly, or disabled. And it risks you losing everything. The impact on ordinary people is, unsurprisingly, utterly brutal.

The Trump voters I spoke to didn’t much like the man himself, they just feel voiceless, ignored and betrayed, judged and looked down upon, and wanted to sock it to the Washington political class they hate with a passion.

I can’t help thinking of my time in Arkansas as I consider Nicola Sturgeon’s dilemma on whether and how to raise taxes in this week’s Scottish budget.

It’s a complex question and if I’m honest I can see both sides of the argument. As many in business have already made clear, the current Brexit chaos means higher taxes could deter investors from coming to Scotland. We need more entrepreneurs here and a reduction in the reliance on public sector employment; One American influence I’d certainly welcome would be a bit more of the”can-do” American spirit.

And can the so-called squeezed middle, still suffering after years of wage freezes and cuts, reduced conditions, huge fuel bills and sometimes crippling housing costs, with little sign of respite in the years to come, really afford to pay more?

I honestly don’t know. But public services are being cut to the bone and we need to have a debate around how much we value particular areas, whether we are prepared to give more to sustain them, and if so, how much. Two recent polls suggested there is support for tax rises in Scotland to improve public services, with most people saying the highest earners should take the hit. In this increasingly divided society, it’s hard to argue that the rich - those on over £150k - shouldn’t pay a bit more. But Scotland has comparatively few very wealthy folk, which leaves the rest of us, the vast middle and bottom. There appears to be little support for putting up the basic-rate, but should more of us - say anyone earning over £30k or £35k as opposed to the current £43k - pay a bit more tax?

Perhaps if ministers were explicit about exactly where extra money raised would go, Scots could tolerate it. Personally, I’d be prepared to pay a wee bit more if I thought it would go into the NHS, social care and to build more public houses, because I genuinely fear that if we don’t protect and invest in these frontline services now, then in a generation they will be beyond repair, with no option but for the private sector to take over.

And after witnessing the reality of this in the US, where it is not need but ability to pay that matters, the prospect fills me with horror.

In terms of public services, I’ve rarely felt more fortunate to be Scottish than I did in Arkansas. I felt lucky to live in a country that is still philosophically committed to providing for its citizens. Of course, the so-called Land of the Free has always had a different approach to government and society that reflects its violent origins. But the brutal way it still treats so many of its people nevertheless provides a warning to us all.