Snapshots of the past: newly released papers cast new light on the big political and social issues of the late 1980s.
THE minister who introduced the poll tax in England was banned from seeing how the system worked north of the Border in case he made Scotland look like a "guinea pig", according to a newly opened file at the National Archives of Scotland.
Malcolm Rifkind, the then Conservative Scottish secretary, vetoed a visit by local government minister David Hunt, as his presence north of the Border would be "politically damaging".
At the time, the Scottish Tories were acutely sensitive to criticism that Scotland was being used as a testbed for the Community Charge a year ahead of it being rolled out across England and Wales.
The file also contains an early civil service warning that there could be "substantial" embarrassment over the new charge. It would later prove so unpopular that it helped end Margaret Thatcher's 11-year premiership.
Other documents show that Rifkind was angered by anti-poll tax slogans appearing on bridges over the M8, while his deputy, Ian Lang, feared Scotland's Labour-dominated councils might try to thwart the tax by encouraging voters not to pay it.
The first bills for the poll tax, which replaced domestic rates and preceded council tax, were issued in Scotland at the start of 1989. In August of that year, Hunt suggested "that he might visit Scotland to look at the way the Community Charge is being administered" ahead of it arriving in England in spring 1990.
Rifkind's response was emphatic. A letter written by David Crawley, his private secretary, said: "The secretary of state ... takes the view that a visit by Mr Hunt on the points suggested is likely to be politically damaging.
"It would be seen as proof of the argument that Scotland has been used as a guinea pig for the Community Charge. The secretary of state has asked me to advise Mr Hunt's office strongly that he should not visit Scotland for the purpose suggested."
Hunt quickly dropped his plans.
Another letter written by Crawley, in May 1989, reveals Rifkind's irritation at graffiti against the tax.
"The secretary of state ... expressed concern about the anti-poll tax slogans which had been daubed on one or two of the railway bridges which cross the Edinburgh end of the M8."
Contacted by Crawley, British Rail's chief engineer offered to pay for "painting over the slogans", but shrewdly warned that British Rail would not pay for the necessary M8 lane closures.
As motorways are the responsibility of central government, this meant the Scottish Office would have to foot the bill. The file does not record if British Rail's offer was taken up.
Other papers show that Ian Lang, minister of state at the Scottish Office, appeared preoccupied with heading off political attacks.
In April 1989, he asked for advice on whether councils "would be in breach of statute or regulation if they involve themselves or helped fund campaigns for non-payment of the Community Charge. The minister is not aware of any local authorities who are currently funding such campaigns but he feels that pressure may come from certain groups within local authorities for them to do so."
A Scottish Office lawyer replied that it was "difficult to imagine that an authority would be unwise enough to organise or contribute to a campaign unequivocally advocating non-payment", but Lang remained on constant alert for mutiny.
Elsewhere, the archive records Crawley's thoughts on the risks of the tax.Flagging up possible controversies to the government whips' office in December 1988, he wrote: "I need hardly emphasise that the scope for embarrassing issues to emerge is substantial, particularly given the political context surrounding that Community Charge. We cannot entirely predict what might lie around the corner."
But his list of potential problems, such as appeals against fines and the registration of second homes, failed to foresee the biggest problem with the poll tax - that the public would despise it and many would refuse to pay it.
By August 1989, signs of a mass non-payment campaign were clear - a benefits office manager in Glasgow reported the number of letters being returned marked "no forwarding address" had doubled since the tax started in April.
His supervisor noted: "He suggests that this might indicate an increase in claimants living rough' to avoid the Community Charge commitment. It could be of course that some are not telling the full truth."
Football matches made for a black Sabbath
ALLOWING professional football matches to be played on Sunday was against "God's express command" and contributed to the "moral decline" of the nation, the Scottish secretary was told in the early 1970s.
As fuel shortages and power cuts saw clubs switch from evening to Sunday fixtures, church groups warned Gordon Campbell, then Tory secretary of state, about the "desecration" taking place.
A National Archives file shows the issue was first raised in relation to speedway in Coatbridge. In 1970, the town's Labour MP, James Dempsey, wrote to Campbell's predecessor, Willie Ross, complaining that local magistrates allowing speedway on six Sundays a year was "commercialising" the day of rest.
He wrote: "I personally think this is a most foolish decision," adding, "if there is anything you can do to reverse this decision it would be most gratefully appreciated."
In a response which would be adopted by Campbell after the Tories won the 1970 election, Ross stated there was nothing he could do as, unlike in England and Wales, "there is no law on Sunday observance in Scotland which applies generally".
Ahead of the SFA allowing Sunday games in 1974, Campbell received letters from the Lord's Day Observance Society.
Donald Mackay, secretary of the Lewis and Harris branch, wrote: "The desecration of our day of rest and worship is against God's express command, and such misuse of the Lord's Day would cause much distress to many throughout the country. I respectfully appeal to you to do all in your power to stop this further step in our moral decline as a nation."
But Campbell side-stepped the row, and replied that: "The secretary of state has no locus in this matter, there being no legislation applying in Scotland preventing football being played on Sunday."
Lengthy battle on haircuts
To the public, Scots prison officers in the 1970s were gruff, hard-bitten disciplinarians, as epitomised by Fulton Mackay in the TV show Porridge.
But according to a government file now being opened to the public, it seems that in private the "screws" were frequently in a tizz over their curls.
The dispute started in 1970 after a Peterhead officer complained he was told to "cut my sideboards to the top of my ears", while the police were allowed to grow theirs "to the base of the ear".
In May 1971, a tabloid story about Brian Gibb, "the long-haired prison officer", prompted the establishment officer for the Scottish Prison Service to write to the governor of Saughton.
He said: "In the case of an officer who chooses to wear his hair long, provided that it is neat and tidy, I think it would be difficult to object. If, however, an officer should wish to grow his hair long I think it should be pointed out to him that by doing so he makes himself a marked man '' By late 1973, long hair seemed to have won the day, and the governor of Saughton admitted: "I realise that the old-fashioned short-back-and-sides haircut is just not on these days."
