HOW to mark the occasion. A drink of something fizzy, a slice of cake, perhaps an ironic three cheers. We don’t want to go too mad in these austere times, but there should be something to separate this special day. What’s that you say? What anniversary? How quickly passion dies.

Next Monday, July 1, it will be 20 years to the day since the official opening of the Scottish Parliament. It is a moment for reflection. Heaven knows there is plenty to distract us elsewhere. Sofagate, photogate, everything-but-the- blooming-garden-gate: these are times of feast for those who like their politics served up as bread and circuses. But let us turn for five minutes from the clash of cymbals and egos at Westminster and consider where we are, 20 years on from that July day. To borrow a phrase from Monty Python’s Life of Brian, what has the Scottish Parliament ever done for us?

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One difference between Scotland then and now is that there is a new television channel on which such questions can be asked. On Tuesday BBC Scotland showed the first of a two part documentary, Children of the Devolution, in which reporter Allan Little toured the country posing the Brian question, albeit in his own elegant way. How strange it was to look back on footage of that day and hear Donald Dewar’s “A moment anchored in history” speech again, an address that Nicola Sturgeon said was one of the finest in modern Scottish politics. With its quiet sense of pride, its grasp of history and hope for the future, it is a speech that more than passes the test of time. “This is about more than our politics and our laws,” Dewar said. “This is about who we are, how we carry ourselves.” Still sounds great.

Dewar’s speech was almost too good, for it set up expectations that were always going to be impossible to meet. After the soaring rhetoric came the crash to Earth. Remember the great medal stushie? The poisonous Section 28 debate? And all the while, minute by minute, the cost of the new Parliament building climbed and its completion was delayed. Initially expected to cost £10m-£40m, the final bill was £414m. Even now, that still has the power to shock.

As Little looked at how policy had progressed in areas such as land reform and LGBT rights, there was a sense of jobs being half finished and plenty left untouched. Tackling the obscenity of child poverty, closing the attainment gap, ensuring waiting times for NHS treatment are met, improving transport: anyone looking for things to be fixed in Scotland today would be left with a list as long as the Royal Mile.

Certainly, the Scottish Parliament and Scottish Governments of varying hues can point to what has been done on tuition fees, free personal care, taxation, land reform, the smoking ban, minimum alcohol pricing and much else. All important, but in the grand scheme of things to what do they amount? In his address, Dewar spoke of hearing echoes from the past. “The shout of the welder in the din of the great Clyde shipyards; the speak of the Mearns with its soul in the land; the discourse of the enlightenment …” Would those audiences be impressed at what has been achieved? Would they wonder if it had been worth it?

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We shall leave that there a moment to ponder something else that arose from Children of the Devolution, apart from the question of what the heck happened to half the male population’s hair (was it lost due to stress?).

More to the point, when and why did the standard of MSPs and debates fall? How did we get from a time of Dewar and Salmond and Wallace, of passionate debate on issues of real substance, to today’s poorly attended parliament in which little of real import happens outwith Budget day? This week, for example, the news from Holyrood was that no Education Bill ushering in radical change would be introduced because, in the opinion of the Minister, John Swinney, it was no longer needed. Really? So the entire exercise turned out to be just a way of filling time? Distributing colouring-in books to MSPs would have been a lot cheaper. The parliament, moreover, goes into recess from next Monday, returning on September 2. A nine-week holiday. Now that is a very nice way of marking the 20th anniversary.

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It is understandable for Scots today, just as it was 20 years ago, to look at the Scottish Parliament and wish for something more. As Dewar acknowledged, a Scottish Parliament was not an end but a means to greater ends. One of the most telling moments in Children of the Devolution came when Little went back to his old school in Stranraer to ask pupils for their views on the Scottish Parliament. First reaction seemed to be that they were underwhelmed. But then they thought some more, listing a few of the things that had changed their lives for the better, such as voting at 16/17, and what else they wanted to see done, chief among which was closing the attainment gap.

As for the future, most saw themselves leaving the local area. It was the same in Little’s day, which he seemed to find disheartening. After all, if the Scottish Parliament was about anything it was making Scotland as a whole a better place to live and work. But young people will always want to move elsewhere; it is part of growing up. What I saw when I looked at the pupils in Stranraer was a generation more comfortable in their skin than I ever was. There is a pride in young Scots that goes deeper than 90 minutes; it is in the bones, and much of that feeling is due to the Scottish Parliament being there.

Dewar looked forward to the time when July 1, 1999, would be seen as a turning point, the day when democracy was renewed in Scotland, when we revitalised our place in this, “our United Kingdom”. Whether you agree with those sentiments or not, look at what is happening in Westminster and think how much more dispiriting events would be without the knowledge that Scotland has a parliament of its own, ready and waiting to do more. So yes, let us see that July day 20 years ago as an occasion worth toasting.

As we now know, there are worse things than dreaming big.