Silence, as a political asset, is woefully neglected. Think of Clement Attlee bluntly advising a truculent comrade, Harold Laski, that a “period of silence” on his part would be welcome.

Quite. Let us hear it for silence. For an absence of futile blether. But let us strike a careful balance too.

At Holyrood this week, silence played its part. Mustered by the Presiding Officer, Alison Johnstone, our party leaders stood in mute memorial to those who have suffered and died during two years of pandemic, this hideous plague.

As we contemplate Ukraine, there is a hazard that we are cowed by the sheer magnitude of the horror: death, destruction, the displacement of millions.

A danger we must resist. For we also hear Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky calling for global protest, urging a collective shriek of anger against Putin’s actions. The hope being that, somehow, an echo might penetrate to the subjugated Russian people.

So, we must not fall perpetually silent. We must not shrug and turn away. We must rage, rage against the attempted extinction of the light in Ukraine.

In another way too, silence would be wrong. It is entirely right and appropriate that, in the midst of tragedy in Ukraine, democratic discourse should persist in those countries where it is still permitted.

It is right that campaign launches should be getting under way for the local elections in May. Let us hope for respectful, sensible argument, free from bile and foolish rancour.

It is right too that the future of our economy should, once again, be the subject of fundamental ideological and practical dispute. Right and proper.

Eras and generations tend to take on a character, if a slightly glib one. The Roaring Twenties. The Hungry Thirties. The Swinging Sixties.

How would we badge this era? It strikes me it has been a prolonged period of deep anxiety, probably dating back to the banking collapse in 2008. A title? Too wordy, I know, but maybe the Millennial Malaise?

Ever since the collapse and subsequent rescue, we have struggled to sustain and embed economic growth, with an inevitable impact upon society. Folk fret about their families and the future. The icon of the age would be a pair of hands, wringing in anxious disquiet.

Now, on top of that, we have a quasi-Biblical onslaught. Pestilence and combat. The hideous plague followed by a cataclysmic conflict, plus a rising cost of living.

All with severe economic consequences. To emphasise, even as we wring our hands in despair, it is entirely right that we seek durable solutions. To the pandemic, to the war – and to the concomitant economic slide.

This week, at Westminster and Holyrood, we witnessed the renewal of fundamental ideological discourse on the economy.

To govern is to choose, and the Chancellor has explicitly chosen to prioritise tax cuts over public spending. Including, ultimately, spending upon benefits; while insisting he is doing what he can to help the poor.

His core argument is that this political path will be more effective in stimulating economic growth. And thus, over time, helping everyone, including the poor.

Read these words from his Tax Plan, brandished at the Despatch Box. “Cutting taxes sustainably requires prioritisation and a commitment to fiscal discipline. These are the foundations of this plan and our future low tax economy.”

Be very clear. This is an ideological challenge to Labour and the SNP. They responded by accusing Rishi Sunak of planning a “pre-election bribe”.

In normal times, the Spring Statement would be a tedious litany of formal growth forecasts, with a few bold words appended.

The Chancellor pursued a different path. He made this a Big Event. He told us that we should stand by “for the economy and public finances to worsen – potentially significantly”. And he offered his medium-term prescription: neo-Thatcherite tax cuts and spending constraint.

In practice, of course, his scope is decidedly limited for now. Yes, he hiked the National Insurance starting point. Yes, he promised a 1p cut in income tax – in 2024. But all that is countered by the freeze in income tax thresholds, already in progress.

He delivered a 5p per litre cut in fuel duty. Limited but welcome, no doubt, to those who rely upon a car (which, generally, does not include the poorest in society.) Consider the broader aim – which was to help trade and thus stimulate economic growth.

This was about intent. About ideology. And there was a challenge for Scotland too, where income tax rates and bands are decided by Holyrood. The Treasury Tax Plan says the Scottish Government will receive their Barnett share – “which they can use to cut taxes or raise spending.”

Labour’s Rachel Reeves said the Chancellor’s plan fell well short of requirements. His self-image was bold, she implied, but, in reality, he was “Ted Heath with an Instagram account”. Oh my, she meant it to sting.

But, again with ideology to the fore, Ms Reeves also had a word for the SNP, whom she usually ignores (it is the Westminster way.) She said the SNP had backed the Tories in opposing a windfall tax on oil and gas profits.

Exasperated, the SNP’s Alison Thewliss questioned why the North Sea should bear the brunt, and suggested a more broadly based levy on excessive profits.

Which brings us, as ever, to independence. Alex Salmond and Kevin Pringle may feel that another independence referendum is unlikely to occur next year, on current projections. But it is still the fundamental fault line in Scottish politics.

Certainly, it was Nicola Sturgeon’s rebuttal to Labour’s Anas Sarwar when he urged her to support that oil windfall tax. Her voice rising, she told him that, with Labour backing, such powers remained firmly in Westminster hands.

Consider too the announced increase in the Scottish child payment. To be clear, SNP ministers see this as intrinsically worthwhile. But there is an ideological edge here too. Like what you see under devolution? Just think what we could do with independence.

Advising the Treasury, the Office of Budget Responsibility said these were times of “unusually high uncertainty”. They called that right.

Still, let us cherish the fact that we have choices. Let us embrace argument.

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