SCOTLAND has been invited to attend an interview with human resources, the artists formerly known as the personnel department.

“Take a seat, Scotland.”

“Thanks. What’s this about?”

“Scotland’s shame.”

“Sectarianism?"

"Well, that, yes, but there is something else. Sexism."

“Care to explain?"

“In a podcast released yesterday, Scotland’s First Minister complained of a “polarised and toxic” culture that deters people, particularly women, from becoming involved in politics.

"Add to this the parting comments of former BBC Scotland editor Sarah Smith, that she was relieved to have left behind the “bile, hatred and misogyny” of Scottish politics, and I think you will agree that this is becoming a national issue that must be addressed."

[To be continued ...]

Do we agree though? Does Scotland’s political culture have a problem with women, or is the behaviour that is criticised just part and parcel of modern politics, meted out to men as much as women?

As its title suggests, The Cultural Coven podcast, hosted by actor Nicola Roy, focuses largely on the arts, which here include the First Minister’s hitherto unknown acting ambitions (“I’d love to go into River City” she jokes). But there are politics there too. Rare is the politician who completely switches off that side of themselves when being interviewed.

The tone becomes suitably serious when talk turns to the safety of politicians.

All politicians, says Ms Sturgeon, are less safe than they would have been when she was starting out, and social media has had a big part to play in that.

“It allows people, who have always existed but were on the margins and never had a platform before, to have that platform to hurl abuse directly at people,” she says.

Women were on the receiving end of abuse on social media ”much, much more” than men.

Anyone who has spent any time on Twitter knows that to be true, and a scroll through the comments directed at Ms Sturgeon and Sarah Smith shows they have indeed been subjected to more misogynistic bilge than any woman should have to tolerate in a lifetime.

In the case of Ms Smith, the “bile, hatred and misogyny” of Scottish politics expressed itself in less virtual, only too real, ways. She believed her gender was an “aggravating feature” in such encounters.

She told an interviewer: “People would ...roll their car windows down as they drive past me in the street to ask me, ‘What f****** lies you're going to be telling on TV tonight, you f****** lying b****’.”

It is not the sort of portrait of working life that will have girls queuing up to be the next Sarah Smith or Laura Kuenssberg, another high profile woman, and a Scot, who is regularly on the receiving end of abuse on social media.

That said, a boy might equally be put off by the same behaviour. While we do not know how many girls are deterred, their increasing presence in politics and journalism would suggest that if sexism is a concern it is one they are prepared to tackle, and good on them for doing so.

I do not doubt that both Ms Sturgeon and Ms Smith have experienced sexism during their careers. Such has been the lot of women involved in politics since Eve made the wrong call on apple procurement.

But I also think it is more complicated than that, and that there is only so much that can be extrapolated from a limited number of cases, these two in particular.

No-one should have to put up with the kind of behaviour Ms Smith describes. Yet there is also no getting away from the fact that she made mistakes that had to be clarified and corrected. That’s the reality, not sexism. A man would have had to do the same.

The First Minister speaks of a toxic culture in politics as though she was completely new to the business and had never personally crossed swords with anyone. Tell that to any of her opponents down the years. By instinct Ms Sturgeon is a scrapper, not a peacemaker. As for the deep divisions in Scottish politics in general, referendums do tend to bring those about. Families and friends split, neighbour set against neighbour, genuine rancour on the streets. If her party has its way it will likely happen again.

Nor does Ms Sturgeon operate from a position of weakness. She has the full machinery of government behind her and does not hesitate to use it.

Ms Sturgeon, in fairness, does not often bring the personal into the political sphere. It is not unheard of though, as when she gave evidence to the Holyrood committee investigating the Scottish Government’s handling of harassment complaints.

She speaks again about the stresses and strains of leadership in the Cultural Coven podcast, particularly as she experienced them during the pandemic.

“You have to be prepared to take the decision, be accountable for the decision, whether it is right or wrong and yeah, that’s a lonely place,” she says.

“It comes with the territory, and if you are not prepared for those kind of situations then you shouldn’t put yourself forward to do the job. It’s as simple as that ultimately.”

As simple as that. Not that you would think so, however, judging from her responses this week when asked about the ferries commissioning scandal. Five years late, two and a half times the original cost, a clear case if ever there was one for a leader to accept responsibility and apologise. Yet the First Minister continues to tie herself in knots about this. Asked several times if she had given the go-ahead she was reduced to saying, “I didn’t say 'Don’t go ahead'.”

It is not the first time she has adopted this barely explain, never apologise stance. The First Minister will not care for the comparison, but when it comes to a reluctance to say sorry she is in the same league as Boris Johnson. Being sorry/not sorry is not a male-female thing, it is a politician thing, and the public understandably takes a dim view of it.

Politics in this country can feel toxic and polarised at times, but Scotland is hardly alone in this. The world over could do with less heat and more light. That’s a manifesto we can all agree on.