8th November 2026
There is a fundamental question at the heart of democracy which is not always comfortable to discuss. Should the public decide every major national question, even when the consequences are complicated, uncertain and potentially irreversible?.
A referendum is often presented as the purest form of democracy. Instead of politicians making a decision on behalf of the country, the people themselves are given the final say. But there is a difference between having the right to make a decision and having sufficient information to understand its consequences.
The 2016 Brexit referendum brought that distinction into sharp focus. Leaving the European Union involved trade, immigration, employment, agriculture, fishing, financial services, international agreements and the movement of people. These were not straightforward matters, even for experienced politicians and economists.
Yet voters were asked to make a choice between two simple alternatives: Leave or Remain.
The result was 51.9% for Leave and 48.1% for Remain, on a turnout of 72.2%. It was a relatively narrow majority for a decision which would fundamentally change Britain's economic and political relationship with its nearest neighbours.
Many voters undoubtedly studied the arguments carefully. Others were influenced by their experiences, political loyalties, dissatisfaction with Westminster, newspaper coverage or campaign promises. That is entirely normal in a democracy. But it raises questions about whether a binary referendum is the best way to settle such complicated issues.
The problem is not that ordinary people are incapable of making important decisions. It is that no individual, however intelligent or well-informed, can reasonably be expected to understand every economic, legal and constitutional implication of a decision as complicated as Brexit.
There is also a problem with the way referendum campaigns operate. They reward simple messages, memorable slogans and emotional appeals. Explaining uncertainty, financial risks and difficult compromises is much less effective politically.
A campaign can therefore become a competition over who tells the most convincing story rather than who provides the most reliable explanation of what will actually happen.
Would a second Scottish independence referendum be any different?
This is where the Scottish question becomes particularly interesting.
The 2014 referendum was an important democratic exercise. Turnout was 84.6%, demonstrating that people took the decision seriously. The result was 55.3% No and 44.7% Yes.
But there were unanswered questions which voters were effectively being asked to accept would be resolved later.
Among them were currency arrangements, Scotland's future relationship with the European Union, trade with England, public finances, pensions, defence and the future of North Sea oil and gas.
These are not minor administrative details. They go to the heart of what independence would mean in people's everyday lives.
For example, retaining sterling might sound like the simplest solution, but it would require agreement about monetary arrangements and raise questions about interest rates, government borrowing and economic policy.
Likewise, EU membership cannot simply be assumed to follow automatically from independence. It would involve an application and negotiations with existing member states.
The legal position has also changed since 2014. In 2022, the UK Supreme Court ruled that the Scottish Parliament could not legislate for another independence referendum without Westminster's agreement. The route available in 2014 therefore cannot simply be repeated unilaterally.
There is a danger that another referendum could become a vote on whether people like the idea of independence, rather than a properly informed decision about the practical arrangements that would follow.
The danger of hope replacing a practical plan
There is nothing wrong with having ambitions for Scotland. Supporters of independence can reasonably argue that a smaller country could make different economic and political choices, establish its own priorities and become more closely aligned with European countries.
Equally, opponents can argue that Scotland benefits from sharing resources, institutions, fiscal arrangements and economic risks with the rest of the United Kingdom.
Both are legitimate arguments. But neither is sufficient on its own.
A promise that Scotland could become wealthier, fairer or better governed is an aspiration. It is not an economic plan.
The same applies to claims that independence would inevitably make Scotland poorer or financially unsustainable. Those claims also need evidence and clearly stated assumptions.
The electorate should be able to examine competing financial projections, understand the assumptions behind them and see what happens if those assumptions prove wrong.
For instance, what would happen if tax revenues were lower than forecast? What if borrowing costs increased? What if establishing new government institutions cost more than expected? How would Scotland respond to an economic downturn without all the existing UK-wide financial arrangements?
These questions should not be treated as arguments against independence. They are questions that any responsible government would have to answer.
Could we improve the way referendums are conducted?
There are alternatives to simply putting a question on a ballot paper and allowing two opposing campaigns to fight it out.
One possibility is to introduce a citizens' assembly before a referendum.
This involves selecting a representative group of ordinary citizens, giving them access to independent experts, allowing them to question specialists and politicians, and providing time to discuss the evidence before reaching conclusions.
The assembly would not replace the electorate. Its purpose would be to help the wider public understand the choices.
Another possibility would be to establish an independent body to publish a common factual assessment before voting begins.
For a Scottish independence referendum, that assessment could include a detailed opening financial position, several possible currency arrangements, the realistic prospects and timescale for EU membership, the implications for trade and employment, the cost of establishing new government departments and the arrangements for pensions and public services.
Both sides should be required to explain their proposals against the same underlying economic figures. Where there is disagreement, it should be clearly identified rather than hidden.
There should also be a proper transition plan explaining what would happen during the first five and ten years.
A referendum should not be an invitation to vote first and work out the details afterwards.
The wider problem with referendums
There is another difficulty which is sometimes overlooked.
A referendum tends to turn a complicated national issue into a permanent division between two camps.
People become identified as supporters of one side or the other. Once that happens, changing one's mind can be seen as abandoning a political cause rather than responding to new evidence.
Brexit demonstrated how difficult it can be to move beyond that situation.
There is also a question of accountability. Politicians can campaign for a particular outcome, but if the promised benefits fail to materialise, responsibility becomes much harder to establish. The electorate has made the decision, but politicians still have to implement it.
This is why representative democracy exists. We elect people to examine complicated questions, take advice, debate legislation and be held accountable for their decisions.
That does not mean politicians should always have the final word. They can be wrong, self-interested or disconnected from the public. Referendums have a legitimate place, particularly on major constitutional questions.
But direct democracy and representative democracy should complement one another.
What should Scotland learn from Brexit?
There is a particularly important question which should be asked before Scotland embarks on another independence referendum.
Are we being asked to vote for a clearly defined and costed future, or are we being asked to vote for the hope that things will somehow be better?
There is a world of difference between the two.
If independence supporters can demonstrate how the new country would operate, how its finances would work and how the transition would be managed, voters can judge that proposal.
If opponents can demonstrate the economic and practical risks of leaving the United Kingdom, those arguments should also be examined.
But simply repeating the arguments of 2014, with each side convinced that it was right all along, would not necessarily produce a better-informed decision.
The electorate should not be expected to vote on faith, whether that faith is in independence or in the continuation of the Union.
Perhaps the greatest weakness of referendums is that they allow politicians to ask the public to make a decision before all the practical questions have been answered.
And perhaps the greatest test of a mature democracy is not how often it asks people to vote, but how well it equips them to make those decisions.
For Scotland, that should be the starting point of any serious discussion about another independence referendum. It is not enough to ask whether people want independence. They should be told, as far as reasonably possible, what they would actually be voting for.
Democracy is about giving people a voice. It should also be about making sure that voice is informed.