Seòmar agus comataidhean

Will the member take an intervention?

I think that most people who were offered up to £250—because it is only up to £250—off their energy bill to agree to having a pylon in their back garden would consider it a cheap and insulting bribe. Could the Scottish Government make it a condition of any planning consent that those affected by where pylons are to be located should at least benefit from local energy pricing?

To ask the First Minister, regarding any potential impact on planning legislation in Scotland, what the Scottish Government’s response is to reports that the United Kingdom Government has proposed giving people living near power infrastructure hundreds of pounds off their bills each year. (S6F-03892)

I congratulate Audrey Nicoll on securing the debate. She rightly raised the issues of misogyny, exploitation and violence again women worldwide, and they are cruel and disgusting. However, I will confine my remarks to our home turf as I view the progress towards equality that women in Scotland have made during my 80 years and reflect on the barriers then and now.

I did not really notice much in the way of discrimination at primary school. I was keen and quite bright, and the children who had difficulty with the three Rs bore the brunt of the teacher’s impatience. I was also a tomboy, so, until adolescence, when those pesky hormones kicked in, as well as peeveries and skipping, I played marbles and fought over our street territories. One pigtail was always destroyed early in the day, and I regularly had bloodied knees and elbows.

Secondary school was a different kettle of fish. As I was a girl—in those days, Boroughmuir had boys and girls entrances—I discovered cooking and sewing on my timetable. I loathed both and was hopeless at them. Hockey and netball were next on my hit list. To avoid them, I added non-existent science classes to my timetable, which was not discovered until it was too late for me to be disciplined. That was one advantage of keeping a low profile, which was then my modus operandi.

At 16, I was asked by the school if I wanted to stay on. Many of my female friends opted to leave. My father, a very forward-thinking man, left the choice to me. “Boy or girl, you are all equal”, he said. For a working-class girl like me, that was the exception.

The school, of course, had me destined to be a secretary. There is nothing wrong with that, but there was no encouragement to go to university, except from my Russian teacher. I left at 16, but with highers in my back pocket. I looked for a job at what was then Ferranti, as I had higher physics, chemistry and maths. A woman in a white lab coat took me quietly to the side and advised me not to take the job offer because I would be stuck at her level, whereas men were promoted.

I then began as a clerkess in an insurance company, because I was desperate to have some money. After one year of that, I saw that able women were stuck at senior clerkess level, so that was it—I packed it in and went to university.

I am telling this story because the culture at the time, certainly for working-class girls, was to leave school at 16, get an office job, get engaged at 18, marry at 20 and have their first child at 22. Before the pill, there was no hanky-panky until they were married. A pregnant single girl at that time was considered a fallen woman, but it was different for boys and men, of course.

The irony is that, by national necessity, during the second world war, women were liberated into what were men-only jobs, but, as soon as the war ended, they were expected to return—and they did—to domestic-only roles.

We have come some way, but against that narrative, and not that far, really. Girls are still pigeonholed into certain trades and professions. There are not many female plumbers and electricians, but there are plenty of female teachers. It is tougher, as good though we are at multitasking, to juggle jobs and motherhood—it is no easy task. I insert the caveat that there are men, too, who have those dual roles.

Added to that, although there were always pressures on girls about their looks, they are exacerbated today by social media. Are you slim enough? Do you conform to the current model of good looks? Having to conform to fit in has always been the case, but it is much worse these days.

There has been a shift, but not as much as one would expect 80 years on. Marriage is not a necessity and the term “bidey-in” has been lost in the mists of time; it is about having partners. We have women as chief executives, we have had female Prime Ministers and a female First Minister and, often, general practitioners are women, although male nurses are more of a rarity. However, I do not have answers—only questions—as to why change is so slow. Why have we not moved on further in those 80 years?

I married at 25 and had my first child at 27. I had to give up my teaching post for six years to bring up my sons, as there was no such thing as maternity leave and no nursery or job security. We have some of that now—it is better, but it is not good enough.

I congratulate Audrey Nicoll on securing the debate. She rightly raised the issues of misogyny, exploitation and violence again women worldwide, and they are cruel and disgusting. However, I will confine my remarks to our home turf as I view the progress towards equality that women in Scotland have made during my 80 years and reflect on the barriers then and now.

I did not really notice much in the way of discrimination at primary school. I was keen and quite bright, and the children who had difficulty with the three Rs bore the brunt of the teacher’s impatience. I was also a tomboy, so, until adolescence, when those pesky hormones kicked in, as well as peeveries and skipping, I played marbles and fought over our street territories. One pigtail was always destroyed early in the day, and I regularly had bloodied knees and elbows.

Secondary school was a different kettle of fish. As I was a girl—in those days, Boroughmuir had boys and girls entrances—I discovered cooking and sewing on my timetable. I loathed both and was hopeless at them. Hockey and netball were next on my hit list. To avoid them, I added non-existent science classes to my timetable, which was not discovered until it was too late for me to be disciplined. That was one advantage of keeping a low profile, which was then my modus operandi.

At 16, I was asked by the school if I wanted to stay on. Many of my female friends opted to leave. My father, a very forward-thinking man, left the choice to me. “Boy or girl, you are all equal”, he said. For a working-class girl like me, that was the exception.

The school, of course, had me destined to be a secretary. There is nothing wrong with that, but there was no encouragement to go to university, except from my Russian teacher. I left at 16, but with highers in my back pocket. I looked for a job at what was then Ferranti, as I had higher physics, chemistry and maths. A woman in a white lab coat took me quietly to the side and advised me not to take the job offer because I would be stuck at her level, whereas men were promoted.

I then began as a clerkess in an insurance company, because I was desperate to have some money. After one year of that, I saw that able women were stuck at senior clerkess level, so that was it—I packed it in and went to university.

I am telling this story because the culture at the time, certainly for working-class girls, was to leave school at 16, get an office job, get engaged at 18, marry at 20 and have their first child at 22. Before the pill, there was no hanky-panky until they were married. A pregnant single girl at that time was considered a fallen woman, but it was different for boys and men, of course.

The irony is that, by national necessity, during the second world war, women were liberated into what were men-only jobs, but, as soon as the war ended, they were expected to return—and they did—to domestic-only roles.

We have come some way, but against that narrative, and not that far, really. Girls are still pigeonholed into certain trades and professions. There are not many female plumbers and electricians, but there are plenty of female teachers. It is tougher, as good though we are at multitasking, to juggle jobs and motherhood—it is no easy task. I insert the caveat that there are men, too, who have those dual roles.

Added to that, although there were always pressures on girls about their looks, they are exacerbated today by social media. Are you slim enough? Do you conform to the current model of good looks? Having to conform to fit in has always been the case, but it is much worse these days.

There has been a shift, but not as much as one would expect 80 years on. Marriage is not a necessity and the term “bidey-in” has been lost in the mists of time; it is about having partners. We have women as chief executives, we have had female Prime Ministers and a female First Minister and, often, general practitioners are women, although male nurses are more of a rarity. However, I do not have answers—only questions—as to why change is so slow. Why have we not moved on further in those 80 years?

I married at 25 and had my first child at 27. I had to give up my teaching post for six years to bring up my sons, as there was no such thing as maternity leave and no nursery or job security. We have some of that now—it is better, but it is not good enough.

They did.

As members will be aware, I have many hill farmers in my Midlothian, South Tweeddale and Lauderdale constituency. Like everyone else, they are concerned about the spread of the viruses.

I hear what the First Minister says about the measures that are in place to reduce their spread, because the chief veterinary officer for Scotland has said that it is inevitable that the viruses will come. I also hear what the First Minister said about Schmallenberg not being notifiable. What measures are in place in relation to imports from Europe, not just from within the UK, to reduce the spread of viruses such as Bluetooth? [Laughter.]

As we all know, across the public sector, a substantial proportion of the funding that has been allocated to the NHS and to education—indeed, to all public services—is for fixed costs. That includes the costs of staff, including wage increases, employer pension contributions and national insurance contributions, to which I will come shortly.

In addition, the funding includes, in the NHS, the costs of the Scottish Ambulance Service, of running hospitals, of medications and of payments to general practitioner practices—for example, for their contracts with NHS boards. There is not, therefore, much room for flexibility. There is room for reform and efficiency, and that is a task for the minister, Ivan McKee. I am thankful that he is not Elon Musk.

The budget has had to cover increased salaries across the public sector, with their ancillary employer costs, none of which we would begrudge nurses, the police and so on. However, the body blow of the increase in employer national insurance contributions has made a huge dent in the money that is available for those front-line services. The Convention of Scottish Local Authorities has estimated that the additional cost to councils alone will be £240 million. It is welcome that the SNP Government has committed to providing councils with an additional £144 million to support the cost of that hike. However, that does not cover the entire cost, and across Scotland, public services will face a bill of more than £700 million.

Despite that, the UK Government has suggested that it will not reimburse the cost in full, which could leave Scotland some £300 million short. The increase in provision to councils will help to cover the additional and recurring costs of pay rises for teachers, social workers, refuse collectors and so on. Those pay rises are deserved, and are mainly a consequence of years of Tory austerity, which climaxed in Trussonomics. Now, however, Labour’s national insurance increase will make sure that some of that money will simply go straight back to the Treasury.

That is not all. The impact across the economy of the national insurance increase will be damaging to all sectors. I know of businesses that are already not expanding, and of some that are looking to cut staff because they cannot meet the increased bill. There are serious consequences for the care sector, which is supportive of the real living wage but is finding that paying it, on top of increased national insurance contributions, is a measure too far.

There is also the impact on charities to consider. In Scotland 136,000 people are employed in the charitable sector. It is reckoned that the NI rise will cost charities £17 million a year; for example, it will cost the Scottish Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals £400,000 a year.

Four Square (Scotland) is an Edinburgh charity that supports people who face homelessness. It employs about 120 people and has a turnover of less than £4 million. It delivers public services on behalf of the local authority, and has very limited options for finding money for the unexpected NI costs. It is considering whether it can afford a cost of living salary increase for staff in April 2025, or needs to cut posts. The strain on the voluntary sector will impact on public services, because there is bound to be displacement from voluntary services to the public sector and increasing demand.

To that national insurance pressure we can add the current 3 per cent rise in the cost of living, which is on an upward trajectory. That is now compounded by a 6.4 per cent increase in the energy cap, which will cost Scottish consumers £281 on average per year, with the average energy debt in Scotland—this figure is from Citizens Advice Scotland—being £2,500. In rural areas, it is worse, at £3,100.

That is the economic climate that has been set by UK plc, against which the Scottish Government’s budget endeavours to deliver, with increasing demand on our public services.

High on the list is poverty, particularly child poverty, which will increase for the reasons that I have outlined. Although they have already been mentioned, I mention again the highly popular baby box, which has more than 90 per cent uptake; universal free school meals from primary 1 to P5; the Scottish child payment, which is currently £26.70 for every child under 16 in a qualifying household; removal of the two-child benefit cap; the return of the universal winter fuel payment; the introduction of breakfast clubs; free travel for pensioners, for many disabled people and for under-22s; and no tuition fees. That is a great list, and those things are what our taxes pay for.

Finally, as we all know, not everything can be achieved, so setting a budget is about choices, and this Government has made good choices. What a contrast that is with UK Labour, which is undermining our farming community with an inheritance tax, leaving pensioners out in the cold, removing the universal winter fuel payment, defending the two-child benefit cap and hiking employer national insurance contributions.

What a difference there is in our budget priorities, and what a difference there would be if we had full control over our economy with independence.

I anticipated your request to be brief, Presiding Officer.

To ask the Scottish Government what research it has recently completed into the efficacy and standardisation of the presumption of inclusion in mainstream education. (S6O-04337)

I congratulate my colleague on securing this debate.

When PFI is mentioned to the public, it does not mean much to them—but it does matter. The abbreviation stands for private finance initiative. In practice, it means private companies building the likes of schools for local authorities, which enter into a contract to pay for the building over a period, often decades. That is key: ownership only passes to the council only at the end of the contract—generally speaking. After all, contracts do vary.

That seemed a whizz of an idea to Labour at UK level, and the party eagerly adopted it when it was in power in Scotland. Shiny new schools—what is not to like? When the SNP came into government, though, the approach was ditched—and for good reason.

Because of PFI, which just means “Build now and pay as you go”, three schools in the Borders—in Eyemouth, Duns and Earlston—that had a build cost of £72.5 million will, as a result of annual payment obligations, actually cost the council £350 million by 2037. By that time, the schools will be pretty old. It is rather like buying a car on hire purchase. We must always read the figures at the bottom of the contract; they can be eye watering, and by the time we own the car, it will be towards the end of its journey. It is the same for schools under PFI.

In comparison, the new Galashiels academy and Peebles high will not be built in that expensive manner. I understand that, in Midlothian, PFI contracts for five schools are costing the council around £1 million per month. I repeat—£1 million a month. We must never forget the damaging on-going costs of those contracts, which reduce by millions the funding that Borders Council and Midlothian Council could be using and putting to better use elsewhere.

Finally, the contracts often come with tough provisions such as paying for private maintenance. In England, private companies are now shirking their contractual repair and maintain obligations, particularly as the contracts come to an end.

The financial burdens bequeathed by Labour remind us not only that it is making an economic mess now; it made one before, and the Borders and Midlothian will continue to pay through the nose for that PFI mess for decades.