Last Thursday, Nicola Sturgeon took to the podium for her final First Minister Questions. Amidst the cross-party tributes paid to Sturgeon’s public service and love of country, speakers of every stripe acknowledged that the First Minister’s departure marked the end of an era. However, to those who kept a keen eye on the contest to elect Sturgeon’s successor, it’s clear that the political consensus she built is already unravelling.

The result of that leadership election was close. While Humza Yousaf emerged victorious, with 52% of the vote, this was only after second preferences had been counted. In the short-term, the SNP may well stabilise as the party coalesces around its new leader. However, Yousaf will face structurally-determined challenges that will, sooner or later, prove difficult to manage—perhaps even more so, given the tight nature of the result. The task of this article is not to interrogate Sturgeon’s time in office (for that, see my piece for Progressive International), or the incoming First Minister, but to ask what insights are offered by the leadership contest as to what may come next.

A far cry from the discipline which has characterised the SNP post-2014, the abrupt end to the Sturgeon era has exposed deep divisions in Scotland’s governing class. While acutely managed by the former FM, these cracks will prove difficult for her successor to paper over.

In the words of the SNP President, a “tremendous mess” has engulfed the Party in the short period since Sturgeon’s resignation. The last month has seen the SNP itself become the leading story. Headlines about membership numbers and criminal investigations have, at times, overshadowed the leadership contest. Candidates have savaged one another’s records live on TV. Peter Murrell has been forced to resign as Chief Executive. SNP HQ has even attempted to block journalists from entering local hustings. Dormant layers of the SNP, such as the NEC, have now awoken, after years of passivity during Sturgeon’s tenure.

For a party at pains to present itself as professional—one reliant on reputation rather than record—the last few weeks have indicative of something far deeper than mere incompetence or factionalism. During Sturgeon’s time in office, the lines between government and party were blurred: it was not always clear where one stopped and the other began. After all, for nearly a decade, both were run from the same household. The issue, however, went far deeper. As the SNP was almost fused into the architecture of the Scottish state, internal party structures or factions became unnecessary, replaced by the trappings of government, and cemented by one election landslide after another. The consequence was a general depoliticisation, which in turn saw the rise of a politics dominated by reports and consultations as opposed to delivery. Having been defanged by managerialism, the SNP has now been forced, by Sturgeon’s resignation, back to reality. This is unfamiliar terrain for a party which last held a contested leadership election 23 years ago.

Within the party, Sturgeon’s hegemony was secured through more than just her success at the ballot box. By acting as the arbiter for the interests of other internal forces, and doing what she could to avoid confrontation, Sturgeon succeeded in securing the development of her own agenda with the consent of these now allied forces. In this sense, aided by the support of the state, Sturgeon was sometimes almost independent of the party, certainly in the eyes of the public. In the 2021 Holyrood election, for example, she asked for a personal mandate to lead Scotland’s COVID-19 recovery, in a campaign that was less about the SNP than it was about re-electing the First Minister. Sturgeon’s hegemony was achieved both through pacifying the party and, when necessary, being seen to act almost independently of it. One consequence of this can be seen, perhaps, in the more than 20,000 SNP members who did not vote in this leadership election.

Dismissed by Sturgeon as “growing pains”, the series of unfortunate events surrounding the leadership contest stands in sharp contrast to her own tenure. Where Sturgeon prized slick and professional public relations, Humza Yousaf launched his campaign standing under an exit sign. Meanwhile, Ash Regan’s press appearances were a difficult watch, and Kate Forbes’ religious conservatism marred her campaign and, consequently, became a dividing line in the contest.

In spite of this dividing line, Sturgeon’s shadow was cast over the election. No candidate seriously threatened to break with the Scottish Government’s economic approach. Yousaf expressed his wish to “move beyond” the idea of a Scottish national energy company, whereas Forbes was more brazen, committing to “make breathing room for business”. Different shades, perhaps, but no candidate challenged the key tenets of neoliberalism. On the constitution too, even those candidates who suggested the SNP’s strategy needed to be “reset” remain convinced that independence should be central to the next general election. In his resignation letter, Peter Murrell concluded by restating his belief that “independence is closer than ever.” This is the myth, fundamental to Sturgeon’s tenure, that each candidate, to some extent, perpetuated. Indeed, within hours of taking his place as leader of the SNP, Yousaf announced he would seek a section 30 “right away”.

Whilst the candidates on the ballot represented a range of views, what was on offer from the frontrunners was, in many ways, rather narrow. Internally, Kate Forbes’ social conservatism and Humza Yousaf’s ministerial record did not cause a stir while Sturgeon was in post. Both were allowed to rise through the Party’s ranks whilst managing their portfolios. It is only following Sturgeon’s resignation that these have become serious problems meriting factional disagreement. If people were able to overlook these things before, why has the SNP been thrown into such turmoil now?

The answer to this question has a lot to do with quite how peculiar the SNP is as a political force. With Scottish independence its central issue, the party has, in the years since 2015 (ie. post-IndyRef), won eight elections in as many years and, in doing so, relied on a broad class base. The SNP win in Labour’s former industrial heartlands, just as they do in rural Perthshire. Working class Scots turn out to vote for them just as the professional middle class does.

These contradictions have been managed in the only way they can be, with class neutrality, which finds its form in Sturgeon’s leadership, standing above all class antagonisms. What might otherwise have become a difficult balancing act has in fact presented little problem. This is partly because, while disparate, the SNP’s base is united by its belief in independence. More than that, though, and returning to my earlier point about depoliticisation, the Scottish political sphere has been carefully managed. The SNP has quietly and consistently advanced the interests of capital, while making hay from small adjustments to the status quo—an arrangement that was clear to see in Sturgeon’s last Holyrood appearance. Defending her record, she focused consistently on achievements like the ‘baby box’, while struggling to refute allegations of falling standards in health and education from opposition parties.

While the class alliance has been well managed, the SNP’s prevailing, hegemonic liberalism has evidently favoured one side more than the other. This is perhaps because, in assembling administrations based on PR potential and passivity, the Scottish Government finds itself outsourcing the delivery of key projects to the private sector as an alternative. The design of the National Care Service was outsourced to PricewaterhouseCoopers. Woodland restoration required the enlistment of Palladium and Hampden & Co. Offshore wind was entrusted to BP and Shell.