IN the 1992 General Election Scotland’s democratic deficit was exposed. Out of 62 Scottish seats the Tories only managed to get 11.

But it mattered nothing as the overwhelming victory of the Tories in England guaranteed five more years of Tory rule for Scotland. We were already fed up with the greed-obsessed, destroy-the-unions and support-the -rich policies of right-wing ideologues.

As the results came out on April 11 a demonstration was quickly organised for the weekend. Originally set up by the Scottish Campaign to Resist the Atomic Menace (SCRAM) by the time they got to Edinburgh they were met by several hundred people outside the Royal High School (RHS) on Edinburgh’s Regent Road. The word had gone out to anti-nuclear, Green and anti-Poll Tax groups and among the gathered crowd there was a strange combination of anger, resentment against the political system that forced us to follow the wishes of the English electorate and a feeling that something had to be done.

Initially the plan had been to carry on the protest till the following Monday but pretty soon the discussion was around the need for a more permanent protest. People knew fine well that Scotland’s voice was always ignored in Westminster – where the posh-boy ruling elites had always acted as if Scotland had been absorbed into England after the odious Treaty of Union in 1707.

There was a great deal of anger but above all was the awareness that something had to be done. There was widespread agreement and so The Vigil for A Scottish Parliament came into being.

From the beginning the plan was to maintain a vigil till the need for a Scottish Parliament representing the wishes of the Scottish Electorate was recognised.

In those first heady days people were sleeping on the pavement outside the gates of the RHS and those few hardy souls were joined by many others during the daytime.

This was not led by any political group but was a spontaneous eruption of political activity that throughout all the years of its existence managed to avoid being dragged into the posturing and infighting that bedevils standard politics. Some level of organisation was however needed, especially when a fire was lit in an old oil drum that appeared at the site. This was the symbol of the will for change, a fire that would be kept alight till Scotland’s voice was heard.

And so it was that the organisation called Democracy for Scotland – still an aspiration more than two decades later – was born. A street-level gathering of environmental campaigners, anti-poll tax activists and a wide variety of concerned individuals came together to form what became known as The Vigil.

Basic organisational necessities like finding wood for the fire and making sure there was a rota that ensured a permanent presence on Regent Road – and finding enough people to fill that rota – were the order of the day. Within a few weeks of the start a weel-kent Glasgow singer donated a Portakabin that made life a great deal more comfortable for the hardy souls who were prepared to sit by the fire in all the varieties of inclement weather to which Edinburgh is so prone.

As the political reaction to the glaring democratic deficit developed, other, bigger groups like Common Cause, the suspiciously short-lived Scotland United, the Campaign for a Scottish Assembly and the Scottish Constitutional Convention all began to organise protests and other events, and The Vigil, directly opposite HQ St Andrew’s, variously referred to as Colonial HQ or the Lubianka, became the focus of many meetings.

The National:

At The Vigil there was resistance to the idea of The Vigil being dominated by any party political organisation but everyone was welcome to come along to the fire. And people came, from all over Scotland, from the Borders and Gallloway, from the Highlands and the northern isles. Some came once a month to do a shift or two while others living nearby became regulars.

However the commitment of The Vigil to decide everything by consensus was tested early doors as some experienced political activists tried to create a party structure for Democracy for Scotland. Thankfully the commitment to consensus decision-making, by whoever was around the fire at any given time, eventually ensured that DFS never became a “real” political party.

Hand in hand with the idea of consensus decision-making was a sense of fun about The Vigil – and not because it was staffed by young people. It always attracted a broad spectrum not just of political opinion but of age and background. Unemployed labourers and university lecturers, nurses and social workers, waitresses and hotel porters, bus drivers and builders – The Vigil was always a real reflection of the disparate make-up of Scottish society.

In order to publicise the cause, whole series of events were staged over its five years, including history lessons, open-air concerts at The Vigil itself and on Calton Hill, pub gigs, even a Pavement Party in the first year, timed to coincide with the Royal Garden Party at nearby Holyrood – and some folk attended both! From the start, though there was considerable interest from the foreign and English media, only in Scotland did the media seem to be frightened of what The Vigil meant. Or perhaps they were so hide-bound in their involvement with the main political parties that they could not comprehend what The Vigil signified.

This was shown most forcefully on December 12, 1992 – the date of a vast demonstration for Scottish Home Rule that attracted more than 25,000 people on to the streets of Edinburgh. The media coverage was grudging to say the least, all the more remarkable when this is the equivalent of a quarter of a million people marching in London.

There was then a reluctance to deal with the depth of anger at the continuing lack of recognition for Scottish political dissatisfaction among the media. One point should illustrate this. The demonstration took place exactly 200 years to the day after a convention took place in Edinburgh calling for democratic reform, the result of which was a series of show trials of leading reformers, ending in deportation to Botany Bay for those selected as being ringleaders by the Establishment of the day.

The first group of those transported – known as the Scottish Political Martyrs, one of whom was Thomas Muir – have a memorial to them in the Calton Cemetery on Regent Road, though there is no plaque or other mention of this magnificent obelisk raised by public subscription in 1840.

The fact that so many Scots were echoing the demands of the Societies of Friends of the People in 1792 was not thought worthy of notice!

All of the Scottish media were informed of this remarkable anniversary but through pusillanimity or the exercise of political control saw fit to ignore it.

IT wasn’t only the media who were unsure how to deal with The Vigil. The democracy march was strongly supported by The Vigil, who helped to organise it, but on the day we found ourselves excluded from the platform in the Meadows where the march ended.

This wasn’t the only time this happened – the dead hand of political party influence making sure that what they couldn’t control they would ignore. The Vigil was kept going and supported by people of all political parties and persuasions but because it would not conform to others’ rules was seen as a threat.

The extent of support was remarkable – one day a brand new Mercedes drew up and a well-dressed woman, yes she had blue-rinsed hair and was wearing a twin-set and pearls, came over to the Portakabin and said: “I am a lifelong Tory voter, but I think you are absolutely right that the democratic wishes of the Scottish people are not well served by the current arrangement. I think you people are doing a remarkable job and I wish you every success.”

She then put a 20-pound note in The Vigil collecting tin and drove off.

That is an example of what people at The Vigil found all over Scotland. For its first anniversary, pro-democracy marchers came in from the four points of the compass to meet at The Vigil and raise the Democracy Cairn on the top of Calton Hill. The marchers, a handful that grew to a small crowd as they neared the capital, found support and friendship everywhere they went.

For that is the other thing about The Vigil – it survived on the generosity of the ordinary people of Scotland. Sure, there were T-shirts and posters and badges but most money came from collecting tins. Just as the wood to keep The Vigil fire burning was delivered by a veritable host of friends. Builders, joiners, gardeners and DIY enthusiasts all turned up – some regularly, some just once – to make their contribution, a contribution that always made those at The Vigil feel proud.

Famous and not so famous artists created sculptures and banners, posters and artwork – much of it of a humorous bent – and many musicians and bands played for free at Vigil gatherings and ceilidhs.

I have not mentioned any of these wonderful people by name – because I believe that everyone who contributed was as important as everyone else. One or two people put in remarkable hours at The Vigil through vicious winter months, others tirelessly kept up the necessary logistic support and yet others came only once for a few hours and made their contribution as so many did by simply putting their hands in their pockets.

The personnel changed over the years, though there was a core group who stuck it out for almost the whole five years. Some people put so much effort into The Vigil they burnt themselves out. Others found love and left to build new lives – there were several Vigil babies. Others moved away and yet others found other responsibilities to fill their spare time.

In the years since The Vigil closed – on the announcement that the Scottish Parliament was going to happen – many stalwart Vigil people have passed on but their legacy can be seen in the current resurgence of the Yes movement.

Looking back it seems that The Vigil played a key part in the agitation for our parliament – not by force of numbers or even by argument, but simply by existing.

In the early 1990s the dumbing down of the British media was proceeding apace and increasingly newspaper editors wanted pictures before they would run a story.

The topic of devolution, despite the best efforts of Labour and the Tories, would not go away and partly this was because those editors always knew The Vigil was there – it was a permanent photo-op! The actual site of The Vigil fire disappeared due to road-widening many years ago, but as we carry on the fight to create true democracy, you can find the Democracy Cairn on the top of Calton Hill. And, opposite the gates of the Royal High School, the original choice for the location of a new Scottish Parliament in 1979, there is a small brass plaque.

And this I do know. In the five years that The Vigil sat it was a privilege to work alongside the many individuals who gave of their time and energy to keep the struggle going. The Vigil was never specifically nationalistic – it was about getting the parliament – but the devout wish of all who did a shift or more, that Scotland would in time be a true democratic land, is at last in sight.