So the upcoming referendum has allowed voters to discover what politics can actually be about—having power and making up their own minds. In the absence of narratives from conventional (and heartily loathed) modern career politicians, a population has taken time to think—If we could do and be anything, what would we do and be? If we could start fresh, or if we could change a great general idea, how would we change it? This is making many politicians and party machines nervous. The genie may have climbed out of the bottle and decided it wants some wishes for itself.

This is why a late surge in the predicted “Yes” vote has sent all the Westminster party leaders scuttling North like beetles when their stone gets kicked over. Last-minute offers of gifts and privileges—arguably illegal during the pre-election purdah—have abounded. The powers to ameliorate the worst effects of "austerity" and offers of more control over taxes (which we couldn’t be trusted with last week) are now on the table. The shocked response from the establishment has been almost touchingly emotional. Politicians have been reduced to plaintive appeals, petty name-calling, and threats. The “No” voters have had to ignore a hideously clumsy and patronizing campaign clearly thrown together by established parties that can’t imagine why they’d ever be disobeyed. Voters have been encouraged to go for “No” to show they love their children, for example. Metaphors conjuring up bad marriages have proliferated: One partner has moved on, and the other is clinging to their ankle while crapping on the carpet; or one partner is flouncing out having sawn the kids in half after a minor disagreement. A popular cartoon shows a detached map of England offering the ultimate last-ditch reason why a separated map of Scotland can’t leave: “I’m pregnant.”

And the idea of nationalism has also been redefined by this vote. When the polling opens, for example, I won’t have a vote. Although I’m a Scot and was resident until very recently, I don’t currently live there. Foreign nationals who are resident, however, can vote. If you live in Scotland, you are taken to be part of the project that is Scotland—you are taken to be Scottish. (This is a fairly well-established idea, culturally. When I offered work to anthologies of Scottish writing as an up-and-coming author, submissions were usually sought using a form of words along the lines of “if you are Scottish by birth, residence, or choice…”) This definition of national identity—I would hope not an unfamiliar one to citizens of the great melting pot—has been echoed in Scottish parliamentary efforts to produce a country which is now perceived by immigrants as being one of the more welcoming areas of the UK—which is, admittedly, an increasingly racist entity. So a “Yes” vote isn’t a return to the SNP’s beliefs during the 1930s—the beliefs they’d like us to forget—which involved disturbing yearnings for an Aryan future. There is a tiny wild-eyed fringe of people who will vote “Yes” on a kind of racist autopilot, but they are a minority.

The “No” vote largely reflects a secure type of Scottishness under a British umbrella, a fear that now is not the time to do something risky—financially or otherwise—and a lack of trust in Scotland’s available politicians. There is an ugly minority of “No” voters who are wedded to the brand of Unionism familiar to Northern Ireland—the one that’s about Empire supremacy and a feeling that rampant savages may overwhelm the white Protestant barricades at any moment. The “Yes” voters—and I would be one of them if I could vote—may detect also traces of post-Empire low self-esteem in the “No” camp.