People no longer trust the system to make their lives better
A decade after Scotland was carried out of Europe against its expressed will, the independence movement finds itself suspended near the 50 percent mark — historically elevated, yet short of the transformative wave once anticipated. The injustice of 2016 created a durable narrative of powerlessness that kept constitutional questions alive, but economic suffering and institutional decay have since displaced them at the center of Scottish political life. What endures is not so much a hunger for separation as a deeper erosion of faith — in Westminster, in Holyrood, and in the capacity of any political system to make ordinary lives better.
- Scotland voted 62-38 to remain in the EU but was pulled out regardless, and that wound — the sense of being overruled by a larger neighbor — has never fully closed.
- Independence support briefly surged to 59 percent in 2020 as Sturgeon's calm leadership contrasted with Johnson's pandemic chaos, but the SNP's attempt to convert that anger into a referendum mandate backfired badly, costing the party 21 Westminster seats in 2017.
- Brexit has since extracted a concrete toll — £3.3 billion in lost Scottish revenue and £250 added to household food bills — yet its precise damage is buried beneath a decade of overlapping crises: the 2008 crash, Covid, Truss-era turbulence, and global trade disruption.
- Voters have quietly reordered their priorities: the NHS and economic survival now outrank both independence and EU rejoining, leaving the SNP at its lowest vote share since 2007 and the constitutional question politically stranded.
- Beneath the polling numbers lies something harder to measure — fifteen years of austerity and declining institutional trust that may be reshaping Scottish politics more profoundly than any referendum result ever could.
Ten years after the Brexit referendum, Scottish independence hovers near 50 percent support — close to historic highs, yet far from the decisive rupture many once predicted. The distance between expectation and reality reveals how much the constitutional question has been overtaken by more immediate anxieties.
When Scottish voters chose to remain in the EU by 62 to 38 percent in June 2016, only to be taken out of Europe by England's larger electorate, the experience registered as a profound demonstration of powerlessness. Kezia Dugdale, then leading Scottish Labour, told Nicola Sturgeon that morning: "This changes everything." Sturgeon's own memoir described her as "distraught and enraged" by what Brexit revealed about Scotland's position within the union. That sense of injustice created what Dugdale calls "a frame around fairness" — a narrative that kept independence support elevated throughout the decade that followed.
The surge, however, never fully arrived. When Sturgeon attempted in 2017 to convert remainer anger into a mandate for a second independence referendum, voters pushed back. The SNP lost 21 Westminster seats and saw its vote share fall 13 points. In every subsequent UK and Holyrood election, the party has fallen short of the 50 percent threshold widely seen as necessary to claim a democratic mandate. Its most recent Holyrood result — 38 percent — was its lowest since 2007.
What shifted was not Scottish sentiment toward independence so much as the hierarchy of concerns. Brexit has cost Scotland an estimated £3.3 billion in lost revenue and added £250 to household food bills, according to the National Institute of Economic and Social Research. Yet even those figures are difficult to isolate from the compounding damage of the 2008 banking crisis, the pandemic, the Truss government's economic chaos, and global trade disruption. Ruth Davidson, the Scottish Conservative who had championed the Remain campaign, observed that economic recovery and NHS survival had come to matter far more to voters than the constitutional question — the "Boris effect" on independence, she concluded, was considerably smaller than she had feared.
Dugdale, now at Glasgow University's Centre for Public Policy, traces Scotland's political mood to something deeper than Brexit alone: fifteen years of austerity layered onto fifteen years of declining trust in institutions. "If we sustain these things long enough," she said, "people no longer trust the system to make their lives better." That quiet collapse of faith — more than any single vote or policy — may be the most consequential legacy of the decade that followed the morning everything was supposed to change.
Ten years after the Brexit referendum, Scottish independence sits at roughly 50 percent support—near historic highs, yet nowhere near the tidal wave that many feared would sweep the country toward separation. The gap between expectation and reality tells a story not just about Scottish politics, but about how economic hardship and institutional distrust have come to matter more than the constitutional question itself.
In June 2016, Scottish voters made their preference clear: 62 percent backed remaining in the European Union, while 38 percent voted to leave. Yet Scotland was taken out of Europe anyway, dragged along by England's larger electorate. For many Scots, this felt like a betrayal—a vivid demonstration of powerlessness within the union. Kezia Dugdale, who led Scottish Labour at the time, remembers the morning the results came in as devastating. She spoke that day with Nicola Sturgeon, the first minister, and told her: "This changes everything." In her memoir, Sturgeon herself described feeling "distraught and enraged by the prospect of Brexit and what it said about Scotland's powerlessness within the UK."
The referendum result did reshape Scottish politics. It created what Dugdale calls "a frame around fairness"—a narrative that sustained independence support at elevated levels throughout the decade that followed. When Boris Johnson took over as prime minister and pressed forward with a hard Brexit, support for independence surged to 59 percent by October 2020, as Sturgeon's steady leadership contrasted sharply with Johnson's chaotic handling of the pandemic. Ruth Davidson, the Scottish Conservative leader who had championed the remain campaign, feared the damage would be permanent. She retained her "animosity" toward Johnson, whom she believed had failed to articulate any coherent vision for a unified post-Brexit Britain.
Yet the expected surge never fully materialized. In 2017, when Sturgeon tried to leverage remainer anger into a mandate for a second independence referendum, voters punished the SNP at the ballot box. The party lost 21 Westminster seats and saw its vote share fall 13 points. Support for independence dropped below 40 percent. In the five UK and Holyrood elections since, the SNP has never won 50 percent of the vote—a crucial threshold for claiming a democratic mandate for another referendum. In the most recent Holyrood elections, the party achieved just 38 percent, its lowest share since 2007, and won the most seats only because the opposition was fragmented.
What happened was not that Scots stopped caring about independence, but that other concerns crowded it out. Economic decline and fears about the NHS now dominate Scottish political debate. According to estimates from the National Institute of Economic and Social Research, Brexit cost Scotland £3.3 billion in lost revenue last year and added £250 to household food bills. Yet even these figures sit within a larger picture of stagnation. Mairi Spowage, director of the Fraser of Allander Institute, notes that while Brexit clearly damaged economic output, exports, and public finances, its precise impact has been obscured by the banking crisis of 2008, the Covid pandemic, the Liz Truss government's chaos, US trade policy shifts, and wars in the Middle East.
Davidson, the unionist, observed that there was "a hierarchy of concern" for voters. Whether Scotland should be independent mattered less than whether the economy would recover and the health service would survive. The "Boris effect" on independence support, she said, was far less significant than she had feared. Migration patterns, too, have complicated the picture: the post-Brexit influx of non-EU workers has offset the departure of EU citizens, partly because prosperity in EU member states has reduced the incentive to migrate.
Dugdale, who no longer belongs to the Labour party and voted SNP in the 2019 European parliament election as a protest against Brexit, now works at Glasgow University's Centre for Public Policy. She traces much of Scotland's current economic malaise to Brexit and its ripple effects. But she also points to something deeper: fifteen years of austerity and fifteen years of declining trust in political institutions. "If we sustain these things long enough," she said, "people no longer trust the system to make their lives better." That erosion of faith in the system itself may matter more to Scotland's political future than any single constitutional question.
Notable Quotes
This changes everything— Kezia Dugdale, speaking to Nicola Sturgeon on the morning Brexit results were confirmed
I felt distraught and enraged by the prospect of Brexit and what it said about Scotland's powerlessness within the UK— Nicola Sturgeon, in her memoir Frankly
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
When the Brexit results came in, did anyone genuinely believe independence would hit 60 percent?
Many did. The sense of betrayal was real—Scotland voted one way and was taken another. But people underestimated how much other crises would crowd out that anger.
What changed between 2016 and now?
The economy got worse, the NHS became fragile, and voters started asking whether independence would actually fix those things. Constitutional questions matter less when you're worried about food bills.
Did Johnson's chaos help or hurt the independence case?
It helped in the moment—Sturgeon looked competent by comparison, and support spiked to 59 percent in 2020. But it didn't translate into votes when it mattered. People were too anxious about survival.
Why did the SNP lose so badly in recent elections if independence support is still near 50 percent?
Because independence isn't the top concern anymore. Voters care about the NHS and jobs. The SNP made independence central to their campaign, but the country had moved on.
Is the independence movement dead?
Not dead. But it's dormant. It will only revive if the economy improves or if people regain faith in institutions. Right now, they're too exhausted to believe in anything.