When the Scottish Government launched a public consultation on whether ministers should have the power to amend primary legislation by decree during an emergency, the response was, shall we say, unusual.

Around 90 per cent of the 4,000 organisations and individuals that responded opposed the change. As one legal academic, Dr Andrew Tickell of Glasgow Caledonian University, pointed out, such powers “require clear justification and anxious scrutiny” so it was “surprising that the Scottish government have provided no explanation or justification of this provision” in the documents accompanying the bill.

The purported aim of the legal changes being proposed by Nicola Sturgeon’s government – which, opposition notwithstanding, are likely to happen – will allow ministers to respond more quickly to emergencies such as another pandemic. But Dr Tickell’s observation still stands: the Scottish Parliament co-operated quickly and constructively when ministers asked for emergency powers in 2020, so why is this new legislation – allowing ministers to bypass the parliament completely – even being contemplated?

After all, Sturgeon objected volubly when Boris Johnson asked for similar “Henry VIII” powers to allow his ministers to amend legislation without parliamentary scrutiny in the aftermath of Brexit. Why are such powers referred to as “a power grab” when proposed by Johnson, but deemed perfectly fair and democratic when proposed north of the border?

In fact, one of Sturgeon’s ministers has already confirmed that these undemocratic reforms (and in this case, “undemocratic” is not a pejorative term but a simple, factual description of powers aimed at circumventing the democratic process) are to be justified by the SNP’s hatred of Boris Johnson himself.

The education minister, Shirley Anne Somerville, says she needs emergency powers to close colleges and universities in order to stop Right-wing principals flouting coronavirus laws. “If we had an institution with a senior management team that has, perhaps, the Boris Johnson approach to how you deal with coronavirus [rather] than actually listening to public health guidance, such as we have up here, then we need the powers to be able to deal with that.”

So there we have it: the SNP need the same Henry VIII powers that Boris Johnson demanded in order to prevent people who share Boris Johnson’s politics from making decisions the Scottish Government dislikes. It is perfectly reasonable for the likes of Sommerville to conjure up the spectre of the Prime Minister, because all her colleagues – especially her boss – do it all the time, and the evidence is that most Scots are open to whatever argument they are proposing provided they set it in the political context of “we hate Boris Johnson”.

On the more substantive – and worrying – issue of the emergency powers themselves, you might expect that with 90 per cent of responses to the consultation giving it the thumbs down, ministers face a considerable penalty in the opinion polls and at next month’s local elections. In most countries, this would certainly be the case, but in the SNP’s case, voters tend to vote first and ask very few questions afterwards. 

Moreover, while the politically engaged elements of civic Scotland can see the danger of legislation that allows ministers, free from legislative scrutiny, to govern by fiat, a larger proportion of Scottish society is extremely relaxed about allowing the government to dictate how they should live their lives. 

Many Scots do not spend large amounts of time in England and so are unaware of the freedom their southern compatriots have when it comes, for example, to mask mandates. If they did, would they still be inclined to trust in Sturgeon’s edict that the mask mandate in Scotland should be phased out as slowly as possible? That England’s infection rate has often been less than Scotland’s since “freedom day” can be safely filed under  “grievance”.

Unfortunately, therefore, powers to ignore the Scottish parliament and to change laws without democratic oversight will probably be greeted by Scots with a shrug of the shoulders. Ronald Reagan famously warned that the scariest nine words in the English language were: “I’m from the government and I’m here to help.” In Scotland, that is less a warning than a promise that Big Brother really does love us and wants only the best for us, provided we don’t ask too many questions.