Interfering Holyrood is assembling a totalitarian jigsaw

THE Scottish Parliament has banned golf and football. That is unsurprising; but, on this occasion, Jack McConnell and his colleagues cannot be blamed, since the act was dated March 6, 1457, and its instigator was King James II.

The measure caused great public resentment - not because it damaged Scotland's chances in Ye Worlde Cuppe (not yet invented - the nearest equivalent ordeal must have been the Inquisition) - but because it was seen as a tyrannical imposition aimed at ensuring Scots were not distracted from archery practice, which was necessary to train them for frequent grudge matches against England, for example Flodden.

Even in those pre-democratic days there was a keen appreciation of the limitations on legitimate state power to interfere in the private lives of subjects. Today, that healthy awareness has been eroded by the modern Scottish Parliament and the many other agencies of state control. The ban on smoking in public places is the most notorious imposition of recent months, but it is only one piece in an increasingly totalitarian jigsaw. The maturity of a legislature and the health of the society it governs can be measured by one simple equation: the more any parliament legislates, the less well it governs.

Holyrood has been in existence since 1999. In its first session it passed 62 statutes. So far in its second session it has passed another 43 acts, with 19 bills currently in progress. That means 124 statutes passed in seven years by a devolved assembly for a nation of five million people. That is legislative mania.

Its triumphs have included the tokenist abolition of feudalism, the ban on hunting and on fur farming (non-existent in Scotland - they might as well have banned bull-fighting), the oppressive and confiscatory land "reform" laws and the smoking ban. This last measure signalled the Scottish Executive's determination to intrude ever further into people's lifestyles. The depth of the Executive's fanaticism was demonstrated by its refusal to allow smoking even on stage.

As one theatrical producer observed: "You can show sex on stage but you couldn't show them smoking afterwards." In fact, another Executive working party, on adult entertainment, has recommended exemption for plays depicting lap dancing from the restrictions it proposes for the actual clubs.

Health commissar Andy Kerr recently trumpeted the party line that Scots had "embraced" the smoking ban. Figures published by Rank Group have now shown that, since the ban, admission at its bingo halls has dropped by 6%, while Bingo Association figures show revenue declines as high as 27%.

With five clubs already closed down, there are job implications here. The pub group that owns Belhaven has similarly reported a 2.2% decline in sales, although sales rose 5.3% south of the Border. Kerr, however, is flexing his muscles for further aggression against personal rights.

"The way I look at the alcohol debate," he announced, "is that I think we are in the foothills of the debate that we have now had on smoking."

What debate? It was always a monologue with a predetermined outcome. Now drinkers are being targeted. The Executive wants separate aisles in supermarkets for alcohol purchase. A partial ban on alcohol advertising on sports clothes is proposed.

The sociable habit of buying rounds is to be discouraged (that will not affect MSPs). Fanatics are canvassing the possibility of a legal limit on how much one can drink in a pub. Later this summer, the Big Brother television advertising for which taxpayers pay, will feature a crusade against alcohol.

On all fronts, the mania for control is advancing like a forest fire. Curbs on sugar and fat are predicted. Squads of "health enforcers" are to harass the obese and herd them to their GPs. Publicans will lose their licences if they sell unhealthy food. Ice-cream vans have been banned outside schools in Dunbartonshire (but have the drug dealers been banished?). Another Executive working group has proposed a ban on the sale of packets of 10 cigarettes.

When Glasgow Licensing Board's attempt to ban glasses from bars was successfully challenged, its convener was quoted as saying: "It is astonishing that anyone in the 21st century should seek to place the protection of glass receptacles ahead of the safety of their patrons." Someone should have explained to this clown it was not about protecting receptacles but about protecting freedom.

Big Brother is mostly scoring own goals. When an 11-year-old girl became pregnant in West Lothian, the flagship area for the Executive's "Healthy Respect" sex education campaign, its response was to throw a further £2m after the £3m already squandered on stimulating teenage promiscuity. The regime is never wrong.

Where is the benefit in privatising industries if people are nationalised? The link between an obese drinker huddled over a cigarette outside a Glasgow pub and the high-minded writings of such defenders of liberty as Friedrich von Hayek, Frederic Bastiat and Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn might appear tenuous. In fact it is very close.

Because the pygmy tyranny of Andy Kerr's Committee of Public Safety comes in instalments, and mostly concerns itself with the minutiae of life, it is not immediately perceived as monstrous. Yet freedom is draining away relentlessly. How much will be left in a decade's time? The Executive enjoys a kind of immunity because of its banality. It must be halted and its impositions reversed; otherwise we shall be complicit in our own enslavement.