Three years ago he was Scotland’s most unpopular politician. He’s even more unpopular than Boris Johnson. And north of the border, that’s really saying something.
The Alba Party lost both MPs in the UK general election three months ago. Unsurprisingly since both MPs were first elected under the Scottish National Party banner, Alba’s brief presence in Westminster has come to an end. The party also lost its deposit in all 19 seats it contested.
But despite this, party leader Alex Salmond remained optimistic. In fact, he had no other settings. A June poll for the Holyrood election showed his party getting 5% of the vote, a pitiful result compared to his heady days as SNP leader. However, Scotland’s proportional voting system is sufficient to elect three Alba MSPs in the 2026 Scottish Parliament elections. And one of them was supposed to be Alex Salmond.
no longer. Out of proportion to Alba’s popularity or Salmond’s current influence, his unexpected death in North Macedonia this weekend shocked Scotland.
He was habitually referred to as Marmite, a label so divisive that he was almost acquitted after a sexual assault trial (in which he was acquitted). But there was a time when he was determined to spend his day in court against the party and the government. How could the death of such a man, who led the handling of complaints against him, upset the entire country?
The main reason for this is that his actions and personality changed the course of Scottish political life and led the SNP to a landslide victory in the 2011 Holyrood election, which was designed to make a majority government all but impossible. Because I led you. The magnitude of that victory prompted Prime Minister David Cameron to allow an independence referendum three years later. The rest, as they say, is history.
But the pivotal moment of 2011 was carefully built over decades, not taken away. When Mr Salmond first became leader in 1990, the SNP was portrayed as a “tartan Tory” – skeptical of the EU, wary of devolution and, ultimately, a failure of the process that created the Scottish Parliament. It was Salmond changed everything and made the SNP a credible opposition to Labor at Holyrood, but he stepped down as leader in 2000 and ‘passed the baton’ to a new generation. Support for the SNP was at a healthy 30%. He was only 45 years old.
Flags are flown at half-mast outside the Scottish Parliament in Holyrood, Edinburgh, following the death of Alex Salmond. Photo: Jane Barlow/Pennsylvania
However, a man who lived for politics could not walk away from it. He regained leadership in a joint election in 2004 with Nicola Sturgeon as vice president, and won the 2007 Scottish election by one seat. Mr. Salmond flourished even as his minority government was expected to last less than a month. Overnight he had the sign at Civil Service Headquarters changed from the Scottish Executive to the Scottish Government. He argued that it would mean eliminating bridge tolls, abolishing university tuition fees, abolishing prescription fees, and making testing roughly the same as free universal provision.
Although energy is reserved to Westminster, Salmond has used devolved planning powers to veto new nuclear power plants and approve a major expansion of onshore wind power – a move that was made in the UK by the Conservative Party. It was effectively banned for nearly 10 years. In January 2024, more than 100% of Scotland’s electricity needs were met by renewable energy for the first time. An impressive domestic legacy – overshadowed by Indyref’s campaign that raised support for independence from 37% a year ago to 45% on the day. Many scholars suggest that although Salmond lost the polls in 2014, he won the debate with younger voters.
None of that would have happened without confidence, vision, and character.
When I think of Alex Salmond, a kaleidoscopic moment comes to mind. A friend said her father, an independence supporter, wanted to meet the new prime minister, who was traveling to his home on a remote island. However, after suffering a stroke, the old man found himself unable to stand. Salmond sat next to a chair on the kitchen floor, holding her hand and chatting for about 30 minutes. There are many personal stories like this.
Alex Salmond enjoyed conversation and meeting people. He took time with them. He enjoyed horse racing, gambling, golf, pints and curry, but perhaps too much. And he enjoyed a good discussion.
In 2008, I visited the new Prime Minister at Holyrood and asked him if he regretted describing Iceland, Ireland and Norway as an arc of prosperity, after the financial crisis had brought them to the brink of bankruptcy. A lively discussion took place.
When our time was over, Salmond asked if he could wait until he met the ambassador. “I’ll be right back.” And so was he. This took place four times, and resulted in a fascinating and witty, if interrupted, discussion of the true basis of the success of the Nordic countries and the alternative path that Salmond had planned for Scotland. I didn’t pull any punches, he didn’t pull any punches. And three hours later, I walked away impressed by his cheek, his curiosity, and his willingness to listen.
Alex Salmond may be best remembered by commentators for his epic split with the SNP and Nicola Sturgeon. But if a funeral or memorial service is held in Edinburgh, the streets will be crowded in honor of the eternal optimist, the politician who chose Edinburgh over London, and the man who put independence firmly and forever on the map. I predict it will be.
But he was also a politician who loved the most unusual thing: life.
