Lonely at the Top:
Sturgeon, Leadership and Regrets
Bella Caledonia, 15 August 2025
Gerry Hassan
Frankly is a major political occasion which has got people talking and taking sides – either defending or defenestrating Nicola Sturgeon as a leader, politician and her legacy. Sturgeon invites strong reactions. There are those who feel loyalty, even affinity, to her and what she represents. Equally there is a significant body of opinion who regard her as divisive, out of touch and having let down people – a view shared even by some in the SNP and pro-independence.
There is no doubt that this book matters. This is obvious from the war of words and continuation of culture wars surrounding it, with some of the claims it makes already being contested by former SNP MSP Alex Neil and MP Joanna Cherry. Unsurprisingly it has had a savage review from J.K. Rowling.
This battle over the legacy of Sturgeon has major implications for the future of Scottish politics. Will the SNP continue the same path set by Sturgeon? Are such centrist, cautious politics enough, given the huge challenges Scotland and the world faces? And what does this say about the divisive fault-lines which have disfigured public life? This review attempts to be neither a hagiography, uncritically pro-Sturgeon, while refusing to dismiss everything about her and her contribution.
Books like this are a rarity in Scottish politics, and for that must be welcomed. Its insider account of life at the top of the SNP and Scottish Government presents an intimate portrayal of government, power and personalities, previously unheard of in the devolution era; and rarely if ever before.
Frankly is a personal book. It covers the arc of Sturgeon’s public political life over more than 30 years from her emergence as a young SNP activist fast-tracked to be the party’s candidate in Glasgow Shettleston at the age of 21 (where she finished a distant second) to her election in 1999 to the Scottish Parliament and then twenty-six years as a MSP, sixteen as a minister and eight as First Minister. Besides this there are insights on her formative years in Ayrshire, the impact of Thatcherism and her early, and ongoing, love of books.
A major theme is the creation of Nicola Sturgeon the public figure and how that relates to her life as a private person. Sturgeon is disarmingly candid in talking about her fears and doubts as she enters public life, describing her first experience of being a parliamentary candidate painfully: ‘since I was too young, to really know who I was I presented to the world an image of what I thought a politician should look and sound like’ concluding that this resulted in her adopting ‘a very serious and austere persona’ and becoming ‘a personality-free-zone.’
Frankly offers a rich set of observations and reflections about Scottish and UK politics, the hothouse pressures that senior politicians face, and the multi-tasking intrinsic to leadership today. It addresses major issues while finding room for numerous local and short-term controversies. From Alex Salmond and John Swinney to advisers and civil servants, alongside an ever-changing rota of UK Prime Ministers that Sturgeon had to deal with as First Minister from David Cameron to Boris Johnson, the book is not short of characters.
It is impossible to read Frankly completely on face value. It is a selective and partisan account. There are obvious scores which Sturgeon feels she needs to settle; issues where she wants to correct the record; and various people that she wants to slight by not mentioning once: SNP critic Joanna Cherry being one obvious example.
The Salmond-Sturgeon Relationship: From Dream Team to Downfall
A central strand is the Salmond-Sturgeon relationship: one which covers nearly thirty years from the early 1990s to its irretrievable breakdown. It began with Salmond in his first period as leader as ‘mentor’ to Sturgeon: a role she gratefully acknowledges, and changes with the advent of the Scottish Parliament as she proves herself as a communicator and politician.
A key moment in their relationship is the 2004 SNP leadership contest after which John Swinney (in his first stint) resigns. Sturgeon initially stood for the leadership but when it became clear that Roseanna Cunningham would win Salmond entered the race. This entailed him doing a deal with Sturgeon at Champany Inn, Linlithgow (the SNP’s equivalent to New Labour’s Granita restaurant where Blair and Brown made their leadership pact). Salmond would run for leader, Sturgeon for deputy; he would lead the party from Westminster, she would lead in the Scottish Parliament, all with the aim of Salmond becoming First Minister in 2007.
The Salmond-Sturgeon partnership of 2004-7 made the modern SNP. It provided discipline, strategy, a desire to win, and agreement on key messaging such as emphasising the positive aspects of a self-governing Scotland (a theme Sturgeon touches on through the work in this period of motivational coach Claire Howell). She describes the latter’s transformation of the SNP (acknowledged by Salmond) in that ‘she helped change our mindset. By the end of it, we believed we could win.’
The breakup of this once formidable partnership was inherent in their differences – Salmond was broad brush; Sturgeon all about the detail. These tensions simmer after Salmond resigns for a second time in 2014 and Sturgeon becomes leader. Salmond is by then the grand statesman of the SNP and expects respect and to be listened to; Sturgeon is keen to be her own leader and set her own direction.
The collapse of their relationship was dramatic and sudden. Allegations were made against Salmond of serious sexual impropriety. The resulting criminal court case against him resulted in Salmond being found not guilty of sexual assault and rape on all bar one charge (the other being ‘not proven’). There was a bitter fallout, with Salmond successfully taking the Scottish Government to court for mishandling the case procedurally. In addition, he alleged a conspiracy against him by Sturgeon and the complainants. As Sturgeon observes, not one shred of evidence was produced by Salmond and his allies to advance this latter claim, but this has not stopped such allegations being made.
Sturgeon’s portrait of Salmond cannot be taken uncritically. Salmond is dead and cannot answer back, but his influence remains. Sturgeon does at times present a picture of the complex man he was and tries to address the dynamic between them when it worked. At their best post-2007 she says of the two of them that: ‘the best possible First Minister would be a mash-up of me and Alex and during those early years, that was sort of what the country had.’
Some of her criticism comes off as trying to rewrite the story to an extent similar to how John Lennon tried to trash the reputation of his creative partner Paul McCartney in the Beatles post-break circa 1970. That became the conventional wisdom for a short period, but was in time seen as bitter and inaccurate, and about Lennon’s own insecurities. Such a fate I think awaits Sturgeon’s caricature of Salmond.
The Road Not Taken on Independence: 2014 and Afterwards
A lot of coverage is given to independence, the 2014 campaign, and subsequent attempts for a second referendum. There are lots of revelations. We learn of Salmond trying to negotiate his way out of the 2011 mandate and have a multi-option referendum with ‘devo max’ on the ballot paper: a position corroborated by others.
We get a detailed account of the negotiations of what became the Edinburgh Agreement by which the Scottish and UK Governments agreed to a referendum. One nugget is the claim by Sturgeon that Salmond was completely disengaged from the process of the independence White Paper, only really bothering about the section on oil, and signing it off at the last minute, to Sturgeon’s chagrin.
In this detail a bigger truth is revealed. When the SNP won the majority in 2011 which they and no one expected they had no independence strategy or plans. This meant in the heat of the battle between 2011-14 the SNP had to come up with a prospectus for independence which it had conspicuously failed to do in previous 70 plus years of existence.
There were consequences in this which we are still living with. The SNP leadership had little time or room to develop a clear, coherent independence offer in 2014; what they put together was a pragmatic set of compromises to win the maximum number of votes which was filled with contradictions such as no Scottish currency and hence no reserve bank meaning macro-economic power in an independent Scotland would have remained in the Treasury.
This was ad hoc on the hoof political decision making. It meant independence was philosophically and intellectually light and fleet of foot. It worked to an extent, but its impact has continued post-2014. Since then the SNP has continued this freewheeling, adaptive, flexible interpretation of independence, not addressing hard economic choices, trade-offs or how to present it in a more intellectually robust manner. They continued, under Sturgeon and subsequently, to present this piecemeal version of independence and it is increasingly obvious that it is threadbare and ignores the heavy lifting needed to ever win a convincing majority.
There are specific areas where Sturgeon’s account is questionable, and offer nothing new, including her coverage of the police investigation into SNP finances which has seen her ex-husband and former party Chief Executive Peter Murrell charged. She says how surprised she was when the police appeared at her door in April 2023, continues to protest her innocence and says she is in the dark about what really went on in the party she led.
A couple of things do not add up. The claims of SNP misgovernance originate in Murrell remaining party chief executive when Sturgeon became First Minister – a convergence and conflict of interest that many pointed out at the time was unwise. Sturgeon recounts that when she became First Minister Salmond made this point to her and it was the first time that she felt undermined by him via what she saw as unwelcome advice. But Salmond was right then – and Sturgeon to this day still cannot see his point.
Sturgeon, Micro-Management and Leadership
Sturgeon’s style of leadership was of micro-management, centralisation, and hoarding power and decision making to herself in consultation with her small team (usually John Swinney and Liz Lloyd, her Chief-of-Staff). This form of political leadership seems on the evidence presented to be self-defeating, impossible and an utterly exhausting form of exerting authority.
Sturgeon presents this style of political leadership alongside her own fatigue and diminishing enthusiasm and spirit. There is little to no mention of the Scottish Cabinet or any substantive Cabinet discussion which impacted on public policy. This is government which is autocratic, short-term and reactive, and profoundly dysfunctional. Throughout the text, are many examples of ‘I’ did this and ‘I led this’, while the word ‘we’ makes few appearances. ‘Leaders have to lead’, writes Sturgeon, ‘to pick a side and then set out the reasons for the choice we have made.’
Veteran writer Neal Ascherson has noted this became her ‘first person style of government. It was always “I will do this or that” – never “we”’. This has echoes of Thatcherism’s hubris and high style which if she could see the comparison would deeply discomfort Sturgeon. Ascherson continues: ‘She seemed to have loyal staffers but no comrades. This authoritarian style served her well during COVID … but in domestic politics, her isolation was a high-wire act bound to end in tears.’
The debilitating nature of such leadership comes home to roost in the trans rights controversy. Sturgeon says that this only became in her eyes a major issue after the 2021 Scottish Parliament elections and that she was ‘completely blindsided’ by the Isla Bryson case with ‘no advance warning that the case was pending’. This seems an unsatisfactory take and one where her supposed mastery of detail and micro-management abandoned her at great cost.
Sturgeon repeatedly doubts her confidence, questions her ability and skills, and on numerous occasions worries about her judgement or decision she made. When you first encounter this as a reader this feels refreshing, even cathartic. Then you note it cropping up time and again, literally dozens of times from beginning to end. This happens to such an extent that it comes over as a conscious diversionary tactic. It is used on such an industrial scale that Sturgeon seems to be distancing herself from dozens of decisions she made or was involved in – almost absolving herself of responsibility or being held to account.
Alongside this are insights into her psyche. These pose Sturgeon as anything but a confident leader, but as someone who constantly questioned her own abilities, was hyper-nervous and worried, and felt that she would underperform or undermine herself and her party. There is obviously a gender dimension to this: women in public life are judged more harshly than men, and this is added to by her being an Ayrshire working class woman who is introverted, shy and private. This is told convincingly, inviting empathy and understanding of a brutal macho world, but to this reader she presents herself as a prisoner of expectations and a victim without agency – at best as a survivor of the pressures she has had to endure.
Add to this the missing ingredients of this detailed book. There are a mere three paragraphs dealing with Scotland’s drug death rate which became the highest in Europe on her watch, aided by her cuts to services. It is only mentioned in relation to Westminster and drug consumption rooms. There is no room for one mention of ferries. Local government only gets a passing mention. Glasgow the city she represented for a quarter of a century only really has a walk-on part: the SNP taking control of the city in 2012 after years of trying to passes unmentioned.
Sturgeon signs off the book waxing lyrically about the future she sees for herself and Scotland. The latter entails an independent Scotland siting alongside a reunified Ireland in the framework of ‘a new British Isles confederation of nations’. The only problem with this vision is that in her eight years as First Minister she did nothing to advance such a constitutional architecture which feels somewhat disingenuous.
Sturgeon’s love of books and reading offers escapism and a reprieve from pressures. But tellingly no thinkers or intellectual forces are cited in the book – beyond Willie McIlvanney who taught at the Ayrshire secondary she attended; and Greenwood Academy, Dreghorn. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie and Arundhati Roy get fleeting mentions as book festival participants. This comes over as an uncurious take on politics and life: a politics of believing in your own values and public duty but without examining your moral compass.
Where now for Sturgeon, Sturgeonism and Scotland?
This book portrays an isolated, lonely at the top life where many relationships are ultimately transactional. She muses towards its conclusion about the things she missed and how, post-office, she ‘started doing some stuff that might bring me joy’ and ‘learned to dance in the rain’. There are moving sections on the pain of her miscarriage and going through the menopause; and even light-hearted moments such as Sean Connery voice coaching her. Overall, as one SNP long-term member noted, he doubted that ‘she got much enjoyment out of being First Minister whereas Salmond gave the impression that he revelled in it.’
Frankly is a revealing read that says much about the hothouse world of political leadership in the modern age. It throws new light on devolved Scotland and the SNP. It showcases rare policy successes such as the Scottish Child Payment but is less forthcoming on domestic failures such as closing the education attainment gap and drug deaths. It is, in the judgement of Isabel Hardman in a nuanced Spectator review ‘beautifully written’, with her assessing that ‘Sturgeon really does try to remain dignified throughout.’ I would say on the latter, yes to a point.
Ultimately this is a book which fails to satisfy on a range of key criteria. To some she is still the embodiment of ‘Saint Nicola’ who can do no wrong; to others someone who betrayed the independence cause. Then there is the voluble critique of her detractors on trans rights with some seeing this as the defining issue of her leadership: almost Sturgeon’s equivalence to Tony Blair and the Iraq War. All of these negate detail and facts.
This is a book still caught up in a host of ongoing controversies defining how it has been interpretated the week of publication. Sturgeon has been through major stresses as a human being that would take their toll on anyone: Brexit, COVID, the fallout with Salmond, the trans rights issue to name the obvious. Add to this that she is still defending the legacy of her own political leadership and trying to come to terms with the continued shadows of the long Salmond-Sturgeon era of dominance and leadership.
The twin pillars of Salmond and Sturgeon defined the SNP for three decades and Scottish politics for over two decades. A genuine understanding of this, where it has taken Scotland and how we can begin to understand where we are and where we go, is beyond a partial account such as Frankly which cannot fully break from that era but is instead attempting its own partial telling of the story.
Maybe it will take the passing of time to fully comprehend the Salmond-Sturgeon era and the merits and demerits of both. Until then Scottish politics will continue to exist in this kind of half-life, not thriving or in good health. This unsatisfactory state is one that Sturgeon played a major part in bringing about and cannot distance herself from without even more deeply addressing the questions – who was Nicola Sturgeon, what was she about and what kind of politics and Scotland did she want to advance?
Andy Maciver of Holyrood Sources might like to punt in The Herald about Sturgeon’s ‘left-wing legacy’, but this imaginary invention says more about his politics; as James Mitchell responded ‘what left-wing legacy?’ calling such a claim ‘classic over-confident ill-informed assertion from someone who works in the world of spin’. As if to make this point Maciver declared Sturgeon unambiguously ‘the most consequential and noteworthy politician of the [devolution] era’: a questionable assessment compared to Salmond.
For fuller answers to these questions and how Scottish politics leaves the shadow of Salmond and Sturgeon we must wait for further accounts. More importantly Scotland desperately needs a politics and political culture which does not duck the fundamentals that Sturgeon does in this book and in her career – ultimately to her and our collective cost. This will require new political voices and ideas to emerge and for the soap opera associated with the Salmond and Sturgeon era to finally retreat over the horizon. It cannot happen a day too soon.
