THE forthcoming local elections are being treated – by the media, by the political parties, and by many voters – mainly as an opinion poll on national politics.

I’m not saying there is no place for party politics in ­local government, but it is worth remembering what is actually at stake here. There is no ­Unionist or Nationalist way to sweep the streets, empty bins, resurface roads, or improve the playground.

However, it is impossible for council leaders to run on their record, or on a local programme for civic government, when their resources are so meagre, their powers so limited, and when campaigns are nationally directed.

Who are the candidates to run your town? If they are the incumbent, have they done a good job? Most people don’t know and have no ­practical way of finding out. Contrast this with mayoral elections in large English cities, like Manchester and Liverpool, where civic leaders are at least better known.

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It is also a matter of scale. Newburgh, on the north coast of Fife, received its Burgh ­charter from Alexander III in 1266. Today, in the ­middle of the High Street, stands the forlorn looking shell of the former Burgh Chambers, a ­memorial to the lost heart of civic life and ­genuinely local government in Scotland.

Zoom out a bit on the map, and you’ll find ­plenty of other places equally devoid of ­local ­government: St Andrews, Glenrothes, ­Kirkcaldy, Dunfermline. These are substantial towns, many of them former Burghs whose ­local ­civic leaders once played vital roles in their ­local communities. Now they are all ­bundled into Fife Council.

The bitter truth is that Scotland does not ­really have any local government. There is ­nothing that compares to the German ­Gemeinde, Dutch Gemeente, Luxembourgish Gemeng, Polish Gmina, French Commune, or Spanish ­Ayuntamiento. There isn’t even ­anything ­corresponding to the feeble English town or parish.

Scotland’s so-called “local authorities” ­correspond to much larger areas – they are ­really regional bodies (although without the powers or resources to act as such). Highland Council covers an area roughly the size of ­Belgium, within which there is no genuine local government: there’s no Inverness City Council, no municipality of Fort Augustus, no Thurso Town Council.

In just about any other European democracy, these places would have their own councils – perhaps even an elected mayor – with ­powers, budgets, resources, staff, and a democratic mandate to lead the civic life of the town. In Scotland, we got lumbered with “community councils”, powerless, toothless, resourceless, hopeless talking-shops, who can’t even put up a park bench.

We cannot transform and revitalise ­Scotland’s moribund urban spaces without a real ­devolution of power. We need to empower towns of between about 2000 and 75,000 ­people to take charge of their own local affairs – with the budgets, democratic institutions, clearly ­visible leadership, and direct accountability, to back it up.

These do not have to be massive councils – an elected mayor or provost and a small council of five or seven members, might be sufficient for a small town. They do, however, need real ­powers. The “kratos” part of “demokratos” means ­power. Without the power to “do stuff” – to pick their towns and turn them around, to invest, to redevelop, to conserve, to provide ­facilities, to deliver services – local authorities are a sham, a façade, of democracy.

Take Callander, for example. It forms part of the Trossachs and Teith ward for Stirling ­Council, but Callander itself has no powers, no resources, no institutions of self-government. Contrast this with Callander, Ontario, which – with a roughly similar population – has its own elected mayor and council, and an annual ­budget of C$8 million, and a C$2.5m payroll. Admittedly, that is not very much in the scheme of things, but at least they can “do stuff” on their own initiative and responsibility. They don’t ­always have to go, cap in hand, to someone else.

As Peter Macfayden showed in his 2013 book Flatpack Democracy, even the modest powers and resources of an English town council can make a real difference, if wielded by committed and innovative local leadership. Scottish towns do not even have that.

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Local democracy is a constitutional ­issue. It concerns the distribution of power and ­resources within society. It is absolutely ­something that a new written constitution for an independent Scotland will have to address. This might simply be a recognition of certain general principles (for examples of what that might look like, look up Sections 66(3)-(5) of the Jamaican Constitution, Article 28A of the Irish Constitution, or Articles 59 and 60 of the ­Bangladeshi constitution).

That would at least give constitutional ­recognition to the role and purposes of local democracy, but it is only a starting point for deeper reform. If we are serious about building a Scottish state, we need to give our democracy firm local roots.

This Wednesday’s guests on the TNT show are Andrea Pisauro and Janina Jetter of Europe for Scotland. Join us on IndyLive at 7pm