Three years of learning
As Kaitlin moves on to pastures new she reflects on what she has learned in three years with Common Weal - about policy, about politics and about Scotland.
Three years might not sound like much in the grand scheme of a lifetime. A little over a thousand days, a handful of seasons passing, and before long they blur together in memory. Yet, as I prepare to leave my role at Common Weal, I realise just how much has been crammed into those years.
The pace of events has been relentless, both within Scotland and internationally, and looking back now it feels almost unbelievable how much has changed – and how much has stubbornly stayed the same.
When I first joined Common Weal in May 2022, the world was still finding its feet after the disruption of the Covid pandemic. Restrictions were lifting, but the aftershocks remained in every part of society. Public services were stretched thin, and whole communities were grappling with the long-term consequences of lockdowns and economic shutdown. At the same time, the war in Ukraine had just begun, throwing international politics into turmoil and setting off a chain reaction of economic shocks that are still being felt today. To step into politics at that precise moment was, to say the least, a baptism by fire.
The UK political scene at the time could only be described as chaotic. Since then, we’ve had four Prime Ministers – and, of course, the now infamous lettuce that managed to outlast one of them. Here in Scotland, we’ve had three First Ministers, each carrying their own controversies, not least the appearance of a rather suspicious campervan.
These revolving doors of leadership might be amusing in hindsight, but at the time they were deeply destabilising. The Partygate scandals were still dominating headlines, trust in institutions was waining, and missing WhatsApp messages raised more questions than answers. The word that best captured the atmosphere was “instability”. Leadership changed hands so frequently, and policy directions veered so wildly, that it often felt impossible to keep up.
Scottish politics during those early days of my time at Common Weal was consumed by constitutional debate. The possibility of a second independence referendum hung in the air, and much of the political discourse was tied to the “how” and “when”. Over time, it became painfully clear that a pause, regroup, and rethink would be necessary.
For many of us who care deeply about Scotland’s future, this was – and still is – a hard pill to swallow. I don’t think I ever imagined that three years later we would find ourselves still wrestling with the same uncertainties, without a clear route forward. But if politics teaches you anything, it is that progress rarely follows a straight line.
Overlaying everything was the cost-of-living crisis, which became a defining feature of these years. Rising inflation, soaring energy bills, stagnant wages, and widespread industrial action created a backdrop of hardship for ordinary people. At Common Weal, this constant pressure shaped almost all of our work. The people we spoke to, the campaigns we supported, the policies we wrote– all were influenced by the reality that too many were struggling to make ends meet, or just struggling.
“Yes, we are often critical, because highlighting problems is part of our job – but at its heart this is a remarkable country”
Yet, despite all the turbulence, my overwhelming feeling as I step back is one of pride. Common Weal is an organisation that has always punched above its weight. On days when the news cycle felt crushing or when cynicism threatened to creep in, it was the team I worked alongside and the supporters we served that reminded me why this work mattered. Every email of encouragement, every message of thanks, every moment of genuine engagement with our ideas helped to keep us going. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting several at our different in-person events over the years. It can be easy to underestimate the impact of solidarity, and a simple positive conversation.
Looking back, I am struck most by the sheer number of remarkable people I have had the privilege to meet and work with. Scotland is bursting with individuals and communities who are determined to make life better, often in the face of immense obstacles. Many are not politicians or policymakers – in fact, many are pushing against political systems that can at times make things harder. Yet they keep going, powered by passion and resilience. These are the people who give me hope.
Take, for example, the Yell community council wind farm project – a shining example of what can be achieved when local people take ownership of their resources. Or the late Peter Krykant, whose bravery and compassion moved the dial on drug policy reform, even at huge personal cost. Stories like these remind me that Scotland is not short of solutions. We have the talent, the imagination, and the determination to tackle our challenges.
Working at Common Weal has also taught me something important about Scotland itself. Yes, we are often critical, because highlighting problems is part of our job – but at its heart this is a remarkable country. We are progressive. We are forward-looking. We are often ahead of the curve, even if we don’t always realise it. And crucially, we are blessed with communities who care deeply about fairness, justice, and each other. That is something precious, and it should never be taken for granted.
As I prepare to leave, I find myself reflecting not only on the politics but also on the people I have worked alongside. The Common Weal team – past and present – are among the most resourceful, committed, and creative individuals I have ever worked with. They achieve far more than anyone might imagine with the limited resources we have. They do it because they care, because they believe, and because they refuse to give up on the idea that Scotland can be better. I cannot overstate how much I will miss them.
My own role may be changing, but my commitment to Common Weal is not ending. I will no longer be an employee, but I will continue as a supporter, and occasional contributor. But I know I am joining a community of supporters who are every bit as committed as those on the inside – people who subscribe, donate, share, and engage because they understand the importance of Common Weal.
So, after more than a thousand days, what have I learned? That politics is messy, frustrating, and often demoralising. That setbacks are inevitable, and that progress is rarely as swift as we want it to be. But also, that Scotland is full of extraordinary people with extraordinary ideas. That community and solidarity matter more than we sometimes realise. And that organisations like Common Weal, small but mighty, are essential to keeping hope alive.
