Well, here we go again.

It’s taken twenty years, but ID cards are back. This time in a shiny new digital format, turbocharged by modern technology. Today, I will lead the first debate in the House of Commons on Digital ID, with the SNP leading the opposition to the introduction of the Starmer Britcard, as this Labour Government seeks once again to impose it on a sceptical public.

We have to go back to the mid-2000s, when Tony Blair famously tried to introduce ID cards before being forced to abandon them after widespread opposition from civil liberties groups, Parliament, and, crucially, the public. Two decades on, that same old spectre has risen from the political grave. You can’t help but feel that Blair’s long-cherished dream might finally be realised. Not by himself, but through his proxy: the current Prime Minister.

I had the misfortune of being around the first time – as our Home Affairs spokesperson in the 2000s – and the whole debate feels eerily familiar. Once again, we have a Government earnestly assuring us that this is a benign, benevolent scheme designed purely to make life easier for the general public.

A sort of: “Don’t you worry your silly little heads about this mass data collection or our newfound ability to monitor your every move. We’re the UK Government – you know you can trust us.”

On the other side, the concerns remain almost identical: threats to privacy and civil liberties, the risk of mass surveillance, the dangers of government overreach, and the all-too-real vulnerabilities that come with storing vast quantities of personal data.

This time round, the scheme could barely have got off to a worse start. Support for digital ID has actually collapsed since the Government unveiled its plans. The petition calling for it to be scrapped has become one of the fastest-growing ever, now nearing three million signatures. People don’t want mandatory digital ID, and it didn’t feature in Labour’s manifesto.

If you want an example of how badly this has begun, you need only listen to the Minister responsible – the hapless Ian Murray – and his car crash interview on Good Morning Scotland, where he somehow managed to confirm that the Britcard would be simultaneously voluntary and compulsory.

Apparently, it would be “mandatory for some purposes” – a kind of partial compulsion, if you like. But we all know what that really means. It will be mandatory for work, and if it’s mandatory for work, it’s mandatory, full stop. The only people who won’t “need” one are those who never plan to work, never plan to rent a home, and never plan to take part in normal life.

To make matters worse, someone thought it was a good idea to brand this thing the Britcard. That alone immediately alienated most of Scotland and Northern Ireland. I suspect they thought it would be a great unifying project; that the public would rejoice in this new symbol of digital Britishness. Instead, the name has come to represent everything tone-deaf about this proposal.

The term Britcard, of course, comes from our friends in Labour Together, who appear to have done most of the running in getting this scheme adopted by the Government. Given their recent controversies, the Government would be wise to keep Labour Together at a safe distance, and nowhere near this scheme.

But let’s take a look under the bonnet of this so-called Great British Britcard.

The Government says it will be free of charge and available to all citizens and legal residents – so far, so good. But we still don’t know how far its reach will extend, or who will be obliged to have one. There are reports it could even be extended to 13-year-olds, while veterans are already being lined up as the first digital guinea pigs.

We’re told the Britcard is required to tackle illegal working and illegal migration. But when you look at the evidence, it just doesn’t stack up. Under the Government’s plan, anyone seeking work must prove their “right to work” through this digital ID, giving the Home Office sweeping new powers over individuals’ daily lives, from employment to housing to access to basic public services.

Yet across the world, where ID schemes are mandatory, there’s no clear evidence they reduce illegal working or irregular migration. Illegal working doesn’t stop because people are forced to carry digital ID cards; it stops when people are allowed to work legally, contribute to society, and live without fear.

Big Brother Watch has called mandatory digital ID a “civil liberties nightmare”, and they’re absolutely right. Amnesty International warns that such a scheme risks becoming both a honeypot for hackers and a tool for state surveillance – and they, too, are spot on.

It has never been normal in the UK to have to prove who you are when you’re not suspected of doing anything wrong. It just doesn’t feel natural within these isles to surrender huge amounts of personal data just to access basic services; to be part of a “papers, please” culture, even in digital form.

Mandatory digital ID would fundamentally change the trust-based relationship between citizen and state, replacing it with one of constant verification and oversight. And let’s not forget the danger of mission creep. Once this kind of infrastructure exists, it rarely stays confined to its original purpose. The Government says the police won’t be able to demand to see a person’s digital ID, but can anyone seriously believe that won’t change over time?

This isn’t just about what this Government might do. It’s about what future governments could do. It’s not just today’s Government you’re empowering; it’s every future one as well. Can you really imagine this kind of power and data in the hands of a Prime Minister Farage?

And what about the millions of people who don’t have smartphones, or who aren’t digitally literate enough to navigate an app-based ID? The Government’s answer – that they’ll “deal with it in consultations” – simply isn’t good enough.

Then there’s the cost. The Government has been remarkably reluctant to discuss it, and for good reason. Estimates currently range from £1.2 billion to £2 billion, which could best be described as hopeful.

The estimated cost for the original physical ID card scheme was £5.4 billion, with some estimates suggesting the final bill could have reached £19 billion. Remember, this digital version is ten times more complicated than the physical one. Are we really going to spend billions on a scheme no one is asking for, in the middle of a cost-of-living crisis?

Whether it’s plastic cards or digital apps, this remains a data-grabbing, liberty-eroding, multi-billion-pound waste of time.

We saw off ID cards in 2005, and the SNP will do everything in our power to ensure the Britcard meets the same fate. Let’s confine the Starmer Britcard to the digital dustbin of history, where it belongs.