It was all going so well. The Scots had voted decisively against independence. Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling between them had saved the day, the former with a promise of that 'devo max' which the Prime Minister had wisely declined to offer as an alternative to full independence. It was made with the full agreement of the main party leaders, but it was his considerable personal authority and standing north of the border that swung it.

Now, though, this commitment has unleased a wave of 'me-tooism' that threatens to make liars of all those leaders who had put their consciences on the line. Why should Scottish MPs vote on purely English matters, if English MPs can't vote on Scottish matters? Easily done, says Mr Cameron. Hang on a moment, says Mr Miliband, let's think it through. Of course, the alarming prospect of being unable to govern the rest of the United Kingdom without the votes of Scottish Labour MPs is uppermost in his mind, if not in his public discourse. However, he also has a very reasonable point: you do not drive a coach and horses through the British constitution without putting time and talk into the process.

That's not all. If Scotland can have all those extra tax-raising and spending powers, the argument runs, why not England and Wales? Why not the North East, or Cornwall? Why not London?

Now, there are two questions here. One is about efficiency. How do you structure a government so that people can flourish in body, mind and spirit? Obviously, there are some things that are best done from the centre. Others are best done closer to home. At one level, arguments about regional powers are about that. For instance, Liverpool regularly tops the billing as England's most deprived city. So why not give sweeping powers to people on the spot who can sort the place out? Cornwall as a whole is not deprived but there are are pockets of intense deprivation. So, Kernow bys vyken and let's devolve power there too.

Does it work? Well, there is a certain attraction to the idea that the more power you put into the hands of the people who are closest to the problems, the better they will use it – though John Major famously said, or is said to have said, "If the answer is more politicians, you are asking the wrong question." There is also the argument that it allows nationally elected politicians to ignore things that are just too difficult to cope with, like Queen Victoria on the way to Balmoral, driving through the Black Country with her carriage windows closed against the dreadful sights outside. There is also, uncomfortably enough, the fact that the last time was proposed, in 1994, voters in the North East flatly rejected the whole idea.

The second question, though, is about identity. The appeal of an English parliament – to the extent that it does appeal, which is not self-evident – is not couched in terms of making the country more efficient, but in terms of rights. Why should the Scots have powers that the English don't? It isn't fair, argues former Conservative cabinent minister John Redwood, for instance. Boris Johnson has long argued that London should have more control over its finances.

However, there is a worrying sub-text here. It is about identifying with the clan, the tribe, the immediate neighbour. That way leads to a kind of nationalistic selfishness. Why should London subsidise the rest of the UK with its great wealth? What does one part of the country owe to another? What has Hartlepool to do with Hackney, or Pontypridd with Padstow?

The answer goes to the root of our national identity, something that Brits traditionally recoil from discussing. The whole flagpole-in-the-garden thing is something that we just don't do. Now, though, we are being made to do it: and because this is not a discussion which has arisen out of genuine concerns about real issues, it is all too easy for it to be hijacked by those who have clear ideas and loud voices – whether what they are saying is good and helpful or not.

The Scottish referendum was a moment of real danger for the Union. What has followed, with the break-up of the consensus on what to do next, the playing for political advantage, the blizzard of semi-formed ideas about English parliaments and regional autonomies, represents a danger too.

Generally speaking, Churches should be wary about being too prescriptive in political affairs. They know principles, not necessarily practicalities. A principle Churches should not be afraid to articulate now is that of solidarity, mutual responsibility and mutual servanthood – all those virtues which this scramble for power puts in question.

Mark Woods is a Baptist minister and freelance writer.