The case for a referendum on Lords reform

If the politicians really can't decide, the public should.

Is it any wonder that the public tire of politics, when politicians spend an inordinate amount of time squabbling over an issue they all fundamentally agree about?

All three main parties put reform of the Lords in their manifestos, we can argue about the details, but the principle of a need for change was clear. Today, a cross-party group of parliamentarians has published a report that recommends some sensible and appropriate changes to the way the upper house is constituted. At which point professional politicians all over the shop will throw toys out of their pram left, right and centre, and create a Westminster firestorm over a policy that just 6 per cent of the public think should be a priority. Why don’t they just sort it?

It does seem to me that the arguments against reform fly in the face of democracy. The main theme this week is ’electing representatives to the upper house gives them a democratic legitimacy that the current Lords do not have, threatening the primacy of The House of Commons’. Is that really an argument for not reforming the current system – that the lack of an elected mandate for the Lords, making them a less effective opposition to the Commons, is a good thing? Previously the main argument was ‘if we don’t appoint good people to the Lords, then we’ll lose the best talent’. Again – isn’t it up to the people to decide who the best talent is? Otherwise, you end up in a similar situation to Greece or Italy with a political elite foisted on them in dubious democratic circumstances.

But that’s just me (and the Lib Dems). I understand there are others with different views. So I think the public should probably decide,  if the politicians really can’t. After all, anyone who voted Lib Dem, Labour or Tory voted for it at the last general election.

Which is why, unlike many in my party, I’m not particularly against the idea of a referendum on this issue. I well understand the arguments against one – all three parties advocated reform in their manifesto, the mandate for change already exists. I also understand the whispered fear in the Lib Dems – having been burned by the AV referendum last year (and having seen the rather nasty but highly effective campaign against reform by our coalition, ahem, partners), why put ourselves through that mill again? And the "fast and loose with the truth" nature of that last campaign seems to be starting already.

But my answer would be – trust the people. There is a mandate for change. There is a majority for change. We are talking about a major constitutional reform, the only time perhaps a referendum is justified in a parliamentary democracy. And frankly, as a Liberal Democrat, I find it hard to argue against giving people the final say.

I, for one, would be happy to get out there and make the case for change.

Richard Morris blogs at A View From Ham Common, which was named Best New Blog at the 2011 Lib Dem Conference.

Queen Elizabeth II speaks during her address to the House of Lords, during the State Opening of Parliament in Westminster. Photograph: Getty Images.

Richard Morris blogs at A View From Ham Common, which was named Best New Blog at the 2011 Lib Dem Conference

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood