Your essential hung parliament reader

What happens next?

Back in November 2009 we commissioned a special issue of New Statesman to look at the possible outcome of a hung parliament in 2010. Having noted a shift in public opinion away from an outright victory for the Conservative Party, this seemed a pressing question to address.

Using the image above, our cover line read: "Left hanging: What a hung parliament would mean for Britain".

Now that the talk of last November has become the reality of this May, what happens next? If you read only two things, I suggest you revisit Geoffrey Wheatcroft's essay and Vernon Bogdanor's constitutional overview. Here's an extract from both:

Doing deals in Downing Street

by Geoffrey Wheatcroft

"Who governs Britain?" Aspiring barristers are taught that you should never ask a question in court to which you don't know the answer. Edward Heath forgot that rule in February 1974 when, after months of industrial turmoil culminating in the three-day week, he called an election and, by way of challenging the unions, asked that question.

And the electorate replied: Not you, chum. Or at least, so far from being returned to power with a healthy majority, Heath found that he had no majority at all. On St David's Day, the day after the election, the fun and games began.

The story of Friday 1 March 1974 is riveting enough anyway, but might soon become acutely relevant. It is quite possible that on the morning of Friday 7 May 2010 - which will probably be the day after our next general election - David Cameron and the Tories will find themselves with a plurality, or more seats than any other party, but without an absolute majority over all others: in the modern jargon, a hung parliament.

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1974 and all that - the constitutional position

by Vernon Bogdanor

Were the 2010 general election to yield a hung parliament, Gordon Brown, like Heath, would be constitutionally entitled to seek coalition; or he could meet parliament as the head of a minority government and challenge the other parties to vote him down. But he might then seem a bad loser. Even if Labour were to win more seats than any other party, Brown would be thought to have "lost".

The imprint of first-past-the-post is so strong that voters see general elections as football matches in which a side has either "won" or "lost". Nuances such as which party has the most seats or which party has the most votes are hardly noticed in the post-election melee.

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Jon Bernstein, former deputy editor of New Statesman, is a digital strategist and editor. He tweets @Jon_Bernstein. 

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Inside a shaken city: "I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester”

The morning after the bombing of the Manchester Arena has left the city's residents jumpy.

On Tuesday morning, the streets in Manchester city centre were eerily silent.

The commuter hub of Victoria Station - which backs onto the arena - was closed as police combed the area for clues, and despite Mayor Andy Burnham’s line of "business as usual", it looked like people were staying away.

Manchester Arena is the second largest indoor concert venue in Europe. With a capacity crowd of 18,000, on Monday night the venue was packed with young people from around the country - at least 22 of whom will never come home. At around 10.33pm, a suicide bomber detonated his device near the exit. Among the dead was an eight-year-old girl. Many more victims remain in hospital. 

Those Mancunians who were not alerted by the sirens woke to the news of their city's worst terrorist attack. Still, as the day went on, the city’s hubbub soon returned and, by lunchtime, there were shoppers and workers milling around Exchange Square and the town hall.

Tourists snapped images of the Albert Square building in the sunshine, and some even asked police for photographs like any other day.

But throughout the morning there were rumours and speculation about further incidents - the Arndale Centre was closed for a period after 11.40am while swathes of police descended, shutting off the main city centre thoroughfare of Market Street.

Corporation Street - closed off at Exchange Square - was at the centre of the city’s IRA blast. A postbox which survived the 1996 bombing stood in the foreground while officers stood guard, police tape fluttering around cordoned-off spaces.

It’s true that the streets of Manchester have known horror before, but not like this.

I spoke to students Beth and Melissa who were in the bustling centre when they saw people running from two different directions.

They vanished and ducked into River Island, when an alert came over the tannoy, and a staff member herded them through the back door onto the street.

“There were so many police stood outside the Arndale, it was so frightening,” Melissa told me.

“We thought it will be fine, it’ll be safe after last night. There were police everywhere walking in, and we felt like it would be fine.”

Beth said that they had planned a day of shopping, and weren’t put off by the attack.

“We heard about the arena this morning but we decided to come into the city, we were watching it all these morning, but you can’t let this stop you.”

They remembered the 1996 Arndale bombing, but added: “we were too young to really understand”.

And even now they’re older, they still did not really understand what had happened to the city.

“Theres nowhere to go, where’s safe? I just want to go home,” Melissa said. “I just want to be anywhere that’s not Manchester.”

Manchester has seen this sort of thing before - but so long ago that the stunned city dwellers are at a loss. In a city which feels under siege, no one is quite sure how anyone can keep us safe from an unknown threat

“We saw armed police on the streets - there were loads just then," Melissa said. "I trust them to keep us safe.”

But other observers were less comforted by the sign of firearms.

Ben, who I encountered standing outside an office block on Corporation Street watching the police, was not too forthcoming, except to say “They don’t know what they’re looking for, do they?” as I passed.

The spirit of the city is often invoked, and ahead of a vigil tonight in Albert Square, there will be solidarity and strength from the capital of the North.

But the community values which Mancunians hold dear are shaken to the core by what has happened here.

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