The rule of the minority

With a referendum on electoral reform announced, the spotlight turns on those MPs who did not secure

Britain will go to the polls on 5 May 2011 to decide whether we should change the way we vote.

The referendum was an important concession wrung from the Conservatives by their Liberal Democrat partners, and while it remains uncertain precisely how the two parties will align themselves for the campaign on the matter, the setting of the date is an important milestone in our electoral history.

The Labour leadership candidate David Miliband has strongly backed the reform, singling out the Alternative Vote (AV) system as his preferred option. On the Today programme this morning he said:

I think that it's important that we move to a system where every member of parliament has at least 50 per cent of the vote of their constituents.

Miliband himself received just over 52 per cent of the vote in his South Shields constituency, but a sizeable majority of his parliamentary colleagues were not so lucky. According to figures from the Electoral Reform Society, 434 MPs received less than 50 per cent of the vote -- that's 434 MPs who would be relying on redistributed preferences for a mandate under AV.

Some of the big names in this group include Ed Balls, Hazel Blears, Jon Cruddas, Ben Bradshaw, Danny Alexander, Oliver Letwin and David Davis.

The Conservatives have 179 MPs with less than 50 per cent of the vote but Labour has 181, or just over 70 per cent of the Parliamentary Labour Party. This last figure perhaps demonstrates why Labour is not whole-heartedly in favour of the referendum -- lots of previously safe seats would become very hard to predict under a new system.

Miliband's fellow leadership candidate Andy Burnham is not backing the reform, and is quoted in the Guardian as saying: "It is not my party's job to prop up the Liberal Democrats by helping them win a referendum that is important to them."

Had the most recent election been conducted using AV, the Labour Party would actually have has the smallest shift in its numbers, moving from 258 MPs to 262. But the Tories would have been even further from a majority, at 281, while the Liberal Democrats would have increased their share to 79.

A combined Lib-Lab government would thus have commanded a comfortable majority of 341 and kept the Tories out of Downing Street.

Full details of predictions under different voting systems are available from the Guardian's data blog.

But perhaps the most arresting aspect of the statistics produced by the Electoral Reform Society is the trend over time. In 1979, 32.4 per cent of MPs commanded less than 50 per cent of the vote, a number that has now more than doubled to 66.77 per cent.

With the 2010 election producing the highest ever number of MPs with less than 50 per cent of their local vote, the case has never been stronger for ditching the first-past-the-post system and restoring the link between constituency and MP.

Caroline Crampton is assistant editor of the New Statesman. She writes a weekly podcast column.

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“It was like a religious ceremony”: What happened at Big Ben’s final bong?

Both inside and outside Parliament, people gathered to hear the clock’s final midday chime before undergoing repairs.

“It’s just hacks everywhere,” a photographer sighs, jamming his lens through a gap in Parliament’s railings to try and get a closer look.

New Palace Yard, Parliament’s courtyard directly below Big Ben, is filling with amused-looking journalists, waiting for the MPs who have promised to hold a “silent vigil”, heads bowed, to mark Big Ben’s final chime before four years of silence while the tower’s repaired.

About four of them turn up. Two by accident.

It’s five minutes to twelve. Tourists are gathering outside Westminster Tube, as tourists do best. A bigger crowd fills Parliament Square. More people than expected congregate outside, even if it’s the opposite within the Palace. The world and his phone are gazing up at the sad, resigned clock face.


“It’s quite controversial, isn’t it?” one elderly woman in an anorak asks her friend. They shrug and walk off. “Do you know what is this?” an Italian tourist politely asks the tiny press pack, gesturing to the courtyard. No one replies. It’s a good question.

“This is the last time,” says another tourist, elated, Instagram-poised.

“DING DONG DING DONG,” the old bell begins.

Heads down, phones up.


It finishes the on-the-hour tune for the last time, and then gives its much-anticipated resignation statement:

“BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG. BONG.”

Applause, cheers, and even some tears.


But while the silly-seasoned journalists snigger, the crowd is enthusiastic.

“It’s quite emotional,” says David Lear, a 52-year-old carer from Essex, who came up to London today with his work and waited 45 minutes beneath Big Ben to hear it chime.

He feels “very, very sad” that the bell is falling silent, and finds the MPs’ vigil respectful. “I think lots of people feel quite strongly about it. I don’t know why they’re doing it. During the war it carries on, and then they turn it off for a health and safety reason.”

“I don’t know why they can’t have some speakers half way down it and just play the chime,” he adds. “So many tourists come especially to listen to the chime, they gather round here, getting ready for it to go – and they’re going to switch it off. It’s crazy.”

Indeed, most of the surrounding crowd appears to be made up of tourists. “I think that it was gorgeous, because I’ve never heard him,” smiles Cora, an 18-year-old German tourist. “It was a great experience.”

An Australian couple in their sixties called Jane and Gary are visiting London for a week. “It was like a religious ceremony, everybody went quiet,” laughs Gary. “I hope they don’t forget where they put the keys to start it again in four years’ time.”

“When we first got here, the first thing we did was come to see it,” adds Jane, who is also positive about the MPs who turned up to watch. “I think it’s good they showed a bit of respect. Because they don’t usually show much respect, do they?”

And, as MPs mouthing off about Big Ben are challenged on their contrasting reactions to Grenfell, that is precisely the problem with an otherwise innocent show of sentimentality.

Anoosh Chakelian is senior writer at the New Statesman.