Would a “No” on AV keep the Lib Dems in the coalition?

If the Alternative Vote system is rejected in May’s referendum, it could mean greater unity for the

If the Alternative Vote system is rejected in May’s referendum, it could mean greater unity for the coalition, rather than the predicted schism.

In assessing the future unity of the coalition, much of the focus has been on how the Lib Dems in particular would react to the big political events of the parliamentary term so far: the Strategic Defence Review, the Spending Review, Lord Browne's review of higher education funding, and next May's referendum on voting reform.

The assumption has been that, if under pressure from party grass roots and sour public opinion – over their previous pledge not to raise university tuition fees, for instance – in the face of reversed coalition policy, at least some Lib Dems could rebel, or even walk away from the coalition altogether.

The Alternative Vote referendum, expected to take place in May along with proposed changes to constituency boundaries, was reportedly the price Nick Clegg asked for his party's membership of the coalition, back in May.

It is an issue of paramount importance to the party at all levels, thus a "No" result would be a great blow to Lib Dems in government, prompting speculation and, in turn, denials that the party would "walk away" from the coalition if the public rejected AV. If the Tories do indeed actively campaign against reform, it would undoubtedly be a problematic situation.

But Nick Boles, the Conservative MP for Grantham and Stamford, who made a small splash a while back by writing a book calling for an electoral pact between the Tories and the Lib Dems in 2015, has now suggested in an interview that a "Yes" on AV would make the Lib Dems more likely to walk away from the coalition, while a "No" would leave them with no choice other than to stay the course. Boles said, in an interview with the website Yoosk:

If they were to win the referendum and AV were to be brought in, you could imagine a lot of Liberal Democrats saying, "Right, we got what we came for, now we'll withdraw from the coalition and make ourselves an independent voice again on the presumption that in a future election we'll do better than under first-past-the-post." So actually, if anything, they're more likely to leave if they win the referendum. If they lose the referendum, the only thing left to them is the persuade the British people that coalitions are a good thing, and to do that they have to stick with it until 2015.

This point was also made back in July by Peter Oborne (highlighted here by my colleague Jon Bernstein). Given that the Lib Dems seem, so far, to be holding on despite the storm surrounding tuition fees and spending cuts, commentators, including Boles, are agreed that the referendum will be a watershed for the coalition.

Whether a "Yes" on AV will prompt the Lib Dems to take their chances as an independent party remains to be seen. However, it is worth noting that, according to the Guardian's arithmetic at the time, had the last election been conducted under AV, the Lib Dems could have expected a further 20 seats only.

Whatever happens in May, they aren't out of coalition territory just yet.

Caroline Crampton is web editor of the New Statesman.

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I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war