Dismal turnout in the PCC elections must not mean an end to reform

These poorly organised elections should not obscure the need for greater devolution.

I have a confession to make.  I think directly elected police and crime commissioners (PCCs) are a positive step forward.

This is not a popular view to hold – particularly following yesterday’s dire turnout, and particularly from someone on the centre-left. However, I hold the view that in a democratic society the police need to be accountable to the public and that the old police authorities were neither visible nor legitimate enough to carry out that role.  

The fact that police authorities had little real legitimacy meant that power actually sat with the chief constables. These unelected professionals could decide which crimes their force ought to focus on, whether or not policing should be carried out by foot or in cars and the conditions under which the police could use firearms. For me, these are all big strategic decisions that should be determined democratically rather than by an unelected professional.  In reality of course as crime rose and police performance fell in the 1990s the Home Secretary started to take control of policing – setting targets and allocating ring fenced funding from the centre.  While this helped improve performance in the early days it soon led to rigidity and undermined responsiveness.  It is far better to have someone locally setting police priorities.

So, in principle, I am in favour of directly electing the people who hold the police to account in their local area.  I would have preferred this to be done either by local government at the level of the Basic Command Unit or by an elected Police Authority, but neither of these options was on the table.  If it’s a choice between the old unelected and invisible police authorities and the PCCs, then I am with the PCCs.  

The problem is that this democratic reform has been implemented in a totally cack-handed fashion. It was absurd to hold these contests to new and unfamiliar posts in November, with cold weather and early nights. They should have been held in May in tandem with the local elections, which would have ensured a more respectable turnout of 30-40 per cent in most places.

But the difficulty of engaging people in these elections does point to wider problems for those engaged in public service reform. Earlier this week, IPPR published a book on "the relational state", which argues for a shift away from public services being managed in a top down fashion from Whitehall and for services to be re-designed from the bottom up, with the users of services playing a more active role.  Should a turnout of below 15 per cent in the PCC elections force us to reconsider these arguments? 

I do not believe so: we want public services that are designed around their users, that are held to account locally and that are flexible enough to innovate and respond to local needs.  While government does need to set some clear national guarantees and minimum standards and to be able to step in when local services fail, in general it is better for priorities to be determined at the local level. But in a society where we are generally time poor and where we all struggle to balance work and family time, we clearly have to be realistic about people’s ability to participate in local civic life.  This means that expecting people to come to lots more meetings to hold their local services to account is a non-starter. 

While people have little interest in governance, they do often want to play a greater role on the issues that directly affect them. We should look at how care users can be given powers to design their own care, how parents can get more involved in their child’s learning and how local residents can come together to tackle anti-social behaviour on their estates.  In other words if we want to inject more participative energy into public services this is more likely to work if it is about meeting people, rather than attending more meetings.

We do nevertheless need to have democratically accountable forms of governance in local services: decisions need to be made in a way that is legitimate and accords to the general will of the local population. So what do we do with a problem like the police and crime commissioners?  We should not abandon the posts in haste.  Let this reform breathe for a while and let’s see what PCCs are able to achieve in their areas.  Despite the low turnout, there are some talented new PCCs now in place who hold out the prospect of doing innovative things to make their communities safer.

In the longer term, the low turnout will be addressed by holding these elections in tandem with the local elections in 2016. But we also need to consider the role of PCCs in the context of a wider debate about localism and how England is governed. While we have had successful devolution in Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland and London, most decisions in England are still made in the centre. 

There are a number of avenues we could explore. One would be to see whether in some city regional areas the powers of the PCC could be given to city regional ‘metro mayors’, as advocated by IPPR North.  We would then start to develop powerful new form of locally accountable government in our cities, with powers over transport, economic development and policing, as with the mayor of London.  Another would be whether in some areas smaller police forces, based around current Basic Command Units, might be more appropriate, held to account directly by local government. In other areas PCCs would remain. Given the complexity of how England is governed, there does not have to be the same solution in every area.

Whatever the immediate fallout from these poorly organised elections, we should not let these problems lead to a return to excessive centralism.

John Prescott arrives to hear the results of the Humberside police and crime commissioner elections. Photograph: Getty Images.

Rick Muir is director of the Police Foundation

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.