Those who quote Cromwell’s “In the name of God, go!” miss an important point: Cromwell replaced the Rump Parliament with an assembly of nominated placemen, setting himself on the road to dictatorship. Is that what we want now?
In fact, both Houses of Parliament are already composed very largely of nominees, with democracy providing just a veneer of legitimacy. Membership of the House of Commons is heavily determined by the parties’ lists of “approved candidates”, with neither party members nor voters in general having much of a say unless they strain themselves to make trouble.
Most active members of the House of Lords are similarly nominated without anyone even pretending to consult the electorate. Shouldn’t we have at least one house free of party machines and beyond executive control? If, as widely advocated, the Commons is reduced to some 400 members, that need will be greater because ministers and PPSs will be a larger proportion of the whole.
The trouble with the Commons is that we expect it to perform a role for which it wasn’t designed. MPs originally ensured that governments didn’t raise taxes without good cause or adequate account of how the money was spent. Their function as intermediaries between constituents and central government – sorting out the myriad ways in which each now makes demands on the other – is almost entirely a development of the past 50 years. That explains why MPs think they are overworked and require two homes.
The answer is to leave the Commons, though probably reduced in size, much as it is, first-past-the-post and all: an assembly of pushy middle managers who nearly all aspire to office. We should, meanwhile, abolish the Lords and create a second chamber – elected by constituency on the alternative vote or instant run-off system – which will acquire the “pastoral” role that MPs now perform for constituents, as well as powers to scrutinise and ultimately reject legislation.
A typical member would be part social worker, part consumer advocate, a role ideally suited to Esther Rantzen, with the added benefit that, as members of my new chamber would be barred from ministerial office, the wretched woman wouldn’t get to run anything.
Elections to the two chambers would be held simultaneously. We should also hold a national poll to choose the Speaker. The present convention, whereby an incumbent stands in his or her constituency unopposed by the other parties, is an outrageous absurdity that, in effect, disfranchises constituents who, in Michael Martin’s case, are among the poorest in the country.
If the Speaker were somebody like the ascetic, God-fearing and gaunt Frank Field – who, in the present climate, would surely saunter to victory – he could perform the monarch’s ceremonial roles at a fraction of the present cost, thus allowing us at last to become a republic. Though I’d have fixed-term parliaments, I would happily give Field emergency powers of dissolution, if he thought MPs had become a bunch of money-grubbing incompetents.
If Field is unavailable, perhaps the Energy and Climate Change Secretary, Ed Miliband, could step into the role if he is too nervous to make a principled resignation from the government and position himself for the Labour leadership.
Designing a new constitution or voting system is one of those anorakish pursuits, similar to inventing a
fixture programme for cricket or new rules for football. So while I am about it, let me share my anorakish proposals for cricket.
The merit of first-past-the-post voting is that at least everybody understands it. Nobody, however, understands cricket’s fixture list, which, this English season, includes matches of 20 overs, 40 overs or 50 overs a side, as well as matches lasting four or five days.
My answer is to accept that Twenty20, as it is called, is the first form of cricket to carry mass appeal in the modern era, sometimes attracting 25,000 spectators for mundane county matches. However, for dedicated cricket followers, matches in which each side has two innings, allowing continual ebb and flow of fortunes, remain the most absorbing form of the game. So get rid of 40-over and 50-over matches (the former will be dropped next year anyway), as they are neither one thing nor the other, rather like Andrew Lloyd Webber’s music. Then, while Twenty20 thrills the populace, the four-day county championship and five-day Test matches, with proper marketing and a coherent fixture list, can be restored to their proper place in national life.
Why have I not received a leaflet explaining how to cope with swine flu, which, the government announced, would go to every household in the country? Has anyone else missed out?
Or was this one of those surreal new Labour announcements – like that scheme whereby struggling homeowners would be rescued by the state taking a share of the equity – which result in newspaper headlines but no action whatsoever in the real world?
The Department of Health assures me that leaflets have indeed gone out. Perhaps those responsible decided a former NS editor was too well informed to need advice. But the more worrying possibility is that they don’t care about me and have written me off. I have read that important people will have “priority” for treatment if the deadly disease takes hold. Have the authorities already drawn up lists of essential citizens? Am I on the reject list?
In the MPs’ expenses story, it’s the detail that so fascinates. They claim £1,800 televisions and top-of-the-range trouser presses for themselves but, when it comes to constituency staff in Melton Mowbray, the Tories’ Alan Duncan claims for providing imperial mints, McVitie’s biscuits, PG Tips and Nescafé. I would bet a duck island that Duncan himself drinks Earl Grey and grinds the finest South American coffee beans.
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