Is parliament out of date?

So far, it looks as if parliament as an institution has fallen into disrepute mainly because of the shortcomings of those who attend it. Yet even if we think that standards have declined recently, British MPs have rarely been angelic. Perhaps circumstances have changed, so that institutional weaknesses in the parliamentary system that were once obscured have now come to the surface.

There are several good reasons for adopting this view. Until the 19^th century, parliament tended to be reactive rather than proactive. It responded to the monarch’s appeals for money, for example, or debated the conduct of wars. But the Victorians were enthusiastic reformers. They had a new confidence that social problems could be solved by the application of ‘rational thinking’ and new ‘scientific’ methods. As a result, government began to interfere in new areas, such as public hygiene and education.

At the same time, the gradual extension of the franchise meant that more and more people had at least some involvement in politics. A more literate population also read about the activities at Westminster in the newspapers. So voters tended to be more demanding and politicians were more willing to take action. The result was a massive expansion of government activity. Such 20^th century innovations as the welfare state were logical extensions of this phenomenon, and not a radical break from the past.

The acceptance of vast new responsibilities suggested that parliament should equip itself for the challenge. To some extent, this has happened. For example, the old ‘gentleman amateurs’ who dominated parliament even in the 19^th century have now disappeared almost entirely. Since 1911 – significantly during a period when government was taking on new social responsibilities – MPs have been paid by the state, enabling them to regard politics as a separate career (if not as a source of great wealth). Since 1969 the taxpayer has covered at least a proportion of office costs, and since the mid-1980s, this amount has actually exceeded MPs’ salaries. So if parliamentarians are now dealing with a greatly expanded range of subject – often at a high level of detail – at least they are now better equipped for the task.

The Long Decline of Parliamentary Government

The greater scope of political action has brought other developments. In the mid-19^th century it was still possible to talk of the UK being governed by parliament. Indeed, every government between 1835 and 1874 fell as a result of votes in the House of Commons, rather than defeat at a general election. Even so, the economic and constitutional theorist Walter Bagehot (1826-77) claimed in The English Constitution (1867) that parliament now joined the monarchy as no more than a ‘dignified’ element of the constitution. The cabinet – the truly ‘efficient’ element of the constitution – did the real work of the government.

This argument had far-reaching constitutional implications. If Bagehot was right, the centre of power in Britain had shifted from the legislature to the executive. In the 20^th century his argument was taken further. The cabinet as a collective body seemed to be losing its power to the prime minister. Thus, according to this view, in the course of little over a century in the UK had moved from parliamentary government to something approaching a ‘presidential’ system. In 1976 the Conservative politician Lord Halisham went so far as to describe the system as an ‘elective dictatorship’.

As we have seen, the political system in the UK is usually characterised by the idea of a fusion of power, in contrast to countries like the USA where the legislature, executive and judiciary are separated. In the UK, the executive branch is currently supposed to be responsible to the legislature (parliament), and the head of the judiciary (the Lord Chancellor) was a member of both the legislature and executive, as a cabinet minister, This system, which caused many constitutional theorists to despair, evolved over time and not in accordance with any set plan.

The Rise of the Executive

The main point to notice here is that, although power in the UK is indeed ‘fused’ on paper, the executive has clearly tended to gain power at the expense of the legislature to which it is supposed to be accountable. Undoubtedly, this development has reflected the increasing scope of government activity. Members of the executive still have to be part of the legislature and they still have to be careful not to lose the confidence of MPs. But more and more of their work is conducted away from the House of Commons. Even when they attend the Commons or the Lords, there is a greater gulf between them and backbench MPs than there ever was in the past.

In the 19^th century, when governments did far less and communications were fairly basic, ministers in most departments knew very little more about the situation in the country than their backbench colleagues. Except perhaps for ministers concerned with foreign policy, this equality of information was of little importance. But now ministers have a vital interest in being informed, to keep at least one step ahead even of friendly MPs, and particularly of the media. The process begins from the moment when an MP or a peer first receives the call from Downing Street. New ministers are briefed intensively by civil servants and, symbolically, are whisked around London in government cars. They are now privy to secrets, and may even be open to prosecution if they ‘leak’ sensitive information. Unless they have some tactical purpose, they will not be tempted to do so. After all, the possession of privileged information is a great source of power and security!

In short, appointment to office turns the ‘poachers’ of Westminster into ‘gamekeepers’ overnight. The legislature, executive and judiciary may technically be ‘fused’ in the UK. Yet although they are locked into the same institutions, they have very different outlooks and priorities – just like poachers and gamekeepers. From this perspective, we can appreciate that public dissatisfaction with the performance of parliament was almost inevitable, as soon as the knowledge gap between ministers and everyone else became a matter of profound importance. After the huge expansion of government activity, the work of the executive would be all but impossible if the legislature really performed its key role of holding ministers to account.

Avoiding Accountability

As early as 1949, in the light of the post war Labour government’s nationalism of key industries, which increased greatly the scope of state activity, the Conservative MP Christopher Hollis wrote a book entitled Can Parliament Survive? Since 1979, the complexity and ever-increasing scope of government action has prompted a further development, which threatens to destroy an illusion that ministers can be held to account. This is the development of agencies.

It was always rather difficult to claim that individual ministers could be held ‘responsible’ for decisions taken by obscure officials within their departments, whom they might never even have met. But to avoid any chance of being blamed for administrative mistakes within their huge department, ministers began to split them up into separate agencies. Thus, for example, the Prison Service Agency (formed in 1993) was still officially part of the Home Office, but it was given a chief executive who could be blamed if, for instance, some prisoners escaped.

This was an important development. Ministers began to argue that they were still responsible for policy decisions, but that problems in day-today operations were in the hands of the agencies. In practice, this distinction was almost impossible to sustain. For example, if a government chose not to take the policy decision of increasing prison capacity despite severe overcrowding, and there were several riots as a result, who was to blame? The Home Office Minister could argue that the Prison Service has to maintain order, but the staff of the service would merely reply that the government policy was making their operational work impossible.

The Power of Parties

The other major problem facing would-be reformers of the Commons is the strength of party discipline. Ironically, this can be seen, at least in part, as a product of the ‘professionalisation’ of politics. The independent country gentlemen of the past could take politics of leave it. Very few of them were ambitious for the top offices, and they only attended parliament at all out of a sense of public duty. When government whips asked them to vote against their principles – or even to attend a debate in the first place when private business was pressing – they were likely to receive an impolite answer.

By contrast, nowadays only the bravest (or most foolhardy) backbench MPs refuse to toe the party line. Since the Second World War, whenever a government has been in danger of losing a division, even critically ill MPs have been brought into the precincts of Westminster to record a vote. (As a small concession, the gravely ill can be ‘nodded through’ by the whips – they do not have to be pushed through the lobbies in person). Ambitious young MPs will overlook their misgivings, knowing that the whips have long memories and that any public show of dissent (even an abstention) will earn them serious disfavour and probably mar their chances of promotion. If they offend too often, their constituency parties might ultimately deselect them. Even elderly MPs on the verge of retirement will hesitate before defying the whips – the knighthood that even obscure backbenchers tend to expect as a reward for their silent services may well be denied if they do not watch their step.

Power, patronage and the ‘presidential’ prime minister

In short, the existing strength of the executive is further enhanced by extensive powers of patronage wielded by the executive. Whatever changes might be made to parliament itself, the key fact for all MPs to remember is that the prime minister of the day can make or break careers.

So is parliament now only a ‘dignified’ part of the constitution – an obedient (and expensive) rubber-stamp to the all powerful executive? Does the UK now have a presidential system? On a literal view of the term, talk of a UK presidency is obviously exaggerated. In the USA, the president only visits the legislature once a year – to deliver the ‘State of the Union’ address to both Houses of Congress. If the House of Representatives and the Senate are both dominated by members of the opposite party, a president does not have to resign. Indeed, the instinctive independence of the legislature can be so strong that the president sometimes finds it easier to cooperate with political opponents that with supposed friends.

The president can be removed from office by a successful impeachment, although this process requires two-thirds majorities in both Houses of Congress. By contrast, the UK prime minister only needs to lose the confidence of the Commons – and in 1940 the government of Neville Chamberlain resigned, even though it had actually won a vote of confidence.

We return to the question of ‘presidential’ government; for now, we need only note that although the formal institutional arrangements mean that the UK cannot be a presidential system, under Tony Blair it came as close to the US model as it ever has.