Читать книгу Parliament - antony jackson - Страница 4

In what used to be the Whips’ office John gathered his charges. Ten individuals, ten life stories, ten different attitudes, ten different intelligences drawn together in one democratic process that would be their life for the next four years.

‘Welcome to your new life. Over the next few days, leading up to the opening of the new Parliamentary session, you will have the opportunity to get to understand your role, to meet sitting members and the bureaucracy of civil servants charged with looking after your needs during your time here. Crucially, during this time you will be instructed on the timetable for this next session. As you may already be aware, Parliament is dealing with a range of continuing economic and social issues, and new things arrive all the time. Your job will be to add your voices to the democratic process. In this new parliament each of you has the chance to change something for the better. We’re sitting in the old whip’s office. In the old days the role of the sitting members who worked in this office was to persuade others within their party to follow the government line. An MP in those days, backbenchers they were mostly called, had an easy life provided he or she voted with the government, or, as an opposition member, with the opposition. This was the path to individual progression, with an MP being rewarded with money, position and power if he played along. Of course MPs had their constituency responsibilities as well, but they had their politically ambitious party workers to fend off the annoying constituents.

I used to be a Member of Parliament in those days. I was elected under my party colours, having been through a selection process that relied as much on my own influence with the selection committee as it did on my having any genuine skills or attributes to bring to the job. Like many others, for me becoming an MP was the way to a good career with a good salary, great working conditions and a pension. I also thought I had something to offer. As a Liberal I fancied that the country had suffered enough from a two party system where each new government of a different colour set about reversing the policies of the previous. But, like so many of my colleagues, once I arrived in this place, as a member whose vote could be ignored, except in very particular circumstances, I quickly grew disillusioned. What I witnessed here, in those days, was, essentially, an abuse of power. The abuse started with an electoral system that told the people that, if they wanted their vote to count, they needed to vote for a party that would have sufficient power to represent their opinions. The abuse continued with the wholesale adoption of this principle by the leading parties, each jealously guarding its historic them or us constituency, aided and abetted by an enormously powerful press.

In that Parliament I was one of more than six hundred MPs drawn together to represent the whole of the UK, or so I thought. In practise I was a waste of space. Now and again I would serve in some committee or other dealing with a subject peripheral to the important issues of the day, and that was useful, but, when it came down to it I was a eunuch. I had very little influence.

In fact, all the important decisions of those days were made by an elite, backed up by unquestioning loyalists who had more of an eye for their own advancement than on the greater good. The Prime Minister, or his cabinet cronies, would come up with a knee-jerk reaction to a real problem and, without reference to anybody else, commit the country to an action that would cost billions or condemn populations to hardships they never deserved.

Imogen, listening to this grand old man dressed in his black robe, missing only the mortar-board hat, thought of her own circumstances. She was nearly thirty and had lived in Bungay all her life. In her head she held a picture of the town when she had been a child, with it’s busy high street and ten pubs. A wealthy and colourful place, each of the ancient houses a different pastel shade or the strong pink of Suffolk, with lots of music. Everybody who wanted one had a job. Not now though. Yes, Mr Parminter was right. Populations had been condemned to hardship.

Her attention came back to the panelled office and the paintings of anonymous politicians, few of whom she recognised.

Despite themselves, now and again this elite would be forced to pay attention to the country it was abusing. It is as a result of one of these little slips in their guard that you are here now.

Forgive me this history lesson, but these events happened some years ago and many of you are too young to remember them. Even those who were sentient at the time may have their own, different, take on events but I would like to use this opportunity to tell the story as I experienced it first hand within these walls. The evidence of what I say can be found within Hansard, the record of parliament since its inception, although there are any number of interpretations available. But I will tell it as I saw it.

As she listened, Imogen continued to muse about her own experience. Imogen Black, twenty nine, degree in Ecology, barmaid and political virgin. MP. Apart from uni she’d spent her whole life in Bungay, a pleasant, slightly off-beat market town in the Waveney valley. Staying there had not entirely been a matter of choice. It seemed to her that at the very minute she’d walked off, degree in hand, from the presentation the door marked ‘jobs’ had been shut tight. It had been 2018. She remembered her teenage years mainly as a good time spent with good friends in a good place. She had a very vague memory of the Olympics, and of the politics of the time, but had a very clear memory of sitting at the breakfast table as a young child listening to her parents denouncing that day’s act of corruption, now exposed on Radio Four. Imogen looked around her at the panelled-wall room, of a type so familiar from television, and at her fellow members, looking variously nervous or supremely concentrated on the speaker.

The flaw in their armour was the on-line petition. The entitlement for anyone to add their name to a petition and to have that petition considered by the house subject to a minimum number of ‘signatures’ effectively provided a fast track to democracy for the voter. Even though the government of the day was not required to enact any legislative change demanded in a petition, merely to consider it, and as often happened was perfectly entitled to totally ignore it, there was an inevitability about the maths.

After the 2012 Olympics there were a number of serious problems in the country. We were still involved in a war costing us lives and treasure. The economy was on its uppers, with no clear policies coming from government that were going to make a difference any time soon. Most serious of all there was ever greater inequality in society. Those that had, continued to have even more. Those that had not, saw their pockets being emptied with ever greater costs and their route to a better life blocked with their structural and social immobility.

The first showdown came with the Public Employees Remuneration petition. The petitioner, a small charity in the Midlands, demanded that no public employee receive more than ten times the salary of the lowest paid in the organisation that he or she represented. The author managed to really hit the spot and, unusually, caught the ear of the media. There had been a long-standing discussion about such a policy previously, but below the popular radar. With the petition the question went viral and within days more than a million had signed the petition. By the closing date more than three million had signed up. Depending on your point of view, by happy or unhappy coincidence, a large part of the published media was, at that moment, pretty dissatisfied with the government of the day and would have done anything to make its life uncomfortable. The petition was manna from heaven.

Although the ten times factor was probably fairly random it was quite a lucky number for the petitioners. It just so happened that, at the time, the annual salary of an MP was about sixty five thousand pounds. The popular interpretation of the petition made it very unlikely that their salaries would be effected. On the other hand, by showing their individual support for the petition they would be able to demonstrate solidarity with their electorate.

It was also a relatively apolitical subject, crossing party boundaries. Effectively the petition offered a great opportunity for the people, the press and the backbench politicians to give the political elite a hard time.

The government accepted the virtual petition without much grace and promised to consider the matter. When, some months later, it became clear that nothing was going to happen voluntarily the press started to roll out its armoury of stories relating to the pay of public employees. The endless stories of the pigs in their troughs were hard to bear and impossible to refute and, eventually, the government gave in and tabled a discussion in the house. The paper put to the house, by a liberal democrat, backed by his party, developed on the petition while remaining true to its core theme. It offered some short term safeguards and demanded that contracts be allowed to run their course but insisted on a gradual transition to the ten times rule, as it became known.

At that time the majority conservative party was only able to govern as part of a coalition with the Liberal Democrats. Relations were not very good between the two and there was never any doubt that the Liberal Democrat vote would be for the bill, much against the wishes of the Conservative elite.

The bill passed on to the House of Lords, in those days a second unelected chamber with the ability to change and delay final legislation, if not to stop enactment completely. In large part representing the establishment, The Lords didn’t like the bill one little bit. The bill languished with the Lords before being sent back to the Commons almost unrecognisable from the original. By this time so many deals had been done within the Commons that it was no longer certain that the original bill would have passed, and the house voted into law a compromise that excluded whole sections of the public service and changed the ratio substantially, as well as extending the timetable for enactment.

The next petition- actually the same petition re-presented- carried eight million signatures.

In those days the electorate was some forty six million. Of these about sixty five percent would vote in a general election. Far fewer for local elections. So, what the government was now faced with was a significant public outcry that was only going to get greater if it was ignored.

Even worse, the deals that had been done to secure the earlier vote had started to unravel and become known. The reason for a surprising rash of MP inspired local improvements, honours and elevations was suddenly evident. The many MPs whose support for the original bill had faded into disinterest were now the subject of intense press scrutiny. A democracy only recently risen from an earlier expenses scandal was now the subject of an even greater ridicule.

Things happened very quickly after this. A number of new factors arose, not least the threat by nearly all trade unions to withdraw funding from the Labour party and the appearance of another petition demanding the abolition of the House of Lords. The original petition was allowed back for re-consideration and, despite a last ditch defence of the status-quo received majority support and was sent, once again, to the House of Lords. The Lords knew better than to go against a country so inflamed by what seemed a never-ending abuse of their intelligence.

So it came to pass that, within a very few months the ten-times rule began to have an effect. Although the legislation allowed contracts to run their course nearly all were for one or two years and those yearly contracts quickly came round for renewal. Predictably, the rule was open to a number of interpretations. The executives that sat on remuneration committees were, in many cases, themselves effected by the rule and set about engineering their own salvation.

Henry Halliday, sitting at the back of the room, remembered very well listening to the same speech two years before, when he had arrived as a rooky, just like the new representatives sitting here today. They seemed to be a promising lot, from what he could see. Presently in-between relationships he could not help but consider his new charges in a slightly less than political light and had quickly decided that the out-and-out stunners were Amelia Ste. Beuve, sadly already married according to his notes, and Imogen Black. Close behind was Leonie Chichester and, bringing up the field Julie Smyth and Caroline Goubault. Caroline was certainly attractive on some levels, but seemed to have a sour face somehow. ’Oh well, one could always dream.’

‘Health Trusts, Civil Service mandarins and Council executives suddenly decided that they should not be employing lowly paid cleaners, clerical assistants and road sweepers, to name but a few, on their own books. Much better to farm all this work out to a private contractor. Miraculously, overnight almost, nearly everyone was able to demonstrate how his or her salary was no more than ten times that of their lowest paid employee. Those that couldn’t just took the more direct route of reducing salaries but increasing bonuses and other benefits related to performance.

So now the country was faced with another dilemma. The people had sought a genuine reform, the proper effect of which was evident to all. Their wishes had been thwarted and it was clear that the government was acquiescent in allowing further abuse.

Worse than that, in a way, was the new unemployment that had flowed directly from the attempt to reform. Although the jobs and salaries of workers transferred to private companies were protected, there was no protection for existing employees. Perhaps understandably the private contractors set about streamlining their own concerns. They had suddenly inherited large groups of workers, many of whom were clearly surplus to requirements. These workers couldn’t be sacked, but they could be required to work flexibly and, until natural wasteage took its toll, there would be no need to employ anybody else, would there.

Within a year the unemployment figures had ballooned out of control. The press was awash with stories of hardship. Parliament fiddled while the country burned.

Towards the end of two thousand and thirteen The Guardian published an edition given over completely to the ten-times story. It looked in great detail at the effect of the legislation and could find no case where the spirit of the legislation had been followed. Worse, it demonstrated that the fat-cat targets of the legislation had increased their own salaries and benefits even further during the previous year.

Perhaps if all this had been happening in a different age the country would just have accepted defeat and put the whole matter into the ‘too hard’ basket. Political apathy was, traditionally, an honourable state of mind. The link between Parliament and the People had always been tenuous at best and, for most, it was easier to just carry on living their normal lives in the full and certain knowledge that ‘nobody was going to ever give them a hand so they might as well just get on with it.’

But the 2012 Olympics and Paralympics had subtly changed things. The lead up to those games was full of doubt and criticism. The cost had been enormous and the country’s propensity for development disasters well known. Almost as many people tuned in to the opening ceremony to see an embarrassing shambles as to celebrate a success. As it turned out the ceremony was a huge success and went straight to the heart of national pride. The games themselves were even better than the wildest optomist had dreampt and literally millions made the effort to visit the Olympic Park and share the experience.

Some commentators have traced the earliest sign of what became a public revolt to an obscure sideshow of the games. While millions had tried to buy tickets for all events, only to be told that there were none available, in the early days there were huge seating areas totally empty. It transpired that these seats had been given to various olympic bodies and others who could not be bothered to make sure they were used, nor had the common sense to pass them on to the wider public who would be glad to use them. The public reaction was caustic. We had payed, were paying, for these games and had the right to see them. What right had these anonymous people got to show such disrespect to us.

Whatever the particular view may have been the Olympic Effect was to create a feeling of national identity, belief and expectation throughout the land. We had all seen, particularly with the Paralympics, modest people from humble and diverse backgrounds who, through hardship had risen to achieve a great thing. We all took this on board subliminally and each of us felt in some way empowered by sharing this ‘national’ achievement.

So, when the first petition came around, many more of us took the trouble to sign up than would otherwise have been the case.

Once again, I’m sorry to be so long winded in this history lesson. Perhaps now would be a good time for a break. Perhaps you’d like some time to have a coffee on the terrace and get to know one another before meeting back here in an hour’.

Imogen had visited the Houses of Parliament on a school trip in 2011, when she was a fifteen year old about to take her GCSEs at the local high. Her memory had been of overweight and overdressed men and women talking in corners and studiously ignoring the school-age rabble that now descended upon them. Much had apparently changed. Now, there didn’t seem to be any common factor connecting the small groups talking animatedly across the terrace. She could identify many who, like her, were obviously new members on their induction, but only because they were most obviously so. Her group had been guided down here by Mr. Parminter but were now left to their own devises, each sporting a shiny new official pass round the neck. At Liverpool Street she had been met by one of the ‘housekeepers’ and taken by taxi to her ‘residence’ in Victoria. A small flat with one bedroom and a sofa bed for visitors. Hers rent-free for the duration,’ just make sure you pay the council tax.’ The way this came out obviously implied some history but she found herself more interested in the view of Victoria station from the window than in following the conversation further. A quick dumping of bags and exchange of keys and she was off again to Westminster. Rarely had a Monday morning been so busy for her, more used to a bit of a lie-in after the hectic weekend sessions at the Dragon.

‘Hi, I’m Henry, Henry Halliday, fresh off the sleeper from Glasgow and all alone and friendless in the big city.’

Imogen already knew his name from the list but this was the first opportunity to pass judgement on a fellow member. This was someone she would probably have to deal with from now on, like it or not, so, bite the bullet, say hello.

‘Imogen Black, Suffolk East. Apparently that’s my identity for now, although it’s going to take a bit of getting used to. And I know you can’t be either alone or friendless having already been here for two years.’

‘Well, I am at least fresh off the sleeper, and I’m certainly alone and friendless in this company. I’ve got the job of helping you new members settle in and become productive members of our little society. Would it be too early to ask for first impressions and opinions ?’

‘I think so. I’ve hardly got my foot in the door and it’s all a bit of a whirl at the moment. We’re just having a break before returning to Mr. Parminter’s history lesson.

‘John’s one of the good guys. He’s been really helpful to a lot of us. Some think he’s a bit long winded but you would never doubt how seriously he takes his role as ‘protector of democracy’. His actual job title is House Manager, which seems pretty appropriate for this particular theatre of dreams, but most of us call him God behind his back. He was one of the architects of this system and won’t give the detractors any quarter when it comes to defending it.

‘Henry-I think I’d better introduce myself to the rest of my group. They all seem to be getting to know each other over there and I suppose I should join them. Will I see you again this week ?

‘Tomorrow. I’ll be taking over where John leaves off. See you then.’

Imogen drifted over to her group. Including herself, ten people between mid twenties and late fifties. Five men and five women. Altogether a pretty impressive cross section of life as she knew it. She introduced herself and spent the next half hour sharing in the mundanities of travel and accommodation.

‘So, something had changed in the national psyche. This had led to a stalemate between the ‘Establishment’ and the popular reformers identified as a group in the petition. The mailboxes of every constituency MP were bulging with demands for action, and even for MPs who had made a career out of avoiding other peoples concerns, it all became a little hard to bear. To a man, or woman, they could all see the writing on the wall, and, slowly at first, but gaining pace rapidly, they started to respond to the concerns , if only to ensure they had a chance at the next election. Every parliamentary session included a private members ballot, which allowed an MP to suggest a bill to the house. In that session of two thousand and thirteen to fourteen the ballot was won by Peter Mahew, the member for Newcastle South. It wouldn’t really have made much difference who won it as just about every offer was on the same subject. His bill proposed the appointment of an ombudsman, armed with a far reaching and draconian set of rules that could be enacted retrospectively to ensure that ‘ten-times’ would be enacted fairly and fully within the spirit of the act. The Government had little choice but to allow a vote and, on its third reading, it was passed into law. The office of the Ombudsman opened in late fouteen and Mr. Patrick Finch set about his work.

Of course it had now been well over a year since the original act was introduced and, in that time many people had further enriched themselves, or been further impoverished. The retrospective nature of the new legislation came down on the guilty parties like the sword of Damocles. Every legal entity that had tried to protect itself before was now made responsible for reintroducing the proper rules and making the necessary changes. The fat-cats were made to repay and the newly disenfranchised workers were re-employed. A victory, of sorts, had been won by the electorate.

The Country now got on with other things and the MPs began to think that their own demise had been averted. No seats had been lost, nor had the issue been party based-they were all as guilty, or innocent, as each other.

The Parliamentary clock kept ticking towards the next general election in May 2015.

Of course, in those years, much else was happening. Europe had slid from crisis to crisis, finally ejecting Greece from membership at huge financial cost. The newly weakened Euro had made the euro-zone states immensely poorer overnight and less able to afford the now relatively expensive imports from China and other developing nations. Markets had risen and fallen, risen and fallen to the point that few people would trust their money to a system that offered no peace of mind. Banks had become entrenched institutions only interested in their own survival, careless of the economic devastation they left in their wake. The Middle East had reverted to a completely lawless, primitive no-mans-land of tribal and religious conflict. All western powers had long since deserted the scene, resolved never to go back. The military were busy erecting a virtual fence around Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, Iraq and Syria and the world had a new refugee crisis to deal with. Israel had long since blown up Iran’s nuclear reactors and the safe passage of oil through the Straits of Hormuz was now the biggest priority for the West.

‘Growth’ had disappeared from economic language.

Now, at the end of 2014, all eyes at Westminster were focused squarely on the election. Other eyes were similarly focused, but with a quite different agenda. A new movement emerged calling itself ‘the campaign for true democracy’. CTD was not a political party but rather a group of well financed and well connected individuals who had witnessed the most recent machinations of government like everyone else but had the money and influence to try and do something about it. The plan was quite simple. CTD would donate the deposit required for someone to stand at election to one person in each constituency who would go through a rigorous selection process and sign up to the principles that CTD propounded. It would also supply, at cost, a branded publicity campaign of leaflets, posters and media coverage. At the time the electoral deposit was fifteen hundred pounds. In the search for candidates the CTD made it clear that it would be looking for people who wanted to make a difference NOW, who would be pleased to serve but would not seek to make a career from it. The overriding principle was that , ideally, anyone who put themselves forward for election really ought to be automatically barred from being elected, just for having put themselves forward, so the only candidates to be considerred would have to be nominated by unconnected third parties and demonstrate that they had never served, or sought to serve, in any public office.

The policy was very simple and straightforward. Every candidate would swear a statement that would appear on every item of publicity in his constituency. That statement was that, if elected, he or she would open all constituency or private records, without exception, to any constituent, on demand.

In its wider publicity the CTD proposed a number of policies that its candidates would all need to sign up for. The first, and most important, was Parliamentary reform. Members would always vote for abolition of the House of Lords and for the criminalisation of any abuse of power, however small . Members would always demand an on-line national referendum on any proposal requiring its support to be passed into law.

There were a number of other policies outlined but the gist of the CTD approach was to offer a more open and democratic form of government where the ordinary citizen could play a properly active role and help to influence decisions regularly.

Unsurprisingly the demand to nominate a CTD candidate was enormous and before long every constituency in the kingdom had one. Each had been vetted and tested and each had signed in blood a statement of loyalty to the ‘party’s’ policies, both public and private - for there were other agendas behind the scenes.

The established political parties were not unduly worried by this new arrival. To them it was just a better organised monster raving loony party operating around the margins of the election. However, this view quickly changed when the first opinion polls were carried out. These showed a massive swing from the Labour and Conservatives to the CTD. The Liberal Democrat vote stayed steady, albeit at a low percentage. The damage was potentially enormous and the leading parties very quickly drew their guns on to the new competition.

But, try as they might, they could not find any weapons to use against the CTD that could not be thrown back against them with even more force. The ‘safe pair of hands’ approach was laughed out of court as was every variety of ‘experience in government is important’. The personal appeals made by those least likely to offend the public sensibilities were seen to be false and self-serving.

May the seventh, two thousand and fifteen was election day. The Campaign for True Democracy passed into history with a result that saw their candidates sweep the board . Conservative, Labour and Liberal Democrat parties were left with a smattering of seats from their traditional strongholds. Seventy percent of the electorate voted and sixty percent of these voted for a CTD candidate. The CTD quickly organised its own internal elections and, true to its mandate, published the details of all candidates on the internet and asked the electorate to make the final choice.

The age of accountable democracy had arrived and the process was like a breath of fresh air for all. Of course the open process led to unrealistic demands and expectations but, by the time the new government assembled for the State Opening of Parliament, the CTD was ready for the next step.

The Parliamentary programme of the first session was to be dominated by a total review of every level of democracy, the target being to develop a system that could not be abused by personal interest but would always be driven by regular reference to the electorate, by referendum.

Perhaps unsurprisingly the skill set of the four hundred or so CTD MPs was far more varied than any previous group. Whenever there was a debate that referred to a particular social or industrial issue there always seemed to be someone who could speak at first hand on the subject. There was also a marked reluctance to commit the country to flagship spending projects. Plans for new infrastructure projects were shelved, subject to review, and some of the basic, simple demands of the electorate were quickly addressed. Bills were passed to ensure that all local councils could only raise charges for services where the intention to do so had been clearly stated by the ruling party as part of its election manifesto. Each new out-of-town development had to show how it would create new jobs, rather than just redistribute existing jobs in their sector. It was the first age of truly popular government.

Then, after a period of intense and open debate, a proposal came forward to address the future of democracy. The proposal was presented to the public by myself. I was one of the old Liberal Democrat MPs who had managed to keep my seat, largely, I think, because it was known that, had I not been disqualified from the process, I would myself have preferred to stand on a CTD ticket. The CTD thought that it would make sense for the radical proposal they wanted to put forward to be presented by someone not directly connected to them and who was relatively respected by the nation as a whole.

The proposal, as you all know, was to abolish the electoral process at every level of local and national government and to replace it with a conditional lottery.