LETTER FROM LONDON
Britain’s
broken democracy
Imagine
a drunk driver hurtling toward a cliff edge with no idea where the
brake pedal is. That’s Britain.
By AMOL RAJAN
2/15/16, 6:00 AM CET Updated 2/17/16, 4:58 PM CET
Three decades since
the soundbite that made him millions, secured lasting fame, and
quickly proved ignorantly myopic, it’s easy to castigate Francis
Fukuyama for his naivety in declaring the end of history had arrived.
History never
arrives, because it’s never leaving; it has no direction or
purpose. Things get better, get worse, get better again; they change
suddenly, only to stay the same. Whereas material knowledge — that
is, science — is cumulative, moral knowledge is not; human history
is largely the permanent effort to devise temporary remedies for
insoluble conflicts. Suffering is reduced, wealth is spread, and
rights are granted to the weak. This is called progress. It takes
courage, intelligence, and industry.
But no amount of
progress can deliver us from the competing demands of infinitely
various people, and their warring belief systems, for the finite
resources of earth.
To Fukuyama’s
beady eye, writing after the intoxicating footage of the Berlin Wall
falling, the stubborn reality of human affairs may have seemed a
delusion. It was not just that a liberal — which is to say,
capitalist — economic order was spreading, octopus like, through
civilization and those parts of our species that still aspired to it.
It was also specifically the triumph of democracy that seemed to
indicate a mass enfranchisement of mankind and, with it, the
universal triumph of what Churchill called the worst form of
government, except all the others that have been tried.
The story of the
20th century was democracy’s triumph over totalitarianism. One by
one, nations fell to the bewitching promise of people power, as the
international stage hosted a game of democratic dominoes.
Fukuyama saw the
charge of democracy clearly enough: After two unbearably hot wars,
and one excruciatingly cold one, the story of the 20th century was
democracy’s triumph over totalitarianism. One by one, nations fell
to the bewitching promise of people power, as the international stage
hosted a game of democratic dominoes.
From the defeat of
Nazism in 1945 and the Partition in India in 1947, through to the
fall of the Soviet Union in 1989 and the emergence of a rainbow
nation that defeated apartheid in South Africa in 1994, nations
everywhere seemed to be marching in step to the siren call of ballots
rather than bullets. In the 1970s and 1980s alone, juntas fell in
Greece, Spain, Argentina, Brazil and Chile. Who could blame our
academic friend for discerning in this pattern a certain outcome for
all the souls on Earth?
A good job, then,
that he has been able to see his myth exposed in this, the tumultuous
and deeply unstable 21st century. Every day the news agenda inserts a
million pricks into the deflating tire of Fukuyama’s theory, now
officially punctured by the evidence of events.
Democracy, far from
spreading, faces two profound and possibly unbeatable enemies: first,
rival systems of government; second, the disgusting complacency of
those it has generally served well. A specific instance of the second
is my chief concern here, but before we look inside our castle, it
may be wise to shine a spotlight on the enemies at the gates, since
their numbers and weapons are multiplying.
Despite the odd
grumble and tumble, China has shown that autocracy and capitalism can
cohabit. Whether democracy comes to China this century is far from
certain, whereas the country’s economic pre-eminence isn’t. In a
similar fashion, Singapore, from which the West is currently trying
to learn much about government, isn’t much interested in
plebiscites. Russia’s economy is hard to read, and while its
government is popular, nobody inside or outside the Kremlin would
seriously label the country, with its omnipotent president and
pervasive corruption, a functioning democracy.
Democracy, far from
spreading, faces two profound and possibly unbeatable enemies: first,
rival systems of government; second, the disgusting complacency of
those it has generally served well.
Across the Muslim
world, a flowering of democracy has not followed the Arab Spring.
Some countries, such as the regional powerhouse Egypt, have arguably
gone backwards. There are reasonable grounds for believing that a
literalist interpretation of Islam, which makes no distinction
between the law and the word of God (unlike the Western distinction
between Church and Roman, secular law), is irreconcilable with
democracy. Turkey and Indonesia, the two great hopes for just such a
reconciliation, are flirting afresh with tyranny.
Meanwhile the Gulf
states are hardy paragons of people power; the House of Saud both
won’t fall and — given Western interests — may need to be
propped up. Syria and Iraq aren’t likely to hold free and fair
elections any time soon. Meanwhile, across vast parts of the world,
not least in Africa, tyrannies are on the rampage, and war and famine
make the prospect of voting a distant concern, bordering on
irrelevance.
These, then, are the
external threats. Mass migration, globalization and refugee crises
have brought them closer to home, but they have not yet caused us to
abandon democracy. And yet, at the same time and for different
reasons, Western democracies have suddenly become weak and
ineffective.
In light of all
that’s been said about America’s recent politics, suffice it to
say the constitution is a couple of centuries out of date, the White
House is now just one of several branches of government that parties
covet, the theocratic propaganda of Fox News has undermined the very
possibility of truth in political argument and … well, then there’s
Donald Trump.
Mass migration,
globalization and refugee crises have brought [external threats]
closer to home, but they have not yet caused us to abandon democracy.
And yet… Western democracies have suddenly become weak and
ineffective.
Germany’s Angel
Merkel, the most powerful woman in the world, has seen her popularity
take a hit by doing the right thing for refugees. The French have
made a habit of electing abysmal or eventually corrupt and
excessively priapic public figures, and the economy is so sclerotic
that few politicians have been able to achieve reform of any meaning.
Yet it may be in
Britain, that cradle of civilized values and parliamentary procedure,
that modern democracy has taken the biggest tumble. Though perhaps
that is too weak a metaphor. To understand the condition of people
power and mass enfranchisement in the United Kingdom, imagine a drunk
driver hurtling toward a cliff edge with no idea where the brake
pedal is.
I may as well admit
that I have a preference for democracy over rival systems. It is
right that people have a say in how they are governed; that in itself
encourages civic virtues that in turn breed better societies and
people. I work in the media not despite but because it is politics by
other means: A raucous, brave, intelligent media is a pillar of
democracy, on which I wish to lean.
Moreover, no two
democracies have ever gone to war, either, which seems another sound
reason to defend the principle. From what, exactly? From a brutal end
— from the harm caused by that drunk driver. Here are the five
greatest threats to modern British democracy, in no particular order.
1. No opposition
Labour has ceased to
work as an effective parliamentary force. This is not just because of
the woeful mismanagement of the party by its current leader, with
ludicrous and outright deceitful reshuffles adding to a general woe.
Parliamentary opposition is a noble, lonely crusade, in which
legislation is scrutinized and countless hours are spent in an empty
chamber. Labour has little appetite for this inglorious activity just
now. Nor is its current futility owed to Jeremy Corbyn’s mandate
coming from new party members whose lofty worldview has never been
tainted by power. The Corbyn Gang simply don’t believe in
parliament.
Shadow Chancellor of
the Exchequer John McDonnell said a few years ago that there are
three ways to affect political change: insurrection and revolution;
trade union action; parliament. His type of politics venerates the
former two and denigrates the latter. And for Labour’s current
leaders, politics is about the streets. As a result, we have
one-party government in both England and Scotland.
2. A broken
electoral system
The First Past the
Post electoral system, kept in a referendum, achieves parliamentary
majorities and strong government, but only at the cost of absurdly
unjust disproportion and mass disenfranchisement. Because of this
system, two-thirds of voters live in safe seats, and so even during a
general election — the one time in five years they might tune into
politics — they are largely ignored.
It is plainly
appalling that UKIP, with nearly 4 million votes, should have one MP,
whereas the Scottish National Party, with fewer than half the voters,
should have 56. Some years ago, Roy Jenkins’ commission looked at
how you could obtain the best of First Past the Post — especially
the constituency link for MPs — while addressing some of these
terrible injustices. His eminently sensible suggestion, the
Alternative Vote Plus (AV+) system, is much too clever and
theoretical for the British, who object to being made to count to two
when stating their electoral preferences. Tony Blair then flunked the
chance to introduce it in his first parliament.
3. Fraudulent party
divisions
As a result of this
absurd electoral system, British elections are always won by
coalitions, whether formal (such as the Con-Lib government of
2010-15) or informal, such as Blair’s coalition, between Scotland,
the union movement (via John Prescott) and Middle England. But these
coalitions have so much crossover that the current distinctions
between parties are stupid. Peter Mandelson, Chuka Umunna and
Tristram Hunt want to save and reform capitalism. Corbyn and
McDonnell want to abolish and replace it. There is no common ground
here, and we should stop pretending there is.
A new Liberal party,
of social and economic liberalism, would unite the becalmed Orange
Bookers on the right of the Lib Dems with One Nation Tories under
George Osborne and the Labour trio mentioned above. It ought to
exist, and call itself the Whigs, though there is already a party
with that name. Next time you hear talk of Labour or Tory splits, ask
yourself if those who have split had anything in common in the first
place.
4. A farcical House
of Lords
Corrupt, venal, and
full of placemen, the House of Lords is perhaps the most shameful
manifestation of our democratic malaise. These are men (usually men)
who are there by birthright, so called hereditary peers. There are
bishops too, deciding the law of the land, who take their place on
account of their particular variety of superstition. Many if not most
who sit on the red benches have paid to be there, if not in hard cash
then in dignity. And there are just so, so many of these people: Ours
is the second largest legislative assembly anywhere — after the
National People’s Congress of … China!
An effective House
of Lords, full of the smartest brains in the land, who earned their
place through intellectual and professional merit, would be a
wonderful thing. There were signs of it in the rebellion over tax
credits. Which is why, farcically, David Cameron appointed Lord
Strathclyde, a former Tory leader in the Upper House, to review the
whole darn thing. Ironic, given that, as someone who inherited his
seat, Strathclyde has no right to be anywhere near the Lords in the
first place.
5. Shameless
gerrymandering
A series of smaller
measures, each the luxury of a one-party government, are designed
entirely to maintain the Tories’ stranglehold on power. Boundary
changes are going to deliver the Tories at least another 20 seats.
The so-called “short money” that finances opposition in
parliament has been sneakily reduced. Trade unions, the main
financial backers of the Labour party (especially under Corbyn), have
been ruthlessly pummeled by this administration.
With admirable
chutzpah, the Tories are simultaneously extending the franchise to
more expats (who are inclined to vote for them), and introducing
individual electoral registration, which will probably reduce the
number of anti-Tory voters on the electoral roll. On top of all this,
the astonishing rise in Statutory Instruments — a way of achieving
legislation without full parliamentary scrutiny — has been exposed,
not least in the Independent, as an attempt to force through some
hugely controversial measures, from cuts to tax credits to the
abolition of maintenance grants for students.
It does strike me as
very bizarre that so many people on the Left, who ought to attach a
premium to sovereignty, are willing to abandon it without so much as
a whimper.
Of course Europe,
with its intolerable assault on sovereignty and empowering of sundry
unaccountable chaiwallahs — the Brussels Bureaucracy — merits an
entire essay of its own.
There is a strong
case for EU membership, but there is also a strong case against it;
and it does strike me as very bizarre that so many people on the
Left, who ought to attach a premium to sovereignty, are willing to
abandon it without so much as a whimper.
Democracy, of its
very nature, comes by degrees. It has no pure form. Remedy the above
ills and we won’t declare, some day years from now, that —
hurrah! — Britain is a vibrant democracy again. But, to return to
the misty-eyed worldview of Fukuyama, and share his reading of the
20th century if not his prognostications about the 21st, it would be
an act of unconscionable negligence to forget that a generation of
men and women went to war, and often died young, so that we may vote
our rulers in and out of office. When you think of what they fought
for, our own complacency is sickening; and that should spur us to
action.
Our nearest British
ancestors were animated by ideals of freedom and sovereignty that
have their fullest and frankest expression in the system devised by
the Greeks: demos, kratia — power to the people. Barely two
generations on, we are forfeiting that power by sheer indolence,
sleepwalking into the very tyranny from which they thought, and
prayed, they had delivered us.
Amol Rajan is editor
of the Independent.
This article was
updated to correct the date of the Partition and to clarify that the
White House is the executive branch of government.
Authors:
Amol Rajan
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