Bludgeoning their lordships

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It’s not clear whether the suggestion from ‘a government source’ that the House of Lords could face abolition unless they ‘do their patriotic duty’ by voting for Brexit was a deliberate attempt to float something which could later be denied or simply a sign of incompetence.  As a rule, incompetence is the simplest solution when a government appears to contradict itself, but in this case I’m not so sure.  And, of course, the ‘source’ didn’t actually suggest that the government would move to abolish the Lords; merely that there might be an ‘overwhelming’ public demand that they do so.

It’s entirely possible that there are some in government who would want to put the frighteners on their noble lordships – well on those lords awake enough to notice, anyway.  And it could be argued that it’s not so much a threat as a prediction; given the tabloid outbursts against the ‘treacherous’ judges who dared to uphold the law over Brexit, it is wholly conceivable that those same tabloids will turn against the Lords if they dare to even suggest amendments to the Brexit Bill.  And they won’t even have the potential fear of being held in contempt of court to temper their language.

There’s something very ironic, though, about the idea that the Lords might eventually be abolished by a Conservative government, with the full support of the right-wing press, after Labour’s abject failure to deal with the problem whenever they’ve had the opportunity over the last century.  And if it comes to pass, is it even conceivable that we would see Labour rushing to defend the institution?  I’d like to think not, but these days, who knows?

At one level, it could be a case of the proverbial ‘ill wind’, if the Brexit process were to be the catalyst leading to the wholly desirable outcome of abolishing an institution which is hopelessly outdated, and which has survived for as long as it has only because our elected representatives are more wedded to tradition than to democracy.  There is a danger, though, of looking at only one part of the problem, namely that part which acts as some sort of restraint on the executive.

Most of the arguments for having a second chamber at all are to do with the failings of the first chamber.  And those problems were well illustrated by the way in which the Brexit Bill was conceived, written, and rammed through the House of Commons.  They call it ‘scrutiny’ and ‘holding the government to account’.  In reality it was neither.  Arguing that we need a second chamber to provide the scrutiny which the first fails to provide, and that it needs to be unelected because that’s the only way it can be free enough to do the job, serves only to underline how seriously deficient are the House of Commons and its processes.

I’d be delighted to see the Lords abolished, and the sooner the better.  But let’s not overlook the concurrent need for reform of the Commons to ensure that it isn’t just a rubber stamp for the government of the day.  And that reform probably needs to start with Proportional Representation.

Careful what you wish for

Tweet According to the leader of the Tory group in the National Assembly, there is inadequate scrutiny of the First Minister.  It’s an easy statement to make, and one with which many might be quick to agree.

It leaves unanswered the question of what we mean by “scrutiny” and what its purpose is.  And that probably explains the facile and simplistic suggestions made by the Tories – changing the time of day at which First Minister’s questions are held so there would be a potentially bigger television audience, and abdicating the Assembly’s responsibility to the Westminster Parliament.  The second is bizarre at best – as Peter Black asks “…which part of devolution do the Welsh Tories not understand?”.

As for the first, well of course since the leader of the Tory group is one of the main protagonists at First Minister’s questions, any increased audience would (purely coincidentally I’m sure, and not part of his thought process at all) lead to more exposure for himself.  The phrase that leapt to my mind first was “be careful what you wish for”; greater exposure for Andrew RT Davies might just possibly not be the unmitigated blessing that he seems to presuppose.

I doubt, however, that it would in reality do much to boost the audience.  Only a politician could believe that the only thing deterring people from watching the First Minister give pointless and boring answers to pointless and boring questions is the time of day at which the charade is broadcast.

If we are serious about improving scrutiny, it would be far better to suggest the lengthy forensic questioning which could be achieved by something more akin to a Parliamentary select committee (but at the assembly not at Westminster as Davies seems to suggest), albeit on a less frequent basis.  But then, that might not provide much by way of televisual sound bites.  It might even – perish the thought – be more boring than First Minister’s questions.  However, proper scrutiny is, by and large, an inherently boring process for the observer.  Being boring doesn’t make something unimportant.

Heat, light, power, and oppositionalism

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In response to Wednesday’s post, one anonymous commenter said that (s)he was disappointed that I was so dismissive of the no confidence motion, and wrote “What other form of censure have they got?  How else can they hold the Government to account and ensure that they cannot continue to mislead the electorate?  If the opposition parties were not to go ahead with the vote of no confidence, then the minister would justify centralisation by claiming that it was an independent report”.

There are a number of interesting points there.  Let’s start with this business of ‘holding the government to account’.  It's a phrase which often trips off the tongues of opposition politicians – whether in Cardiff or in London – and it’s one of those phrases whose meaning seems obvious.  But what does it really mean?

Clearly, no opposition can actually sack, or even censure, a government unless that opposition has a majority in the relevant chamber, whether a ‘natural’ majority or else a majority based either on government rebellion or differential absenteeism.  It’s why no confidence motions are so rare in most legislatures; unless the opposition thinks it can win one, there is little point holding one, since the failure of a ‘no confidence’ motion effectively confirms the opposite, i.e. ‘confidence’.

So, if they can't be sacked or censured, ‘holding a government to account’ can really mean little more than forcing them to answer difficult questions, and making sure that the answers are given the widest possible airing.  A motion of censure or no confidence which you know you can’t win, and which, even if you did win, has no effect, doesn’t strike me as a particularly effective way of doing that.  Even more so if it’s held on an issue of process rather than an issue of substance.

Could it be, though, as the anonymous comment seems to suggest (“How else can they…”) that it was actually born, at least in part, out of frustration and impotence, as a result of a lack of any alternative options?  Possibly, but attempting to press the nuclear button because there’s no non-nuclear option isn’t a line of reasoning which appeals to me.

Is it even true that there are no other options, though?  Are the scrutiny processes in the National Assembly so weak and inadequate that tabling a certain-to-fail motion of no confidence is the only option open to opposition parties?  I would hope not; and I don’t believe it’s so either.

If we look at the Westminster model, on which AMs often seem so keen, some parliamentary select committees actually do quite a good job of exposing government failings.  That isn’t to say, however, that all MPs are good at the job.  An observation that I’d make is that some MPs go into those committees with the intention of scoring points and grabbing sound bites, whilst others develop a depth of expertise in their subject and go in well-briefed, with a mastery of the subject, ready for a forensic examination of witnesses.  The first category get the headlines; but it’s the second category which are most effective in ‘holding the government to account’.

Westminster has one obvious advantage over the Assembly in this regard.  The sheer number of MPs, and the corresponding lack of numbers in the Assembly, allows a degree of specialisation and expertise.  It also allows more backbench freedom, on both government and opposition benches, for individual MPs to follow a particular hobby horse without endangering the government’s majority.

Are there, nevertheless, any valid comparisons with the Assembly in Cardiff?  I think there are.  The most effective harrying and scrutiny of government which I can recall in the entire period since the Assembly was created was the work which Dr Phil did over European funding and Barnett.  He mastered the subject better than any minister, was always well-prepared, and challenged the government time and time again.  There weren’t many sound bites, but the centre ground on those issues moved, in large part, I am convinced, as a result of his work.  Policy changed.

It’s an example of the second type of MP to which I referred earlier.  But much of what passes for scrutiny in the Assembly seems to be of the first type.  I don’t know what actually happens, but the impression often given is of opposition AMs who have been given a briefing note, ten minutes before going into a committee, of a few key points, rather than of most AMs having any real mastery of the subject.

And that brings me back to the point raised by Anon.  ‘Holding the government to account’ needs to be about more than scoring points and grabbing headlines.  It may be easier to generate heat than it is to generate light, but generating light will achieve more in the end.

Small sums, much fuss

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Council and Government budgets are lengthy and complex, and I very much doubt whether more than a handful of those who vote on them can honestly say that they really know exactly what they’re voting for or against.  They have to pretend that they do, of course.  That’s politics.

There’s also a natural human tendency to concentrate on what we can easily grasp.  In one of my first meetings as a new councillor in 1979, I remember sitting in a council Personnel Committee and being stunned at how much debate there was about the expenditure of a few hundred pounds on a course here or there for a member of staff, whilst across the Council, expenditures of millions of pounds were nodded through with no scrutiny at all.

It doesn’t surprise me, therefore, that the political debate on the Assembly’s budget has concentrated on comparatively small sums rather than on the main thrust of the budget (a point which was also made on the Bevan Foundation blog today).

It’s partly down to the difficulty which most of us have with grasping a large and complex set of numbers; but it’s also partly about the difficulty of expressing complex alternatives to the public through the media.  Simple points hit home more readily than complicated debates.

One of the issues which has been thrown to the fore this year has been about the extent to which the Government is right to use its reserves to maintain expenditure.  (I’ll admit that I hadn’t understood until reading the Bevan Foundation article that the use of these reserves was a matter for the UK Treasury rather than the Welsh Government.  Update:  See comment from Peter Black below; this appears to be a misunderstanding by the author of the post at the Bevan Foundation.)

‘Reserves’ are always a thorny issue when budgets are discussed.  Typically, oppositions suggest that they should be used and ruling parties like to sit on them for a rainy day (or, more cynically, an election year).  There isn’t a ‘right’ amount to hold in reserve; whether using them is a ‘prudent way of trying to maintain services’ (or reduce precepts) in difficult times or a ‘raid on the piggy bank’ is a matter of opinion rather than fact.

What parties are trying to do in concentrating on the (comparatively) small, of course, is to use specific comprehensible examples to display their own values and approach.  I can’t help wondering, though, whether there isn’t a parallel with that Personnel Committee all those years ago.  Are the big sums really getting the scrutiny that they deserve?