More of the same

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Under the curious hotchpotch which passes for a constitution in the UK, we do not elect the leader of the executive branch of government; we only elect members of the legislative branch, despite the increasingly presidential nature of the election campaigns themselves.  But at least when it comes to an election, we all know who the leaders of the parties are, and we all know that the leader of whichever party can put together a majority of seats in the legislature will become head of the executive branch.  From that perspective, it really is entirely a matter for the individual parties to decide who to elect as their leader and how to run that election, because the electorate decide on the basis of knowing the consequences of their votes.

There is a problem, though, when that leader falls by the wayside, for whatever reason, during the term of office of the legislature.  At that point, the leader being elected by the members of a party also becomes the leader of the executive, and who and how that leader is selected becomes a proper matter for debate by the wider electorate, especially given the constitutional fact that there is no requirement for the newly-appointed leader to face a general election.  In that context, the Labour Party’s electoral college system for selecting its leader in Wales is an entirely legitimate subject for debate.

The Western Mail reported on Saturday that “…critics of a change within Welsh Labour fear that moving to one member, one vote could increase the likelihood of a more radical, left-wing candidate winning the leadership”.  Stop and think about that for just a moment: the argument here is that the party needs a complex three part electoral college in order to place a deliberate constraint on who can be elected.  And underpinning that is an assumption that the trade unions and affiliated bodies and the party’s elected MPs, AMs, and MEPs will always and necessarily be more ‘conservative’ in outlook than the ordinary members.

It’s hard to know whether or not that’s true of trade union members, given that their leaders often support nominations on behalf of the members without consulting them, and then give them a very strong steer on who they should support.  What we do know is that many of those who are members of trade unions and/or affiliated bodies effectively get to vote more than once in a leadership election, since if they are also individual members of the party, they also vote in the membership section of the college.  Giving multiple votes in the same election to selected electors is a strange definition of democracy.

What we also know is that the assessment of elected members (i.e. that they are more ‘conservative’ than the rank and file membership) is broadly correct.  There is an argument that allowing the election of a leader who does not enjoy the full confidence of his or her fellow elected members can create problems, and that is a reason for giving those elected members more influence in the process.  That is part of the problem being faced by Corbyn – and I know that he isn’t the first or only party leader to find the wider membership more supportive than the parliamentary group.  The question that the Labour Party should be asking, though, is not ‘how do we ensure that the membership can’t elect a leader who does not enjoy the confidence of the group?’, but ‘why is there such a disconnect between the views of the elected members and those of the wider party membership?’

And actually, that isn’t only a question for Labour.  When I look at other parties I see a similar trend; those party members elected to legislatures, at Welsh and UK level, often seem to be more ‘establishment’ and ‘centrist’ than the wider membership.  Whether it’s the result of being elected and getting sucked into the system, or whether it tells us something about the selection processes being used is an unanswered question.  In a large enough elected body, such as the UK House of Commons, there are some who somehow get through both of those processes whilst retaining a bit more of an edge to their politics; people like Corbyn.  In a small legislature such as the National Assembly, however, the scope for that is more limited, and we see fewer ‘wild cards’.

The result, to answer those anonymous Labour critics referred to by the Western Mail, is that the Labour Party has generally managed to weed out the “more radical, left-wing” candidates before they even get to the Assembly.  It doesn’t matter which method they use to elect their new leader; the future looks like more of the same in any event.

Recognising the emotional element

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Speaking in the National Assembly on Tuesday, the First Minister said of independence: “The case for independence by those who make it in Wales is built not on the economy, to my mind, but on emotion.”  I’m sure that he really believes that to be true (and I’m equally sure that, for at least some independentistas, it actually is true), but to me it looks like the usual approach of politicians – present your opponents’ arguments as something which they are not, and then dismiss that.  It’s a lot easier than engaging with the real arguments.  It is, however, a hopeless over-simplification, which firstly claims, in essence, that there can only be two possible grounds for independence, and then proceeds to dismiss one as being unrealistic and the other as preferring emotion over fact.  Perhaps unsurprisingly, I don’t see things quite in those terms.

I have, in the past, described myself as an accidental independentista, because my own grounds for seeking independence for Wales don’t fit either of the categories outlined by the First Minister; and I suspect that there are many others who also wouldn’t categorise themselves in either box.  Independence has always been, for me, a means to an end rather than the end in itself as which opponents prefer to paint it.  So here are some very briefly summarised alternative thoughts on the issue of independence.

Being small is an advantage in itself.  I don’t simply mean that small countries often do better, in economic terms, than larger ones.  They do, as it happens, but it is by no means easy to draw a straight line between cause and effect, and assuming that Wales must do better by itself is far too simplistic.  What I mean is that for anyone who wants to see a more participative and localised form of democracy, smaller units are more likely to be able to facilitate that than larger ones.  There is much in the work done by people such as Kohl and Schumacher decades ago (which did more to convince me of the merits of independence than any lengthy conference speeches evoking the Welsh heroes of the past!) on the advantages of being a small country.  Putting people back at the heart of economics rather than seeing them as resources to be used is central to my own political outlook, but requires us to work on a smaller, more human, scale.

Identity is a bastion against globalisation.  Adherents of globalised capitalist ideology rail against what they refer to as ‘identity politics’.  From their perspective, turning the population of the world into identikit consumers is an entirely desirable outcome.  For those who see humans as being more than an economic resource at the disposal of others, meaning and identity are an important part of that humanity, and insisting on, and protecting, identity and culture (in the wide sense of the word) is part of resisting the forces of globalised capitalism which see us as purely economic entities.

Why Wales?  Nothing in the above necessarily mandates that the unit should be Wales rather than some other territory bounded by any other type of line on a map.  And I have posted before on the right of any group of people in any defined territory to take control of their own futures if that is what they wish to do.  My argument for treating Wales as a unit boils down, in essence, to the fact that a sufficient number of people see Wales as their nation and Welshness as their identity.  What either of those are, in reality, is a much more flexible concept to deal with (and something I’ve discussed previously), but building a polity around an existing identity has always seemed to me to be preferable to trying to build an identity around a polity. 

The break-up of the UK will be of benefit to all the parties concerned.  Even if they can’t all see it yet.  It is an oft-repeated truth that the UK is a post-imperial power seeking a new role but which has yet to find one with which it is comfortable.  This is the issue at the heart of Brexit; the UK has still not adapted to the loss of empire or understood that it is no longer the great power which once it was.  And to be honest, whilst the UK continues to exist, I do not believe that it ever will.  But the emergence of the new states of Wales, Scotland, and England seems to me to be the likeliest scenario in which all three can break free of their historical baggage; enthusiastically in the case of two of the three albeit with some reluctance in the case of the third.

Economics is about consequences not arguments.  The idea that whether Wales should or should not become and independent nation depends entirely on the economic case – which seems to be the First Minister’s position – is a curious one; and it’s even more curious that so many independentistas have fallen for it over the years.  The economic outcome of government policy within the current structures is essentially unknowable – the only reason that any individual economist has ever been able to make accurate predictions about anything is that there exist a sufficient number of economists to cover almost all the possible options (they’re a bit like monkeys with typewriters);  ‘economic forecasting’ is an oxymoron.  And if that’s true when the structures are known and stable, it’s even truer for any alternative scenario.  Of course we can make guesses and estimates about the future, but the idea that any of us can know, with any degree of certainty, what the economic outcome of independence (or the lack thereof) would be is fanciful to say the least.  All the most accurate economic forecasts and explanations are the retrospective ones; and what we can say with a degree of certainty is that those countries which have become independent have invariably adapted, and most have thrived.  A second thing that we can say is that if economics is the be-all and end-all basis for judging success of governmental structures, then the present approach hasn’t exactly served Wales well.

There’s more to identity than emotion.  People often confuse – sometimes deliberately – patriotism, nationalism, and identity.  The first of those, and to a lesser extent the second, can often be expressed and felt in terms which are highly emotional; but the third is something much more emotionally neutral.  One can be Welsh and proud of it; one can be Welsh and ashamed of it – but neither the shame nor the pride necessarily change the way in which we self-identify.  Trying to pretend that wanting to turn an identity into a polity is an entirely emotional response – which is what the First Minister was implying – is missing the point.  And probably deliberately so.

Independence is just the starting point.  Gaining independence for Wales isn’t just some dry academic constitutional obsession as often claimed by opponents; it’s about creating the conditions under which we can collectively build an alternative future for the people living in this corner of the world.  I have my ideas about what that future might look like – some of those will be clear from the points above and others have been covered on this blog over the years.  Other people will have alternative views.  The point is that it will be up to us to shape that future, not have it determined for us.  What exactly is the problem with that as a concept?

The problem that we face is that so many in Wales are, like the First Minister, so wedded to the axiomatic ‘rightness’ of the world as it is that they are unable to envision a different future.  Instead of thinking about what that future might look like and how we might achieve it, they grasp at false arguments to protect the status quo.  Having said all that, I will partially agree with the First Minister that there is an emotional element to my support for independence, based around confidence and hope.  But on that basis, there’s an emotional element to the First Minister’s position as well – it’s based around fear and timidity.  Faced with that choice, I’ll choose hope and confidence any day.

Stamping his little feet

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Today’s statement by the First Minister to the effect that Welsh ministers will not be puppets over Brexit somehow inexplicably reminded me of some lines from a poem by the late Harri Webb:

“…but if you ignore him he’ll squawk and squawk

and fly into a fearful rage

and rattle the bars of his pretty cage

but he won’t get out, he’ll never try it,

and a cloth on the cage will keep him quiet…”

Other than squawking, just what does the First Minister propose to do? From 1959, when Harri wrote the poem, until 2016, little seems to have changed for Welsh Labour.

Accident or design?

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Perhaps over the coming days it will become clearer whether Plaid in the Assembly really intended to have their leader elected as First Minister with the support of the Tories and UKIP, or whether they were just trying to make a point, and were as surprised as outside observers to receive the unanimous support of both of those parties.  I’m prepared to believe that there was no deal done in advance, which makes the second theory more credible than the first.

What is clear is that if the sole remaining Lib Dem had voted the other way, we would now have a Plaid First Minister, even if that result was more by accident than design.  How workable would it have been for a party with 12 seats out of 60 to govern effectively without a coalition or some other less formal sort of arrangement with the other parties?

Well, there’s a great deal that a government can do without needing to win a single vote on the floor of the Assembly.  Once the First Minister has been elected, then in essence, government only needs to avoid defeat on its budget and on any vote of no confidence tabled by the opposition.  As long as it’s prepared to negotiate on the budget, and as long as the other parties which put it into power are prepared to support it in any confidence vote, a government which avoids any contentious legislation can exercise power within existing legislation quite easily.  What it could not expect is to be able to implement any manifesto pledges which do not attract the support of other parties.  It would be a change of management, but probably not much of a change of direction.

In reality, however, even that limited level of co-operation between Plaid, Tories, and UKIP would be seen as being exactly that – co-operation – and it is likely that there would be a political price to pay.  Who would pay that price is an interesting question; certainly Plaid would suffer (initially at least), but I also wonder what grass roots Tories, never mind UKIP members, would think about their party backing a Plaid Government without any formal participation in it.  And who knows, perhaps seeing that there is an alternative to Labour might lead to other voting changes as well.

The bigger question is whether the price would be worth it.  And by that, I don’t simply mean in terms of the next election or two, but in terms of the longer term.  I’ve posted before that I thought Plaid were making a strategic and tactical mistake in ruling out options in advance of the election (and having ruled them out so firmly, being seen to be apparently doing the opposite once elected, whatever the real truth may be, isn’t the brightest start).  I don't believe that nationalists should ever have any objection in principle to working with any or all other parties if that advances the cause of Wales.  The question is about weighing up whether the long term gain for the national project outweighs the short term pain for one or more parties, and that’s a much bigger question than deciding whether to be in government or opposition.

I’d really like to believe that someone had done that thinking and calculation before yesterday’s vote, and had thought through the implications.  But I rather suspect not.

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.

Learning from Pisa

Tweet I suppose the one positive thing to come out of the announcement of the results of the Pisa comparisons last week is that no-one in Wales is pretending that it was in any way good news.  How meaningful the league positions are in reality is another question entirely – and Syniadau has an interesting take on that question, pointing out that simply comparing places in a league table may be ignoring a rather greater truth about the decline in mathematical knowledge across large parts of the developed world.

If the results were depressing, the political response has been even more so.  Opposition parties seem to be more interested in getting the First Minister to express shame, apology, or regret than they are in identifying what we need to do to improve.  It’s not often that I feel much sympathy for the First Minister, but I have to admit that the frustration which he expressed with the absence of constructive alternative policies struck a chord.

That doesn’t mean that the opposition’s criticism is entirely unjustified either – the fact that Labour have been in control of education in Wales continually since 1997, either at Westminster or subsequently at Cardiff, makes it reasonable to hold them responsible for the debacle.  But the idea that simply replacing a Labour Government with a non-Labour Government (whatever one of those might be) is the answer to anything - let alone everything - is little more than sloganizing and electioneering.

I rather suspect that politics is part of the problem in the first place; or rather the endless enthusiasm of politicians for dabbling in the details of the education system with more and more ‘initiatives’ and changes to the curriculum, to show that they are ‘taking action’ (or, in the double-speak of which they are increasingly fond, ‘moving the agenda forward’ – which always sounds to me more like pushing a piece of paper across the table than doing anything useful).

And actually, it’s not that I particularly disagree with many of the initiatives that they promote, although there are questions which deserve to be asked – and answered – about whether they are properly resourced and whether the details have been fully thought-through.

Someone once explained the change process to me as like throwing pebbles into a perfectly still pond.  Throw one right into the middle, and you get a perfect wave of change rippling out to reach all corners of the pond.  Throw two pebbles in, and you get a nice interference pattern - sometimes the waves reinforce each other, strengthening the drive for change, whilst at others they cancel each other out.  But throw a handful in, and the usual result is unpredictable chaos.  The education system in Wales reminds me of that chaotic pond – a whole series of different initiatives, most of them worthy in themselves, but never really coming to a conclusion before the water is disturbed again.  But throwing yet more pebbles into the pond seems to be the instinctive reaction of the politicians.

Changing ministers, changing priorities, an emphasis on schools performing wider functions than merely educating children, and a complete absence of decent employment prospects for many of the children themselves – none of these can help.  I’m not going to pretend that I have an easy or quick solution either, but recognising that there probably isn’t one might be a better place to start than clutching at the first straw that floats past.  Or simply demanding a change of minister.