Political Commentary : Lawyers welcome the season of mists and silly Bills

Most English political traditions were started by Lloyd George. The ceremony for the State Opening of Parliament goes back slightly further, though not much. In Gladstone's time, certainly, it took place not in October or November but in February. This year's Queen's Speech was unusually early because there was a very short overspill session from last summer. It was presumably arranged so that Mr John Major could call an election if he wanted to. He did not want to and, unless something interesting occurs as a result of the loss of the Government's majority - which will happen before long - we are in for some childish politics over the next six months. That, at any rate, is what we must conclude from the evidence of the past week.

Every event must be turned to the advantage of one party or the other. If no superiority is apparent, one must be claimed. "My dad is tougher on criminals (or, specifically, on guns, knives, sex tourists, stalkers or paedophiles) than your dad": that is why the description "childish" is appropriate. It is the politics of the Dutch auction.

It gives power to the newspapers, not so much because they can switch their support, as the Sun and perhaps the Express may do, as because they can create "issues". An issue has long ceased to be a specific matter of policy which clearly divides one party from another. It is, rather, any subject of any kind at all which has been in the papers or on television for more than three days.

Usually it is a subject about which the parties have not thought very hard. Often it is one which is inappropriate for party politics anyway. "If people want a sense of purpose," Harold Macmillan said to the journalist Henry Fairlie in 1963, "they should get it from their archbishops. They should not hope to receive it from their politicians." Alas, the archbishops are not much good at supplying a sense of purpose either. But that does not mean that their function should be taken over by the politicians. With them, a sense of purpose turns only too easily into a speech from Mr Tony Blair, a couple of Christmas-cracker mottoes from Mr Major and several pieces of repressive legislation from Mr Michael Howard.

These last are in response to whatever have been the latest manifestations of original sin in the papers or on television. It is common to say that such laws are "well-intentioned". They are nothing of the kind. Their purpose is wholly political: either to gain a specific party advantage or to play to the gallery by appearing to "do something". They almost always have unintended consequences, whether inconvenient or malign.

Does anyone, I wonder, remember the backbench Conservative MP Mr Cyril Townsend and his Bill on child pornography? It was in response to some disgusting pictures of little children that were being imported into the country and then circulated. They could have been dealt with perfectly efficaciously under the existing law. The effect of Mr Townsend's Act is that no fond grandfather can take a photograph of his little grand- daughter cavorting in the bath without the fear of being turned over to the constabulary by some officious employee of Boots the Chemist after asking for the film to be developed.

Then there was Mr Kenneth Baker's Dangerous Dogs Act. There were several stories of little girls' being savaged by ferocious animals. Mr Baker, a natural townie if ever there was one, does not know anything about dogs. And, like most politicians, he does not know much about newspapers either. A series of reports of attacks by fierce beasts comes about, not because there are significantly more of them than there are normally, but because the subject has become "news". It is, as journalists say, "very up". The whisky-soaked old news editor will advise: "Don't mope about the office like a wet dream, laddie. If you want to make a name for yourself on this paper, why don't you go out and find me a little kiddie that's been horribly savaged by a mad dog?" In the country, the local freelances or "stringers" as they are called, find that the more dangerous dogs they can find, the more they will earn. This is how these scares come about.

The effect of Mr Baker's Act is that numerous affectionate, useful and harmless animals have been or are about to be put to death. Their owners go through great and unnecessary suffering simply because of one Tory Home Secretary's attempt to court popularity. People are devoted to their dogs. Indeed, it is a well-known fact that in Britain more people go to bed with their pets than with their spouses. The consequence is that certain criminal barristers now specialise in dogs. They form the Dogs Bar, comparable to the Libel or the Income Tax Bar. As usual, it is the lawyers who benefit.

Mr Howard is a lawyer too. In fact, he is a proper QC rather than one of those barristers who are awarded the distinction only because they are also MPs. He specialised in the tedious but lucrative work of planning inquiries. It is tedious because it goes on for a long time, and it is lucrative for the same reason, and also because the parties to these cases are commonly huge corporations or public bodies which can happily spend your money and mine disbursing equally huge fees to Mr Howard and his chums.

I do not accuse Mr Howard of sticking so many legal Bills into the Queen's Speech because he wishes his old friends to prosper. I absolve him of that. I accuse him only of being prepared to use any device on which he can lay his hands to secure a party advantage. Historically, there is nothing odd about this. Lawyers even more eminent than Mr Howard, such as Lords Reading, Birkenhead, Simon and Shawcross, have proved somewhat tawdry and tarnished as politicians.

It is still a mystery why he did not feel able to incorporate the paedophiles register and the anti-stalker charter into the Gracious Speech. The Home Office's explanation - that a backbencher could put the measures through more quickly - does not bear serious examination. Governments have used backbenchers in this way not to save time but because the measure is one to which the government wishes to give broad support without committing itself unduly. In the 1960s, Lord Jenkins cosseted the private members' Bills on homosexual law reform, abortion and divorce in this way. Mr Howard's Bills are in a completely different category. They are true government measures.

Only when Mr Blair made his offer of co-operation did Mr Major accept on behalf of Mr Howard and turn them into government Bills. As was to be expected, both sides claimed victory afterwards. Labour said that Mr Blair had "wrong-footed" Mr Major by making the offer. The Conservatives said that Mr Major had done the same to Mr Blair by accepting it. But there will be no co-operation on guns. The Government may be defeated. If so, it will then have to seek a vote of confidence. At that point politics may become interesting again.