Voters deserve a modern parliament – rather than just old customs and pageantry

We should not reject measures that can improve the functioning of democracy just because they have not been done before, writes Mary Dejevsky

MPs queuing up to vote outside parliament (Reuters)

There was something at once very human and deeply abject in the close-ups of Alok Sharma’s suffering in the House of Commons on Wednesday. For those who had questioned the wisdom of recalling parliament while around 8,000 people a day are still being diagnosed with coronavirus, the pictures offered a miniature morality tale. Whatever his test results say, the powerful message was that illness still stalks this land.

I tended to support the decision to reconvene parliament in its proper place. With the government calling on schools to start reopening and those with jobs incompatible with home-working to return to work, it seemed entirely reasonable to expect our elected representatives to follow suit. But the summary end to remote participation, even for those with cast-iron reasons to stay away, seemed a ban too far.

Before the recess, it had been as impressive as it was surprising to see how (relatively) quickly big screens had been installed in the House of Commons and how smoothly even the first virtual and hybrid sessions ran. The online House of Lords was initially a creakier affair, but it is gratifying to see that their lord- and ladyships are now getting the hang of the technology (as we are all trying to do), curating their backdrops, and dressing appropriately for screen time.

But for a body of men and women who have spent the last however many years resisting even a temporary move out of their hallowed chambers to facilitate essential repairs, here they were suddenly opening their fusty corridors to a refreshing breeze of improvised modernity.

Given this, the reversion to an entirely physical House of Commons – the age profile of the House of Lords dictates that many members will still log in from home – seemed an almost vindictive rush to the barricades by arch-traditionalists. Nor did the pretexts, including for the self-distancing voting provisions, ring entirely true.

One suggested that, if ordinary people were having to queue for the supermarket, then MPs should share their pain. Another was that if MPs did not have to pass through the lobbies in person, there would be nothing to stop them from shouting “Aye” before any division, and then treacherously marching through the No lobby (or vice versa). There was a more sinister, but perhaps more honest, version, too: that remote, or even push-button, voting could deprive the whips of much of their power.

To all of which, I can only respond: well, what is so bad about that? Do we really have to accept a political system whose periodic high dramas serve only to disguise how ossified it really is?

Like many people, perhaps, with an interest in current affairs and the edict to “stay at home”, I have leavened my “permitted walks” with generous rations of televised politics – a possibility that is, in itself, instructive. Who now recalls how long and hard MPs resisted the televising of parliament? It took more than 20 years of outright hostility before live broadcasts began in 1989.

And now, it is hard not to see some MPs’ suspicion of virtual participation in a similar light: as the last stand of traditionalists against progress. But with the pandemic not only forcing changes in daily life, but accelerating those already afoot, why should parliament be any exception?

Yes, the pageantry has its place. It is a national asset and a reminder of this country’s long history of representative democracy. But this is no reason why some MPs, prevented from travelling to Westminster for whatever reason, should not take part in proceedings from their home or local office? Nor is it a reason why MPs should not be able to vote remotely.

Of course, you do not want two classes of MPs, the ones who turn up in person and the ones who don’t. But to exclude the possibilities afforded by current technology risks depriving some constituencies of representation at crucial times just as surely as barring their MP from the chamber. Being physically present has its advantages –this week’s prime minister’s questions was a livelier affair, without going all the way back to the braying and barracking of olden times.

For those at home, recent weeks have offered an intense diet of UK political procedure, including not just the daily press conferences and live parliamentary coverage, but BBC Parliament’s admirable rebroadcasting of whole days of elections past, and the National Theatre’s livestream of James Graham’s bitter Chekhovian comedy This House. And what struck me most was how unusual the UK system is, when compared with many of its foreign counterparts – and by no means always in a good way.

The adversarial character of UK parliamentary politics is something we will doubtless have to live with for a while yet, unless proportional representation rears its head again – it was interesting to note that the 1974 election had pundits confidently prophesying PR within the decade. But the extent to which our system tends to discourage productive cross-party cooperation has to detract from the quality of our democracy.

We are seeing this now with the pandemic, and we saw it only last year with Brexit. The whole configuration of the chambers, where government and opposition face each, other encourages hammer-and-tongs debate, which has its place. But consider the hemispheres of practically every other parliament in the world and ask whether that does not sometimes foster more constructive deliberation.

Our handover procedures could be another area for reflection. The winning party usually enters government on the day after an election, just as soon as the leader and the outgoing prime minister have made their respective trips to Buckingham Palace. Coverage of the 1997 election showed John Major’s car getting stuck in traffic trying to enter Whitehall because the police escort was late, then getting stuck all over again on the Mall because of the changing of the guard. Concern for security today probably means that such glitches have been eliminated.

But when there is a change of power, is it really conducive to good administration to have the removal vans rushed to No 10, and the new prime minister having to appoint a cabinet and start governing, with no transition time at all? You can argue that the US draws it out too long, creating weeks of hiatus when governing is effectively neutered. But no time at all? It is arguable whether any government could have made a good job of tackling the pandemic, but what chance did one have that had taken over less than two weeks before Christmas and then been fixed on Brexit, even with a highly professional civil service on hand?

And then there is that business of voting. Some object that pressing a button to vote cannot work in the House of Commons, because – unlike in many legislatures – MPs do not have assigned seats. It is also fair to say that any remote system can be abused, with neighbours voting for absent neighbours. But is this significantly worse than the sometimes chaotic passage through the lobbies or the pressure on MPs in close votes to show up in person, even when sick or heavily pregnant?

Some of this has been rectified since the macabre scenes depicted in This House, but some of it has not, as seen during last year’s Brexit debates and in the reluctance of the Conservative leadership to continue even limited remote participation this week. Keep some of the traditions, by all means, but don’t reject measures that can improve the functioning of democracy just because they are not “British” or have not been done before. Even the UK parliament managed to adapt when forced to by the coronavirus. Now that we know it can change, the next step is to accept that it must.