A Lament for Parliament

Parliament was one of the great political institutions of England, a sign, forgive me for saying so, of our native genius. Over the ages it evolved into a partnership, occasionally broken, between the monarchy and the people. It was a practical way of ensuring that taxes or ‘supply’, as it was referred to in the past, was kept at manageable levels, and only granted after certain grievances had been addressed. Increasingly as the time passed Parliament did not just grant fresh monies but adopted more of an accountancy function, ensuring that the taxes granted were properly managed and spent.

By the eighteenth century this fiscal responsibility had turned England into one of the most powerful nations on earth, fully demonstrated during the Seven Years War. Contrast with the France, sinking lower and lower, crushed under financial profligacy and a long tradition of royal mismanagement.

Though there were times when Parliament seemed to represent an entrenched oligarchy, resisting change, change came notwithstanding, by slow degrees, but without the fracture of revolution.

But now look at Parliament, look how things have changed. The decline in the institution has been rapid, not gradual, accelerating ever faster since the election of New Labour in 1997. Power is bleeding rapidly away to Brussels, now the source of much of our legislation. Blair’s botched constitutional settlement has further disempowered Parliament in Scotland and Wales without increasing its prestige or power in England. MPs used to be the best accountants in the world; now they can’t even manage their own expenses. The mediocrity of so many who sit at Westminster simply defies belief.

Before the Reform Act of 1832 Parliament represented a tiny proportion of the population; but at least it represented them and defended their interests. Now Parliament seems to represent nothing but itself. It’s turning, as Walter Bagehot might have said, into the ‘dignified’ part of the constitution, except I can see little in the way of dignity.

Two Cheers for the Telegraph, or the Ducks say Fuck!

I think The Telegraph has done a splendid job in exposing the sheer carnality of our beloved Members of Parliament despite what the absurd and muddle-headed Archbishop of Canterbury says. I read today in The Sunday Telegraph that Derek Conway, one of the most venal of the lot, claimed for office expenses on his family home in Northumberland, some three hundred miles away from his constituency! And, oh, yes, Sir Peter Viggers, who claimed £1,600 for a floating house for his duck pond, says that the ducks have shunned the blasted thing, which is now in storage. In other words, the ducks said fuck! He should hear what people on the street are saying; so should they all.

Duck Soup

This affair gets more ridiculous by the day. Among the latest revelations I note that a Tory MP claimed for a ‘Duck House’ that he could float in his pond. Yes, a Duck House! As far as I am concerned Westminster, our present Parliament, is an Augean Stable of corruption, turpitude and filth. Oh, where are you Hercules? These people, the Members of Parliament, are supposed to be the best and brightest. I find it difficult to conceive of the worst! I can just imagine how this is playing across the rest of the world, you know, that place firth of these shores that ‘did corruption’ when we did not! At least the appalling Michael Martin, the Speaker of the House, is going, a man who was never, ever fit for such high office, a man that Charles Moore described, with his usual cutting wit, as being ‘thick as mince and tatties.’ Martin is just a particularly acute symptom, not the disease; that goes deeper; yes, it does. Enough, enough, enough!

The Crooks' Parliament, or if this is Democracy Let it Die

It was once the practice to remember English Parliaments by the name subsequently given to them, usually determined by some notable feature. I mentioned the Long Parliament in a previous blog. Others that come to mind are the Mad Parliament, the Merciless Parliament, the Fire and Faggot Parliament and the Parliament of Devils. It would be an excellent idea, in my estimation, for this admirable practice to be revived; yes, indeed. My favoured name for the present assembly has to be the Expenses Parliament or, better still, the Crooks’ Parliament.

How I would love the people of this country to rise in a body, as in V for Vendetta, a march on Westminster to watch the benighted place blow apart, to remember and reverence Guy Fawkes. I think a clarion call is required. I would favour the stirring the words of the German poet Carl Theodor Körner Das Volk steht auf, der Sturm bricht los-The storm is out, the People are roused.

OK, OK, there is a strong element of sardonic humour here but, in all seriousness, democracy in this country is sick and sickening, perhaps terminally so. I note from an article in this week's Spectator (16 May) that the whole Westminster system of democracy rises and falls on a mere 20,000 votes, that’s 0.5% of the total electorate, in key marginal constituencies. It is here where the real battles are fought; the rest, the bulk of the electorate, count for nothing. I voted for the first time in the General Election of 2005. The way I feel at the present I don’t think I will ever vote again.

The Scandal of Parliamentary Expenses

Night after night this is appearing on the news; the gross corruption surrounding the issue of expenses claimed by members of the British parliament, anything from the cost of watching pornography to having a moat cleaned; yes, a moat! I’m a history student; my period of special interest is seventeenth century England, the period that saw civil war engulf the country, between Parliament on the one side and the King on the other. Parliament won. If the situation were repeated I simply cannot conceive of anyone taking the side of this ghastly parliament and the ghastly Labour government. So, to Gordon Brown and his minions I will repeat the words of Oliver Cromwell when he dismissed the Rump Parliament in 1653;

You have sat too long for any good you have been doing lately ... Depart, I say; and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!