House of Lords Reform Bill, 2012: About Fucking Time

The big news is that it passed its second reading on Tuesday 10th July, Ayes 462; Noes 124. However, 92 Conservative MPs rebelled and Cameron is pandering to them faster than an inexperienced uncle to a wailing toddler.

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So, what happened on Tuesday? What’s a second reading and why is everyone so excited by it?

It’s complicated.

A draft bill is introduced to the House of Commons. It’s given its First Reading, where the title is read out and it’s sent to the printers.

An elevated shot of the debating chamber of the House of Commons, showing rows of green leather seats facing each other

The debating chamber of the House of Commons / ‘ouse ov Oiks / House of Jedi

On its Second Reading, the bill is debated. It’s an open house where you can debate the principles of the bill, individual clauses, what should or shouldn’t be in there, what’s not in there but should be, the colour of the paper its printed on–actually, I’m pretty sure you can’t debate that. MPs vote, and if successful, the bill is passed to the Committee Stage.

There are two types of committee: standing committees; and committees of the whole House. A standing committee is 16 to 50 MPs, appointed by the government and taking account of the current make up of the Commons. Whole House committees are only normally used when time is of the essence or the Bill is remarkably uncontroversial. In the committee, each clause of the bill is debated. Amendments can be made. The committees normally have a finite amount of time to debate the bill, decided in advance. The bill, plus amendments, is then Reported to the Commons.

At the report stage, all MPs in the Commons can debate the Bill-plus-amendments and propose their own amendments. It’s then given its Third Reading.

The Third Reading is a yes/no debate on the Bill. What’s on the paper, for or against. And if it passes the Commons, it goes to the House of Lords.

So, the Lords. I was going to skip this, but as the Bill is about reforming the Lords, it’s kind of important to know what the Lords actually does.

First Reading: the title’s read out, and the Bill is printed.

Second Reading: as above, basically.

Committee: as above, but normally it’s a whole House committee. And there’s no time limit on the debate.

Report Stage: as above, normally two weeks after the committee stage.

Third Reading: new amendments can be proposed, provided they’ve not been voted on or debated before. Normally used to clarify aspects of the Bill. Maybe we could call this the Grammar Nazi stage… Anyway, if it passes the yes/no vote, it goes back to the Commons.

The Commons debates the Lords’ amendments. If the Commons makes any amendments, it has to go back to the the Lords for them to debate and vote on the amendments. If the Lords makes any amendments, the Commons then has to debate and vote on them. Once both Houses agree, the monarch then signs the Bill into law.

A Bill can be introduced by the Commons, or the Lords. If it’s introduced by the Lords, then it goes through that chamber first, and is then passed onto the Commons. Same stages in both Houses.

Under some circumstances, the Commons can pass a Bill for royal assent even if the Lords won’t pass it. Because this is politics, this little and ill-defined footnote is the crux of the whole system.

The House of Lords is a ‘chamber of revision’. It’s there to keep the Commons in check, not to rival it. Kind of like a kindly parent, it’ll nudge the Commons back on course but will ultimately stand back and let it makes its own mistakes.

If a public Bill was introduced by the House of Commons, the Lords can’t block it unless it proposes to extend the maximum duration of Parliament for more than five years, or it’s confirming a Provisional Order (a Bill that authorises action by local authorities on behalf of Parliament).

The Lords can’t block a Bill if the Speaker of the Commons has designated it a ‘money bill’. A money bill deals exclusively with raising or spending taxes, or with public debt.

The Lords can delay a money Bill for up to a month, and any other Bill for up to a year.

If a Bill has passed through three separate sessions of the Commons, it can be presented for royal assent without being passed by the Lords. A parliamentary session normally lasts from mid-November until late July–it’s the parliamentary year. Every time there’s a state opening of parliament, it’s a new session.

There’s also a unwritten agreement called the Salisbury Convention that says the Lords won’t block a Bill based on a manifesto promise on its second or third reading.

Right, all sorted? I like to think I’m doing a service here. I mean, it’s taken me a good three hours to get all this info together. Not least because half the links on Parliament’s website return 404s. Deep breath, one more talking point before I rant about the Reform Bill.

So, who can sit in the Lords?

An elevated shot of the debating chamber of the House of Lords, with two rows of red leather seats facing each other.

The debating chamber of the House of Lords / House hof Toffes / House of Sith

First, there are the hereditary peers. There are about 700 hereditary peers with the right to sit in the Lords. 92 of them were elected to do so in 1999, when the number of hereditary peers in the Lords was reduced to 92, and one of the dies, the peers elect someone else. Hereditary Peers with the right to sit in the Lords consist of five ranks: Duke, Marquess, Earl, Viscount and Baron

Then, there are the life peers. These are titles the sitting government gives out that grants someone the right to sit in the Lords. There’s about 700 of them at the moment. Technically, they’re Barons.

These two groups are the Lords Temporal.

The next group is the Lords Spiritual: 26 Church of England bishops. The church appoints the bishops.

Lastly, there’s the Law Lords. Appointed by the sitting Prime Minister and rubber-stamped by the Queen, they need to have been a practising barrister for at least fifteen years and held a ‘high judicial office’ (like a judge) for two years. There’s 12 of them, and, as they’re supposed to be politically neutral, they don’t take part in debates.

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Now! The Reform Bill! Juicy, juicy Reform Bill!

So, the case for reform. Well, shit. We have a second chamber full of people appointed by the government.

Here’s a table I stole from Wikipedia:

Prime Minister Party Tenure Peers Per year
Harold Macmillan Conservative 1957–1963

48

9.6*
Alec Douglas-Home Conservative 1963–1964

14

14.0
Harold Wilson Labour 1964–1970

123

20.5**
Edward Heath Conservative 1970–1974

56

14.0
Harold Wilson Labour 1974–1976

80

40.0**
James Callaghan Labour 1976–1979

57

19.0
Margaret Thatcher Conservative 1979–1990

200

18.2
John Major Conservative 1990–1997

141

20.1
Tony Blair Labour 1997–2007

357

35.7
Gordon Brown Labour 2007–2010

34

11.3
David Cameron Conservative 2010-

121[4]

60.5
Total

1,231

20.2
* Macmillan’s average calculated for the 5 years under the Act.
** Wilson’s combined average is 25.4 life peerages per year.Life peerages conferred on hereditary peers (from 1999 onwards) are not included in the numbers.

Cameron’s really going for it, isn’t he?

You know, if I was sitting Prime Minister and I wanted my Bills passed, I’d make sure to fill the chamber which is supposed to keep me in check with my supporters. Guess Cameron had the same idea. And Blair, and Thatcher, and Wilson….

The justification is that peers appointed by previous governments balance out those appointed by the current government. There’s some merit in that, but there’s far more stupidity.

And let’s not overlook the fact that the PM has the power to appoint the peers. The PM has the power to put, say, large party donors in there as a reward for funding their party. Or to put thrice-disgraced and ousted ministers in there and welcome them back into government. Or, fuck it, to put their cat in there. I’m not sure what Baron Tiddles’ views would be, but… actually, wait. If there’s one person guaranteed to be independent, it’s the PM’s cat. You can’t train a cat to do fucking anything.

The person in power is responsible for appointing the people who keep their power in check. It’s not a good system.

To be honest, I’d rather have hereditary peers than life peers. Hereditary peers don’t own their power to anyone, and have been breed for generations to sit in the Lords. It’s going to mean a few sofa-chewing inbred half-wits, but that’s just the blue bloods. We’ve always been ruled by sofa-chewing half-wits. Makes us feel like everything is right in the world. But Blair got rid of them because, well, independent peers who’ve been trained for decades to sit in the Lords–what could they possibly know? No, no. Far better to fill the second chamber with lackeys and sycophants, whose qualifications extend to being able to say, ‘you’re awesome!’, and having lots of money to give to the PM. A victory for democracy!

Speaking of democracy, the government’s justification for the Bill is:

“In a modern democracy it is important that those who make the laws of the land should be elected by those to whom those laws apply. The House of Lords performs its work well but lacks sufficient democratic authority”.

As well as the principle of Right to Rule (people born and bred to rule are the best people to do so), I have sympathy for an unelected second chamber. If the second chamber doesn’t have to worry about keeping their jobs, they don’t have to pander to whatever ignorant, reactionary bandwagon the Daily Mail have whipped up and can govern with some sense of long-term interest, instead of constantly governing for the next election.

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So, this Bill. Have you ever read a government Bill? It’s like trying to eat a pillow. You can download your own copy here, if you like.

A pile of white pillows on a black leather sofa

Om-nom-nom-nom

First important point: reform of the Lords was a manifesto commitment by all three parties, and part of the coalition agreement. It would fall under the Salisbury Convention, which is good because as a rule, turkeys don’t vote for Christmas.

So, under the proposals, what will the new House of Lords look like?

There will be 300 members. 240 will be elected, 60 will be appointed, and there will be 12 Lords Spiritual. Astute readers will notice that adds up to 312. The Lords Spiritual would have the same sitting and voting rights as the other peers, but wouldn’t get paid or any tax breaks. The Bill describes them as ‘ex-facto’ members.

The elected members will sit for three election cycles (normally 15 years). They won’t be able to stand for re-election.

They will be elected by a proportional representation system. The UK will be divided up into districts, with each district electing between 5 and 7 peers. The districts will be weighted by population, so each district will have roughly the same number of voters.

Peers will be elected by the single transferable vote system–you rank individual candidates in preference.

If you can stand for election in the Commons, you can stand for election in the Lords. You don’t get a peerage if you’re elected to the Lords, though. Elections would be held at the same time as elections to the Commons.

Appointed peers would be selected by the Statutory Appointments Commission. The Commission would be made up of seven people appointed by the Queen and entirely independent of the government. Members of the Commons and government ministers would not be eligible, and each member would sit on the Commission for ten years. The Commission can decide for itself who it chooses to recommend, but they have to publish and be held accountable for their process.

The Archbishops of Canterbury and York, as well as the bishops of London, Durham and Winchester will keep their seats in the Lords. The other seven Lords Spiritual will be appointed from the bishops of the Church of England, by the C of E.

The powers and role of the Lords will not change.

Currently, members of the Lords aren’t paid. The members of the new Lords will be, and will get pensions. The Lords Spiritual won’t, though. All new peers will get tax-free expenses.

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The one objection I have to an elected second chamber is the necessity of pandering to whatever populist, short-term bigotry is currently doing the rounds in order to keep your job. A 15 year term should guard against that, apart from in the couple of years before an election. That means we still get a good thirteen years, which is thirteen more than we get from the Commons.

The one objection I have to the proposed reforms is the Lords Spiritual. Frankly, its embarrassing that we’ve still got them at all. The one mercy is that they’re Church of England, so they’re only eighty or ninety years behind the times. If people want to elect religious leaders, then that’s cool. C of E, Catholic, Sikh, Hindu, Taoist, whatever they want. We shouldn’t give seats to religious leaders without question or comment, though. What right do they have to rule us? Fucking none. Five hundred years ago, yeah, but not now. If we’re still ‘a Christian country’, then I’m sure the bishops will be elected by the people of this country. If we’re not a Christian country, then they have no right ruling us. Come on, Lords Spiritual, what you afraid of?

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But enough of my objections! What did those 124 MPs object to?

Well, someone on the opposition benches actually made a good point. It may even have been Ed ‘Marks & Spencer mannequin’ Milliband. Regardless of their own personal views, it is the duty of the opposition party to object to legislation put forwards by the government. Because otherwise, well, what about the members of the public who object to it? Who’s representing them?

The Labour Auton also demanded that the changes be put to a referendum.

But the big news is that back bench Tories rebelled. Why?  Well, as far as I can tell, two major reasons:

First, this isn’t the time for constitutional reform. We’re in the middle of one of the biggest worldwide economic crises of our generation and blah blah blah. There’s always going to be a reason why it’s the ‘wrong time’.

Second, the elected second chamber will get ideas above its station, challenge the Commons and prevent any and every Bill passing into law because it’s got an ego to feed. Well, the Reform Bill specifically states that the powers and purpose of the Lords won’t change. If the elected members start thumping their chests, it wouldn’t be hard to smack them back into place. And anyone stands for election in order to derail the Commons, then they haven’t read the job description.

Both reasons are just privileged dickheads waving their arms around and wailing, ‘but change is baaad!’

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As is often the case, though, those privileged dickheads may get their way. Instead of the 80% elected chamber, Cameron is proposing a plan where the 92 hereditary peers are kicked out and replaced with elected peers by the next election. This in return for the Lib Dems supporting Tory policies redrawing election boundaries to benefit the Tories, and slashing the number of MPs in the Commons from 650 to 600.

Privileged dickheads throwing temper tantrums over any challenge to their unearned power. Once again, the reason why we can’t have nice things.

Fuck you, Tory rebels. Fuck you with a spanner.

Photos of the debating chambers from UK Parliament’s Flickr.  Contains Parliamentary information licensed under the Open Parliament Licence v1.0.  Pillows from Wikimedia Commons.

So, On May 3rd, We’re Electing Someone To… Erm, Do Stuff? I Guess?

The local council elections. When we get our voting cards, we should also get a leaflet telling us what it is we’re voting on. The body we’re electing people to, the powers and responsibilities of that body, how that body functions and how we fit into all of that. If people don’t read it, then that’s fine. But at least we’d all have the option to.

So, here’s what I’ve found out about the local council elections:

Each county council area is divided into wards. The residents of each ward elect one–occasionally two–representatives. Wrexham, my council, has 47 wards and 52 representatives. The elected councillors are not paid a salary, but they are paid expenses.

The council acts as a kind of CEO of county. They appoint the Chairperson and the executive board who are responsible for running the county. The Chairperson and some of the board are appointed from the elected members of the council. The councillors on the board “carry out all of the local authority’s functions which are not or may not be the responsibility of any other part of the council”. This excludes things like Finance, the Environment, Assets and Local Development, Social Care and others, and doesn’t really leave much. Paperclips, maybe? Photocopying Policy?

The executive board (councillors and unelected) act like a corporate executive board. They write documents designed to dictate policy within their departments, like, I dunno, ‘healthy eating is good and we want our kids to do more of it’. The council then vote on those documents to determine the ‘budget and policy framework’ for the board. If the board want to do anything outside the framework, it needs to go to the entire council for a vote.

I’m assuming the executive board of the council also do that other important corporate board function–networking. I’ve been working hard to understand corporate executive boards lately, so I’m sure there’ll be a long and boring post about the importance of networking at some point in the future. Basically, you remember I posted a while ago about non-quantified assets and how my relationship with my dad meant he was going to help me replace the head gasket on my car, and save me close to five-hundred quid? (I really need to come up with a better name than ‘unquantified assets’. It’s not very easy to say, is it? How about… How about fuzzy assets? Fuzzy credit? … We’ll see how it goes.) Well, networking is the building up of fuzzy assets, which then get spent in the name of the organisation you work for.

… I was going to say, ‘to benefit the organisation you work for’, but we all know that’s not always the case. Probably not even that often the case. It’s far easier to work for yourself and your friends than for some diffuse, nebulas ‘corporate entity’.

It’s the executive board runs the county. On May 3rd, I’m going to be electing 1/52nd of the body that appoints the people who run the county. There’s a 1/52 chance that my councillor will be appointed to the board as Head of Strategic Paperclip Review. Well, there would be if everyone’s chance of being appointed were equal.

That’s not to say the rest of the council are powerless. The policy framework they have the power to approve or reject covers the setting and collecting council tax, running of schools, waste collection and management, roads, police, healthcare, social services, town planning… This is the nuts and bolts of policy, the hard edge that has a real and tangible impact on our daily lives. So long as the policies adopted by the council don’t break national laws, they can do what they want. Put up a new shopping centre? Sure! Merge schools? Yeah! Dig up the entire road system on the same bank holiday weekend? Knock yourself out!

So, I should care about these elections. I should really care. It’s just… My councillor is one of 52, and I’m one of about 1,600 residents in my ward. That means my vote counts for about 1/83,200th of a body that has veto over the general direction of council policy. Doesn’t make me feel very empowered, you know?

And the feeling feels mutual. It’s taken me hours of surfing to find all this info out. I’m still struggling to find a list of the candidates in my ward. (ETA.  I’ve found a list!  There’s two people on it.  Oh, the choice!) And the only way candidates can influence policy is by voting in blocks, and those blocks are going to be along party lines. So it doesn’t matter if I elect a Lib Dem, candidate, and xe really cares about the same issues as I do and feels the same way, if Lib Dem Central tell xir to jump to the right, xe’s gonna jump.

We’re butchering foreigners to impose this system on them? We should just leave them to find their own way to enfranchise their people. We might learn a thing or two.

David Cameron Has Failed

I just wanted to state, publicly and loudly, that David Cameron does not represent my views. I proudly call myself British, but his latest speech leads me to call Cameron an ignorant, fear-mongering piece of shit.

The UK doesn’t need a stronger national identity because a strong national identity leads to fear of outsiders, and that fear leads to hatred. A stronger national identity is what politicians try to create when they want us to forget that the country is up shit creek, because they want us to focus our frustration on some diffuse ‘outsider’ instead of examining what’s happened and how to fix it, and so they can duck any kind of responsibility and keep the gravy train they’re riding on rollin’ along.

And his call to shun all Muslim groups that don’t actively share and promote ‘British values’? Fuck that and fuck the horse it rode in on. The idea of living in a state which embodies ‘British values’ as defined by the Tories sends a shiver down my spine and venture capitalist to buy my organs when I can’t afford to eat.

Let’s all talk to each other, Cameron says. Yeah, in a conversation he defines, within limits he decides. Let’s all talk to each other, so long as no one says anything I don’t want to hear. Let’s all talk to each other, so long as my privilege isn’t challenged. Let’s all talk to each other, here’s your scripts and no ad-libing.

I’m white, I’m British, and I’m middle-class. David Cameron is not speaking on my behalf. David Cameron is a wanker.

(This post was written in anger and may not represent my most thoughtful and well-considered work.  But hey, I get angry some times and, as this is my blog, it gets angry too sometimes.)

The New Government’s Theme Song Will Be: The Fairy Tale of New York

Well, the details of the Conservative-Liberal Democrat coalition are being typed up before us plebs get to see them.  I’ve got what I wanted from this election, and I’ve decided that this is going to be my last post on it.  I’ve still got things I want to talk about, think through, make sense of and vent about, but those feelings are going to take months to simmer down.

Okay, so I didn’t get what I actually wanted.  What I got was a first step on the road to what I wanted.  A very small baby step.

Over the last few days, the three biggest complaints against proportional representation have been:

  1. A coalition government will never work;
  2. We’ll have go through all this bartering after every election; and
  3. I didn’t vote for this.

If this Con-Lib government works, it’ll dismiss the first complaint out of hand.  If it works well, then people will realise that politicians having to talk to each other and reach compromises will make the second a positive thing.  As for the third, well, people can just grow the fuck up.  As I said yesterday, a coalition government is more representative of the views of forty million people than a single, monolithic party.  This is the adult world and you have to share.

I want to see a country with a directly elected, proportional government and a written constitution, where small communities are allowed to govern themselves within broad national guidelines.

The alternative vote system isn’t proportional representation and it may get voted down in a referendum.  But two parties from opposite sides of the national political spectrum have committed to work together for five years and people are talking about PR.  I like to think that the genie’s out the bottle.

I tried to do some writing, but then a protest happened

I was hugely proud on Saturday.  I was sitting on my sofa with the BBC website’s live election feed, and something came up about protestors gathering outside the offices where Nick Clegg was talking to his party.  The protestors were demanding, ‘fair votes now’.

I rushed to Twitter and checked #fairvotesnow.  That lead me to #purpleprotest and the Take Back Parliament petition.  It had nineteen thousand signatures when I signed it.  It now has almost forty-two thousand.  My countrymen and countrywomen are on the streets and protesting (possibly with their countrydogs).  I wish I could be with them, but being stuck three-hundred miles away I feel a bit impotent.

Stephen Fry then wrote a wonderful post about our electoral system that lead Jo and I to form a kind of Stephen Fry appreciation society, which lead to us deciding that we needed a ‘Stephen Fry Day’, where we could have a day off work and watch Q.I., Wilde, Blackadder Goes Forth, Jeeves and Wooster and such like.

A lot of people want electoral reform.  If the people who don’t want it aren’t willing to speak up and make their case, then why the hell should we listen to them?  If there is a ‘silent majority’, then they don’t have the right to stand in our way if they’re going to keep quiet.

The biggest objection people–and by people, I mean the media–seem to have is that under a proportional representative system, the kind of horse-trading going on at the moment will happen after every election.  So, the politicians are talking to each other and being forced to make compromises… and why is this a bad thing?  We’re voting for people to run the country in our interests, not voting in a dictator.  If twenty percent of people vote for a ‘losing’ party, then those twenty percent still deserve to have their views represented.  And objecting to the policies of the ruling party isn’t representing anyone’s views, especially when that ruling party has the power to make laws regardless of any objections.

On a different subject and speaking of Jo–and I really should have said this sooner–her werewolf story Half-Breed has been turned into a podcast which can be downloaded from Crossmass Infinities.  It’s a great story and not what you’d expect from a ‘werewolf story’.  Download it now and give it a listen.

Old Nags and Fresh Fillies

Let the horse trading begin!

Save for Christmas and birthdays, I’ve never actually been given what I asked for before. A hung parliament with the Lib Dems in the position to do some good. Let’s hope that good is a change in the voting system (…okay, and my £700 tax break).

I was up at three on the Thursday morning to watch the results. Over the past couple of days, I’ve been following the breaking news avidly. In today’s slight pause as deals are brokered, I found out that Greece needed over a hundred billion Euros to stop its country being repossessed, and there’s an oil spill from a BP platform off the coast of the US. Apparently, the rest of the world hasn’t stopped existing. I’ve not checked my emails or any forums…

According to Liam Fox, “It would seem to me very strange in an election that was dominated by the economy…if the government of the UK was held to ransom over an issue that the voters did not see as their priority.”

Balls to you, Liam Fox. I’m a voter, and electoral reform was the single most important issue for me in this election, closely followed by personal liberty. The economy can handle itself. It’s a complicated, lumbering beast but it’s been around for hundreds of years and this hiccup isn’t going to kill it.

Here’s a quick explanation of why the voting system needs to change:

Party Number of seats Percentage of votes Percentage of seats
Conservative 306 36.1 47.1
Labour 258 29 39.7
Liberal Democrats 57 23 8.7

Hardly representative, eh?

Now, there’s two problems with some form of proportional representation:

The first is that people object to drastic change, and drastic change is sometimes needed. It’s needed now–our electricity infrastructure needs drastic, far-reaching change and it’s being stymied by companies who don’t see the profit and nimbys who would think windfarms shouldn’t be built because ‘they’re ugly’. But we live in a democracy and wharrgabl and idiocy is the price we have to pay for that;

The second is that, if no party has a majority, every law is going to have to be passed with back room deals between the politicians. That’s the Tory’s argument against it. But it also means that, when there’s a hugely unpopular law on the table–like the war in Iraq–the government can’t simply break out the whip and threaten and bully its MPs to toeing the party line. Under the current system, the government is given a blank cheque for anything it wants for five years. I think that’s something which needs to be killed, and back room deals are a price worth paying.

<—Edited to Add—>

My good friend Jo pointed out a third problem with a proportional representation system of election:  The danger of extremists being able to wield power.  Under our current system, a party like the BNP need a huge swing to gain any voice in parliament.  Under a PR system, small amounts of scattered support throughout the country would give them their voice.  The trouble with extremists is that they feed on fear, and the larger the platform they have, the more able they are to create fear.  It’s a feedback loop.

However, as Jo says, extremists get voted in because they don’t think the other parties are listening to them.  PR isn’t the problem, merely the mechanism which exposes the problem.  It’s like getting angry when a shop declines your debit card because of insufficient funds.  The problem is you’ve got no money; it’s got nothing to do with the poor person behind the checkout.

Thanks, Jo!

<—end edit—>

You know, about eight years ago, I wrote some background for a roleplaying game called City in Descent. It took place in London in 2013. The Thames had flooded and England was in chaos. How did we get from stable, modern, democratic country to flooded hive of scum and villainy? Well, the 2005 elections produced a hung parliament and the Conservatives and Liberal Democrats formed a coalition…