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House of Lords: Reform

My Lords, I was very interested by the speech of the noble Lord, Lord Trimble, and I regret that time does not allow me to engage with it, as I dare to endorse the principle of an elected majority for our second Chamber. Appointment of 20 per cent independent Members is indeed a way to deliver high-calibre people with particular experience and diversity, but it would not be impossible to devise public participation in that choice. Nor is it difficult for party lists to include such people. As I travel, I have seen100 per cent elected second Chambers, as well as hybrid legislatures, which work effectively. The key, surely, is the powers and the constitutional role they have. In answer to the noble Lord, Lord Trimble, I say that in fact it would surely be simpler if we had a written constitution. It would be clearer to operate, easier to communicate, easier to teach in schools, and a much easier way to reflect our sense of national identity. We shall need to give more thought to powers and limitations on powers, and to the nature of the second Chamber’s constituency and the task its Members should have. I hope we do this by way of a coherent, codified constitution. The next Prime Minister and his Government can be the founding mothers and fathers of the new order. If we were designing a second Chamber de novo, surely it would be a secular one. Declaring an interest as a vice-president of the British Humanist Association, I should say that although the individual contribution of right reverend Prelates is extremely valuable—perhaps because I often agree with them—I think it odd to give a right of legislature to a faith, even that most closely associated with our history. Other faiths of our land, even other branches of Christianity, do not entertain this concept. Indeed, they find it would compromise their independence, and I know members of the Church of England who feel the same. We can profit from a valued perspective without needing an anomalous constitutional status for it. What I do want to defend is the ancient and honourable tradition of the right of people to choose their legislators, or a majority of them, to make decisions in their name. That is what I understand by political legitimacy. It is far from a modern idea. In Britain, it dates from the Anglo-Saxon Witan, as we have heard, and from the Norse people’s assemblies, which were overlaid by the feudal systems of privilege brought in by the Normans, whose descendants grudgingly conceded back the argument of democracy bit by bit over the centuries. I believe the first so-called parliament of the 13th century in fact grew out of an appointed body, the Curia Regis, chosen by the king, long after the Witan and the Thingvellir had been repatriated back to the lands of the much maligned Vikings and their neighbours. Only the Tynwald of the Isle of Man remains here as a much attenuated reminder from979 AD. Incidentally, it was the first in the world to give women the vote. I will not strain the comparison. I simply suggest that the political tradition we share with the notably democratic Nordic societies should have more claim to our respect than the Norman panoply of hierarchy which took its place. It did not disappear, of course. When John Milton said, "““the ground and basis of every just and free government … is a general council ... chosen by the people””," he reflected exactly that tradition. This powerful impulse, now underground, now overt, has always faltered at the gate of your Lordships’ House, chipping a bit at the edges, never refreshing the foundations, not for want of trying but because of obstruction from within Parliament. Of course your Lordships’ House does a very good job in many ways, though I did not find all the votes in my short eight years here enlightened, and nor have I heard many representative voices from our nations and regions. But although British institutions have a talent for practicality and work—to a degree—in spite of the system, we should not confuse the baby with the bathwater. The baby is our democratic values. We need to look at the foundations. We could make a better job of making them deep and clear and straight. We have in prospect a structure which would make much better sense of our Parliament to those many outside it who are alienated from and mistrustful of politicians. They do not know what the House of Lords does. They do not understand how people are appointed, or even the difference between hereditary and appointed. Indeed, I am rather uneasy with the ambiguity of the title I bear. Apart from the fact that ““baroness”” has a confusingly ornate sound, resonant with puzzling genealogical associations—too much baggage, one might say—the conversational term of address, ““lady””, could equally be applied to the wifeof a knight; the wife of a hereditary baronet or baron, or for that matter a life one; or, I think, to the daughter of an earl, of all of which, of course, I am unworthy. I would prefer a clearer job description. Finally, particularly now, without wishing to dwell on the current misfortunes of all parties, it is astonishing that it can still be held, in our secluded Chamber, that the appointment of political Peers is an acceptable principle. I do not think that that is the view outside; in fact, I know it is not. I am sorry to disagree with some of my peer group, whom I admire very much, but I am comforted by the fact that in the outside world, which is what our legislative activities are concerned with, very few share their view. YouGov’s highly professional and representative poll has 82 per cent supporting a fully or partly elected House and only6 per cent in favour of a fully appointed one. I cannot help thinking that the fact that so many Members of your Lordships’ House are apparently immune to this reasoning and to these values may be more susceptible of sociological than logical explanation. Mark Twain’s remark comes unbidden to my mind: ““I'm all for progress. It’s change I can't stand””.