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avevale_intelligencerEvery time elections come up in the conversation you can always rely on someone to come out with the old chestnut "No matter who you vote for, the government always gets in." And of course this is true, in our country at least. Parliament is an exclusive club whose membership changes very slowly, because the majority of members are in safe seats for whichever party and will occupy those seats till they die. Such, at least, is the perception from out here. Those of us who happen to live in one of those safe constituencies and do not happen to support the incumbent party have the comforting knowledge that our vote, if placed according to conscience, will be as wasted as a vote ever is. It also seems not in the least unnatural that the members of the said club should find more in common with each other than with the hoi polloi (strictly speaking, that "the" is redundant: not a lot of people know that) whom they claim to represent.
I encountered the converse of this the other day, when I read an American's explanation of the difference between a democracy and a democratic republic. (I knew the difference already, but it was this explanation that made the connection for me.) In a democracy, as it was explained, the majority governs, and therefore whatever the majority wants done is done, which is another word for mob rule and therefore bad. In a republic, on the other hand, or indeed a parliamentary democracy such as ours over here in Britain, the majority elect the people who govern, who then presumably (and, indeed, observably) make a point of not doing what the majority want done, which is therefore better.
This means that the government, who always get in, serve a vital purpose, that of protecting us from the awful fate of being governed by the whims of the majority. Without that impenetrable buffer zone (though the old buffers who used to occupy it are always being gradually replaced by younger buffers), we would be at the mercy of people like me. Or you. Or the man down the road who reads the Telegraph and secretly thinks everyone who can't trace their ancestry back to the Norman Conquest should be repatriated somewhere else. Or the woman who reads the Daily Mail and thinks the Queen should be given full monarchical powers again. Or the young man who reads the Sunday Sport and doesn't give a damn about how the country's governed as long as he can continue to look at pictures of young ladies with very little on. The majority may, at any moment, incline to one or more of these opinions. There is no safety. Ask a conservative and you will be told that the country is swarming with damned liberals. Ask a liberal and you will hear that the country is bogged down in creeping conservatism. One thing is certain. Whoever the majority is, nobody seems to like it.
Every democratic form of government is predicated on an idealised view of humanity, as being very far from perfect but at least trying to move in the right direction. Democracy in any form presupposes that people, in casting their votes, will at least try to understand what they are voting about, and that the majority of people will care enough to vote. Experience has shown us that these two desiderata very rarely coincide. This year may have seen the only instance of anything like an informed and motivated majority vote so far this century, and even then the majority got some things wrong. On average, it seems doubtful that the majority could, if called upon, hit a bass drum in a telephone kiosk, organise a piss-up in a brewery, or get the right answer to the question "Who are you?" more than one time in three. Now, more than ever, we need the immovable object that is euphemistically called a representative assembly, to stand between us and the dreaded majority and ensure that nothing that most of us want to do ever gets done.
I propose, therefore, that whenever it becomes necessary to utter the old saw "No matter who you vote for, the government always gets in," it should be mandatory to append a heartfelt "thank goodness."
I encountered the converse of this the other day, when I read an American's explanation of the difference between a democracy and a democratic republic. (I knew the difference already, but it was this explanation that made the connection for me.) In a democracy, as it was explained, the majority governs, and therefore whatever the majority wants done is done, which is another word for mob rule and therefore bad. In a republic, on the other hand, or indeed a parliamentary democracy such as ours over here in Britain, the majority elect the people who govern, who then presumably (and, indeed, observably) make a point of not doing what the majority want done, which is therefore better.
This means that the government, who always get in, serve a vital purpose, that of protecting us from the awful fate of being governed by the whims of the majority. Without that impenetrable buffer zone (though the old buffers who used to occupy it are always being gradually replaced by younger buffers), we would be at the mercy of people like me. Or you. Or the man down the road who reads the Telegraph and secretly thinks everyone who can't trace their ancestry back to the Norman Conquest should be repatriated somewhere else. Or the woman who reads the Daily Mail and thinks the Queen should be given full monarchical powers again. Or the young man who reads the Sunday Sport and doesn't give a damn about how the country's governed as long as he can continue to look at pictures of young ladies with very little on. The majority may, at any moment, incline to one or more of these opinions. There is no safety. Ask a conservative and you will be told that the country is swarming with damned liberals. Ask a liberal and you will hear that the country is bogged down in creeping conservatism. One thing is certain. Whoever the majority is, nobody seems to like it.
Every democratic form of government is predicated on an idealised view of humanity, as being very far from perfect but at least trying to move in the right direction. Democracy in any form presupposes that people, in casting their votes, will at least try to understand what they are voting about, and that the majority of people will care enough to vote. Experience has shown us that these two desiderata very rarely coincide. This year may have seen the only instance of anything like an informed and motivated majority vote so far this century, and even then the majority got some things wrong. On average, it seems doubtful that the majority could, if called upon, hit a bass drum in a telephone kiosk, organise a piss-up in a brewery, or get the right answer to the question "Who are you?" more than one time in three. Now, more than ever, we need the immovable object that is euphemistically called a representative assembly, to stand between us and the dreaded majority and ensure that nothing that most of us want to do ever gets done.
I propose, therefore, that whenever it becomes necessary to utter the old saw "No matter who you vote for, the government always gets in," it should be mandatory to append a heartfelt "thank goodness."