Is bicameralism necessary for a liberal democracy? What is a liberal democracy and illiberal democracy?
House of Lords
from Economist.comThe House of Lords, the upper chamber of Britain’s parliament, considers legislation made in the House of Commons. Until 1999 the Lords had nearly 1,300 members, 750 of them by birthright. But Labour promised in its 1997 election manifesto to democratise the Lords, and two years later the government expelled all but 92 hereditary peers.
Controversy ensued over how to approach reform. In 2000 a government-appointed commission headed by Lord Wakeham favoured a partly elected House of Lords, with the majority of peers appointed by an independent commission. But the resulting government blueprint for reform, which gave a stronger role to the parties, proved unsatisfactory.
Peers angry at the government’s plans pushed the Lords to revolt in 2004. Mr Blair responded by ramming his legislation through using the Parliament Act. A new plan, in which half of the peers would be elected and half appointed, was unveiled by the leader of the House of Commons in February 2007.
What the Lords are for
From The Economist print editionA new plan to shake up an ancient assembly, and plenty of disagreement about it
WHEN pondering what a representative democracy should look like, one option the authors of America’s Federalist Papers never entertained was to give eminent crime-writers a say in shaping the nation’s laws. Yet that is what Britain’s constitution currently allows: Ruth Rendell, creator of Chief Inspector Wexford, and P.D. James, who dreamt up Commander Adam Dalgliesh, are both members of the House of Lords. The place is not short of such quirks. Since there is no formal way of calling speakers, the chamber decides collectively who should take precedence, by hollering. And whereas in most bicameral systems the upper house has fewer members than the lower, the Lords outnumber the Commons by 746 members to 639. Many seldom show up.
Yet for all that, the House of Lords is currently working better than it has for a long time. On February 5th it inflicted another defeat on the government, over a bill to hold managers responsible for deaths at work. The Home Office wanted an exemption for those who die in police custody or in prison; the Lords said no. Since a newish Labour government reformed the house in 1999, removing most of the (mainly Conservative) tweed-clad hereditary peers and leaving the appointed life peers in command, the assorted businessmen, scientists, party hacks and lawyers in the Lords have defeated the government more than 350 times. They do a better job of scrutinising laws than MPs, debate more interesting subjects (on inheritance tax last week, on Chinese investment in Africa this week) and often produce better reports.
Yet even though the reforms seem to have made the Lords bolder, the system looks anachronistic and untidy. It has also landed the government in trouble for trying to give peerages to people who lent Labour money. Which is why Jack Straw, the leader of the House of Commons, published on February 7th a proposal to change the composition of the Lords again. The last time Labour tried to reform the place, four years ago, the attempt failed for lack of a blueprint and a voting system designed to produce a clear basis for change.
Mr Straw is keen for the reform to stick this time and has come up with a new way of expressing preference for different options that should lead to agreement—in the Commons, at least—on reform. Elections to the Lords, were they agreed, would probably happen at the same time as elections to the European Parliament, and like them be based on proportional representation. The peers would be pruned to 540.
Most in the Commons support an upper chamber that is at least partially elected. The Conservatives have had a clear policy in favour of a largely elected upper house for the past five years, even if plenty of their MPs feel uneasy about it. Mr Straw prefers a mixture in which half of the peers would be elected and half appointed (some, as now, by political parties), which sounds like a mess. But plenty of thoughtful people (many of them in the Lords) are holding out for oligarchy.
“Even electing 50% of the Lords would completely ruin it,” argues Lord Lipsey, a Labour peer who once worked at The Economist. The expertise gathered in the Lords would, he says, be impossible to replicate with elections. Lord Steel, a former leader of the Liberal Democrats, also argues that the Lords should be appointed from among the eminent in different walks of life, even though his party has long wanted to make the place democratic (a Liberal government passed a bill in 1911 promising “a second chamber constituted on a popular instead of a hereditary basis”). Democracy might even bring the thuggish British National Party onto the red benches. Such arguments were bolstered by a new poll by YouGov for the Hansard Society, a charity, which suggests the public do not want a second chamber dominated by political parties, a probable outcome were the Lords to be elected.
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Almost all big democracies have bicameral systems (an exception is New Zealand, which did away with its Legislative Council in 1951). But not all upper houses wield the same power. Some, like America’s Senate and Germany’s Bundesrat, have real clout and can prevent bad (or indeed good) laws from going beyond proposals. Others are there merely to advise, revise and slow down the whole lawmaking process. Canada’s Senate, whose members are picked by the prime minister and cannot veto laws, falls into this category, as does Britain’s House of Lords. The only circumstance in which the Lords can kill a law is if the government tries to pass a bill to make parliamentary terms longer.
Powerful upper houses occur in federal states, and they are powerful because their senators are elected to represent a discrete interest. Since Britain is not federal, it is not clear whom the elected peers would be there to represent. And, without a veto, they would be in the odd position of having a mandate from the electorate but not much chance to exercise it.
If, instead of asking who should be there, the question posed is what the Lords are for, most MPs will answer that the house should remain a place “of temporary rejecters and palpable alterers”, as Walter Bagehot, an editor of The Economist, described it in the 19th century. Even ardent democrats like Andrew Tyrie, a Conservative MP who worries about power being concentrated in too few hands, do not want it to become a veto-wielding rival to the lower house. And only a few people on the Labour left think the thing should be scrapped altogether, which would at least be neat.
Full democracy makes sense—but only if the role of the Lords changes. There seems little point in electing new ones, paying their salaries and providing them with offices, just so they can do what the unelected lot are already doing for free.
Democracy’s esteem lay in an institution’s ability to uphold the principle values of social and/or political equality. Such cogent institutions are comprised of two things: an interoperate mandate between the governed and those governing, and the individuals’ awareness (those governed) of their self-interests. Therein, associations are made, as to how such interests are complemented, when those governing make policies. The requisite for such factions is that they incorporate their self-interests and advocate one affectation, or many, while respecting the freedoms for all citizens, recognized and safeguarded by the government. Several of these groups speak for some of the collective assets of the society; not everyone stakes a claim in one single aspect of the political, economic, intellectual, and social spectrum but, rather, is connected by several lines and circumstances to these components of the society—it is these same common interests that unifies humans, because everyone struggles in this rat race.
The belief that individuals that head such a government, both by directly electing officials accountable to them and therein having a say so, forms such an efficacious political ideology. Democracy in the strictest sense is a corollary to bicameralism, as it provides an opportunity for legitimacy when the governed are consented to and also warrants a consultative position for those heading policy. Bicameralism is the organization of government in which the legislature is comprised of two houses. Credited to Great Britain, bicameralism was designed to supplement the interests of the common people and the elite. This is a deliberate action to ensure that no legislation can be passed without conference from both ends of the spectrum; a privileged few might be dishing “it” out, but the real concern is for equilibrium between those giving and receiving, when the mainstay is perpetuating the nation and the authenticity of those it provides for (i.e. taxes, welfare programs, etc). In translation, bicameralism offers a higher degree of efficacy because “everyone” is taken into consideration, as opposed to other political ideologies, such as socialism or communism, where equality of results feigns. The true pretense of democracy is that input is needed via awareness of everyone’s interests because otherwise, legitimacy of the government declines; ignoring such things means it no longer is a government with validation for and from the people who instituted it, but rather an elitist driven oligarchy, or worse, perhaps a fascist state. On the same page, a liberal democracy is an institution mediated by those electing representatives (for their self interests), while preserving the freedoms of individuals. Liberal democracies vouch for key liberties, such as equality before the law, due process, privacy, and other freedoms of speech, assembly and religion. The democratic basis thrives on pluralism; a state without several factions of differing political views cannot claim democracy, much less a liberal democracy (where liberal is mainly the persistent avocation of the rights of the individuals), as presented and reaffirmed by the government. The organization of government with two legislative bodies, creates a democracy, and may be inherent with the existence of a consultative government; however a bicameralism is not entirely necessary for a liberal democracy, because the focus no longer becomes the individual and his freedoms, but the respective attitudes of another level with power, in this case, the elites–they are not only making the decisions, but are also accountable to the very structure of the state.
A democratic charter of the state, where such a constitution designates limits on authority, characterizes a liberal democracy. By rule of law, the government is meant to distinguish the state by principle of disclosing regulations for the public and following in accordance to the constraints of that power, to prevent abuse or any tyrannical faction; the Rechtsstaat is this jurisprudence. On the other hand, an illiberal democracy mocks the respect of individual liberties and lacks the regard of pluralism, on the verge of authoritarianism as it were. Such tensions are primarily found in countries thrust in the direction of democratization, but struggle with the precepts of a balance between party elections and a mutual respect of individuals’ freedoms. Albeit the letter of the law provides liberties, recognition of such is ignored and new implemented laws are mostly restrictive, when power becomes centralized with those “elected”, but not governing on behalf of the people for whom the laws are made. In such cases, efficacy is a façade and any who oppose the regime can be ostracized and/or abstracted by decrees made on behalf of any whim of those in power, often exercised by the creation of red tape, pressures/ sanctions or violence.
There isn’t room for legitimacy when legislation only needs consonance by one legislative body. Perhaps, it would be fairly advantageous to oust one upper house when it is seemingly redundant to favor a second chamber that functions for review in tasks that can be achieved by a single body. The constitutional safeguards for liberties are not the only justification for bicameralism, even though legislation overlaps when two bodies are referred. Proponents of unicameralism cry for controls on government spending, but in the case of Britain’s parliament, the upper house isn’t being paid, they’re enacting “authority” with a primarily inherited civic duty, in terms of a noble position. Appointed chambers have proven to be somewhat ineffective, as was the case with New Zealand. However, a consensus warrants a higher degree of certainty that the laws being passed truly are in the best interests of all factions in that state, when bicameralism is the bilateral system that allows control of the government and suggestions for improvements in legislations, which provides that more individuals needs are complemented. The greatest loophole created by the unicameral system is that many constituents are disregarded, as urban areas with larger populations have more influence than those in urban sectors; bicameralism guarantees better apportionment. Can anyone say efficacy?
Tackling an appeasement for efficacy on various levels isn’t as simple as eliminating one chamber and then granting more power to the lower house. Doesn’t that mean they become the “majority”? Government is supposed to effect law and a liberal democracy emphasizes the need to protect from such self-indulgent factions. Don’t assume that just because Commoners don’t wear the same ecclesiastical robes, they aren’t factions. Do not be a self-righteous iconoclast. Sure, plenty of folks don’t show up: that’s their choice. You can’t force people to care, and if they don’t care, or see the greater consequence, then the truth of the matter is that they do not realize the effects such legislation will have on their self-interests. The upper chamber, noted as the House of Lords, sometimes works off a peerage system, meaning it’s who you know that makes a difference, not what you know, but that cannot be a generalization for all, because reforms were made–they just weren’t made in the most legal and ethical manner. The problem is that the Lords “do a better job of scrutinizing laws than MPs”, and you still have the Commoners arguing against their existence. The Commons do have a point, allowing inherited positions secures an elitist class, even if in their bicameralist system it does project the ideals of several counterparts. Why would you secure the existence of a bunch of seasoned men, jeering for preferences different from your own, were you a Commoner, when you could ensure a government more provisional to numerous constituencies, if part of the Lords were elected, unilateral to the placement of those who already have power? Objections would include the fact that those being governed want to see an emphasis on the legislation, not the basis of political parties overrunning everything, because that would cite a bureaucracy. Not every government offers the same power to different levels of tat institution; not every state offers bipartisanship to differing parties; not every nation serves the same political culture. Essentially, there is no rubber stamp. Even still, the electorate is one such necessary institution—it provides that citizens are enfranchised and participating in bouts of efficacy, because they are a variable in the decision of who is fit to govern. The bane is not entirely how these people with power got into such positions, but rather, how they’re providing for those they’re governing. Contemporary precepts of a liberal democracy deny all that governments once signified, previously bent on the perpetuation of upper classes. While prevention of tyranny of the majority and mutual power of rejection are seemingly western ideas, focus ought to be placed on Great Britain’s history of the limits on power, by rule of law: the people matter. The ideology isn’t set to concentrate on one faction’s needs, but rather concern itself with the needs and interests of many. The upper chamber is most likely filled with many men who do not wish to be there, other than by number and prestige harbor such positions, but several are pitted against new legislation and have a hand in its making, suggesting that there is a watchdog. It isn’t so bad that Britain’s two legislative bodies want to find a common ground, but it is bad that the question creates cleavage. Were this a feudal system, cleavage would be a positive factor, because then there would be no question as to who was in charge and who made a difference, but the modern ideology is that people ought to be have a say in what’s going on in their government, especially if they choose those governing; participation is a requisite for democracy. In a land with now less than arbitrary rule, Britain has to face a new maxim; whether they can manage their bicameralism with the sprawl of their liberal democracy, creates more than worry as there isn’t a single body to consider, but rather, also, a class of nobles who have been in positions of authority, since the monarchy first established its rule in centuries-old statutes, judicial decisions and tradition.
