Free democracy from political cage
Crossing the floor has become extremely rare in Australia, says Tim Sprod
DISUNITY is death” is a common cry in Australian politics, ever since John Howard was apparently the first to use it after his 1987 defeat. While disunity in the ranks may be dangerous to the electoral prospects of a political party, that they strongly enforce unity is killing our democracy.
The Commonwealth of Australia Constitution Act, our Federal Constitution, does not mention political parties. Nor does the Tasmanian Constitution Act 1934. Political parties are not necessary to our democracy, nor have they always been a feature of the Westminster form of government that Australian parliaments follow.
In Britain, loose factions first appeared in the late 17th century, and only gradually became more formal. Here, of present parties, only the Australian Labor Party existed at the time of federation in 1901. The precursor of the Nationals (Country Party) was formed in 1920 and the Liberal Party in 1944. Many more have been formed since.
Australia is a representative democracy, and parliament is where the representatives we elect meet to discuss policy and enact laws. Originally, a parliament was a large committee (or two: a lower and an upper house). Each representative elected to parliament would contribute to the decision making. Since someone had to be the leader (prime minister or premier), the lower house (Commons in the UK, House of Representatives here) would choose a person in whom the majority have confidence. That person would then select a ministry to assist them in running the government.
None of this process requires that there be political parties. Yet it is understandable that potential representatives — candidates — would group together with others who shared their general outlook, and who sought to implement similar policies. These are the early factions, which have developed from loose and shifting groupings into the very powerful, and very tightly controlled, political machines we see today.
Along this route, the party has changed from a useful indicator of the sympathies of a candidate, to an iron cage to lock candidates in.
Let’s consider what we mean by representative democracy a little closer. Who or what ought a member of parliament represent? There are three possibilities. When it comes to a vote in parliament, they can represent:
THE VIEW of the majority of voters in their electorate. This would require them to try to find out what the majority of their electorate think on each and every issue.
THEIR OWN considered view of the best outcome. This view assumes that electors judge which of the candidates seems best suited to making sound decisions — decisions that would generally agree with the elector’s own — and vote for that candidate. THE VIEW of their party. Each is a legitimate type of representation, but they do not always lead to the same decision. In a healthy democracy, each elected politician would weigh up the three factors and make a decision as to how to vote. In Australia, the third type of representation has pushed out the other two. A political party insists their MPs vote as the party dictates (except in rare circumstances a conscience vote) even if their electorate would disagree or if they would judge the decision wrong. For a party member to break this stranglehold — to cross the floor — is extremely rare in Australia. This is not so true elsewhere. Recent examples include, in the UK, Conservatives voting against their party on some Brexit issues and in the US, Republicans opposing the dismantling of Obamacare.
Of course, parties claim that the first two types of representation take place within internal party discussions, as the party’s position on an issue is decided. Only once this decision is made are the party’s MPs whipped into line. There is a little truth in this. However, there are many reasons why internal party decision making is anti-democratic.
The “disunity is death” mantra means discussions within parties are usually highly secretive. The public has little input into, or even knowledge of, them. The major parties have been hijacked by narrow groups, often more extreme than the average supporter of the party. Factions struggle over the pursuit of power, the gaining of which becomes much more important than sound policy. Political donations skew decisions towards private interests, away from the public good. Backbenchers will not stand up to the powerbrokers for fear of being disendorsed, younger members for fear of never getting promotion.
The effect is that a parliament cannot work
together to seek the best policies. Oppositions must oppose anything the government does, good or not. Governments must persevere with faulty policies, rather than be seen to give the opposition any credit. Only in the so-called hung parliaments are governments forced to listen to those outside their party.
Party hacks are fond of claiming that a hung parliament delivers too much power to those few non-party MPs on the crossbench. The reality is that a crossbencher has only one vote — no more than a major party MP. It is only because the parties lock their own members up so tightly that a crossbencher can wield power. If one major party would negotiate with the other (or even some of them), and come to a compromise position, the crossbenchers would be rendered irrelevant, and policies would most likely be better. But this requires the parties to loosen their stranglehold on their MPs.
Many Australians are growing sick of the major parties. In the 2016 Federal election almost a quarter of voters in the House of Representatives did not vote for either of them. The proportion rises to just over a third in the Senate, where electing someone from outside the major parties becomes more likely. Political analysts love to talk of the two-party preferred vote: the truth is many voters would prefer not to give absolute power to either of them.
The major parties can help rescue democracy by tolerating more disunity. Allow members to cross the floor when their electorate, or their own judgment, calls for it. Seek to talk to the other side, and thrash out reasonable compromises. Stop talking as if the electorate ought not to be allowed to elect a “hung” parliament, by threatening to take their bat and ball home if they dare to do so. In other words, grow up. Dr Tim Sprod is a philosopher and former teacher who has a special interest in political philosophy. He lives in Hobart.
Backbenchers will not stand up to the powerbrokers for fear of being disendorsed, younger members for fear of never getting promotion.