Modern Changes in the Cabinet
I do not think any one will deny that the Cabinet has in a large degree lost these four features which we have laid down as requisite for full efficiency. The process has been going on for a long time, but during the last six years it has been accelerated so greatly that the Cabinet of to-day is almost unrecognisably different from what it was fifty years ago. To begin with, it has grown enormously in size, owing to the increase in the number of departments of government. This growth has markedly diminished the sense of responsibility for national policy as a whole felt by the individual members, and the wholesome practice of resignation has gone out of fashion. It has led to frequent failures in the co-ordination of the various departments, which are often seen working at cross purposes. It has brought about a new formality in the proceedings of the Cabinet, in the establishment of a Cabinet Secretariat.
The lack of an efficient joint Cabinet control has encouraged a very marked and unhealthy increase in the personal authority of the Prime Minister and of the clique of more intimate colleagues by whom he is surrounded; and this is strengthened by the working of the new Secretariat. All these unhealthy features have been intensified by the combination of the two strongest parties in Parliament to form a coalition; for this has deprived the Cabinet of homogeneity and made it the scene not of the definition of a policy guided by clear principles, but rather the scene of incessant argument, bargaining, and compromise on fundamentals. Finally, the responsibility of the Cabinet to Parliament has been gravely weakened; it acts as the master of Parliament, not as its agent, and its efficiency suffers from the fact that its members are able to take their responsibility to Parliament very lightly.
All these defects in the working of the Cabinet system have been much more marked since the war than at any earlier time. But the two chief among them—lessened coherence due to unwieldiness of size, and diminished responsibility to Parliament—were already becoming apparent during the generation before the war. On the question of responsibility to Parliament we shall have something to say later. But it is worth while to ask whether there is any means whereby the old coherence, intimacy and community of responsibility can be restored. If it cannot be restored, the Cabinet system, as we have known it, is doomed. I do not think that it can be restored unless the size of the Cabinet can be greatly reduced, without excluding from its deliberations a responsible spokesman for each department of government.
But this will only be possible if a considerable regrouping of the great departments can be effected. I do not think that such a regrouping is impracticable. Indeed, it is for many reasons desirable. If it were carried out, a Cabinet might consist of the following members, who would among them be in contact with the whole range of governmental activity. There would be the Prime Minister; there would be the Chancellor of the Exchequer, responsible for national finance; there would be the Minister for Foreign Affairs; there would be a Minister for Imperial Affairs, speaking for a sub-Cabinet which would include Secretaries for the Dominions, for India, and for the Crown Colonies and Protectorates; there would be a Minister of Defence, with a sub-Cabinet including Ministers of the Navy, the Army, and the Air Force; there would be a Minister for Justice and Police, performing most of the functions both of the Home Office and of the Lord Chancellor, who would cease to be a political officer and be able to devote himself to his judicial functions; there would be a Minister of Agriculture, Industry, and Commerce, with a sub-Cabinet representing the Board of Trade, the Board of Agriculture, the Ministry of Mines, the Ministry of Labour, and perhaps other departments.
Ministers of Public Health and of Education would complete the list of active administrative chiefs; but one or two additional members, not burdened with the charge of a great department might be added, such as the Lord President of the Council, and one of these might very properly be a standing representative upon the Council of the League of Nations. The heads of productive trading departments—the Post Office and the Public Works Department—should, I suggest, be excluded from the Cabinet, and their departments should be separately organised in such a way as not to involve a change of personnel when one party succeeded another in power. These departments have no direct concern with the determination of national policy.
On such a scheme we should have a Cabinet of nine or ten members, representing among them all the departments which are concerned with regulative or purely governmental work. And I suggest that a rearrangement of this kind would not only restore efficiency to the Cabinet, but would lead to very great administrative reforms, better co-ordination between closely related departments, and in many respects economy. But valuable as such changes may be, they would not in themselves be sufficient to restore complete health to our governmental system. In the last resort this depends upon the organisation of an efficient and unresting system of criticism and control.
The House of Commons
In any modern State the control of the action of Government is largely wielded by organs not formally recognised by law—by the general movement of public opinion; by the influence of what is vaguely called “the city”; by the resolutions of such powerful bodies as trade union congresses, federations of employers, religious organisations, and propagandist bodies of many kinds; and, above all, by the Press. No review of our system would be complete without some discussion of these extremely powerful and in some cases dangerous influences. We cannot, however, touch upon them here. We must confine ourselves to the formal, constitutional machinery of national control over the actions of Government, that is, to Parliament, as the spokesman of the nation.
An essential part of any full discussion of this subject would be a treatment of the Second Chamber problem. But that would demand a whole hour to itself; and I propose to pass it over for the present, and to ask you to consider the perturbing fact that the House of Commons, which is the very heart of our system, has largely lost the confidence and belief which it once commanded.
Why has the House of Commons lost the confidence of the nation? There are two main reasons, which we must investigate in turn. In the first place, in spite of the now completely democratic character of the electorate, the House is felt to be very imperfectly representative of the national mind. And in the second place, it is believed to perform very inefficiently its primary function of criticising and controlling the action of Government.
First of all, why do men vaguely feel that the House of Commons is unrepresentative? I think there are three main reasons. The first is to be found in the method of election. Since 1885 the House has been elected by equal electoral districts, each represented by a single member. Now, if we suppose that every constituency was contested by two candidates only, about 45 per cent. of the voters must feel that they had not voted for anybody who sat at Westminster; while many of the remaining 55 per cent. must feel that they had been limited to a choice between two men, neither of whom truly represented them. But if in many constituencies there are no contests, and in many others there are three or more candidates, the number of electors who feel that they have not voted for any member of the House may rise to 60 per cent. or even 70 per cent. of the total.
The psychological effect of this state of things must be profound. And there is another consideration. The very name of the House of Commons (Communes, not common people) implies that it represents organised communities, with a character and personality and tradition of their own—boroughs or counties. So it did until 1885. Now it largely represents totally unreal units which exist only for the purpose of the election. The only possible means of overcoming these defects of the single member system is some mode of proportional representation—perhaps qualified by the retention of single members in those boroughs or counties which are just large enough to be entitled to one member.
The main objection taken to proportional representation is that it would probably involve small and composite majorities which would not give sufficient authority to ministries. But our chief complaint is that the authority of modern ministries is too great, their power too unchecked. In the middle of the nineteenth century, when our system worked most smoothly, parties were composite, and majorities were small—as they usually ought to be, if the real balance of opinion in the country is to be reflected. The result was that the control of Parliament over the Cabinet was far more effective than it is to-day; the Cabinet could not ride roughshod over the House; and debates really influenced votes, as they now scarcely ever do. The immense majorities which have been the rule since 1885 are not healthy. They are the chief cause of the growth of Cabinet autocracy. And they are due primarily to the working of the single-member constituency.
The second ground of distrust is the belief that Parliament is unduly dominated by party; that its members cannot speak and vote freely; that the Cabinet always gets its way because it is able to hold over members, in terrorem, the threat of a general election, which means a fine of £1000 a head; and that (what creates more suspicion than anything) the policy of parties is unduly influenced by the subscribers of large amounts to secret party funds. I am a profound believer in organised parties as essential to the working of our system. But I also believe that there is real substance in these complaints, though they are often exaggerated. What is the remedy? First, smaller majorities, and a greater independence of the individual member, which would follow from a change in the methods of election. And, secondly, publicity of accounts in regard to party funds. There is no reason why an honest party should be ashamed of receiving large gifts for the public ends it serves, and every reason why it should be proud of receiving a multitude of small gifts. I very strongly hold that in politics, as in industry, the best safeguard against dishonest dealings, and the surest means of restoring confidence, is to be found in the policy of “Cards on the table.” Is there any reason why we Liberals should not begin by boldly adopting, in our own case, this plainly Liberal policy?