Proportional Representation: A Study in Methods of Election

by John H. Humphreys

Loss of prestige by the House of Commons.

Apart, however, from speculation as to the effect of false electoral methods on the development of public affairs, the serious divergences between representation and polling strength, to which attention has been directed in the previous chapter, must tend to the weakening of the authority and prestige of the House of Commons. Should a Government, misled by the composition of the "representative" House, make use of its majority in that House for the passage of measures not really desired by the country, and should the House of Lords, reformed or not, guess rightly that the decisions of the Commons were contrary to the popular will, then inevitably the position of the House of Lords would be strengthened as compared with that of the Commons. "A House of Commons which does not represent," said a leading Liberal journal, "may stand for less in the country than the House of Lords, or the Crown, and its influence will infallibly decline in proportion. One has only to take up an old volume of Bagehot to confirm one's suspicions that the imperfections of electoral machinery, combined with the changes in the character of the electorate, are already threatening to undermine the real sources of the nation's power."[1] Sir Frederick Pollock has declared that our defective electoral system may "yield a House of Commons so unrepresentative in character as to cease to command the respect and obedience of citizens."[2]

Unstable representation.

False impressions of public opinion, unstable legislation based upon such false impressions, the weakening of the foundations on which the authority of the House of Commons rests, these are results which in themselves constitute a sufficiently serious condemnation of present methods. But those upheavals in representation, those violent swings of the pendulum which have often been so pronounced a feature of elections, give an instability to the composition of our supreme legislative chamber that must still further undermine its authority. Many, indeed, imagining that this dangerous instability is the reflection of an equally unstable electorate, begin to question whether a popular franchise is in any circumstances a satisfactory basis for government. The violence of the change in representation is attributed to the character of the electors instead of to the evil effects of a defective electoral method. On the other hand, the large majorities which accompany such changes are regarded by other politicians as blessings in disguise—as being essential to the formation of a strong Government. But a Government based on a false majority will, in the long-run, find that this exaggeration of its support in the country is a source of weakness rather than of strength. Like the image in Nebuchadnezzar's dream, the feet of such a Government are part of clay. For the extreme swing of the pendulum which brought the Government into power is usually followed by an equally violent swing in the opposite direction. When the high-water mark of success is attained at a General Election it becomes practically impossible for the party in power to gain additional seats at bye-elections, whilst an unbroken series of losses makes it difficult to prevent a feeling arising that the ministry has lost the confidence of the electors, although the actual change in public opinion may have been of the slightest. The prestige of the Government is gone, and prestige is as necessary to a Government as a majority. In brief, a large majority strengthens a Government only in so far as that majority corresponds to public opinion.

Weakened personnel.

Moreover, the extreme changes which take place at a General Election often result in a considerable weakening of the personnel of the House of Commons. In such a débâcle as that which took place in 1906, there was no process of selection by which the Unionists might have retained the services in Parliament of their ablest members. Although there were 33,907 Unionists in Manchester and Salford, Mr. Balfour, the leader of the party, experienced the mortification of being rejected by one of the divisions. This failure was paralleled by the defeat of Sir William Harcourt at Derby in 1895, whilst Mr. Gladstone, in contesting Greenwich in 1874, only succeeded in obtaining the second place, the first seat being won by a Conservative. A way is usually found by which party leaders return without delay to the House of Commons, but there are members of the highest distinction and capacity who, especially if these qualities are associated with a spirit of independence, find, it increasingly difficult to re-enter political life. Victory at the polls depends not so much upon the services which a statesman, however eminent, may have rendered to his country, as upon the ability of the party to maintain its majority in the particular constituency for which he stands. Indeed, in this matter a leader of opinion is placed at a disadvantage as compared with an ordinary member of the party; his very pre-eminence, his very activities bring him into conflict with certain sections of the electorate which, insignificant in themselves, may yet be sufficiently numerous to influence the result of an election. Statesmen, moreover, have often lost their seats merely because they have endeavoured to give electors of their very best. When Mr. John Morley (now Lord Morley of Blackburn), during the election of 1906, received a deputation of Socialists, he, with characteristic courage, explained very frankly the ground on which he could not support their principles.[3] A similar candour on his part in 1895 cost him his seat at Newcastle. Can we wonder then that there arise complaints that our statesmen are deficient both in courage and in ideas? Single-member constituencies are, as Gambetta pointed out more than twenty years ago, inimical to political thinking, and recent General Elections have afforded numerous examples in support of this statement. The courageous and forcible presentment of ideas has time after time been rewarded by exclusion from the House of Commons.

Degradation of party strife.

There is a further and equally serious charge that can be laid against the existing electoral system—it is in no small measure responsible for that increasing degradation in the methods of warfare which has characterised recent political and municipal contests. This debasement of elections cannot fail to contribute to that undermining of the authority of the House of Commons, upon which stress has already been laid. Indeed, there is abundant evidence to show that in conjunction with the imaginary instability of the electorate, the debasement of elections is weakening the faith of many in representative institutions. An efficient bureaucracy is now being advocated by a writer so distinguished as Mr. Graham Wallas, as the best safeguard against the excesses of an unstable and ignorant democracy. There is no need to undervalue the importance of competent officials, but all experience has shown the equal necessity of an adequate check upon the bureaucracy, however efficient, and such check must be found in the strengthening of representative bodies. Mr. Graham Wallas declares that "the empirical art of politics consists largely in the creation of opinion by the deliberate exploitation of subconscious non-rational inferences,"[4] and cites in support of this statement the atrocious posters and mendacious appeals of an emotional kind addressed to the electors in recent contests. It does not appear from electoral statistics that so large a proportion of voters are influenced by such appeals as Mr. Wallas thinks; his conclusions, like those of others, are based upon the false impressions arising from false results. It is, however, sufficient for the purpose of the political organizer to know that a number of the electors will succumb to such influences. The votes of this small section of the electorate can turn the scale at an election, and so long as we adhere to a system under which the whole of the representation allotted to any given constituency is awarded to the party which can secure a bare majority of votes, we must expect to see a progressive degradation of electoral contests. The successful organizer of victory has already learnt that he must not be too squeamish in the methods by which the victory is obtained, and if "the exploitation of subconscious non-rational inferences" is necessary to this end he will undoubtedly exploit them to the best of his powers.

The final rally.

Mr. Wallas gives from his personal experience an admirable illustration of the way in which elections are often lost and won. His vivid description of the close of a poll in a County Council election in a very poor district is in itself an emphatic condemnation of our electoral system. "The voters," says he, "who came in were the results of the 'final rally' of the canvassers on both sides. They entered the room in rapid but irregular succession, as if they were jerked forward by a hurried and inefficient machine. About half of them were women with broken straw hats, pallid faces, and untidy hair. All were dazed and bewildered, having been snatched away in carriages or motors from the making of match-boxes, or button-holes, or cheap furniture, or from the public-house, or, since it was Saturday evening, from bed. Most of them seemed to be trying in the unfamiliar surroundings to be sure of the name for which, as they had been reminded at the door, they were to vote. A few were drunk, and one man, who was apparently a supporter of my own, clung to my neck while he tried to tell me of some vaguely tremendous fact which just eluded his power of speech. I was very anxious to win, and inclined to think that I had won, but my chief feeling was an intense conviction that this could not be accepted as even a decently satisfactory method of creating a Government for a city of five million inhabitants, and that nothing short of a conscious and resolute facing of the whole problem of the formation of political opinion would enable us to improve it." The political "boss" has no such qualms; victory may turn upon the votes recorded at this final rally, and every effort must be made to ensure that the party's poll exceeds that of the enemy. Mr. Wallas does not propose any remedy; he merely suggests that something must be done to abolish the more sordid details of English electioneering. Why not go to the root of the evil and amend the electoral system which places so great a premium upon the success of such practices? It is indeed evident that this cannot be accepted as "a decently satisfactory method of creating a Government." But we are not compelled to continue the use of such a method. What possible justification is there for making the representation of all the other electors of a constituency depend upon the result of a final rally?