Vote Hillary Clinton

Hello readers!

You may be wondering what Alex is up to. How goes the new edition of the Necromancer? Will it be out this November? Has Alex contacted reviewers and built up an audience?

The answer to all those questions is of course yes: I have been most occupied with republishing the new edition of the Necromancer. However, as you may be able to guess, that is not the topic of this post. Rather, it is indeed—as the title alludes—to that most vexing of political questions: American presidential elections.

Alex’s reasons for entertaining this topic are relatively straightforward: American elections are more important than, say, Icelandic elections; and this particular election has some particularly interesting politics involved. Being a student of political science, I am inevitably drawn to it.

Anyway, let’s proceed to the introduction.

Introduction

Ordinarily, I do not partake in American politics. I don’t write about it; I scarcely even follow it; and I don’t waste time thinking about it. The reasons are multifold—the most compelling is that I live 5000 kilometres away. And directly inline with that, I don’t consider them relevant to my life.

Oh sure: American politics is Trumped up (yes, I know) to no end. But in reality, the French, German, Spanish and Italian elections—while rather less glamorous—are far more important in the scope of European politics. They will determine the deal that Britain gets after Brexit, or the EU funds available to construct infrastructure projects in Romania, or the specifics of monetary policy that affect Dutch exporters.

This leads me to my third gripe with American politics: it is excessively sensationalised. In fact it resembles not so much an election as a national popularity contest (intermixed with a healthy dose of showbiz, naturally). It’s hard to take seriously—the unseriousness of it is terribly offputting.

Another explanation may be my own personal politics. I am a Socialist; I make Bernie Sanders look like a laidback moderate. Being far to the left of the American political spectrum can make the whole debate resemble a popularity contest between a billionaire whose favourite colour is red, and another who prefers blue.

I admit it does breed a certain contempt. I do not speak here of nationalism, or even the voguish Anti-Americanism of the kind espoused by critics of American foreign policy. I mean an ideological contempt; the whole of American politics seems altogether sordid to me. The eminent HL Mencken, an American strongly critical of that nation’s government, put it more eloquently than I:

In the present case it is a little inaccurate to say I hate everything. I am strongly in favor of common sense, common honesty and common decency. This makes me forever ineligible to any public office of trust or profit in the Republic

But, let us move on. Now that you know my background and the perspective I am approaching the issue from, allow me to elucidate on my stance.

Clinton versus Trump: Crook versus Crook?

On one side of the arena we have Donald Trump. He is a walking embodiment of every American stereotype I’ve come across: unctuously nationalist, blatantly avaricious, clearly ignorant, spectacularly sexist, and of course racist.

Opposing him, there is Hillary Clinton. Numerous criticisms have been levelled at her: she’s arrogant, hawkish, and in the pockets of Wall Street. The narrative of some among the American left—and several commentators of various political stripes here on the Continent—is that the two are virtually indistinguishable. Crook versus crook, or perhaps even Satan versus the Devil.

This narrative is plausible, but wrong.

It is, in fact, dangerously wrong. You may be surprised to hear this: after all, am I not a Socialist? How can I possibly support Hillary Clinton?

You’d be right on one level—I would have preferred a Sanders presidency. Nonetheless, we must deal with what we have. The registered Democrats chose not to elect Sanders, so now the US must face a stark choice: the presidency of a moron, bully, and megalomaniac; or the presidency of a less than ideal woman.

And that, at the end of the day, is the reality. Clinton is not the devil. I do not mean to say that she is perfect—indeed her links to Wall Street all but guarantee she won’t try anything too radical. America needs someone better than Clinton. The millions in poverty, and the grotesque face of American inequality, will not be resolved by a little centrist tinkering.

Incidentally, I am aware that Clinton’s language has become more Berniesque following her succession to the Democratic mantle. Some of it is genuine: she does strongly support the right of a woman to have an abortion, or the need for serious gun control.

I don’t believe she will usher a new era in economic thought, however—that was Bernie’s ticket. Clinton is just a centrist employing the language of the left, because it is politically expedient to do so. This is not to disparage her necessarily—sometimes it is smart to make the right noises—but merely to highlight that Clinton’s plans for a fair economy are grounded more in rhetoric than in real substance.

But for all that, the woman is still infinitely preferable to the alternative.

It’s not just that she’s less bad; that she’s not misogynistic, racist, or actively engaged in trampling over the proletariat by dodging taxes and outsourcing to Mexico. (Ironically, in the case of the latter.)

The woman is genuinely a nicer alternative. Despite some of her politics, there is a great deal to commend in her. She is highly competent, having proven herself in various roles of upper government; her grasp of public policy is strong, particularly in (for example) carbon-free energy and corporate taxation; and while not likely to shake the nest too much, she is also unlikely to bring it down.

A particularly striking example of the latter would be foreign policy. Trump’s misdeavours in this regard are almost without parallel: from building a wall with Mexico, weakening NATO, being friends with the Russian kleptocracy, and—worst of all—threatening to use nuclear weapons render him temperamentally unfit to be president.

Some of us here in the Continent are sadly naive about Trump’s foreign policy regime. Typically, these are young, naive, left-leaning students who are angry with Clinton’s interventions in Iraq and Libya.

Even setting aside the complexities of those cases—and they are complex, far beyond the narrow-minded narratives of the Anti-American psyche—believing that Donald Trump will be better in this regard is foolish, to put it mildly. It’s not just that the man is foolhardy, ignorant, and has a towering vanity matched only by his nationalist fervour; it’s that Trump is fundamentally more inclined to war than even Hillary Clinton.

One should not confuse Trump’s professed trade isolationism with military isolationism. Throughout history, the two have been rather distinct. Trump may want to build a wall and impose tariffs—but he also wants to spend money in the military, and put it to use fighting Isis. He does, after all, regularly attack Clinton for being too soft on terrorists. Is that really what you want, Stop the War advocates?

The Third Party Question

The final question I wish to address is that of the alternative: why not vote for a third party?

There are two very good reasons for why you shouldn’t. The first is often repeated: in the American electoral system, a vote for Jill Stein is de facto a vote for Trump, and a vote for Johnson is de facto a vote for Clinton.

The other reason—which is perhaps even better—is that the other two candidates are piss-poor. Johnson, a libertarian, is no better than Trump: his socioeconomic policy will prove a disaster so profound even Trump won’t be able to match it. People will literally die of cold, hunger, and disease on America’s streets. (And let’s not even touch on the man’s ignorance of Aleppo, documented live on television.)

As for Jill Stein? She lives in cloud cuckoo land. 100% renewable energy by 2030? Impossible: there is nowhere near enough storage capacity in the grid to allow it. Creating 20 million jobs by doing it? Pure fantasy. A return to 18th century agriculture? The world will starve.

Conclusion

My conclusion mirrors my title: vote Hillary Clinton. Of course I do not hand out my recommendation without caveats (you should know that I always caveat). The woman isn’t perfect: her economic policy will not be sufficient to deal with that country’s problems; her record on LGBT rights is complex; and there is reason to be weary of her links with Wall Street. America is a corrupt country. (Yes, it’s true.)

But if the worst that can be said about Hillary is that she’s not ideal, than far worse can be leveled against Trump: diplomatically, he would be a disaster; in foreign policy there’s no telling what he would do; and his economic policy will be worse than Hillary’s. Clinton just won’t make things much better than they are; Trump will make sure they worsen.

Aside from being unfit to lead, the man himself is odious. He’s a corrupt businessman who bankrupted himself 70 times and doesn’t pay taxes; he believes Mexicans are rapists; he thinks all Muslims are unconditionally evil; and he likes to grope women. The only good thing I can say about him is that he’s not homophobic.

And for all of Hillary’s problems, I like her. She’s competent—and I deeply admire competence. Her position on renewable energy, climate change, and fracking is one I find particularly well-informed. One need not vote for her with an upturned nose; in fact she will make a decent President, no worse than the others that have gone before her.

Anyway, that’s it for today. I will conclude with a warming, handed out by HL Mencken eighty years ago, but still all too relevant today:

As democracy is perfected, the office of president represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.

On Democracy

As of late, my efforts in the blogosphere have been somewhat lackadaisical. I do apologise, dear readers; but the work of a writer is varied, and my upcoming novel—the Ark—is no small endeavour. Not only am I continuing with writing it (Chapter Six, as of present time) but I am also receiving feedback from a secret beta-reader.

Furthermore, I have also applied for the annual Jefferson Prize, hosted by the Missouri Review. This has involved a careful consideration of my current poetry, and certain improvements: the Necromancer, for example, has received changes in language and expression to certain strange or overly archaic sentences; other poems, such as Essence and Objet D’Art, have also been edited.

But no matter. Today I shall be writing a relatively brief (but hopefully informative) essay on democracy.

The matter is naturally very complex, and the following assumes basic familiarity both with current political events (such as Osbourne’s ‘Charter of Cuts’) and the principles of political philosophy as elucidated on by the likes of John Stuart Mill, Hobbes, etc. There will also be some matters of economics being debated; but I shall explain those with (I hope) sufficient clarity to avoid prior knowledge requirements.

Anyway: down to business.

Against Democracy—Part One: Tyranny

In any debate concerning systems of government, one must firstly consider what one wishes to achieve and the priorities thereof. Let’s take some basics—good government should be the following:

1. Just. It must act in a manner that is fair to all members of society: tyranny is something best avoided.
2. Effective. Not only is effective government desirable generally (no one likes a government perpetually frozen in gridlock, like the American one, or tending to compromise to the point that it pleases neither side) but it is also imperative in meeting the condition above. Bad government results in corruption, incompetence and economic meltdown. A government that wastes its citizens’ money, or reneges on its citizens’ trust, is fundamentally unjust.
3. Pleasing. It is desirable for government to please all those who differ in opinion; for dictatorships and (to lesser extent) monarchies are often found lacking in engagement with the all opinions present. It is also to some degree necessary for condition 1, since a government run by the few tends to be… for the few, and is once more unjust.

For condition 1, democracy initially seems a good idea. After all: tyrannies usually develop in non-democratic nations—like Syria or Saudi Arabia—due to, in theory, the fact that government is run by a small and very specific minority (typically old, wealthy, religious and powerful men) and not by the people. Hence, the answer is democracy: demos (the people) and kratia (power). Right?

Well, no. Firstly, it is quite plausible for the majority to act tyrannically towards the minority. Uganda is a democratic country, but it behaves tyrannically towards its gay citizens; the US, also a democracy, behaved tyrannically towards black people. Democracy is no guarantee of justice—and the sooner we dispel this myth, the better.

But democracy doesn’t just suffer from the problem coined ‘The Tyranny of the Majority’; it also suffers from the tyranny of the minority. Yes, you heard that right. Governments are highly able to deceive their citizens using outright lies or, more commonly, sophisticated misinformation and obfuscation.

The Commons recently voted against the Assisted Dying Bill by a 2/3 majority. But 80% of the populace supported the Bill, according to the polls (which have predicted general election results quite reliably, for example). Why is there such a disparity? Well, it seems that the House is composed disproportionately of a minority, that is both more religious and has very little experience of what it means to be in hardship.

But suppose the UK was a direct democracy, and not a Republic. What then?

There are several practical problems with direct democracy: the majority of people are busy with work and family, and don’t have time to consider and debate complex issues of government.

But even if the UK was more like Switzerland, there will be other instances when the majority still manage to vote against their own interests. One such example is to do with taxation. Watch the following:

Notice, after around 2:30, the lady who believed the rich should not pay more tax; and yet was on £16K herself? The people earning enough to pay the top rate of tax in this country are on £150K: this is nearly 6 times the median wage, and only 1% of the populace earn it. If the lady were actually making decisions based on her self-interest, she would want the rich to pay more taxes. If they pay more, she pays less. Likewise would the other 99% of people earning less than £150K.

So why doesn’t this occur? The cause lies with ignorance and misinformation. Firstly, the lady may well have been ignorant enough to simply not know this simple fact. But the Tory government and its proponents are also very good at misinformation generally: they claim ‘trickle-down economics’ as a basis for their policies. The trouble is, if the rich get richer everyone else stays where they are. ‘A rising tide lifts all boats,’ may be good rhetoric, but it isn’t good economics.

The theory has already been debunked even by such conservative bastions as the IMF; but let’s briefly examine the claim a priori. How can the rich getting richer make life better for the poor? Why, by buying things from them! If there are more rich people going to the restaurant, the waiters get more tips. Right?

Wrong. The theory fundamentally misunderstands the workings of a trade economy. When the rich buy something from a poor person, they exchange money (a proxy for wealth) with a resource, e.g. being served food. But so too does the poor person exchange money with the rich when they, for example, buy a computer with Microsoft Windows. Is this to say that the poor make the rich richer, and the rich make the poor less poor?

That’s one way to think about it. More correctly, a trade economy is one in which one good is exchanged for another; the goods are equal in value (theoretically, at least) and so all that happens is that one agent exchanges a good they consider less useful with another agent in the same situation. To take an example: consider a baker. He has baked 100 pieces of bread that day; but since he cannot eat 100 pieces of bread, he exchanges 95 of them for a new coat. The taylor, for his part, gets bread for the coat he doesn’t need.

The point is: neither is materially worse off, or better off, following the transaction. All that occurs is that one good, of equal value, is exchanged for another that the persons involved find more useful to them personally.

The Tories use many more such myths to lie to the population. Jeremy Hunt would have you believe that taxing the rich makes them work less; but the empirical evidence doesn’t support him. Not only is there no connection between marginal rates of taxation and earnings in the data, but even countries like Denmark are still highly wealthy despite (it would seem) having marginal rates of taxation in excess of 50%. Indeed, the UK had higher rates under Thatcher, and higher rates still under Churchill. This and other claims I address in further detail here.

Which leads me onto…

Against Democracy—Part Two: Ignorance

The above has shown us that democracy often is tyrannical, either because it is majoritarian or because its citizens are ignorant.

But ignorance is problematic not only for the cause of justice, but also for the cause of effective governance. One prime example is Osbourne’s ‘Fiscal Charter’—or as Labour call it, the Charter of Cuts.

Osbourne’s piece of legislation effectively requires governments to run surpluses under ‘normal times’. The rationale? ‘Saving for a rainy day,’ or, perhaps more fittingly, ‘fixing the roof while the sun is shining.’

All of which is very relatable for the general public. But the general public doesn’t have a degree in macroeconomics; and this is poor economics.

Why? Because it belies an irrational aversion to debt. Debt is not all bad; a business, like for example Apple, borrows money to hire software engineers, to buy processors for their first machines, to build factories, and so on. Should they give all of that up because they have to go into debt to do it? Of course not! We’d never have economic growth otherwise.

And why is it a good idea for Apple to borrow? Because the profits they make from selling their machines far outweighs the cost of their loan.

The situation is precisely analogous in the case of the government. Should the government not borrow to build roads, and allow our manufacturing to grow, our transport to be faster, and the goods from Tescos to be shipped more cheaply? Should the government not borrow to build schools, and teach the engineers and writers and accountants of tomorrow?

But Osbourne’s charter effectively outlaws this. And that, frankly, is stupid.

Furthermore, there is also a great deal to criticise about Osbourne’s little piece of Keynesianism. The idea that governments can save money to pay their way out of future recessions is tempting for the household economists—but national economies are not households. If a government runs a surplus, it is effectively taking resources out of the economy. It is taking schools away, it is taking roads away, and it is taxing everyone to breaking point. Government savings won’t bring us out of recession; it will take us there.

The real way to prepare for recession lies neither with Osbornomics nor with Gordon Brown’s fictitious ‘light-touch’ regulation. The solution lies with preventing the causes of recessions: insane and stupid risks taken by banks.

But I digress. The problem with democracy is that voters simply have no idea of the complexity behind issues of governance. They vote in ill-qualified and dangerous politicians that run bad governments. And the irony? The voters can’t even see it. Until it’s too late.

For Democracy

I make no secret that I have a somewhat dim view of democracy. But there are important reasons to consider for why democracy may be the least inadequate of the many inadequate forms of government (to quote Winston Churchill).

For one, it is true that other forms of government are not without problems. Hereditary monarchies tend to give ill-qualified and unsuitable individuals high office; while hereditary dynasties can lead to oligopolistic and dangerous groups of people controlling the fate of the nation.

Dictatorships have a nasty tendency to lead to tyranny—few men can hold absolute power without temptation. Furthermore, dictators are still human; and individuals are more likely to make errors of judgement than groups of individuals, particularly diverse groups that can disagree.

It seems that the perfect form of government would allow the people to make their own choices, except where they are stupid; after which a benevolent, omniscient governor will intervene. Or perhaps the people may be wise enough to avoid making stupid decisions to begin with.

Since the former is implausible, and other forms of governance are yet even more inadequate, there is only one conclusion to be drawn here. We must continue with democracy. But it must be a better democracy. For the key behind good democracy—or indeed good governance in general—is in defeating ignorance.

Ignorance: The Root of Bad Democracy

Democracy is a misunderstood idea. The purpose of democracy, as we have seen, lies not in populism and majoritarianism; indeed, these are the very vices of democracy. The idea behind democracy is really quite simple: it’s not as bad as the alternatives. And to make it any good, we must free ourselves of believing that decisions made by the majority are in any way sacrosanct.

No: good democracy lies with reason, debate, and evidence. It is therefore crucial that the general populus is well educated; that our information is accurate, and if not unbiased then at least from multiple points of view; and that we consider carefully the matter of who can vote, and how.

The UK suffers from poor governance for many reasons. First among these is education—or our lack thereof. The UK does not have any formal politics or economics taught in school; and this, quite simply, is a problem. A lack of familiarity with the basic principles of economics allows dangerous ideas to foment and spread. A lack of political awareness, and of historical awareness, can lead to citizens accepting political soundbites naïvely and unquestioningly.

Indeed, many of our citizens seem to lack even basic education. They lack critical thinking; the ability to look at statistics and counter-check claims; and some of them are just plain ignorant.

The Tory government likes to implicitly feed the myth that there is a large number of illegal and spurious benefit claimants—the ‘scroungers’ to use their terminology—happy to leech off the hardworking taxpayer to buy flat-screen TVs. If our citizenry could actually read the statistics published by the government’s own agencies—the ONS estimates that only 0.9% of claims are fraudulent—or even apply basic critical thinking (are they still talking about how they’re going to make the benefits system fairer, after being in government for 5 years?), the situation would be very different.

The UK suffers from other problems too. The FPTP voting system is not only disproportionate—read this for more—but also has a nasty tendency to ensure that political parties always retain a share of power no matter what they do. If you happen to like much of what Labour says, but don’t like Jeremy Corbyn’s foreign policy; or if you happen to think that Cameron might be right on some things, but perhaps the railways should be in public ownership; hard luck for you then! New political parties in Britain cannot rise easily. Why? Because if you vote this new and exciting party—say, the Green Party—you’ll split the left vote. Then the Tories will get the seat.

The final cause for concern is called the ‘media’. Much of it is owned by a right-wing billionaire called Rupert Mudorch. He and his kind are responsible for why much of the public believes in ‘scroungers and skivers’. Why? Because they repeatedly publish the most egregious and infuriating stories of benefit theft their grubby little paws will catch—like this delicious gem:

The Mail publishes many more tales such as this. And they may be true. But they’re not the majority—not by a longshot. (I will repeat: 0.9%.) And if our citizens read this regularly—which they do: the Mail is the second most widely read paper in the UK (Wikipedia)—will their perception of benefit theft not be distorted? Will the family on £40k benefits not be on the forefront of their mind when they put the tick next to the Tory box?

Conclusion

My essay has indeed been substantial; nevertheless, I hope I have made my point. Accepting democracy as the least inadequate form of government does not mean accepting that the majority are sacrosanct; it does not mean accepting any ignorant and illogical argument or policy on the basis that it has been voted.

What it does mean? Education, evidence, and critical thinking must become the purlieu of all.

Very well; the Ark beckons. Until then—may the stars be with you…

PS: if you thought this essay worth your time, perhaps you may consider recommending it on Google or sharing it on Social Media. The buttons below are good for this.

On FPTP

Hail readers! My previous post on the Refugee Crisis may have been overly political for my literary-inclined followers; but rest assured that literary content is indeed on the table. Though I am kept occupied by school—with its homework, exams, and hard decisions—I have completed more of the Ark. Thus, I will soon release a post outlining the progress of the Ark; along with, naturally, a selection of quotes and introspection with regards to what direction the Ark will take.

Currently, it is yet in the early stages of inchoate love. But of course, the Ark is more than just a love story. It is a tale of a fight against all odds; of finding purpose and the will to live in a strange, fantastical new world.

But until then, I am releasing my article on the First Past the Post voting system. Initially, I hoped that OpenDemocracy—a small online magazine specialising in politics, human rights and foreign affairs—would be kind enough to publish it. Alas, they have not replied to my submission. So: why not take a look, and judge for yourself?

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FPTP is unrepresentative and obsolete. But few have proposed convincing alternatives; and fewer still are willing to challenge the status quo.

Attribution: Wikimedia foundation.

The General Election should have been a wake up call. British politics has finally become pluralistic; as, indeed, many European nations already are.

But somehow, it wasn’t. The Tories are happy to continue with the dreaded First Past the Post, having been gifted with a majority—tenuous as it is—now and for much of their history; while Labour is too concerned with its leadership election, and deciding what it really stands for, to campaign. (This is assuming the Labour Party even wants to change the system, which many in the PLP don’t.)

It is the sad irony that underlies FPTP: the victor, even if possessed of good intentions, is given every incentive not to change the system. And it is the victors—and in the case of FPTP, only the victor—who can change the status quo.

The Lib Dems have been campaigning against FPTP for years; and for years, their efforts have been in vain. The Greens have no meaningful power with which to amerlioate their situation. Ditto UKIP, which won 13% of the votes but only achieved 0.2% representation in Parliament.

Such a system can no longer be considered just. In the days of old, when there was only Labour or the Tories (or the Liberals, back when they were a political force) FPTP might have been considered fair—or at least, necessary. Even then, there were always internal conflicts between different ideological factions: Atlee had the Bevanites, Major his Bastards.

But with divisions now increasingly clear—as shown by Cameron over Europe, and most strikingly in the Labour leadership contest, with Kendall and Corbyn being quite different animals—it is increasingly clear that FPTP is a dinosaur.

The question, then, is what to replace it with?

The Hybrids and the Bastards

Aside from a simple proportional representation system—where MPs are elected to Parliament on the basis of party votes, and their position on “party lists”—there are two proposed alternatives. One such is the Single Transferable Vote.

STV, in short, is a system whereby voters indicate their preferred choice of candidates in a constituency—e.g. I can nominate my local Labour candidate 1st, the Green candidate 2nd, and so on—and the second preferences of losers are distributed once they are deselected. For example: if Liz Kendall comes last in the contest, her voter’s second preferences will go mainly to Yvette Cooper, with a few ending up for Andy Burnham.

This system generally works for internal party elections, corporate board votes, and the like: the most favoured candidate is usually selected, and the system is well equipped for dealing with voters divided between broadly similar options.

STV can also help ameliorate instances where voters live in marginal seats between, say, Labour and the Tories: they may choose to vote Green, or Lib Dem, but can gift second preferences to Labour, for example.

But STV was rejected in a referendum, and for good reason: it still produces unrepresentative and often unexpected results, with tactical voting and gerrymandering playing a significant role

The other alternative is the Additional Member System—as used to elect members to the Scottish Parliament, and (in modified form) to the German Bundestag.

In this, voters get two votes: one for their constituency, the other for a proportionally represented region. Essentially, AMS is a hybrid. It works to allow voting for both party and individual candidate; but it is only semi-proportional—the Greens and UKIP, for example, would still end up with only half the MPs their votes would have given them under PR.

AMS is as much a damning indictment of FPTP as anything: the results produced under FPTP are so disproportionate, so out of touch with the voter’s intent, that even a hybrid system still produces highly irregular outcomes.

In the case of the German Bundestag, “hanging seats” are used to ensure proportionality: if the Greens, for example, won 8% of the popular vote but only 1% of the seats, the system permits them to elect additional MPs from their regional party lists. Thus, proportionality is ensured.

There’s just one problem. Two, in fact. Firstly, the House of Commons already has well over 600 MPs—is it practical to add 100 hanging seats on top of that, resulting in a house that has close to 800 MPs?

Secondly—and more importantly—the system effectively leads to toxic power struggles within parties: in smaller parties, it is advantageous for members to gain a place on the regional lists. This can lead to all manner of backstabbing and gerrymandering; and it also means that candidates with good track records have little chance of getting into Parliament if the party elite doesn’t like them.

In the case of larger parties, the opposite holds true: members will want nominations to seats—especially safe seats—and few will desire being on the regional lists.

There are proposed workarounds. In some systems, members can stand for both regional lists and constituencies; but while this can be helpful, it poses various complexities and difficulties.

But let me be clear: party politics is an issue that affects any kind of voting system. Whether it be party lists, or preferred candidates being “parachuted in” to safe seats (as occurred with Shawn Woodward, the Tory defector, under Blair’s primeministership)—either way, it is an issue that needs to be resolved by parties, not by voters.

A Question of Proportionality

The final alternative is pure proportional representation: if you have votes, you are given seats. Who gets to go to Parliament is decided by the party list.

This system has been denounced by the Tories for being subject to “party favouritism”—including by my very own Tory MP, Nadhim Zahawi, who was himself chosen by the Party to represent a safe seat! But more legitimate criticisms have been posed, and the most pressing of these concerns stable governments.

Critics argue that PR leads to unstable minority governments, or to fragile coalitions; but this argument doesn’t wash, for two reasons. Firstly, countries in which PR is implemented—examples include Austria, Denmark and many more—do in fact have relatively stable governments. Rarely was Helen Thornen Schmidt, the former Social Democratic PM for Denmark, bound by her hands when discussing on behalf of the nation (to quote John Major). This is despite having been in a coalition in which her party made up half the MPs; the reminder belonging to an eclectic alliance of People’s Socialists, Red-Greens, and Liberals.

Secondly, is not it true that FPTP produces these so-called “stable governments”. British parties are coalitions—one need only look at Corbyn and Kendall, or at Cameron and IDS, to realise this. But not only does FPTP give the illusion of stable government; it is in fact less stable than the governments produced by PR.

In a PR system, a coalition is subject to formal coalition pacts; to non-binding confidence and supply agreements; and to clearly defined positions on issues, held visibly by different parties. This arrangement is much more stable than that found in a “broad church” party, whereby each wing serves to denounce the other (as Labour is experiencing now) or to reach compromises that neither please the party nor convince the electorate (case in point: Miliband).

Fearing the Little Guy

The final complaint levelled against PR is, ironically, is that it doesn’t block small parties from gaining representation. This is only partially true: countries like Germany, for example, have 5% limits on gaining any seats in the Bundestag (parties with votes below the threshold are excluded and the composition of the Bundestag reflects that).

This is helpful in keeping out, say, the BNP; but what about the elephant in the room: UKIP?

Tony Blair raised this very concern, and even went as far as to suggest that smaller parties generally hold excessive power by virtue of deciding the majority.

But there are problems with this. Firstly, small parties will never be in government on their own; and if you’re not in government, there is little you can do. Labour knows this the hard way. It is therefore imperative that small parties attempt to gain favourable standing with larger parties; but doing so requires making compromises. In short: a small party cannot hold a large party to ransom, because to do so means being irrelevant.

Smaller parties are also often ideologically left-leaning or right-leaning; the Danish Red-Greens will never go into coalition with the Danish far right, for example.

But Blair is right to ask questions over what a Tory–UKIP coalition would look like. A match made in Hell, some would say; and a very fragile one at that, seeing as to their considerable differences over Europe, gay marriage, and more besides.

It is however worth mentioning that the vote share under FPTP is likely going to be different to that gained under PR. Many Tory voters will vote UKIP; and many Labour voters will vote Green. But let’s not exaggerate: the Tories and Labour will still be the two biggest parties in Parliament.

The challenge may be a more unexpected one. UKIP, at the end of the day, is a minority party. But the differences between Corbyn and Kendall are real, while the difference between Kendall and Cameron is not that great. It may be the case that the entire party landscape will be fundamentally altered: the Blairites will join the Cameroonians (and the Cleggites), to form the Market Party; UKIP will remain UKIP, but IDS will find himself at home; while many Greens and what remains of the Lib Dems will defect to Labour, perhaps to form the Liberal Green Socialists, or something of the sort.

Such speculation aside, one thing is clear: it is in the interests of democracy, and that of the country, for FPTP to be scrapped. At this stage, anything would be better.

And to assuage the nervous socialists among you: if you want to keep out the far right, look to Austria. Despite two far right parties collectively gaining over 20% of the vote, moderates among Social Democrats and Conservatives set aside their differences and formed a coalition.

Conclusion

Whatever system will replace FPTP, there will be challenges. The establishment—among the Tories, but even within Labour—will not take kindly to having their hegemony disappear behind a flurry of compromises and coalitions. There will be doubters, among left and right. But Britain must challenge this political inertia. The future of meaningful, working democracy rests on it to do so.