Puncturing the myth of decisive government in the national interest

People on the continent must be viewing the political turmoil in Britain with amusement. Our leaders are flustered, wondering what to do next. In most other European countries, politicians take it for granted that campaigning in elections and forming governments afterwards are quite separate activities. Coalition or minority governments are the norm in the Netherlands and Nordic countries. Ever since the war, Germany has almost invariably been governed by a coalition. In both the Netherlands and Germany, the aim in forming a government has often been to produce a "super majority" – a government backed by more parties than are strictly necessary to maintain the government's parliamentary support. The best-governed countries have typically been those lacking one-party majority governments of the British type. In practice, the downside risk of disunity and paralysis has been more than counterbalanced by the achievement of consensus and a recognition of the need to proceed with due deliberation. The British pride themselves on having "decisive" governments, but their decisive decisions are often calamitous. Recall the poll tax, this country's entry into the European Exchange Rate Mechanism at far too high a rate, and the fiasco of the Child Support Act. In any case, the reputation for decisiveness is undeserved. The entire British political elite knew that trade-union reform was essential as early as the mid 1960s, but it was not achieved till 1983. Under successive one-party governments, the UK has failed to devise a stable, sustainable pensions regime. France, Germany and the Benelux countries created the European Community within a few years. Collectively, the UK's political elite dithered for a whole generation. People in Britain still quote Disraeli's 1852 dictum that "England does not love coalitions". He might have spoken differently a century later. It was one multi-party coalition that led Britain to victory in the first world war and another that led it to victory in the second. The truth is that most British governments have in reality been "concealed coalitions" – Labour governments comprised of hardline socialists and moderate social democrats and Conservative governments embracing, most recently, ardent Europeans and Eurosceptics. The Thatcher government was highly effective in its own terms; but it was bracketed by the muddled and faction-riddled administrations of Harold Wilson, Jim Callaghan and John Major. The two wartime coalitions were, of course, voluntary affairs. The political parties agreed to agree. But Britain in the last 100 years has also experienced four phases of minority government, with a single party in office but dependent on the votes in parliament of other parties: Asquith's Liberal administration between 1910 and 1915, the minority Labour governments of 1924 and 1929-31 and the minority Wilson and Callaghan governments during the 1970s. The Asquith government achieved much. The minority Labour governments were less successful; but in each case their lack of success owed more to external circumstances and their own internal divisions than to their minority status. Ramsay MacDonald's government simply fell apart in 1931. The Callaghan government fell prey to the "Winter of Discontent". It would have lost the 1979 election even if it had had an overwhelming parliamentary majority. Unused to so-called "hung parliaments" most Britons, including many politicians, fail to distinguish among the possible outcomes in such situations. One is an actual coalition, in which two or more parties coalesce, with members of each included as ministers in the government. The wartime Lloyd George and Churchill coalitions were of that type. Both had the backing of overwhelming majorities in the Commons. A minority government is an altogether different proposition. Ministers are drawn from only one party dependent for their survival on the votes of other parties in the Commons. How long they survive depends on the relationship between the governing party and the other parties in parliament. Although few in England have noticed, the UK is no stranger to hung parliaments. The Scottish Parliament has been hung since it first elected in 1999. The Welsh Assembly has been hung most of the time. The Northern Ireland Assembly was designed to be hung. In their different ways, Scotland and Wales have experimented with both coalitions and minority governments. One reason why most people in England are not aware of developments is that both types of government in those two countries have been tolerably successful. Scotland and Wales have certainly not been less well governed than the UK as a whole. Some would argue the opposite. Minority governments can function on a variety of bases. One, the least satisfactory from most points of view, is the "as-and-when" basis. The parties not represented in the government vote – or refuse to – for the minority government's proposals as and when and ad hoc. They look at each proposition as it arises and decide, case by case, how to respond. The obvious potential consequences are the imminent danger of the government's falling at any time, gridlock and inordinate amounts of wheeling and dealing. Another possibility is the "confidence and supply" option. One or more opposition parties – enough to give the government an overall majority – agree to sustain a minority government in power and enable it to pass its budget and money bills. However, the opposition parties reserve the right to vote down measures they deem unacceptable. That was roughly the basis on which the Liberals under David Steel sustained the Callaghan government in office in 1977-78. From the government's point of view, the arrangement worked reasonably well; but the Liberals got little out of it – beyond ritual "consultation" with government ministers – and in 1979 they helped to precipitate a general election by bringing the government down. The Lib-Lab pact always had built into it an element of instability and ad hocery. The third basis on which minority government can be made to work might be called the "negotiated treaty" basis. The would-be governing party and one or more of the other parties negotiate an agreement setting out the terms on which they intend to co-operate. The party or parties remaining outside the government agree to support the government on some issues but make it plain that the government cannot count on their support on others. The resulting treaty is, ideally, reasonably detailed. It gives something to each side. It is usually written down and published. It gives ministers confidence that, provided they abide by the treaty, they will actually be allowed to govern, free from interminable opposition interference. Above all, the treaty's terms ideally give outsiders confidence that the minority government will remain in power for the foreseeable future and be permitted to govern in the national interest. Under present circumstances, this last proviso is important. In their post-election statements, all three party leaders made a point of emphasising Britain's need for "stability". The markets' behaviour since then underscores the need for urgency. Any agreement between the Tories and the Lib Dems must be one that gives the financial markets – and everyone else – reason to believe that the new government will remain in power, and effectively empowered, for a reasonable period of time. For that purpose, some sort of carefully – but speedily – negotiated treaty is probably essential. Talk of an imminent second election is idle – and, worse, dangerous. It conjures up the possibility of renewed instability, and a reluctance on the part of the UK government to take difficult decisions. It would begin to make the UK look a little like Greece. Fortunately, a second election, despite Thursday's results, seems unlikely. Labour and the Lib Dems are effectively broke. The party that forced such an election would almost certainly be massacred at the polls. Not least, politicians would find it impossible to justify holding another election when public spending was being cut. General elections cost roughly £100m a time. Voters might think the money could be better spent. Anthony King is professor of government at Essex University and author of "The British Constitution".