Over the past few decades, in many of the world’s oldest and most esteemed parliamentary democracies, the principles underpinning egalitarianism, have soured.[i] Corruption, populist policies aimed at placating those who feel abandoned by the establishment, and the brazen abuse of power, have all helped warp its moral purpose.
One theme remains constant: unless the system is closely monitored and recalibrated to avoid any unwanted consequences, over time the needs and expectations of the general public will become ancillary to the whims and allegiances of the ruling oligarchy.[ii]
In the tiny pacific island of Nauru, a highly conspicuous breakdown in the rule of law resulted in judges being sacked and opposition politicians arrested and jailed. The Tatmadaw has turned its back on a decade of burgeoning democracy in Myanmar in favour of a bloodbath and a plunging economy. In Brazil Jair Bolsonaro thrives on the pandemic, displaying a pathological disregard for the suffering of his citizens and continuing his onslaught on democratic institutions. In Australia mean-spirited political parties are foundering as a result of internal strife, intimidation, hidden agendas, and vicious personal reprisals. In the US, successive governments have been captive to industrial-military interests and the gun lobby, whose prime aim is to stoke conflict and sell arms, rather than to grow social cohesion or maintain infrastructure.
Across Europe, the rise of populism, the imposition of austerity on southern European countries by the Troika, and the illiberal measures taken by governments in Hungary and Poland are being widely interpreted as signs of a crisis of democracy. In East Europe, countries that have relatively weak states, fragile national cohesion, and almost no experience with democracy prior to 1989, are backsliding. Meanwhile incredulity shifts to Britain - a victim of narcissistic nostalgia in what has become a pointless, messy, and damaging divorce from Europe.
For at least the past fifty years Singapore has challenged the notion that Western-style democracy is the best form of government. It has done this by achieving incredible material wealth, although this has been achieved by denying its citizens freedom of expression and beliefs, associational rights, and electoral diversity. From the vantage point of the Chinese elite, free market capitalism and Western-style democracy have both lost their gloss, given it is estimated that 90 per cent of democracies created after the fall of the Soviet Union have now failed.
It is possible to argue that the Westminster model, and other pioneering parliamentary systems, such as that which evolved in the US after independence, had the capacity for seamlessly fusing politics with governance in alignment with prevailing circumstances. The farsighted American Declaration of Independence, arguably the most inspiring democratic document ever drafted, asserted that the main purpose of government was to establish those conditions in which citizens can best realize their rights for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. This affirmed the promise of a better life for immigrants and quickly became the lodestone for America’s entrepreneurial success throughout the 20th century.
So what has happened in the intervening years that this seems not to be the case today? How has politics become so detached from prudent governance? Is it because the modern sovereign state has allowed its authority to be usurped by large corporations, the media, and the military? Has it anything to do with the inability of elected representatives to comprehend and deal with the complexity of issues from within the narrow confines of their ideological myopia? Is it because we have encouraged a professional political class to surface that is so smitten with wielding political muscle and, in doing so, fixated on keeping their own jobs, that designing and enacting policies to benefit society as a whole has become a sideshow? Or is it because we are so easily persuaded to disengage, turning a blind eye to financial elites that have become the very worst of thieves?
While it would be naïve to suggest there is only one source, rationality would have us concede there is today a distinct possibility that the role played by the political class is now a burden on society, rather than a catalyst enabling momentous leaps in socio-economic advancement.
When democracy first emerged it was regarded with a degree of scepticism by the elite. Genuine representation was given lip service. Parliament was little more than a debating fraternity where people with similar social backgrounds met to consider the major issues of the day. Those from the highest social ranks controlled political discourse much as they controlled most other aspects of community life. Besides, it was by no means evident that democracy was practicable. Most of society was illiterate, too, which meant that the pool of potential talent was severely restricted.
This snug elitist model was dealt a body blow with the advent of universal adult suffrage. People from different walks of life were now recruited. This was the opening gambit for the rise of the professional political class and sowed the seeds for ideological discord. Politics quickly became an extension of deeply ingrained social disparities and cultural prejudices. Representation, and the act of voting, became the manifestation of belonging to a particular social clique. Only later would the axis of political conflict shift from that between partisan factions, supported by different groups of citizens, to one between professional politicians and the people.
We all have our own ideas as to how democracy should work, does work, and could work, even as we participate in democratic processes that vary from one country to the next. To some extent we are all novices in democracy - our personal attitudes shaped by experience. Regardless of our pet theories though, one ingredient remains sacrosanct and critical for success: authentic democracy is marked by governance for the people, enacted by the people, legislating the will of the people.
Some might also argue that the function of a government is to provide leadership when deep divisions in society get in the way of deciding the most appropriate course of action. In view of the present void in leadership globally, I suspect this attribution has less to do with democracy and more to do with the need for a scapegoat, should decisions prove to be flawed, partial, or even harmful at some stage.
The concept of a professional political class – a small cadre of highly aware, educated individuals able to represent the community and from whom the national leadership is largely drawn - is a relatively recent phenomenon.[iii] Initially this elite group of notables was driven by the contribution they felt they could make to the public good. Driven by grand principles, they lived and breathed political theatre without the need to live off it. Political scientists were able to argue, with some conviction, that democratic electoral systems at this time allowed the cream of society to rise to the top in service to the nation.
That is no longer the case. Indeed some politicians, driven by raw passion, appealing only to a few, and apparently undeterred by their inability to grasp the simplest policy issues, stay in office for as long as possible by doing as little as possible. Others regard their commitment as a life-long calling, rather like the priesthood. In these circumstances it is hardly surprising that an intense sense of self- entitlement has grown stronger, while self-righteousness proliferates the system like a contagion.
Locked within arcane routines and rituals aimed at fine-tuning the status quo, competing with other individuals, states, and belief systems, and constantly patching up the present rather than imagining aspirational developmental leaps, parliaments are so easily lulled into a psychotic state where individual members start to believe in their own wisdom and infallibility. Unless they take active steps to remain in close touch with the general public, which few of them do, politicians can easily convince themselves, and each other, that they know more, and are far wiser, than ordinary citizens, and should consequently determine and shape policy unilaterally.
Unfortunately these delusions are strengthened by an inexplicable assumption that citizens would prefer not to become involved in policy formulation and decision-making and are only too happy to delegate everything in that regard to their elected representatives. The fact that their improper behaviours and misdemeanors are the cause of such disengagement, does not seem to occur to them.
Most politicians probably start off with the best of intentions. But once they become part of the political machinery they are somehow persuaded that the public trusts their professionalism and wants them to get on with the job of governing the country without constant public consultation. When, with appropriate humility, it is suggested that the core of democracy is to enact the will of the people, but that the people need to be invited to provide their inputs as the basis for policy development, the invariable answer is 'we have moved beyond such a model'. With respect that is another way of saying authoritarianism has take over and that the general public is now surplus to requirements.
This is tantamount to suggesting that democratic ideals are no longer necessary, or that we have evolved a more effective form of governance which does away with the need to involve the voting public. This absurdity occurred alongside the emergence of a professional political class. Bound by a vocational bond and common interests, a shared agenda, and its own particular philosophy of democracy, this perspective has become the consensus among most career politicians. Matters related to what constitutes a modern democracy are never questioned from within the hallowed halls of power. Inbuilt checks and balances and behavioural codes deal only with the performance of this operating model. No high level strategies are in place to monitor and review the overall intentions and effectiveness of the system, or how it might be improved or even reinvented.
If we examine this consensus closely one theme becomes very apparent. The political class is less divided along ideological fault lines these days. Instead, other divisions have opened up. Two are of particular concern to any functioning society in an era of disruption.
The electoral frontline is no longer the sensible centre - a fluid concept at the best of times - but an intergenerational theatre where the main contest is played out between young people intent on making decisions that secure their future in ways that provide them with opportunities at least comparable to those enjoyed by their parents and grandparents, and those same, older, family members, struggling to keep the benefits they extracted from the system over time.
But even intergenerational equity no longer totally fuels the electoral combat zone. A far more deep-seated divide has opened up between citizens and those whose job it is to represent them. Paradoxically, we see a polarized political class sporadically competing for the allegiance of a much less polarized electorate, albeit at odds generationally speaking, demanding that their governments tackle the most momentous issues of our time – issues that are avoided by most parliamentarians – while providing assurance that the future will not be entirely dystopian.
If we are to understand and address these two divides, we will need to find answers to several vital questions. In the mind of a politician, what essential tenets shape their self-perception? What beliefs set them apart from their constituents and their political opponents, and why have these developed? How do they perceive the nature and structure of political rivalry and opposition? And finally, how do they interpret their relationship with the voting public, particularly in terms of their influence and the use or abuse of power? Answers to these questions are necessary if we are to resolve defects inherent within today's political professional praxis.
Nobody can claim people go into politics to become wealthy. Such a suggestion is clearly absurd. Nor can we assume people enter politics to satisfy a craving for power. But whatever the impulse to enter and remain in politics, however principled that initial motivation might be, professionals in any industry must invariably ensure they have a reliable source of income, a realistic chance of remaining in their job, and opportunities for career progression.
Therein lies the crux of our problem – one that is unique to the political class. For these three fairly bland considerations, have irreversibly warped the intentions and behaviours of politicians – both individually and collectively. Like any other occupational group, politicians have acquired an overwhelming self-interest to remain in office. Unlike most other occupational groups, they are actors in an electoral system that can kick them out of office at a moment’s notice.
On the other hand, conditions for sitting members have improved considerably, to a point where many simply cannot be voted out of office anymore. Consequently, real intellectual opposition is anaemic, long-term solutions are often evaded to avoid risk, and accountability is undermined. These trends, together with others like dynastic succession, all contravene the imperatives for democracy to function well by remaining honest and transparent.
So in spite of increasing education levels, and more expansive recruitment of talent, politicians have, once again, become members of an oligarchy, all but disengaging from the community it is intended to serve. This dilemma has not altered one iota since politics went from a vocationally-based public duty to a career-based profession. There is one substantial reason why this is the case.
Electoral vulnerability is a crucial element in any vibrant democracy. The notion of accountability, so central to the philosophy of representative government, rests solely on the ability of voters to oust incumbents – for any reason whatsoever, or for no reason at all. Thus, professionalization of the political class and electoral accountability must remain in conflict until this matter is resolved.
The two most popularly canvassed proposals for resolving this predicament entail eliminating electoral accountability, by shifting to a unicameral style of government of the kind existing in Singapore, or abolishing the possibility of a professional livelihood, by reverting to an ethos of civic responsibility and service.
This creates a false dilemma. For a third possibility is feasible – one that preserves the sacrosanct nature of electoral accountability while dealing with the problems arising from professionalism. This solution would not eradicate professionalism but seek to elevate it to higher ethical and operational standards.
There is no doubt that electoral accountability is best secured through the evolution of mutual trust and community engagement. That entails providing voters with wide-ranging, unbiased information concerning contradictory policy options; truthful evaluations of any consequences likely to flow from differing policy positions in the long-term; and making sure that every citizen has their voice heard on every matter that concerns them - at any time, not just every three or four years.
The role of the professional politician in this new landscape would be to assure such demands were being met, while drafting legislation that accords with the wishes of a majority of citizens - uncorrupted by personal inclinations, ideological leanings, or party interests. If that simple step could be achieved, trust in politicians and the political process would gradually heal. Citizens would feel empowered to contribute to the future direction of their society as never before.
There is, however, a slight catch. The prospect of a lengthy career in politics would cease to exist. There would be no vocational ladder to climb. Indeed, traditional party structures would collapse under the yoke of planned obsolescence.
Compensation would have to reflect new circumstances where representatives are elected for a limited tenure of up to two terms. They would then need to be given every support possible to resume their careers outside of parliament as active members of society. Work related to their previous role in government would be permanently disallowed.
They could expect no special perks either. No honours would be conferred on them for services rendered. No continuing privileges of office, lump-sum payments, free airline travel, gifts or special pension deals either. Instead, exposure to an incomparable program of advancement would equip them with a treasury of knowledge, new skills, international networks, and mastery over a diverse range of new practices in order to assist their re-entry into the workforce.
In essence they could assume this developmental pathway would equip them with a lifetime of valued activities, including new career options, and the potential to achieve in almost any venture they chose to undertake after the completion of their service to their society.
[i] My understanding is that the purpose and art of politics is to enable the citizens of a country to collectively achieve vital goals they would not otherwise achieve individually. Through negotiation, debate, legislation and other political structures, politics brings safety, social order and general wellbeing to the community.
[ii] There are many ways to define the differences between governance and politics. For the sake of coherence in this essay I refer to government as the group of individuals elected by citizens to govern the country on their behalf; governance as the system of laws, structures and procedures used by a government to administer the country, and politics as the processes used by the government and citizenry collectively to make policy and take directional decisions concerning the national interest.
[iii] The German sociologist Max Weber was the first to point out the consequences of a professional political class in his famous Munich lecture on ”Politics as a Vocation” in 1919, in which he describes the transition from political institutions dominated by notables being economically independent of politics to institutions being peopled by professional politicians living off politics.