It is almost a year since the British police launched an investigation into
what has come to be called the 'cash for honours' scandal. This revolves around
allegations that the Labour Party has been coaxing wealthy businessmen to
donate or loan large sums of money in return for a seat in the unelected second
chamber, the House of Lords.
When the police originally began their inquiries (following a complaint by
a Scottish Nationalist MP), few expected it to be anything more than a desultory
investigation. In fact it has become perhaps the biggest political albatross
hanging round Tony Blair's neck. Blair himself has been questioned by the
police - the first time this has happened to a sitting prime minister. Some
of his closest friends and aides - including Lord Levy, Labour’s chief
fundraiser and Ruth Turner, the Head of Government Relations - have been arrested,
though none have yet been charged.
And then, earlier this month, the story returned to the headlines when courts
banned the BBC from broadcasting a story that alleged that Ruth Turner had
been asked by Lord Levy to lie to the police. After newspapers successfully
published similar stories, the injunction on the BBC was eventually lifted.
At the root of the scandal is the changing nature of British politics and,
in particular, of the Labour Party. Traditionally Labour was funded by the
trade unions and its large base of grassroots activists. But links with the
unions have loosened and most of its activists have drifted away. This has
not only reduced New Labour's funding but also increased its need for money.
With the demise of activism and core voter constituencies, the parties have
become increasingly dependent on media stunts and advertising for their political
campaigns - and that can be expensive. In the 2001 election, the Labour Party
spent £10.9m. Four years later it spent almost double - the 2005 elections
cost Labour £17.9. Nearly a third of the budget went on advertising.
The Conservatives too spent a similar amount - a total of £18m on the
2005 elections, of which £8m went on advertising.
British politics, in other words, has become more like American politics.
And like American political parties, British political parties increasingly
have to sweet-talk rich sponsors to fund their activities. Since 2001, for
instance, the Labour party has bestowed honours on 12 of the 14 individuals
who donated more that £200,000.
Yet there is something absurd about the political shock created by revelations
of such activities. For, if American-style politics is new to Britain, the
buying of political favours is a very old game. It has long been an accepted
practice in Britain that political parties nominate their major donors for
seats in the House of Lords. The newspaper proprietor Lord Northcliffe - who
founded the Daily Mirror in the early twentieth century and later
bought the Times - once declared that 'When I want a peerage, I shall
buy it like an honest man'.
The whole point of the House of Lords is that it is undemocratic and allows
privilege to buy political influence. 'Cash for honours' is not an aberration
to the British political system. The use of privilege - both hereditary or
acquired - to gain political power is written into the unwritten British constitution.
The real scandal is that an institution such as the House of Lords should
still exist in a 21st century democracy.
So, if there is nothing particularly new about using cash to buy honours,
why has it become such a major political issue? Partly because the language
of morality has come to replace the language of politics. Whether discussing
Iraq or the environment, Tony Blair often sounds more like a vicar than a
prime minister, talking the language of sinfulness and evil. And all too often
New Labour seems less interested in formulating political policies than in
making finger-wagging moral gestures. As a result, the question of 'sleaze'
and the supposed moral improprieties of public figures has become a major
issue over the past decade. In the past Labour used its moral posturing to
undermine the credibility of the Conservatives. Now it has been hoist on its
own petard.
At the same time, growing cynicism about politics has led many people to accept
that all politicians are corrupt. The police have exploited such concern by
pursuing the cash for honours investigation through a series of headline-grabbing
stunts - grilling the prime minister, staging theatrical dawn raids to arrest
a top Downing Street aide, and leaking juicy stories to the media.
The real problem is that the scandal only strengthens such cynicism about
politics and politicians, particularly as allegations of sleaze and corruption
squeeze out proper political debate. It would not be difficult to indict this
government for its war on Iraq, its assault on civil liberties, its treatment
of asylum seekers, or its market-oriented education policies. Yet the issue
that is causing it greatest grief is its policy of rewarding supporters with
political honours. Now, that really is a scandal.