We are, of course, already in the phoney war that inevitably precedes a general election in the fifth year of a parliament.

When elections are called in the first, second, third or fourth [...]]]> This is, in all probability, the last “View from Westminster” that I will be able to provide before the general election is upon us.

We are, of course, already in the phoney war that inevitably precedes a general election in the fifth year of a parliament.

When elections are called in the first, second, third or fourth year of parliaments, they do not create this phoney war – because, in those years, no-one know which weeks are the weeks just before an election. But when a parliament stretches on towards the end of its final year of lawful existence, the date of the election becomes ever more determinate and the pre-electoral period becomes more and more obviously a pre-electoral period.

This takes us back to the interesting question of whether it would, in the long run, be preferable to have fixed term parliaments.

In a recent ‘View from Westminster’ column, I said “it remains a mystery why, when the Quinquennial Act was being introduced, our predecessors did not even discuss the possibility of a regular cycle”. And I added that, if our predecessors “had been forced to limp through the last few months, they might have come to a different conclusion.”

Interest in the proposition of fixed term parliaments has certainly risen during recent years – and I now receive a slow but steady stream of correspondence from people who are promoting the idea.

The arguments in favour are very clear. Everyone knows where they are. The Prime Minister of the day cannot play games with the date and hence with the electorate. The Civil Service can prepare in an orderly fashion for any likely transition. And the costs can be minimised by co-ordinating the parliamentary electoral cycle with local election cycles.

True, as the last few weeks have shown, a system of fixed term parliaments would have the disadvantage of creating a phoney war (and hence a prolongation of what is effectively the election period) at every single election. And I’ve no doubt that we will go on discussing this issue for some time to come before a national consensus emerges.

But I suspect that we may eventually get to the point at which fixed terms seem somehow more natural then the floating arrangements we have grown used to over many years.

This is a very British pastime. You are no more likely to find someone in most other European countries engaging in it than you are to find them baking Yorkshire puddings or [...]]]> One of the most frequent and least productive guessing-games being played just now is the “when are we going to have an election?” game.

This is a very British pastime. You are no more likely to find someone in most other European countries engaging in it than you are to find them baking Yorkshire puddings or singing Rule Britannia. On the continent, elections come and go with clockwork regularity, according to pre-ordained schedules.

But not here. We have organised our electoral cycles with all the irregularity and unpredictability of the weather on an English summer’s day.

Nowhere does this provide a topic of conversation more than in Westminster itself. With around 90 days to go before the most likely date for the next election, speculation has reached fever pitch – and rumours and conspiracy theories abound. Has minister X unconsciously confirmed 6 May? Or is this a deep-laid plot to throw us all off the scent? The more this all goes on, the more conscious I become of the odd spectacle that it must present to the rest of the world.

Here we are, with a thundering great deficit and a parliament that is, by any standards, well past its sell-by date. But, instead of moving sure-footedly into an election which will deliver a new parliament, we are asking our financiers to bear with us as our democracy stumbles around in search of a date at which to renew itself.

Looking back, it is genuinely puzzling why our ancestors decided to bequeath us a Quinquennial Act that limited the maximum duration of a parliament, but did not define the normal duration.

Of course, in a system like ours, where the government depends for its existence on the ability to command a majority in the House of Commons, there has to be provision for the dissolution of parliament and a new election if a government loses a confidence vote in the House. But it would certainly have been possible to combine an escape route of that kind with an otherwise settled rhythm of elections at five-yearly or four-yearly intervals.

So it remains a mystery why, when the Quinquennial Act was being introduced, our predecessors did not even discuss the possibility of a regular cycle.

I rather think that, if they had been forced to limp through the last few months, they might have come to a different conclusion.

Of course, this year it is largely a charade.

With an election likely to start not more than four months away, the chances that much of the legislative programme [...]]]> Black Rod has issued his sonorous summons. The Queen has been, spoken and gone. Her speech has been debated. And the new Parliamentary session is well under way.

Of course, this year it is largely a charade.

With an election likely to start not more than four months away, the chances that much of the legislative programme will become a statutory reality rather than a political debating-point are slim.

But, even in this strange after-life of the 2005 parliament, there are issues being discussed which will have profound impact in particular corners of our national life.

Example number one is the fate of micro-hydro schemes in our mill streams and rivers.

Beneath the noise and clamour of the surface warfare, a little but crucial submarine battle is being fought.

The issue is whether conditions imposed by the Environment Agency on people who want to operate micro-hydro turbines will make it possible and attractive for such benign forms of electricity generation to be installed — or whether the licence conditions will make this form of generation economically unattractive (and indeed virtually impossible).

“What?” you may say, “we thought the Environment Agency would be gung ho to have carbon-free renewable energy of this sort installed up and down our river systems.” And so you might well have thought. But it turns out that the Environment Agency is not really, or in any case, not completely an “environment” agency. It has thousands of people dealing with rivers and hundreds of people dealing with fish (very rightly) but it hasn’t yet quite caught up with the idea that we also place some environmental premium these days on renewable energy. So the battle continues.

Example two is completely different. This is a battle that is going on in a shaded area of the forest rather than under the waters.

It is the battle of the herbalists.

For years, herbalists have learned how to provide safe herbal remedies on the basis of centuries of experience.

But the EU in its wisdom has now decided that only officially regulated practitioners may prescribe more than a tiny number of herbs that can be bought over the counter.

Because the system of regulation has always been operated by professional bodies rather than by statutory bodies, it doesn’t count for the purposes of the Directive — so the battle is now on, with the herbalists desperate to be officially regulated in order to survive.

Strange old world, isn’t it?

The issue in question is what happens to people when they leave hospital.

For some people, of course, this [...]]]> Normally I try to write in this column about events at Westminster.  But, this month, I want to raise an issue that is of huge concern locally – and which the View from Bridport has rightly taken up.

The issue in question is what happens to people when they leave hospital.

For some people, of course, this is really not much of a problem.  If you are young, physically healthy, strong and fit, and if you have a family around you, then the return from hospital is a fairly straightforward affair.  A member of the family comes to collect you; you get into the car; you make your way home; and you are then lovingly nursed back to full recovery.

So far, so good.

Unfortunately, however, the majority of adults who spend an appreciable amount of time in hospital are not young, but elderly; and many of those who are elderly do not any longer have a family at home.  For people in these circumstances, even if they are basically fit and healthy, leaving hospital and going home can be a real problem, because there is no-one to collect them and no-one to help once they get home.

And, of course, many elderly patients are not basically strong and healthy – but frail.  For them, the return home may pose not just short-term problems but also longer term difficulties.

Of course, there are many forms of support, both formal and informal, which enable those who have no family at home and those who are frail to deal with these issues.  The Adult Services department provides admirable help, as do district nurses and many voluntary and private agencies.  But I have seen over the past few years increasing signs of a lack of connectedness between what happens in hospital and these support services.

There are indeed systems which are meant to ensure that a proper care plan is in place whenever someone leaves hospital. But I have I have seen cases where anything from the journey home through to long-term support have not been sorted out. And I have the uncomfortable feeling that these particular cases may represent the tip of the iceberg.

One can all too easily see how this could come about.  The hospital  can all too easily concern itself with treating people for their ailment, not on what happens afterwards.

But, as I have pointed out to the Primary Care Trust, the whole point of the NHS is that it is meant to knit things together and ensure that people get the care and help they need, rather than leaving them to their own devices.

This is something on which we need to focus over coming months, so that we get to the point where one can be confident that, for everyone, a stay in hospital is one link in a chain of care, rather than an episode that ends, for some, with an uncomfortable and disorientating sequel.

Happy days are here again.  The party conference season is over.

Sighs of relief all round.

But the fact that it all goes on too long shouldn’t make us forget that this annual round of jamborees is actually quite remarkable.

Enthusiasts of one brand of politics or another make long journeys from all over Britain to congregate, [...]]]>

Happy days are here again.  The party conference season is over.

Sighs of relief all round.

But the fact that it all goes on too long shouldn’t make us forget that this annual round of jamborees is actually quite remarkable.

Enthusiasts of one brand of politics or another make long journeys from all over Britain to congregate, together with huge numbers of journalists, to capture a small fraction of the nation’s attention for a few days.

In those days, defining statements are made; reputations are won and lost; arguments are rehearsed, tested, strengthened and abandoned; policies are exposed and scrutinised.  And then, all of a sudden, the music stops – and everything returns to normal.

The most remarkable thing of all is the difference between what it feels like on the inside and what it feels like on the outside.

From the outside, it’s just a moment when one hears a bit more from a particular party than one normally hears.

From the inside, by contrast, it is an experience of considerable emotional intensity.  Quite apart from making speeches (I found myself making 12 of them  this year), one is surrounded by continuous discussion between people who are, for one reason or another, fascinated by politics.   Every move counts; any remark may suddenly be magnified;  nerves of steel are required.

Although something of the same tension is felt by the players in any great sporting event, the gap between the inside and the outside is much greater in the case of a party conference. In most national sports, a significant proportion of the population sees a significant proportion of the action on the TV – whereas, at a party conference it is only a tiny fraction of the action which will ever be seen on the screen.

But even if most of the proceedings fail to engage our fellow citizens, there is at least one exception. The leaders’ speeches at conferences have become an institution.

These speeches provide a chance of communication between the people who are or might be Prime Minister and the voters who elect them. It is a direct communication, without the inevitable oddities of an interview, that lasts for more than a few seconds on the TV. People can actually see, first hand, what they have got or might be getting — and can make a judgement. Perhaps, for that alone, all the paraphernalia is worthwhile.

The reality is that (probably, typically) I have taken a total of 16 working [...]]]> I imagine that many readers of this article will start with the assumption that it is being written from some far-off beach – since the newspapers regularly tell us that MPs are on holiday from the end of July until mid October.

The reality is that (probably, typically) I have taken a total of 16 working days off from parliamentary duties over the summer. And each of these 16 days has started with a couple of hours dictating constituency correspondence (because constituents quite rightly do not expect their concerns to be subordinated to an MP’s time off).

Now things are again in full swing.   My colleagues and I in the Shadow Cabinet are busily preparing policy announcements for our Party Conference. No doubt, the other party leaderships are doing just the same – and the Government is, of course, continuing to wrestle with all the difficulties that afflict anybody who is trying to run the country, including the vexed international issues that have arisen in Libya and Afghanistan.

But it is true that the view from Westminster at this time of year is always an odd one. Because Parliament isn’t having formal debates, the many daily encounters between journalists and MPs that normally occur in and around the lobbies are in suspension, and there isn’t the daily news flow that is normally generated by legislation and other parliamentary events.  Much of the place is surrounded by scaffolding due to the “summer works” that seem to be a perennial feature of a large and elderly building.

This year’s scaffolding seems somehow symbolic.  Will it, I wonder, presage a more profound rebuilding of Parliament between now and next August?

And what will that consist in? Certainly, a completely new system of expenses, invented by the independent Kelly committee rather than by MPs. But, beyond that, I hope we will see a parliament that has more ability to hold the government of the day to account (with more powerful and more independent committee-hearings), a parliament that is itself more accountable (with debates and Bills triggered where a sufficient proportion of the public demand them), and a parliament that more effectively examines and debates what ministers are proposing to sign up to at EU level.  I hope, too, that we will see changes to ensure that legislation relating only to England will require backing from a majority of MPs representing English seats.

In short, there is quite a lot of rebuilding to do, before the scaffolding can come down.

If someone asked you what people in West Dorset are concerned about, what would you answer? Agriculture? Affordable rural housing? The closure of pubs and post offices? Local food and green energy? The condition of the roads? Or a thousand other local issues?

Any one of these answers would be true. Quite a number [...]]]>

If someone asked you what people in West Dorset are concerned about, what would you answer? Agriculture? Affordable rural housing? The closure of pubs and post offices? Local food and green energy? The condition of the roads? Or a thousand other local issues?

Any one of these answers would be true. Quite a number of people in West Dorset are concerned about any local issue you care to mention.

But what all of this misses is the fact that people in West Dorset are by no means only concerned with local issues or, indeed, with things directly relating to the UK.

One of the most striking features of constituency work is the number of people who contact you about things in the wider word that matter to them.

Anyone reading through my daily postbag and e-mail in-box would be forced to admit that stories about public apathy are absurdly exaggerated.

Just thinking of the last few weeks, I have received mail from constituents on poverty in Darfur, continuing strife in the Sudan, help for a young person from Kenya who needed an operation, persecution of Christians in Muslim countries, civil strife in China, and the fate of Guantanamo prisoners.

One of the good things about the constituency system is that, even if the issues are not ones that you know anything about, you are forced to find out something about them.

A powerful example of this educative effect of the constituency system is the way I was recently forced to find out more about Gaza.

No doubt there are literally thousands of people in West Dorset who occasionally focus on the situation in Gaza when there are big news stories about it and it is discussed in Parliament, on the TV news, and so on. But there is a small clutch of West Dorset inhabitants who, to their immense credit, do not just switch off when the news moves on to something else, and keep their attention focused in what is going on in Gaza from week to week.

Recently, under this inspiration, I met two absolutely remarkable women who have been going in and out of Gaza over past months.

I hesitate to add that these women are not propagandists for Hamas. They present a balanced view based on personal experience day by day, rather than on a preconceived or partisan position.

The tale they have to tell is not – to put it mildly – a happy one. Because of what they have told me, I have been putting down Parliamentary Questions and talking to colleagues. By itself, of course, this won’t change the world. But there must be other MPs around the country with constituents who are also forcing them to attend to what is going on in Gaza – and enough pebbles may in the end make a quite considerable beach.

After the razzmatazz of the G20 summit, we had the Budget, brimming with red ink (and the unwelcome prospect of a decade or more of thrift ahead as the nation gradually gets its finances back into order).

But all of these international and domestic financial [...]]]> The last few weeks in Parliament certainly cannot be described as boring.

After the razzmatazz of the G20 summit, we had the Budget, brimming with red ink (and the unwelcome prospect of a decade or more of thrift ahead as the nation gradually gets its finances back into order).

But all of these international and domestic financial discussions can seem rather distant and abstract, with numbers so vast as to be meaningless and no sign of a human being anywhere in the figure work.

So it wasn’t altogether surprising that the national conscience was wholly occupied, a week later, by the fate of the Gurkhas.

I have noticed over the years a paradox in the attitude that people take to immigration. Quite apart from all the well-founded and rational concerns to limit the growth rate of the population in a small and crowded island with over-stretched public services, there is a widespread concern about the level of immigration. But the paradox is that this concern is general and abstract. When it comes down to a real human being, whom people know or can visualise, people tend to take a quite different attitude. Repeatedly, in West Dorset, I have been approached to support applications to remain from individuals who have become known locally and whom the locals wouldn’t want to see removed.

I think it was this same pattern – together with a sense of fair play which is one of the most attractive of our national characteristics – that made the case of the Gurkhas attract so much public sympathy.

People could visualise individual Gurkhas. And people felt, very understandably, that we have a special moral obligation towards individuals who had been paid little and had put their lives at risk in the service of our country.

Given the repeated accusations that Parliament as a whole is out of touch with popular sentiment, it is reassuring that, on this occasion at least, Parliament as a whole registered the national mood and, traditional party loyalties notwithstanding, voted to let the Gurkhas in.

Of course, one point of having a representative democracy is that Parliament should have the ability to consider calmly complicated issues and long-term consequences can all to easily be ignored in a media frenzy. But, when the country is in the grip of a generous emotion, it is certainly right for legislators to respond – and that, I am glad to say, is what happened the week before last.

A lot of what goes on in Parliament is technically open to inspection, but actually is hidden from view. You can read it in Hansard if you are odd enough to read Hansard, and you can watch it on the box if you are unusual enough to subscribe to the Parliamentary channel; [...]]]> View from Bridport

A lot of what goes on in Parliament is technically open to inspection, but actually is hidden from view. You can read it in Hansard if you are odd enough to read Hansard, and you can watch it on the box if you are unusual enough to subscribe to the Parliamentary channel; but otherwise it goes entirely unnoticed.

In the last couple of weeks, there have been two important and related debates in Parliament – the first on the Autism Bill, and the second on a committee report about adults with learning disabilities.

I would wager that the number of people who have followed either of these debates is to be counted on the fingers of not very many hands.

But, in years to come, I suspect there will be many people who feel the effects of the discussions that are now going on.

As any parent with a child who has learning difficulties or who suffers from one of the disorders on the so-called autism spectrum will know, there is a considerable amount of help and support available for children who have these disabilities. Even then, as I am all too well aware from my own post bag in West Dorset, there are lots of things that can go wrong – and there is nobody more desperately in need of help than a parent who has a child suffering from one of these problems, and who can’t get the assistance required.

But, whatever the problems for children with these conditions and for their parents while they are children, matters get much more difficult when the child grows up. We just don’t have a system in place that caters fully for adults with these difficulties.

This was a large part of what we were discussing in Parliament during these two important debates – and I think I can say that the result of the two debates is likely to be a significant improvement.

The Autism Bill got enough people voting for it to force the Government to take it through to the committee stage. If it gets through that stage and comes out the other end as an Act eventually, it will create a new duty for local authorities to collect information and to prepare proper plans for the care of autistic people. And the discussion of the Select Committee report made it clear that the Government was also taking further steps to help adults with learning disabilities.

But, in addition to these practical advances, the debates showed Parliament at its best – an assembly capable of a serious discussion of serious and delicate topics, largely on a non-partisan basis. Pity it was invisible.

Last week, Parliament had one of those splendid moments when everybody does the opposite of what everybody thinks that Parliament does.

We agreed about something.

The agreement in question was about community land trusts.

There was a little “debate”, initiated by a Labour backbencher.  Her support for community land trusts was echoed by those of [...]]]> View from Bridport

Last week, Parliament had one of those splendid moments when everybody does the opposite of what everybody thinks that Parliament does.

We agreed about something.

The agreement in question was about community land trusts.

There was a little “debate”, initiated by a Labour backbencher.  Her support for community land trusts was echoed by those of us who spoke from the Conservative benches.  The Liberals pitched in with enthusiastic support, too.  And there was, in short, no sign of dissent anywhere.

This is good news – because community land trusts are a very good thing.

The idea is simple.  A trust is established – like the one in Buckland Newton, here in West Dorset.  The trust is backed by the parish council and its sole purpose is to help local people get affordable housing.

The idea is that the houses it builds are either rented to locals or are partly sold to locals, who then have to sell them back to the trust if they want to move out, so that they can be sold on to someone else local in due course.  So they stay there for the community permanently.

Because of this social purpose, the houses can be built on so-called “exception sites” outside the development boundary of a village — which means that the land is much, much cheaper than development land normally is.  The houses can therefore be built and part-sold or rented at much lower prices than normal.

The wonderful thing is that, because the community land trusts (unlike normal housing associations) are set up for locals, they can give preference to locals and are therefore welcomed by locals.  So people actually get behind a development, instead of rising up and opposing it, as they would undoubtedly would if it descended on them from the headquarters of some great national developer under the inspiration of a dreadful sequence of national, regional and county house-building targets.

I suppose the reason why everybody in Parliament is in favour of these community land trusts is that they are so obviously a good idea. 

But it is also an interesting example of an idea that crosses political boundaries.  It is attractive to Labour politicians because it is about affordable housing.  It is attractive to Liberal Democrats because it is about local endeavour.  And it is attractive to Conservatives because it is a way of allowing communities to take responsibility for their own futures instead of  everything being determined by some remote bureaucracy.

This gives cause for optimism. There really are times when different political traditions converge like the beams of a laser on something that has genuine merit.