According to Anne-Marie Trevelyan, the International Development Secretary, there is no case for the state funding of political parties in the UK. This is what she said:
“We have an incredible system in the UK where we don’t ask the state to fund our political parties and if we didn’t have the private donations that come through from donors large and small – in my constituency, people donate £25 a year and donors who can provide more, do more – if we didn’t do that, the taxpayer would be funding political activity. I think our UK system is uniquely well-placed to ensure that we get this broad stretch … the unions fund a great deal of the Labour Party’s activity, again that’s from many, many small voices, and then some large ones too.It’s a mix which brings a real depth of voices to our political parties across the piste.”
Trevelyan was speaking after the revelation that being Treasurer of the Conservative Party and donating £3m is a sure-fire way to becoming a peer.
Over the years, I have found myself wondering what possesses someone who has enjoyed a hugely successful business career to seek to be made treasurer of a political party. I am reminded of having been involved in various school or charity fund-raising causes. The one moment that provokes sitting on hands is when someone is asked to volunteer to be treasurer. It’s the worst job of all, collecting the money, sending out reminders, chasing the late payers, being responsible for totting up the money.
So, in the past, it has crossed my mind as to why City and industrial titans are happy to do the same on a larger scale for the Tories. I assumed, naively, that they brought to the table a nous for figures and contacts, and that while they did not want to get involved in policy matters, they could at least ensure the organisation they supported was in decent financial shape. I knew that some of them gave money themselves and some went on to be made lords. I did not join the dots, though, and did not realise that all would be offered peerages provided they stumped up sufficient dosh.
Reading the coverage, it fell into place. The £3m club joins the other scandals that have beset our political establishment and weakened it still further in the eyes of the public. This is the part of Trevelyan’s defence that is lost. She talks about bringing “a real depth of voices”, whatever that means, to our political parties while ignoring the loudest screaming: from a public that has lost trust in our politicians. And much of the reason for that despond is the slew of stories about wealthy people buying influence and titles.
I was in the House of Commons as a reporter during the John Major era and spent much of my time reporting on scandals, beginning with “cash for questions”. It was a moniker that stuck – later we had “cash for honours” and “cash for peerages”.
Now, decades on, Major is denouncing Boris Johnson’s handling of the Owen Paterson case. While the disclosure about the conveyor belt of treasurers heading to the Lords came too late for Major’s thoughts, it’s part of the same. One is about accepting paid consultancy while being an MP, the other concerns party donors. They’re both aspects of “sleaze”, the word that came to hound Major’s premiership.
Major’s response back then was to launch a “back to basics” moral crusade, followed by the setting up of the Nolan Committee on Standards in Public Life.
Today, Major is severely critical of the Government’s initial defence of Paterson, charging: “The striking difference is this: in the 1990s I set up a committee to tackle this sort of behaviour. Over the last few days, we have seen today’s government trying to defend this sort of behaviour. Sleaze is unacceptable, was unacceptable when I was there, and I suffered a great deal of pain and anguish over it. It’s unacceptable today, and it needs to be stopped.”
He’s right about that, but nothing has changed. Major may think he made a difference by setting up a committee but he did not. The electorate realised that, too, by voting Major and his colleagues out of office.
The problem is just as bad today as it was then. If anything, what has altered is that public esteem for politicians is even lower. Wholesale reform is needed. While that may include tight restrictions on MPs moonlighting, it must embrace state funding of political parties.
They are becoming ever more reliant on a small pool of major donors. Labour is dependent upon the trade unions and private gifts; the Tories are totally counting on payments from individuals. In the past, the Conservatives have indicated a willingness to accept a cap on individual donations provided money given by the unions is also limited. Attempts to move forward have always stumbled on this issue.
We’ve long since passed the point where reform on these lines will shift perceptions. The erosion of faith is so complete that only something more radical will suffice. Individual donations should be capped at a level that cannot cause eyebrows to shoot skywards and give the impression there is a funding channel reserved for the rich, that plenty of people could donate to the maximum if they wished, say high four or low five figures. Reluctantly, the bulk of the funding should be provided by the state.
Of course, some will insist it is an abuse of taxpayers’ money, to finance political parties, but sadly, there is now no longer any alternative. The sum required is small, tens of millions, versus the cost of running Parliament and other elected bodies.
Far from being a waste, it will be public money well spent. If matters continue along the same path, creating further decay and public disillusion, all that building and refurbishment work at the Palace of Westminster, costing billions, will count for nothing.