Opposition to the power of the central government, which means

Parliament, comes from the nationalist movements of Scotland and Wales.

Supported by minorities fiercely antagonistic toward the Sassenach (as

they call the English), these movements provide emotional stimuli for

the very young and the very old. At best they are gallant protests

against the accretion of power to a central government, a process that

goes on in Britain as it does in the United States and elsewhere. At

worst, considering the extent of Britain's real problems, the national

movements are a nuisance.

But these are not rivals, and legally the Parliament in London can do

anything it desires. During the five-year life of a Parliament the

assembly can make or unmake any law, destroy the constitution, legalize

past illegalities and thus reverse court decisions. Parliament also has

the power to prolong its own life.

Is Parliament therefore supreme and absolute? Legally, yes. But

legislative authority is delegated increasingly to ministers, and

specific powers to local authorities and to public corporations. Such

delegated powers can be withdrawn at any time, although the pressure of

work on Parliament is so great that this is unlikely.

Finally, Britain has its own system of checks and balances. The

two-party system forbids arbitrary action, for the abuse of

parliamentary power by the party in power would invite repudiation by

the electors.

Of the two houses, the House of Commons is infinitely the more

powerful. In this popularly elected assembly there are 630 members. Of

these, 511 sit for English constituencies, 36 for Welsh, 71 for Scotch,

and 12 for Northern Irish. Each constituency elects one member. The

composition of the present House of Commons, elected in May 1955, is:

Conservatives and their supporters, 346; Labor, 277; Liberal, 6; and

the Speaker, who does not vote, 1.

What does Parliament do? It regulates the life of the community through

the laws it makes. It finances the needs of the people and appropriates

the funds necessary for the services of the State by legislative

action. It controls and criticizes the government.

One reason for the supremacy of the House of Commons is that bills

dealing with finance or representation are always introduced in that

house. Moreover, the Lords avoids the introduction of controversial

bills.

Almost all bills are presented by the government in power. They

reflect policy decisions taken in the cabinet at the instigation of

government departments that will be responsible for the administration

of the decisions when the bills become law. The principal exceptions

are Private Bills, which relate solely to some matter of individual,

corporate, or local interest, and Private Members' Bills, which are

introduced by individual MP's.

The manner in which Parliament--generally the House of

Commons--controls the government in power emphasizes the difference

between the British system and our own. The ultimate control is the

power of the House of Commons to pass a resolution of "no confidence"

in the government or to reject a proposal which the government

considers so vital to its policy that it has made the proposal's

passage a "matter of confidence." If such a proposal is rejected, the

government is obliged to resign.

In addition, there is that very British institution, Question Time.

Between 2:30 and 3:30 each afternoon from Monday through Thursday,

MP's may question any minister on the work of his department and the

Prime Minister on general national policy. The questions range from the

trivial to the significant. A query about the heating in a remote Army

barracks may be followed by one about progress on the hydrogen bomb.

The growth of Question Time as an institution has put a special premium

on those ministers or junior ministers best able to parry and riposte.

For the opposition can press the minister, and if his original reply

is unsatisfactory, the questioner will follow with a supplementary

question designed to reveal the minister as incapable and ignorant.

The majority of questions are put by the opposition in the hope

of focusing public attention on the government's weaknesses. But

government Members also put questions dealing with affairs in their

constituencies. A number of them also can be counted upon to offer

ministers congratulatory queries along the lines "Is the Right

Honorable Gentleman aware that his reply will be welcomed by all

those

...?"

Questions and answers are couched in the glistening phrases of polite

debate, but occasionally tempers rise and the Speaker intervenes.

Because of the variety of subject matter and the importance of some of

the questions, Question Time is an exciting period. It was never more

so than in the last administration of Sir Winston Churchill.

That Prime Minister, armed with the political experience of fifty

years, was a joy to watch in action. One of his last memorable sallies

was at the expense of Woodrow Wyatt, an earnest young Labor MP.

What plans had the government, Wyatt asked, for evacuating itself from

London in the event of atomic attack?

Sir Winston regarded him owlishly. "Surely the Honorable Member does

not wish me to take the bread out of the mouths of the Soviet secret

service," he said.

Even without these moments, Question Time would be useful as a sort

of national catharsis and as an example of democracy in action. The

spectacle of the House of Commons, representing a Britain beset by a

multitude of problems, pausing to discuss the affairs of a crippled

veteran in a remote Welsh village is a moving one.

There is a slight similarity between Question Time and the Presidential

press conference as it has developed in Washington. Both give the

executive a chance to explain the workings of policy and government.

But in Britain the penalties for failure to answer are much greater

than in Washington. The President is answering reporters, and he is

under no compulsion to answer the questions put to him. The Prime

Minister, on the other hand, is confronted directly by his political

foes. If he fails to answer a question or offers an unsatisfactory

reply, he may provoke debate later on the matter at issue.

Certainly the President is often roughly handled, but most of the

press-conference questions seem to lack the bite and sting of those

posed in the House of Commons. Perhaps this is inevitable under present

circumstances. President Eisenhower has answered the questions of

representatives of newspapers, magazines, and radio and television

systems that are overwhelmingly Republican. A British Prime Minister

and his ministers, on the other hand, must battle all the way.

Finally, all the government departments are represented in the House

of Commons, and their representatives, as well as the Prime Minister,

can be subjected to prolonged and, at times, merciless questioning.

A comparison of Hansard's Parliamentary reports and the reports of

Presidential press conferences since 1952 will show, I think, that

there is greater pressure and a good deal more precise information in

Question Time than in a Presidential press conference.

But Question Time is only one means by which the House of Commons

can criticize and control the government. The opposition can move

the adjournment of the House on a matter that the Speaker considers

definite, urgent, and the responsibility of the government. Or it can

use one of the days formerly devoted to consideration of the Estimates

in Committee of Supply for a debate on some part of government policy.

The big debates on such issues as foreign affairs and economic policy

are the summit of parliamentary effort. Government and opposition put

forward their leading spokesmen on the issue under debate. But debates

also provide an opportunity for the back benchers of all parties.

The back benchers--Members who are not in the government or in the

opposition's shadow cabinet--rise to make their points on the issue,

and often remarkably good speeches, as well as bad ones, are delivered.

But parliamentary business is concerned with much more than questions

and debates. Bills must be passed. This procedure is involved and

lengthy, paying due attention to the rights of the House and the people

it represents.

The bill receives a formal First Reading on its introduction and is

then printed. After a period varying from one to several weeks,

depending on the bill's nature, it may be given a Second Reading as the

result of a debate on its general merits. Then the bill is referred to

one of the standing committees.

During the committee stage, Members can amend the bill if a majority of

the House agrees. When this stage is finished, the bill is reported to

the House and a further debate takes place during which the Committee's

amendments may be altered, additional amendments may be suggested

and incorporated, and, if necessary, the bill may be recommitted to

committee. Finally, the bill is submitted for a Third Reading, and if

passed, it is sent on from the Commons to the House of Lords. There it

enters upon the same course.

There, also, it may awaken the interest of Lord Cholmondeley, my

favorite peer. Lord Cholmondeley spoke in the House of Lords recently

for the first time in thirty-two years. What he had to say--about

rabbits and other small game--was brief and to the point. To many, Lord

Cholmondeley must symbolize the vague absurdities of the House of Lords.

Yet this peculiar institution has its defenders, and these are not all

peers. There is something to be said, it is contended, for an upper

chamber that debates on terms other than partisan politics the great

issues of the day. The House of Lords, like the Crown, has influence

but, as money bills must be introduced in the House of Commons, little

direct power. From the standpoint of active politics its limited power

is of a negative nature. It can, for instance, delay the passage of

legislation by rejecting a bill previously passed by the House of

Commons.

This occurred when the Lords rejected the bill to nationalize the steel

industry and the bill to abolish capital punishment. These delaying

actions demonstrated that, although the powers of the House of Lords

have been drastically curtailed, they can still have considerable

political importance. Inevitably, such action evokes dark mutterings

from the Labor Party about the ability of hereditary peers to flout the

will of the people. The Lords retort that the bill in question is not

the will of the people at all, but the will of some of the people's

representatives.

Theoretically, the House of Lords is a good deal larger than the House

of Commons, consisting of 878 peers. Only about one tenth of them,

however, take an active part in the work of the House of Lords. The

peers include princes of the royal blood, who by custom take no part in

proceedings; 26 spiritual peers, the archbishops and senior bishops of

the Church of England; all hereditary peers of England, Great Britain,

and the United Kingdom; 16 hereditary peers of Scotland elected from

their own number for each Parliament; 5 representative peers of Ireland

elected for life; and the Lords of Appeal in Ordinary appointed to

perform the judicial duties of the House and holding their seats for

life.

Such are the bare bones of the parliamentary system of Britain. Like

many other British institutions, it conceals beneath a façade of

ceremonial and tradition an efficient, flexible machine. The debates,

the great speeches, and the days of pomp when the Queen rides amid the

Household Cavalry to open Parliament are in spectacular contrast to

the long grind of unremitting and, by modern standards, financially

unrewarding work by Members of both Lords and Commons.

When the visitor sits in the gallery high above the well of the Commons

and hears a minister patiently explaining some point connected with an

obscure aspect of British life, it is well to remember that this system

is one for which men fought and suffered, that this House is the cradle

of liberties and freedoms.

The members of the government--"Her Majesty's Government in the United

Kingdom," as it is formally titled in Britain--are all Members of the

House of Commons or the House of Lords. The government and the cabinet

are separate entities, for the government includes the following

ministerial offices: the Prime Minister, who is the recognized head of

the government but who has no department; the Departmental Ministers,

seven of whom are Secretaries of State for Foreign Affairs, the Home

Department, Scotland, Commonwealth Relations, Colonies, War, and Air;

the Ministries, of which there are twelve, each headed by a Minister;

and some of the older posts with special titles such as the Chancellor

of the Exchequer, who is responsible for the Treasury, and the First

Lord of the Admiralty.

The government also includes non-departmental ministers who hold

traditional offices, such as the Lord President of the Council, the

Lord Privy Seal, the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. With the

flexibility that is so conspicuous a part of the British system,

successive governments have found major responsibilities for these

posts.

The present Lord President of the Council, the Marquess of Salisbury,

is responsible to Parliament for two immensely important organizations:

the Atomic Energy Authority and the Department of Scientific and

Industrial Research. Yet Lord Salisbury, one of the most important

members of the present government, is not an elected representative of

the people but sits in the House of Lords as a peer.

The Lord Chancellor and the Law Officers are also members of the

government. The Lord Chancellor is in fact a Minister of the Crown

who is also head of the judiciary in England and Wales. The four Law

Officers of the Crown are the Attorney General and the Solicitor

General for England and Wales and the Lord Advocate and the Solicitor

General for Scotland.

Finally, there are Ministers of State--who are deputy ministers

in departments where there is a heavy load of work or where, as

in the case of the Foreign Office, the duties involve frequent

overseas travel--and junior Ministers, Parliamentary Secretaries, or

Parliamentary Under Secretaries of State.

The cabinet system, like so much else in British government, was not

the result of Olympian planning. It "just growed." The Tudors began

to appoint _ad hoc_ committees of the Privy Council. By the time of

Charles II the Privy Council numbered forty-seven. There then developed

an occasional arrangement in which a council of people in high office

was constituted to debate questions of domestic and foreign affairs.

Such committees or cabinets persisted until the reign of Queen Anne.

Usually, but not always, they met in the presence of the sovereign. In

1717, George I, the first Hanoverian King, ceased to attend cabinet

meetings. Until recently the accepted historical reason for this was

the King's ignorance of English--a circumstance that might, one would

think, enable him to bear long debates with fortitude. However, J.H.

Plumb in his recent life of Sir Robert Walpole has suggested that

the King's absence from the cabinet was due to a quarrel between the

monarch and the Prince of Wales.

At any rate, the cabinet system continued to flourish. Its members

consistently ignored the provision in the Act of Settlements (1725)

which forbade office-holders to sit in the Commons. The direct

influence of the sovereign was reduced, although his indirect

influence, as Lord North and "the King's Friends" demonstrated, was

great.

Nowadays the members of the cabinet are selected from the government by

the Prime Minister. Usually it has fewer than twenty members.

The cabinet determines the policy the government will submit to

Parliament, it controls the national executive in accordance with

policy approved by Parliament, and it co-ordinates and limits the

authority of the departments of the government. In its operations the

cabinet makes great use of the committee system, referring problems to

one of the standing committees or to a temporary committee composed of

the ministers chiefly concerned.

A British cabinet operates under the rule of collective responsibility

and of individual responsibility. That is, ministers share collective

responsibility for the policy and actions of the government and

individual responsibility to Parliament for the functioning of

their departments. A cabinet minister in Britain must appear before

the legislature, of which he is a member, and submit to a lengthy

questioning upon the work of his department. He must defend his

department in debate. No such procedure affects American cabinet

members, although they can, of course, be questioned by Congressional

committees.

The members of the cabinet in Britain are a good deal more than

advisers to the Prime Minister. Their relationship to ultimate policy

is closer and their responsibility greater. Hence it is unusual, almost

impossible, in Britain to find the Secretary of State for Foreign

Affairs saying one thing about foreign policy and the Prime Minister

another. Lord Melbourne said it did not matter what the members of his

government said as long as they all said the same thing. This principle

has been hallowed by time.

Although members of the cabinet often disagree furiously in private,

there is an absence of open bickering. Moreover, the authority of the

cabinet and the House of Commons is supreme. There have been no British

General MacArthurs. Field Marshal Lord Montgomery is a wise, cogent,

and talkative man. Occasionally he has offered the country his views on

non-military matters. Invariably he has been told to leave government

matters to the elected representatives of the people. When the cabinet

requires the advice of the Chief of the Imperial General Staff or

the First Sea Lord (not to be confused with the First Lord of the

Admiralty) on military matters, the cabinet asks for it.

The cabinet minister is bound to secrecy. If he resigns from the

cabinet because of a disputed issue, he must obtain through the Prime

Minister the permission of the sovereign before he can make any

statement involving a disclosure of cabinet discussions.

Nor may a cabinet minister repudiate either in Parliament or in his

constituency policies that have been approved by the cabinet or propose

policies that have not been agreed on with other ministers. He must

be prepared to vote with the government on all issues and to speak in

support or defense of its policy. Inability to agree or compromise

with the view of the majority in the cabinet usually results in the

minister's resignation from the government. A minister who remained in

the cabinet under such circumstances would be held responsible for the

policy he opposed.

Political conflict flourishes in Britain. Yet for many reasons

the government of the day and the opposition practice a basic

bipartisanship on basic issues. To a considerable degree this is

the result of the change in Britain's position over the last two

decades. There is an unspoken recognition by the leaders of the two

great parties that the present situation of the United Kingdom is too

precarious for prolonged and violent differences on essentials. There

are, of course, exceptions. Violent controversy does break out on

essentials between party and party and within a party.

Consider two essentials of British policy: the Anglo-American alliance

and the decision to make the hydrogen bomb.

The relations between the United States and Britain developed

their contemporary form in World War II. Since 1945 they have been

strengthened by the rise of an aggressive Soviet Union. There are other

contributing factors, some of which are not particularly attractive

to political or economic groups within each partner to the alliance.

Moreover, there has never been a time when there were not powerful

critics of various aspects of the alliance in both countries.

Aneurin Bevan and his friends on the radical left of the Labor Party

have often lambasted the United States and Britain's dependence on

her. Similar criticisms could be heard in private from Tories. When

the United States voted with the Soviet Union against Britain in the

United Nations after the British and French had invaded Suez, the

Conservatives were moved to put their protest into the form of a motion

in the House of Commons. This was accompanied by much sharp criticism,

which had a therapeutic effect in encouraging some realistic thinking

about the alliance.

A great deal of the anxiety about United States policy, of the jealousy

of United States power, of the anger at Mr. Dulles's self-righteous

sermons about colonialism was vented during this period. It did some

harm, certainly. But from the standpoint of the honest expression of

Conservative Party opinion and of American realism about the British

attitude, it also did some good.

The alliance is an essential. Even when indignant Conservatives--and a

number of Socialists, too--were thinking up pet names for Mr. Dulles,

the leaders of the party were doing their best to mollify their

followers. They were themselves anxious and angry, but they never

suggested defection from the alliance.

It may be suggested that the British had nowhere else to go. This may

be true, but even so it would be no bar to their departure. They are

happy when they are on their own, and many on this little island would

count the alliance well lost in exchange for a vigorous reassertion of

independence.

In 1940 the cockney, the inevitable cockney, used to remark, for the

edification of American correspondents: "Cor, we're alone. What of it,

guv?" Now, I have always regarded this not as a piece of patriotic

rhetoric but as a natural response to events by a brave people.

Shakespeare, of course, said it better.

Come the three corners of the world in arms,

And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue,

If England to itself do rest but true.

The important word is "itself." If there comes a time of great outside

pressure when alliances and confederations are in danger, Americans

will be well advised to remember that word.

The decision to make the hydrogen bomb, a project involving the

expenditure of great sums that Britain could ill afford, again was a

bipartisan matter. The Conservative government proposed it. The Labor

opposition (with Mr. Bevan dissenting in a burst of Welsh oratory)

agreed. There have been recurrent criticisms of how the work was being

done, of the cost, of the necessity for testing the weapon, and of the

arrangements for the tests. But there has been very little criticism of

the bomb's manufacture from the leaders of the Labor Party--excepting

always Mr. Bevan.

Bipartisanship is assisted by consultation on issues of major national

importance between the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition.

But the achievement of bipartisan policies owes much more to a general

understanding in both parties in the House of Commons of the country's

present position.

Socialist reform and experimentation in the years between 1945 and

1951 aroused Conservative fears as fierce as Labor Party hopes. The

enmity aroused in the largely Conservative middle class by the Labor

governments of those years certainly has not disappeared. But much

of it has been re-directed against the moderate policies of the

Conservative government, which has long claimed the allegiance of the

middle class.

The leaders of the two great parties--Harold Macmillan, Lord Salisbury,

and R.A. Butler for the Conservatives, and Hugh Gaitskell, Harold

Wilson, Jim Griffiths for Labor--are moderates. On the periphery of

each party stand the radicals advocating extreme measures at home and

abroad. Should Britain's economic and international troubles persist,

the moderate approach to their solution may not satisfy either the

Conservative or Socialist voters.

British politics in May of 1955 continued one of those rhythmic changes

of direction which feature political life in every democratic nation.

The Conservatives won a smashing victory in the general election and

became the first party in ninety years to be returned to office with an

increased majority.

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