Scarcely a day goes by without someone shaking their heads in dismay at the way Guernsey’s political and governmental system works – or doesn’t work. There is indeed much to worry about – in January the island’s most senior politician himself characterised the current atmosphere as ‘febrile and toxic’.
Anyone seeking to prescribe their own remedies would first do well to remind themselves about what there is to cherish about the system. In that way, proposed alternatives will stand a better chance of success, not only because many voters acknowledge these virtues, but also because some may be worth preserving.
Here is a short list of what is unusual if not unique about Guernsey’s politics and government:
— As a small isolated rock with a tiny population (63,000) off the Normandy coast in the English Channel, Guernsey is more immune than most to outside influences, and its people are less likely to appreciate them. Guernsey is obviously not Alcatraz or Robben Island, but it is not the Isle of Wight either.
— Its standing is not dissimilar to the old ‘Dominion Status’ once seen in places like Canada and the former Southern Rhodesia. In other words, self-governing (notably in respect of tax), with London formally responsible for defence and foreign affairs. ‘Formally’, because the tortuous five-year experience of Nazi Occupation in World War Two remains etched on people’s memories.
— The Crown is represented by a Lt-Governor who typically is drawn from the UK Armed Forces. There is no President, political or otherwise; the most senior citizen is the Bailiff who, because he presides over the highest court, is typically a lawyer, and a local. But, only half-controversially, he also presides over the local parliamentary assembly.
— This assembly is known as ‘The States’, except that ‘The States’ is a term also commonly used to describe the civil service as well. The term ‘the State’ is never used to describe the combined force of ‘The States.’ The phrase ‘public sector’ is not common either. Compare this with almost any larger developed economy.
— There are no political parties; deputies in the assembly offer themselves for election as individuals. No less important, they represent the constituencies which elect them, not the island as a whole, and usually on the basis of a highly general manifesto and a handful of ‘hustings’ meetings. These constituencies were once church parishes, but boundaries and seats now reflect relative electorate sizes.
— One important result of these arrangements is that sovereign power is widely believed to reside with the States assembly as a whole. This in turn means decisions made by one assembly during its four-year term can be overturned by the next – or even within the same term simply because of a change of mind by a single deputy.
— The key to a ‘successful’ assembly, therefore, is the emergence of a consensus. To be clear, in practice this does not mean the same body of people will be for or against any matter to be decided. But it does mean a majority is required for anything to go ahead. In the past, the predictable upshot was the emergence of shifting alliances.
— Because many detailed questions lie behind any issue which is ultimately to be decided by the assembly, deputies organise themselves into a series of specialist committees, with appointments voted on by the assembly as a whole. Non-members of the assembly can be co-opted to help. Deputies are often members of more than one committee. Committees have several members each.
From the list above, it is easy to see that Guernsey is a highly democratic jurisdiction. Everyone above 16 who is registered can vote. Voting takes place every four years. Voters are close to their representatives: Deputies can be contacted directly at almost any time, and often are. Newspapers, radio and television constitute a free press providing daily coverage. The civil service is neutral, offering guidance and advice in exchange for political neutrality and political protection. Law and order is maintained by police and courts. There is no army. And, no small thing, the currency is sterling.
Not many jurisdictions in the world can lay claim to such a catalogue of advantages. But it is an inconvenient truth that in this system, as in others which are quite different, disagreements will occur about the way it works and what it delivers. Politics being the art of compromise – of forging agreements peacefully without resort to violence – the real test is then how these are handled.
The ordinary voter typically cries out for decisions to be taken in good time, at least cost and without fostering unbridgeable schisms. In the case of Guernsey over recent years, this has not happened, and on key questions. Indeed, one accusation has been bandied about increasingly over recent years: namely, that this (take your pick) is ‘the worst States ever’. The result is that, in a place where change famously does not come easily, incumbent and aspiring politicians are examining new ways of doing things. One consequence is that some of the island’s well-established traditions will inevitably be put at risk.
