It’s time for John Bercow to go

The Speaker is becoming a caricature of himself – he needs to step down

John Bercow, the Speaker of the House of Commons, first took the chair in 2009. We had a Labour Government, Gordon Brown was the (doomed) Prime Minister and Michael Martin had resigned the position under the cloud of the expenses scandal.

Upon his election, Mr Bercow promised that he would serve 9 years in the position – a term that comes to an end in June of this year. However, he has recently recanted, declaring his intention to serve another 5. This has served to annoy many MPs, some of whom cannot stand him. He has been a consistently divisive figure among members, but at least there was always a deadline for his departure.

Baroness Boothroyd, a popular ex-Speaker, has given her reasons why she thinks he should step down, most of them to do with practicality and courtesy. I fear she may not understand Mr John Bercow very well.

My support for Mr Bercow is on record. I said last year, “He has no shame in making sure the government is held to account, with a record number of urgent questions granted, and he makes sure the minister responsible damn well turns up to the House to answer them. He takes a dim view of junior ministers showing up to defend a question, and will often keep granting questions until the minister shows.”

“…he is keen to ensure that the House is presentable to the public and, knowing that PMQs is pretty much the only time the public are watching with any regularity, tries to discourage bad behaviour.”

I still stand by this. I make no bones of the fact that I think he has, on the whole, been good for the Chair, the House and for the wider public. He is a champion of the backbenches and a firm defender of the Commons against the Executive. This is important in a Parliamentary democracy, the chamber should never just become a yes man to the whims of the government.

All of this may be so. But here comes the ‘however’.

The criticisms I made in that post also still stand and have become more tiresome and frustrating since. He has added other issues, issues that were completely avoidable, but that show him as a caricature of the worst elements of his personality. That he cannot seem to avoid showing everyone that the MPs who hate him have a point, seems to indicate that he has no control over himself. Why does he insist on playing up to this reputation he has of being partisan, over zealous with his interventions and hostile?

Like a referee in football, he should never be the story. And yet he can’t help himself. Too often, he makes the headlines, he talks the most during PMQs, he has to have the last word with some silly little ‘zinger’ to a minister. Why? This is a common and legitimate criticism of him, yet he will not back off. By all means call the House to order, but then sit back down. He far too often interrupts what could be a horrible pressured moment for a minister and takes all of the momentum out of it.

Take this from Lloyd Evans as an example. He describes the moment where Theresa May had attempted to deflect some of the Windrush heat onto Yvette Cooper, who then was invited to speak:

“This sparked a furious counter-attack from Ms Cooper. She got to her feet and awoke the drowsier members of the Commons with a bombshell. She hadn’t planned to mention immigration but Mrs May’s disingenuous use of her remarks had provoked her to respond. Her delivery was thunderous.

‘Do not try to hide,’ she stormed at the prime minister. ‘Do not try to hide behind me! Do not try to hide behind the Labour party!’

“She said it three times, knowing how well the simple parade-ground thump-thump-thump can work.

‘Do not try to hide behind … ’

“She was halted by the Speaker, a noted expert in rhetorical sabotage, who stood up and called for quiet, and then sat down again. Quite needlessly.

“Ms Cooper resumed her attack but its impetus had been destroyed by Mr Bercow. Once again, he did the hecklers’ work by silencing an orator on their behalf.”

This was a classic example of it. He cannot just let the battle happen, he has to intervene and make sure he’s on the news during this little snippet. His over zealous interventions would be one thing, but the time he takes to drone needlessly on make him look like he is craving the attention. All that needs to happen, if anything, is for order to be called, to wait until the House quietens to an acceptable level, and then to bring the member speaking back in. No more, no less. But he won’t do it.

He has also had some lamentable lapses in judgement regarding his impartiality. Another thing that he continues to do and of which he will not learn the lessons. Now, this applies whether he is saying something you agree with, or whether he isn’t. But it is resolutely not for him to be giving his opinions on anything, and especially not while he occupies the Chair. In giving his opinion, he opens himself up to completely legitimate attack, and deserves whatever he gets.

As I said last year, “If he wishes to give his opinion, he should be absolutely free to do so…the second he resigns his office. There can be no other way.”

“His office affords him immense privileges. He is a member of the Privy Council, he can give private counsel to the Prime Minister and he can also give private counsel to the Queen. The key word here is private.”

Nadhim Zahawi, a vocal opponent of the US President, Mr Trump, had this to say about Bercow’s unwise pronouncements on a potential visit: “For the Speaker to talk in the language of bans only opens him up to accusations of partiality and hypocrisy, particularly when he has extended invitations to President Xi of China and the emir of Kuwait – both of whom have values clearly at odds with those we espouse in the UK.”

Bercow’s position was backed by Owen Jones in the Guardian. What a surprise. If you are unwilling to defend the principle here, then don’t come crying to me if a future Speaker gives an opinion on something that you don’t like. Crying ‘impartiality’ then will be the height of hypocrisy, and I eagerly await the opportunity to shout it.

Because surely this is the point? He is supposed to be impartial. You can’t want to hear his opinion on something, even if you agree with it. For instance, he openly discussed the fact that he had voted for Remain in the referendum. Barely a batted eyelid. Now, imagine he’d declared proudly that he had voted Leave. Would Mr Jones be writing a similar article? I hardly think so.

The crowning jewel of all of this was the sticker spotted in his car. The sticker read ‘bollocks to Brexit’. This, frankly, was an absolute disgrace. A disgrace to him, a disgrace to the office of Speaker and a disgrace to the institution of Parliament. The most partisan issue of our time, the most divisive and poisonous campaigns we’ve seen, the issue that continues to cause pain and anguish, the issue that won’t be resolved for many years, and the Speaker has taken sides. And he didn’t even hide it. It was on his car (registration B13 RC0 – are you starting to get the measure of the man?), the car was in his parking space.

Tom Goodenough got it spot on: “This latest transgression is arguably more serious. It also comes at a time where Bercow is under pressure on a number of fronts. The Speaker is facing allegations that he bullied a female staff member (Bercow denies the allegations). Given this, a wiser speaker would recuse themselves from any debate on the topic of bullying. Not Bercow. When MPs gathered to discuss the subject in the chamber yesterday afternoon, Bercow sat in pride of place in his chair.

“The calls for Bercow to go are growing and this latest matter makes it hard to disagree with those who say the Speaker’s time is up. In 2009, Michael Martin resigned ‘in order that unity can be maintained’. Perhaps it is time to Bercow to listen to his immediate predecessor, if not the wise words of Lenthall. After all, if Bercow does feel so strongly about Brexit then he is entitled to his view. But so long as he remains Speaker it isn’t his place to say so.”

That was in March. It’s now May.

And now we have further allegations of bullying and harassment. He apparently has a bit of a temper. He, of course, denies this. I’ve left this as a footnote as I really resent the idea that allegations should be enough to ruin anyone. I shan’t comment on this unless and until proven. There are enough reasons for him to fall on his sword or have it inserted into his back without mere allegations adding to the fire. Whether they are true or not, he is plainly and demonstrably unfit for his office.

“I have neither eyes to see, nor tongue to speak, in this place, but as the house is pleased to direct me, whose servant I am here” said speaker William Lenthall. This noble tradition is being trampled upon by the current occupant of the Chair.

Mr Speaker, it’s long past time for you to go.

Where are all those wretched Tories and Leavers? I’ll tell you where they are…

At work and on social media, I became a refuge for those frightened by the emotional lunacy of their peers

I’ve been recently remembering the fire and fury rage of the sensible middle classes following the EU referendum, a rage that far surpassed the coalition government being formed or Cameron’s majority win (a win that I remain convinced he never wanted). It was a visceral, vicious, blind, white hot, seething explosion of emotion and venom, hurled at everyone and anyone who had dared to defy their wishes – nay, demands – to vote the correct way. If, of course, they could find them.

Lessons had clearly not been learned from the ‘shy Tory’ phenomenon, where nobody could believe that the Conservative and Unionist Party had managed a majority, when nobody they knew had voted Tory. Or so they assumed.

I’ll admit, I didn’t see the referendum result coming either. I predicted a 55-45 Remain win which, obviously, turned out to be significantly wide of the mark. I just thought the immigration card had been played too heavily, the shaming from the middle class Left was too strong and I was utterly convinced that the squalid, shocking murder of Jo Cox MP in the final week of campaigning would render the whole thing ‘game over’.

So there we go, I was wrong. But then came the thunder.

Once again, nobody seemed to know anyone who had voted Leave. The pitchfork was grasped and the torch lit, but there was nobody to swing them at. Before the vote, I’d been happily having the knockabout online, safe in the knowledge that I wasn’t going to be on the winning side. It was a great intellectual sparring session with a small band of people, maybe 3-4 of us on the Leave side, many more on the Remain side, but conducted in a spirit of true debate. Despite my living in a Left, middle class bubble divided roughly into church and school friends, family and comedian friends online, I was a little surprised that there were so few of us, but that just reinforced the notion that the result was going to be overwhelmingly against me. But then the world suddenly turned nasty and vitriolic. Leave had won.

To the point then – where were these people? Where were the 52%? I got an answer very quickly – they were in my inbox and in hushed conversations.

Having voluntarily swam out into the deep, still waters, only to be swept out into a thunderstorm to be mercilessly drowned, I was known publicly as someone who had voted Leave. I took the brunt of it. And in doing so, I had become a safe refuge for those who had done so silently to come to for rest. My inbox swelled with people fearful of their friends, terrified of their families. They voted Leave, but dared not say so.

The day after the vote, I went to work as usual. My boss gave a speech and people hugged. But the mood had not changed. This was middle class Remain territory, and people were angry. It’s easy to hug people you already agree with. I had no such hugs (apart from the boss, but he’s lovely and hugged everyone!). For me, the guy who had voted Leave after many, many years of being against British membership of the EU, and one other colleague who had gone Leave very marginally after having flipped to and fro several times, this was not a comfortable place to be. But we were the only two in a company of 50+. 50+ 30something middle class professionals – squarely in the pro-EU demographic. Or, again, so I thought.

My first trip that day to our tiny, shared kitchen to make a coffee was hastily interrupted by a colleague. She confessed to me that she had voted Leave but not discussed it with anyone, never mind dare to share such a position on social media. She, also, was scared. The conversation ended abruptly when someone else came into the room and she scuttled out nervously.

Then another later that day. And another the next day. 5 in total, who came to me quietly and privately, in confidence, to tell me that they’d exercised their democratic right to vote. None of them were bad people. All of them were, for ease of political measurement, on the Left. All had different reasons for voting the way they did. But none of them would dare say so. They sought solace with someone who they knew they could trust. Who knows how many more there were?

So, here we have it then, middle class, sensible, lefty, Remainers – does this not make you rethink your venom? This will keep happening as long as the ballot box remains private. The voting booth is the place where you can go to stick as many fingers up at the establishment as you like. You might be able to cow people, you might be able to frighten them, you might be able to make them think they’re bad people. But you are not helping yourselves, because when they get that slip of paper, they can do whatever they damn well please. It may be cathartic to publicly signal your virtue by railing against those who have defied you, but the end effect is not the one that you desire.

I’ll have any of you out with an argument. You might have knocked me, but I won’t be backing down. I’ll happily take the intellectual fight if you want one. But there are so many others who don’t want to have the discussion because you are just so horrid. These are the people you’re forcing into hiding and the ones that keep stinging you.

I’ve waited long enough to write this post, hoping the tide would go out at some point and we could do this in a state of calm. It may have receded slightly, but the anger is still there.

So there we have it – I’ve warned you. I’m telling you this is what happens. It makes no difference to me, but you’re the ones who can’t ever seem to understand it when results go against you. I’m trying to help you.

Take it or leave it. It’s your funeral.