Never mind volatile opinion polls that reflect the British public’s latest outbreak of moral outrage over parliamentarians nor Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s assertion last Wednesday (10 November 2021) that “the UK is not remotely a corrupt country”, there seems something aphrodisiac about parliamentary power that seduces the more susceptible Members of Parliament (MPs) along the paths of personal aggrandisement and enriches the coffers of their so-called “cronies” (close friends and companions).
What is considered as corruption has evolved with the times. Current definitions of corruption emphasize the dishonest and often illegal manipulation of positions of authority for personal gain. This may include holding lucrative second jobs in the private sector, sometimes with accompanying conflicts of interest with one’s parliamentary responsibilities, the misuse of public funds to fund various private expenses, or the improper bestowal of favours upon friends and relatives. Corruption is universal, seen in all countries of the world to varying degrees, and is driven by the deadly sins of envy and greed.
In common with other forms of deviant human behaviour, there are many alternative and less damming explanations for what is commonly referred to as “parliamentary sleaze”. Confronted with video evidence of the use of his parliamentary office for extra-parliamentary purposes, Sir Geoffrey Cox, QC, MP for Torridge and West Devon and accomplished commercial lawyer, simply denied any breach of the law. Owen Paterson, until recently MP for Shropshire North, claimed he had been acting in the public interest rather than for private gain when he unsuccessfully lobbied government officials on behalf of two Northern Ireland-based private sector firms. Others may accept that their actions fell short of standards while claiming forgetfulness or even ignorance in their defence. “Triple-jobbing” David Ross, MP for Moray and MSP for the Highlands and Islands, was just too busy to remember the earnings from his third job as an assistant football referee. The awards of contracts for personal protective equipment (PPE) and Covid-19 tests earlier during the pandemic, without open tendering and due diligence, has been explained by the need to act swiftly and bypass bureaucratic hurdles at a time of crisis.
The UK is by no means a particularly corrupt country, being ranked 11 out of 180 in 2020 by Transparency International on the Corruptions Perception Index, a “global indicator of public sector corruption”. Britain’s national institutions are not afflicted by the widespread public sector corruption commonly encountered among the more corrupt nations on this planet. Nevertheless, there are pockets of corruption in areas where the standards are somewhat loosely defined and enforced, allowing for wide leeway in the way existing laws are interpreted.
Election to Britain’s House of Commons confers certain benefits. In addition to a basic annual starting salary of £81, 932, an MP also receives expenses “to cover the costs of running an office, employing staff, having somewhere to live in London or their constituency, and travelling between Parliament and their constituency”. With so many “low-hanging fruits” ready to be plucked, it is not surprising that intelligent politicians can put their allowances to inventive uses, such as employing family members on their staff, funding home improvements, or juggling the use of two homes to maximise their financial benefits.
Parliamentary corruption is by no means new. Lobbying was declared a “high crime and misdemeanour” as far back as 2 May 1695. Despite this early denunciation, lobbying on behalf of private clients has persisted into the 21st century. MPs can thus ask relevant questions in parliament on behalf of their private funders (“cash-for-questions”) and even help introduce new laws that bestow competitive advantages upon private interests.
Until Victorian times, parliamentary seats could simply be acquired without contest by landowners and peers (rotten boroughs) or purchased, while a system of patronage dispensed favours among social networks, including those linked by “old school ties”. Cronyism extended to the unworthy bestowal of honours, which could also be purchased directly by the wealthy, similar to peerages for wealthy party donors today, and nepotism was particularly rife in aristocratic circles. After the Second World War, corruption appeared to be on the wane in a war-weary and newly democratised Britain, only to rear its ugly head yet again in the Sixties.
The majority of MPs are probably not corrupt by definition, but the misdeeds of a small number of their peers mean that everyone ends up tarnished with the same brush. There seems little doubt that ministerial positions can lead on to better things after politics, as seen in the millionaire lifestyles of former ministers and even prime ministers, but that may not be such a big issue when public funds are not at stake. On the other hand, misuses of the public purse and ill-gotten private gains from breaches of parliamentary standards have to be curbed for the wider good. The problem is when one is on to a winner, the flesh is weak even when the spirit might be willing.
Ashis Banerjee