The Spectator’s Notes | 27 June 2009

Since the Speakership of the House of Commons depends on general acceptance for the holder to be able to do his job, it would seem to be right to say nothing further against the new one, and wish him well. The trouble is that John Bercow does not have that general acceptance. His own Conservatives dislike him with a unanimous virulence which I have never seen before about any other politician (and there is hot competition). Significant numbers of the Labour MPs who voted him in did so precisely for that reason. So he is the focus of disunity. You could argue, of course, that Mr Bercow will see which way the wind is blowing, and go out of his way to be nice to the Tories, since they will be the masters soon. But would that be any better? Either way, he will fail to inspire cross-party trust. He is the wrong man, at the wrong time, put in for the wrong reasons, in a Parliament too tired, weak and divided to put itself to rights. He confirms — embodies — this column’s thesis that everything will have to get worse before it gets better. ‘A giant’s robe upon a dwarfish thief’, indeed — except that he is not even wearing the full kit, but just what looks like an undergraduate gown.

So far as I know, this election of the Speaker is the first time the secret ballot has been used in a parliamentary vote (though it has often been used within parliamentary parties — in leadership elections, for instance) in the era of the universal franchise. Secrecy goes against the principle of Parliament that we, the voters, are entitled to know how the people we elect vote in the Chamber to which we have elected them. The argument for secrecy, which seems strong, is that it is the only way to stop MPs being controlled by the whips.