Have cameras ruined the Commons?
Trust is earned, not demanded.
How do you solve the problem of following Henry Hill’s final ToryDiary? You probably can’t (it was a fantastic read). But you can at least pick at a theme he touched on in his piece yesterday: the hollowing out of politics by short-termism, performance and the absence of a governing project. So I’ll give it a go.
Let’s start with a small but telling statistic. In 1938, a speech in Parliament typically ran to almost 1,000 words. As late as 1970, the average was still close to 900. In 2024 it was only 460. The most dramatic decline came after 2015 – the year video arrived on Westminster’s favourite app, Twitter (now X). Draw your own conclusions.
The academic evidence is not exhaustive, but what exists points the same way. In the United States, studies of state legislatures suggest that the arrival of television cameras coincided with greater polarisation. In Turkey, when their parliament switched cameras on for certain sittings, MPs behaved differently on broadcast days. It would be peculiar if Westminster were immune to incentives that operate everywhere else.
The problem today is not just that speeches are shorter in the Commons. It is that they are trending to be thinner, unquestioning, uncurious and unreflective. A changed audience on social media (one for clips, a question that may not even contain the answer) has changed the output (designed with that target in mind rather than engaging with a person or policy area).
We have seen what a tendency to these qualities does in government. Labour has been providing a clear example of what it is like when you are unable to articulate a clear mission or purpose – having been uncurious and unreflective – drifting in intention and chucking legislation in the bin as it goes. Is it any wonder we saw Sir Keir Starmer’s 14th U-turn at the beginning of the week restoring local elections and are now potentially looking at his 15th at the end of the week with Chagos?
But this is a wider problem, affecting more than just those in No.10. That temptation for ease and short-termism, without taking the time to think, build and reflect, is something that has seeped into our politics. It has actually become inbuilt, with structural incentives for this decline, which brings me to a controversial opinion: the cameras in Parliament should go.
Hansard is essential. Audio recording is fine. Photographers should remain. But the live video feed, paired with social media, has transformed the Commons into a personal broadcast studio. Interventions are less calibrated for the colleague opposite than they are for the constituency Facebook page. There is a lack of engagement and persuasion in the chamber than there is video harvesting.
It leads to ‘debates’ on contentious issues where there have been, in truth, almost no …
Trust is earned, not demanded.
How do you solve the problem of following Henry Hill’s final ToryDiary? You probably can’t (it was a fantastic read). But you can at least pick at a theme he touched on in his piece yesterday: the hollowing out of politics by short-termism, performance and the absence of a governing project. So I’ll give it a go.
Let’s start with a small but telling statistic. In 1938, a speech in Parliament typically ran to almost 1,000 words. As late as 1970, the average was still close to 900. In 2024 it was only 460. The most dramatic decline came after 2015 – the year video arrived on Westminster’s favourite app, Twitter (now X). Draw your own conclusions.
The academic evidence is not exhaustive, but what exists points the same way. In the United States, studies of state legislatures suggest that the arrival of television cameras coincided with greater polarisation. In Turkey, when their parliament switched cameras on for certain sittings, MPs behaved differently on broadcast days. It would be peculiar if Westminster were immune to incentives that operate everywhere else.
The problem today is not just that speeches are shorter in the Commons. It is that they are trending to be thinner, unquestioning, uncurious and unreflective. A changed audience on social media (one for clips, a question that may not even contain the answer) has changed the output (designed with that target in mind rather than engaging with a person or policy area).
We have seen what a tendency to these qualities does in government. Labour has been providing a clear example of what it is like when you are unable to articulate a clear mission or purpose – having been uncurious and unreflective – drifting in intention and chucking legislation in the bin as it goes. Is it any wonder we saw Sir Keir Starmer’s 14th U-turn at the beginning of the week restoring local elections and are now potentially looking at his 15th at the end of the week with Chagos?
But this is a wider problem, affecting more than just those in No.10. That temptation for ease and short-termism, without taking the time to think, build and reflect, is something that has seeped into our politics. It has actually become inbuilt, with structural incentives for this decline, which brings me to a controversial opinion: the cameras in Parliament should go.
Hansard is essential. Audio recording is fine. Photographers should remain. But the live video feed, paired with social media, has transformed the Commons into a personal broadcast studio. Interventions are less calibrated for the colleague opposite than they are for the constituency Facebook page. There is a lack of engagement and persuasion in the chamber than there is video harvesting.
It leads to ‘debates’ on contentious issues where there have been, in truth, almost no …
Have cameras ruined the Commons?
Trust is earned, not demanded.
How do you solve the problem of following Henry Hill’s final ToryDiary? You probably can’t (it was a fantastic read). But you can at least pick at a theme he touched on in his piece yesterday: the hollowing out of politics by short-termism, performance and the absence of a governing project. So I’ll give it a go.
Let’s start with a small but telling statistic. In 1938, a speech in Parliament typically ran to almost 1,000 words. As late as 1970, the average was still close to 900. In 2024 it was only 460. The most dramatic decline came after 2015 – the year video arrived on Westminster’s favourite app, Twitter (now X). Draw your own conclusions.
The academic evidence is not exhaustive, but what exists points the same way. In the United States, studies of state legislatures suggest that the arrival of television cameras coincided with greater polarisation. In Turkey, when their parliament switched cameras on for certain sittings, MPs behaved differently on broadcast days. It would be peculiar if Westminster were immune to incentives that operate everywhere else.
The problem today is not just that speeches are shorter in the Commons. It is that they are trending to be thinner, unquestioning, uncurious and unreflective. A changed audience on social media (one for clips, a question that may not even contain the answer) has changed the output (designed with that target in mind rather than engaging with a person or policy area).
We have seen what a tendency to these qualities does in government. Labour has been providing a clear example of what it is like when you are unable to articulate a clear mission or purpose – having been uncurious and unreflective – drifting in intention and chucking legislation in the bin as it goes. Is it any wonder we saw Sir Keir Starmer’s 14th U-turn at the beginning of the week restoring local elections and are now potentially looking at his 15th at the end of the week with Chagos?
But this is a wider problem, affecting more than just those in No.10. That temptation for ease and short-termism, without taking the time to think, build and reflect, is something that has seeped into our politics. It has actually become inbuilt, with structural incentives for this decline, which brings me to a controversial opinion: the cameras in Parliament should go.
Hansard is essential. Audio recording is fine. Photographers should remain. But the live video feed, paired with social media, has transformed the Commons into a personal broadcast studio. Interventions are less calibrated for the colleague opposite than they are for the constituency Facebook page. There is a lack of engagement and persuasion in the chamber than there is video harvesting.
It leads to ‘debates’ on contentious issues where there have been, in truth, almost no …
