Purdah & PR

The UK’s election day broadcast ban is illogical, a delightful relic of yesteryear, where the belief persists that television and radio waves possess mystical powers capable of swaying the electorate with but a whisper. It's as if the moment the clock strikes midnight on election day, broadcasters must become as politically mute as a royal corgi during a state banquet.

Meanwhile, our valiant print media, those purveyors of pristine impartiality, continue their merry dance of endorsements and op-eds, free to shower us with their political prose. It’s a bit like sending your kids to bed with a stern “no sweets” warning while leaving the biscuit tin wide open on the kitchen table.

And let’s not forget the internet, that unruly teenager who completely ignores the house rules. While Auntie Beeb clutches her pearls, desperately avoiding any political whisper, social media gleefully explodes with information and misinformation.

In this age of digital enlightenment, where news travels faster than a politician dodging a tricky question, the broadcast ban feels like trying to prevent a flood with a teacup. We’re told to trust our good sense with printed words but must be shielded from the dangerous allure of televised chatter. It’s almost as if they think the mere sight of a politician on TV would hypnotise us into voting for them, like a reverse Pied Piper scenario.

So, here’s to the election day broadcast ban: a charmingly anachronistic quirk of British democracy, valiantly trying to keep our airwaves pure while the rest of the media world throws a raucous, politically-charged Covid party in No.10. It's the result of differing regulatory environments which have not been harmonised, but should be.

At least we have a new government. The Tory strategy to chase the far right, while leaving the centre undefended, has come to bite them in the bum and they have been the architects of their own demise. Elections are generally (not always) won on the centreground, not the fringes. Also, as I predicted, Galloway is back in the wilderness after losing to Labour - while by-elections can be swayed by single issues and low turnout, General Elections generally aren't.

As for changes to the voting system, it’s like watching a classic comedy sketch. When a party’s in government, they cling to First Past the Post (FPTP) like it’s a winning lottery ticket. “Why change a system that got us here?” they say, grinning like Cheshire cats. Meanwhile, the opposition, left out in the cold, suddenly becomes the biggest advocate for Proportional Representation. “It’s the only fair way!” they cry, having just discovered a burning passion for electoral reform that was mysteriously absent when they were in power. 

And then there are those parties who come nowhere, bless them. For them, PR is the holy grail. FPTP is a cruel joke, an unkind trick that leaves them shouting into the void. “If only we had PR,” they lament, “we’d be on the map!” They say this while wistfully imagining a parliament filled with an eclectic mix of voices, including their own, naturally. 

It's all a bit like musical chairs, really. The music stops, and the ones without a seat start clamouring for a bigger table. So, the next time a politician waxes lyrical about electoral fairness, just check where they’re sitting – it’s probably the best indicator of their true feelings on the matter. Farage, after having taken the time to carefully select where he stood as an MP and having thrown Tice under a but, will now probably become a huge supporter of PR.

For the record, I support PR - it's democratic because it provides a more accurate reflection of the electorate's preferences, reduces wasted votes, enhances voter influence, encourages consensus politics, encourages greater participation and mitigates regional disparities. These factors contribute to a political system that is more representative and inclusive of the diverse views within a society.