The pomp and ceremony of the state opening of parliament is one thing, but hollow gestures are not a good basis for policy making, says Matthew Lesh
The pomp and ceremony returned to Westminster yesterday.
A real-life King arrived at Parliament in a horse-drawn carriage and sat on a throne. Several dozen people were wearing fancy dress costumes. King Charles sent his representative – the usher of the Black Rod – to summon members of the House of Commons. The King cannot enter the elected chamber because the last time one tried, he ended up with his head on a chopping block
Following the summoning, the elected parliamentarians made their way to the House of Lords, where they joined political appointees and hereditary peers. The King then delivered a speech prepared by his government, outlining dozens of upcoming pieces of legislation.
Everyone involved thought this process was entirely normal. Many even enjoyed it.
Tradition and symbolism are not just relics of the past but crucial elements that connect the past to the present. They can remind us of the foundations upon which our modern democracy is built.
For instance, the act of the doorkeepers initially slamming the door in the face of Black Rod symbolises the independence of the House of Commons from the monarchy. This tradition, which has evolved over several centuries, symbolises the monarch’s ceremonial modern role.
However, we must be careful not to go overboard. Symbolic gestures are not always a good idea. In fact, they can just as easily distract from meaningful change and impose significant new costs.
The King’s Speech was not short of this sort of symbolism. A striking example is plans to create a new offence against drink spiking. It is a heinous act to put alcohol or drugs into someone’s drink without their consent. The new government wants to signal that they’re ‘doing something’ about the issue.
The obvious question is, why has it taken so long to make spiking illegal? Because it’s already outlawed. Prosecutors can and do use several existing legal options, including offences against the person, sexual offences, and common law assault, to achieve justice. It’s therefore entirely unclear what creating a new offence is meant to achieve.
Sadly, predators are unlikely to be deterred by creating a specific offence for something already illegal. If anything, there’s a risk that using parliament to make a symbolic stand against a particular crime distracts from meaningful solutions. Politicians and activists will be tempted to pat themselves on the back – rather than deal with more complex questions about what drives the behaviour and how to ensure police investigate and prosecute.
The same applies to Martyn’s Law. This emotive policy, named after victim of the Manchester Arena terrorist attack, imposes expansive terrorist risk assessment and training requirements on any venue with a capacity of 100 or above.
And who could be so callous to oppose such a measure? Me.
Terrorism is an extremely rare event and, once again, it’s hard to see how someone considering committing such an atrocity will be deterred or prevented because staff have had to sit through a training session. So, the measure carries considerable costs – £2.7bn according to the official impact assessment – for little to no benefit.
Symbolism does matter on some days. But when it comes to policy, it risks overshadowing necessary changes and high costs.
Matthew Lesh is the director of public policy and communications at the Institute of Economic Affairs