The Myth of the ‘Mother of Parliaments’

Standing on a hill in the west country city of Bristol is one of Britain’s most interesting buildings: a perpendicular gothic edifice dedicated to Henry Overton Wills, a tobacco magnate whose fortune constructed much of Bristol’s redbrick university. Its giant vaulted ceilings are taller than the nave of Wells Cathedral, and each intricately carved gargoyle and stained glass window evokes the height of collegiate gothic architecture in the 15th and 16th centuries. When visiting the building to give a talk in the impressive, oak­panelled Great Hall, former Prime Minister Gordon Brown commented that it evoked an abbey, a cathedral, or the Hou­ ses of Parliament.

The Wills Memorial, however, is no ancient wonder; it is not even a century old. It is a folly built in 1925 to evoke the grandiosity of Oxford and Cambridge, and is the last secular gothic building built in England — quite unlike the abbeys or cathedrals Brown had in mind when first seeing the building, whose histories often span nearly a thousand years, but perhaps not as dissimilar from his old workplace as some may think.

The Palace of Westminster, home to the Houses of Parliament, summons a similar sense of ancient grandiosity, giving the impression of a building and institution stretching back centuries. Its carving more ornate and golden gilding more impressive than any other secular building in the country, it presents a vision of a democracy built through centuries of tradition and reverence to the Crown. As John Bright commented in 1865, it is the ‘mother of all parliaments.’ New members are inducted to the strange ways of the palace from the very start, when they are presented with coat storage complete with sword hook. The day begins with “prayers” and a Speaker’s procession through the beje welled and mosaic­laden Central Lobby, where a police officer announces to those present ‘hats off, strangers’, and one must remove their headwear. Until 1998, members had to quickly don a collapsible hat if they intended to make a point of order; the Speaker would not hear them without it.

Many, perhaps most, of these traditions are indeed as ancient as British parliamentary democracy, though identifying precisely when rules about hat wearing and prayers began is difficult. On first viewing one might think that the palace itself might have prompted these parliamentary oddities — both the Lords and the Commons chambers are far too small for the num­ ber of members, and the Lords area of the palace is constructed around the supremacy of the monarch, with portraits and busts of sovereigns dating back to the Normans.

However, the reality is that most of the palace is a masterpiece of set design, a relatively modern building — with the exception of Westminster Hall — constructed in the 1850s with the intent of creating a perfect environment for quirks, oddities and invented traditions. It was re­built after fires destroyed much of the old palace, and its choice of design illustrates a Victorian obsession with national mythology. The modern State Opening is one of the most publicized displays of this invented culture: the monarch arrives in a golden state coach built in 1851, walks through the Sovereign’s entrance finished in 1860, and announces the government’s planned legislation in a Chamber constructed in 1847, wearing the Imperial State Crown, designed in its current form in 1932. Most of the ceremony dates back no further than Queen Victoria.

For context, this places the Palace of Westminster, with its sword hooks and Norman kings at about the same age as the United States’ Capitol Building, whose domed roof and surrounding corinthian capitals date to 1866. The bolism and representation. It feels as though everything in Washington comes in a set of 50. A history of revolution has necessitated a design that makes no secret of inventing histories, from the usage of neo­classical Greek architecture to the grid­based physical distribution of the legislature, executive and judiciary. Back in Westminster, a closer look at the palace might betray its age. Despite its crumbling fixtures and well­publicized rat infestation, the physical

White House predates much of the Houses of Parliament. Yet the story Washington hopes to tell is, unsurprisingly, altogether different. A custom­built capital city, every corner filled with a similar appeal to sym­ layout of the place is far from organic: one can stand in Central Lobby and look directly from the Speaker’s chair in the Commons to the throne in the Lords. It is a physical manifestation of British parliamentary democracy as it purports to operate today, not an ancient, untouchable cocktail of tradition, convention and extremely cautious reform. Rather, it is an invention of a period of history defined by an obsession with being seen. Historian Kelly Mays describes this Victorian myth­building as the ‘“rearview mirror” of the future’; as ‘nineteenth­century Britons imagined their own present one day becoming the object of the same sort of scrutiny, fascination and misinterpretation to which they subjected the past’, they ‘habitually sought to make the present present, by imaginatively looking back at it from the future.’ The spoils of aggressive, violent colonialism no doubt aided this endeavour.

If the customs, traditions and physical building of the heart of British politics stretch back barely 200 years, how should this change our attitudes to reform? Firstly, by viewing the building as a piece of cultural heritage to be protected, separate from the politics that occur inside it. Invented or not, it is a masterpiece constructed out of the embers of a palace brought down twice by fire, allowing the current version to succumb to the same fate would be an act of cultural vandalism. Secondly, and just as importantly, by critically reflecting on the role these customs continue to play in British politics. Beginning the day with prayers might not present a large democratic challenge, but reserving a role in the legislature for clergy does. Finally, by being less careful with the metaphorical bonfire of tradition: customs are invented, and can be abolished and re­invented with similar ease.

Adopting bold, large­scale democratic reform such as abolishing the Lords or moving MPs out of the pa lace altogether and construc ting a chamber that can ac tually fit all 650 of them are less of an intrinsic institutional threat when the flimsy historical grounds upon which these institutions are built are seen in their full light. One could even begin to consider abolishing the monarchy.

Like the Wills Memorial, the Palace of Westminster is a beautiful, iconic folly, designed to look centuries older than it is and to uphold certain values of tradition and consistency with the past.

Decoupling the palace and the work that takes place within it would transform how politics is done in the UK, and present the unique opportunity to be re volutionary and forward­looking in democratic design. The demands of modern politics require it.