Could we rebuild our post-Brexit democracy by modelling it on the jury system?

It has been argued that a cross-section of society that is informed can act more coherently than an entire society that is uninformed

Many readers have been in contact to discuss political reform (Farrukh/Flickr)

I received 90 interesting comments on my argument that the referendum campaign, with both “project fear” and its false optimism, had reduced trust in our politicians to dangerously low levels and what we might do about it. Naturally, not everybody agreed with me.

One reader commented: “Far from broken, British democracy is in fine form. A political class that had detached itself from the electorate has been pulled up short and is now realigning itself so that it supports the views of the UK voters. No revolution, no blood on the streets, good old common sense British democracy.”

Yes, indeed, among the attributes of the British political system is the flexibility derived from the absence of a cumbersome written constitution. And looming over everything is the supremacy of Parliament. So the intolerable situation that developed immediately after the referendum result was quickly regulated and a new Government formed.

But that doesn’t, in itself, restore trust.

As another reader put it: “You destroy trust by lying and getting caught. Getting caught is inevitable. That is exactly the hole that Parliament has dug itself into. Restoring betrayed trust takes a long time, so if politics wants to shed its spin-doctor image [politicians] had better start immediately and be prepared to allocate a lot of time and effort to it.”

As a remedy I put forward the proposal that MPs should be subject to term limits. This would mean that they would be able to serve for, say, only three sessions of parliament. To put it another way, they could stand for re-election no more than twice. As a result, MPs would have to have had careers outside politics to which they could return. That would extinguish the notion of a political class – people who do nothing but politics their entire lives. Instead, being an MP would come to be seen as a satisfying public duty.

Readers came up with numerous objections. Wouldn’t imposing a time limit be likely to make politicians even more “acutely aware of their own career and advantage” than they are now? They would have only a limited time to secure a post-politics career, so would be even more susceptible to pressure from powerful lobby groups. Another observed that “many MP's evolve into excellent statesmen after two terms and are at their peak of effectiveness after three terms”.

What I think was the strongest objection was that fixed maximum terms of office would favour some professions over others – it’s a lot easier to return to a career in banking, it was argued, or political lobbying than it would be to return to a career in midwifery or engineering, for example. Three political terms of office might actually enhance the CV of someone working in the financial services industry (good contacts are everything) but would do little for those working in social work or education (where a serious updating of basic skills/qualifications would be demanded).

Readers also drew attention to the role of the media. As one commented: “So while we can accept that our Government could do with a few less career politicians and a few more who have achieved something elsewhere, we have to wonder why the press, and The Independent in particular, constantly oil the wheels of this self-serving machine.”

Another added that the problem is that journalists buy into the spin, because they get stories out of it too. “However, along comes a political leader who doesn't use spin, Jeremy Corbyn, and the media hates him.” The media are a part of the problem.

I do not think this criticism is merited. It was the press that quickly characterised the Remain tactics as “project fear” and which was merciless in its treatment of the Leave campaign’s mindless optimism. On the other hand, we do cheerfully relay politicians’ sound bites.

However, a reader in Llandudno sent me a communication privately two days ago that takes the debate into a new realm. Agreeing with my proposals so far as they went, he argued that “we also need a general acceptance that a citizen's right to vote carries with it a duty of understanding both what any given vote is about and how our voting choice is most likely to affect others ... but it is obvious this understanding is seriously wanting.”

Wouldn’t we consider it outrageous, he goes on to argue, for anyone to have a say in determining the fate of an accused “other than a juror”. And, he adds, “juries are directed to reach their decisions after weighing up only what is relevant to a case, as presented by the various parties, including expert witnesses; and they do this aided by a judge's summary of the significant issues”.

Thus, he concludes: “The challenge now, surely, is to find ways of using newly available technology to allow these core judicial values and practices to find fuller expression in the political arena. Until we achieve some measure of success in this, we cannot expect to revive an inclusive public-interest-oriented notion of citizenship, or attract enough new blood into Parliament and government to clear out the present dysfunctional lot.”

In fact, the jury system, with its random selection of jurors from the local community and their thorough briefing as result of the hearing and challenging of evidence, has often been examined as providing a model for democracy. David Van Reybrouck has just written a book, Against Elections: the Case for Democracy. He argues against what he calls “electoral fundamentalism”, an unshakeable belief in the idea that democracy is inconceivable without elections, and elections are a necessary and fundamental precondition when speaking of democracy.

I’m afraid I am an electoral fundamentalist. But Van Reybrouck argues that a much better way is to return to the central principle of Athenian democracy: you do not ask everyone to vote on an issue few people really understand, but you draft a random sample of the population and make sure they come to the grips with the subject matter in order to take a sensible decision. A cross-section of society that is informed can act more coherently than an entire society that is uninformed.

How to reform our political system is, then, a difficult and urgent question. We need to find a way of debating it widely among ourselves – and get on with it.