Political Commentary

The great honours muddle

John Grigg

When people bother to discuss the honours system at all they usually discuss its allegedly scandalous aspect — the sale of peerages and all that. Yet the real scandal of the system is not that it can be, and in varying degrees always has been, abused for political, financial or personal reasons, but rather that it is so inadequately and capriciously used for rewarding individual merit and promoting the general interests of the state.

In that sense the Jubilee and Birthday list published on 11 June was every bit as scandalous as Sir Harold Wilson's resignation list, about which there has been far too much huffing and puffing. Of course the Jubilee list had its agreeable features (one of which is referred to in the Notebook), but on the whole it was as good an example as any of what is wrong with the system — that it is a hopeless muddle, with very little internal consistency and ill-adapted to contemporary needs.

This article assumes the desirability of honours, though it goes without saying that a case can be Made against them. Granted that they are desirable (and I believe they are, on balance), it must be worth taking a lot of trouble to ensure that they are distributed fairly and intelligently, as well as honestly. At present there is renewed concern about honesty, but nobody seems to be giving any attention to the manifest lack of fairness and intelligence in the system.

First, an individual case which serves to illustrate what a mess the system is in. Among knighthoods in the Jubilee list the name of Paul Scofield was once again conspicuous by its absence. Many would say that Mr Scofield is our best actor, and it would be widely agreed that he is one of the three best. Of the other two, one is a life peer, the other a knight and — now — a Companion of Honour. Yet Mr Scofield is still only a CBE, while several less talented actors have received knighthoods.

Such anomalies abound and it is clear that there is no proper standard of relativity, either within occupational categories or between one occupational category and another. It would be possible to give any number of names of people unrecognised, under-recognised .or over-recognised, but from the public point of view the structural invidiousness of thesystem is even more deplorable.

The most glaring instance of this is the shabby treatment of the police, by contrast with that of the armed forces. The Jubilee list contained a peerage and six knighthoods for officers in the armed forces; for the police no peerage and only one knighthood (which was the KCVO conferred by the Queen• herself upon the deputy commissioner of Metropolitan Police). In addition, there were three GCBs and two KCBs for serving officers already knighted, but nothing of the sort for any policeman. This is by no means exceptional, but follows a regular pattern.

The same numerical disparity is to be seen year after year in awards at the lower. levels. Nor is it only a question of numbers. Whereas officers in the armed forces are appointed to the 'most honourable' Order of the Bath (military division) as well as to the 'most excellent', but more recent and less prestigious, Order of. the British Empire, police officers are not appointed to the Order of the Bath (civil division).

Of course it is quite right that the work of soldiers, sailors, airmen and civil servants should be duly recognised, but in view of the responsibility and frequent danger involved in the work of the police it would seem obvious that awards to them should be proportionate in quantity and quality. Instead, they have a justifiable sense of being treated as poor relations in the honours lists, which has contributed to the disaffection, verging on mutinousness, which was so alarmingly apparent at the recent Scarborough conference.

It is particularly unfortunate that there should be no serving or retired policeman in the House of Lords — no one who can speak there on behalf of the force from personal experience. Sir Robert Mark would be an outstanding spokesman, not only because of his fine record but also because he is so articulate. Yet it is rumoured that he has no wish to ga to the Lords, which he would regard as getting mixed up in politics.

If this is really his attitude, every effort should be made to persuade him to change it, because it is plainly absurd that the armed forces, the civil service and the diplomatic service should be richly represented in the House of Lords, but the police not represented there at all.

Peerages generally constitute another chronic weakness and flaw in the honours system, which post-war changes have merely had the effect of aggravating. Unlike every other form of honour a peerage is also a public appointment, giving the recipient a seat in Parliament as well as a handle to his or her name.

Many who seek and obtain peerages, however, have no interest in parliamentary work and seldom, if ever, attend the Lords. Such people regard a peerage as simply the most covetable form of title, not as an opportunity for serving the state. And they are perfectly within their rights, because acceptance of a peerage carries no undertaking to become an active member of the second chamber.

The introduction of life peerages was a false step, because it not only left intact the existing hereditary membership of the Lords, but also turned the House into an increasingly geriatric establishment. The key distinction should be not between hereditary and life peers, but rather between peers honoris causa and Lords of Parliament, the second category to be appointed or elected for a limited period.

Philip Noel-Baker's peerage in the Jubilee list underlines the necessity for such a distinction. Mr Noel-Baker was entitled to a peerage a quarter of a century ago, after he had been a member of the ' Attlee Cabinet. But he chose to remain in the House of Commons, from which he withdrew only in 1970. Now he is as deserving as ever of honour, but hardly — in his eightyeighth year — capable of playing the part that he might once have played in the House of Lords.

Some non-elected Lords of Parliament should be appointed on the advice of the prime minister, because for one thing it is important that he should be free to choose ministers who are not MPs, but who can be given seats in the other place. There should, however, be at least three different types of Lord of Parliament — those who would be elected, those sitting by virtue of holding certain non-political offices (e.g. bishops), and those appointed for a set period (who would not necessarily be expected to attend all the time, but who would have to do so to qualify for a parliamentary salary). If it could be agreed that nobody should either inherit, or have life tenure of, a seat in Parliament, then the question of peerages which would simply be dignities, whether hereditary or for life, could be considered separately and on its merits. And it might well be decided that the right to recommend for such peerages should be taken away from the prime minister and, together with all other purely honorific awards — apart from those within the Queen's gift — entrusted to a special standing commission of unimpeachable objectivity and repute.

So long as the system remains in its present confused state, there will be ceaseless grumbling and occasional outrage. But reform needs to be comprehensive and well thought out. It cannot be done by tinkering, and it cannot be done by busy people whose minds are distracted by other tasks.