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Eyes and ears, and potentially so much more: the role of Parliamentary Private Secretary to the Prime Minister

By Tim Bale

This blog is based on an article originally published in Parliamentary Affairs by the author.

Keir Starmer, in his first eighteen months, has had three.  Rishi Sunak and Liz Truss had one each.  Boris Johnson contrived to have nine, while Theresa May made do with just three, as did David Cameron.  Gordon Brown had four, as did Tony Blair. John Major managed with only two, while Margaret Thatcher had five. 

The superbly well-informed readers of this blog will, of course, know that I’m talking about Parliamentary Private Secretaries.  Yet, with only one or two exceptions, remarkably little has been written on the role – partly perhaps because, as Tim Finch, one of those who has examined it in more detail put it, a PPS is often seen as little more than a ‘bag carrier’.  Yet, as he noted, they have the potential to become a ‘linchpin,’ expanding the scope of the role beyond two-way communication between the Prime Minister and their parliamentary party so as to become a vital part of the PM’s tactical and strategic operation.

The exemplar, perhaps, is Ian Gow, who served as Margaret Thatcher’s PPS from during her first term as Prime Minister.  He was regarded by Thatcher and most of those who served her as a brilliant appointment and, by some margin, as the best PPS she ever had.  It was a role which (in hindsight reluctantly) he relinquished in 1983 in exchange for a junior ministerial job, although he was eventually to resign from government in protest at the Anglo-Irish Agreement two years later.  Even then, however, he insisted on his continued devotion to the woman he (along with her many other admirers at the time) called ‘The Lady.’

Sadly, no PPS since Gow (who died at the hands of the IRA in 1990) seems to have fully realised the enormous potential of the role – a pity, perhaps, given how difficult so many of our recent premiers seem to have found their job. Had they been able or seen fit to appoint someone who could do even half of what Gow did for, they might perhaps have struggled a little less and maybe even have achieved a little more.

Naturally, much of what a PPS does and can do inevitably takes place behind closed doors – one reason why, even if it only allows us to prise (rather than fling) open those doors, exploring contemporaneous archive and diary material, can, especially when combined with material gleaned from ministerial memoirs and interviews, provide us with more insight than hitherto. And this is exactly what my article just published online (and free to read) in Parliamentary Affairs tries to achieve.

Gow, it argues, serves as a reminder of the role that, potentially at least, a good PPS to the PM can play – a role that that goes well beyond ‘eyes and ears’ and, for all that the 2020s are not the 1980s, could still be played today if, that is, someone willing to play it is allowed the requisite leeway.

A Parliamentary Private Secretary to the PM is there to explain the Prime Minister to the parliamentary party and the parliamentary party to the Prime Minister, getting a sense of pitfalls and problems before they turn into something more serious.  He or she should remind their boss of the need to engage with back-benchers and junior frontbenchers on all sides of the party.  Gow, unlike his successors, did not attend Cabinet meetings; but he showed even so that a PPS to the PM is able to influence them, albeit informally.  He or she can also have considerable influence on reshuffles and, fairly or unfairly, on how ministers are regarded by the Prime Minister.  And, if adept at the dark arts, he or she can help the PM deny Cabinet colleagues too much autonomy.  Moreover, if on the same wavelength ideologically as his or her boss, the PPS can also serve not just as a sounding board but as their conscience, stiffening their spine as well as helping with key speeches.  And he or she can play a part in helping the Prime Minister make that supposedly loneliest of decisions – namely when to call an election.

But the role requires a certain sort of individual to do the job well.  They need to be gregarious but also shrewd, relatable but also ruthless. Not only do they have to know their boss’s mind, and their strengths and weaknesses, but they also have to be willing to speak truth to power.  Gow’s apparently phenomenal tolerance for alcohol may not be so necessary nowadays – the Commons has changed (although, some argue, not enough) in that respect.  But a willingness to work far more hours than is strictly sensible probably still is – so much so that MPs who have the combination of personal qualities and sheer commitment needed to make a success of the role may well be a rarer commodity nowadays.  But they are nonetheless a highly valuable one. 

Many recent Prime Ministers, Thatcher included, have eventually been forced out owing to their failure to keep in close touch with (and a close eye on) their colleagues on both the front and back benches – in part through the wont of a high calibre consigliere like Gow.  Whoever takes over from Sir Keir Starmer, then, be it sooner or later, would be well advised to take as much time and care in appointing their PPS as they do in choosing their Cabinet.


About the author

Tim Bale is Professor of Politics in the Department of Politics and International Relations at Queen Mary University of London.


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Everything you ever wanted to know about Early Day Motions (between 2001 & 2019)

By Stephen Holden Bates

This blog was part of a larger project undertaken on policy specialisation and parliamentary roles with Caroline Bhattacharya and Stephen McKay, both of whom were involved in the collection and analysis of the data used in this blog. A draft of this blog has been hanging around for a few years now which explains why it doesn’t cover the 2019-2024 Parliament – apologies for that!

Backbench MPs can submit Early Day Motions (EDMs) “to put on record [their] views … or to draw attention to specific events or campaigns“. In this blog we show which groups of MPs are more likely to use EDMs, and which topics they focus on.

Popularity of EDMs over time

Table 1 shows the most popular EDMs submitted between the 1989-90 parliamentary session and the 2019 General Election. During this time, 50,849 EDMs were submitted, receiving 1,968,850 signatures from 1,722 signatories. This means the average MP sponsored and signed 29.5 and 1143.4 EDMs respectively with the average EDM receiving 38.7 signatures (although the mode is one).

The number of EDMs submitted per sitting day decreased after 2010, but the average number of signatures attracted remained comparable over time. The average number of EDMs per sponsor and per signatory remained comparable; MPs remained as likely to sponsor and sign at least one EDM.

Table 1: Top 10 most popular EDMs, 1989-2019

TitleParl. SessionNum. Signatories
INDIA AND PAKISTAN2001-02503
MAKE POVERTY HISTORY IN 2005 CAMPAIGN2004-05455
CLIMATE CHANGE2004-05416
FIRST AID IN SCHOOLS1991-92416
BBC WORLD SERVICE1992-93408
PRESIDENTIAL & PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS IN SIERRA LEONE (No. 2)2001-02402
ABOLITION OF THE POST OFFICE CARD ACCOUNT2005-06398
WARM HOMES & ENERGY CONSERVATION1999-2000396
POST OFFICE CARD ACCOUNTS2002-03392
PRESIDENTIAL & PARLIAMENTARY ELECTIONS IN SIERRA LEONE2001-02387
[source: EDM database]  

Popularity of EDMs among (different groups of) MPs

Some MPs were (very) prolific in terms of signing or being the primary sponsor on EDMs with most of the most prolific being white and male, usually from the Labour Party (see Table 2).  

Table 2: Top 10 most prolific primary sponsors and signatories of EDMs overall and per Sitting Day not in Government, 1989-2019

RankNameGenderEthnicityPartyNum. EDMs OverallNum. EDMs per Sitting Day
   SponsoredSponsored
Number Sponsored Overall  
1Jeremy CorbynMaleWhiteLab.8330.06
2Paul FlynnMaleWhiteLab.7920.07
3Keith VazMaleBritish AsianLab.7310.07
4Alan MealeMaleWhiteLab.7310.07
5John McDonnellMaleWhiteLab.6940.09
6Lindsay HoyleMaleWhiteLab.6220.08
7Peter BottomleyMaleWhiteCon.5630.05
8Bob RussellMaleWhiteLib. Dem.5450.08
9Harry BarnesMaleWhiteLab.4930.08
10Bob SpinkMaleWhiteCon.4710.09
Number Sponsored per Sitting Day not in Government
1Paul MonaghanMaleWhiteSNP1010.14
2Jim ShannonMaleWhiteDUP4110.12
3Robert HalfonMaleWhiteCon.2980.11
4David LindenMaleWhiteSNP830.09
5Bob SpinkMaleWhiteCon.4710.09
6Greg MulhollandMaleWhiteLib. Dem.3990.09
7Simon ThomasMaleWhitePC1650.09
8John McDonnellMaleWhiteLab.6940.09
9Bob RussellMaleWhiteLib. Dem.5450.08
10Kirsten OswaldFemaleWhiteSNP590.08
   SignedSigned
Number Signed Overall  
1Jeremy CorbynMaleWhiteLab.194601.49
2Alan MealeMaleWhiteLab.183661.77
3Mike HancockMaleWhiteLib. Dem.177782.36
4Alan SimpsonMaleWhiteLab.176602.71
5John McDonnellMaleWhiteLab.175042.17
6Lynne JonesFemaleWhiteLab.166362.56
7Bill EtheringtonMaleWhiteLab.165752.55
8Kelvin HopkinsMaleWhiteLab.155431.92
9Peter BottomleyMaleWhiteCon.153731.24
10Ann CryerFemaleWhiteLab.152813.26
Number Signed per Sitting Day not in Government
1Ann CryerFemaleWhiteLab.152813.26
2Rudi VisMaleWhiteLab.148163.16
3Alan SimpsonMaleWhiteLab.176602.71
4John LeechMaleWhiteLib. Dem.92682.58
5Lynne JonesFemaleWhiteLab.166362.56
6Bill EtheringtonMaleWhiteLab.165752.55
7Mike HancockMaleWhiteLib. Dem.177782.36
8Martin CatonMaleWhiteLab.151552.34
9Chris StephensMaleWhiteSNP36222.25
10John McDonnellMaleWhiteLab.175042.17

Network analysis can be used to identify clusters of EDM co-signatories (i.e. MPs who are more likely to sign the same EDMs). Figure(s) 1 shows the EDM co-signatory networks for each of the five parliaments between 2001 and 2019, switching between showing the network by party and then by cluster for each Parliament. For the Party view, the nodes in the figures are colour-coded by party with the edges also colour coded to indicate (cross-)partisan linkages. For example, a red node with a purple edge would indicate a Labour MP with cross-partisan links with Conservative MPs. For the Cluster view, the nodes are simply colour coded by cluster. For both, the size of the node relates to the likelihood of an MP acting as a bridge between different parts of the network with larger nodes indicating a greater propensity to broker.

The figure shows that three clusters of EDM co-signatories can be identified in each parliament from 2001 onwards, except for 2015-17 where there were two. Where there are three clusters, two of these are mainly comprised of Conservative MPs and Labour MPs respectively with the third being mainly made up of another group of Labour MPs and MPs from smaller parties. For 2015-17, there is a smaller cluster mainly comprising SNP MPs and then a large cluster made up of everyone else. However, none of the clusters are particularly distinct with all being cross-partisan and with lots of interaction taking place between them and the MPs therein. The network of EDM signatories is thus generally a tightly knit one with the clusters which comprise it not being separate but rather interrelated. The network has become more clustered over time however.

Focusing on some key figures within these EDM networks, Figure(s) 2 shows the core group networks of the most active EDM co-signatories (co-signing at least 40% of EDMs) for each of the five parliaments. The fact that there is only one core group for each parliament reinforces the idea that the EDM network is an integrated one without particularly distinct clusters. Mirroring the results presented in Table 2, the networks are dominated by white, male Labour MPs, and perhaps more accurately Labour MPs who are members of the Socialist Campaign Group, at least until 2015 after which MPs from smaller parties – specifically, the SNP and the DUP – become dominant. This trend is probably a result of MPs such as Jeremy Corbyn and John McDonnell moving into leadership positions and not having the time and/or proclivity to sign (as many) EDMs as previously. This would then have a knock-on effect of disrupting relationships in the cluster of which these MPs were a part and, consequently, the wider network. Other relationships would then come to the fore.

Figure(s) 1: Early Day Motion Co-Signatory Networks by Parliament

Figure(s) 2: Core group networks of most active EDM co-signatories by Parliament

Characteristics of MPs who sponsor & sign EDMs

Conservative MPs were less likely to sponsor and sign EDMs than Labour and other party MPs (Figure(s) 3) and, when they did, they were also less likely to sponsor and sign as many: the average Conservative MP sponsored and signed 8.6 and 140 EDMs, whereas the figures for the average Labour MP and other party MP were 15.7 and 533, and 26.0 and 874 respectively.

Figure(s) 3: Percentage point difference between proportion of EDM activity and proportion of MPs in Parliament by party, 1989-2019

Female and ethnic minority MPs tended to be sponsors and signatories of EDMs roughly in line with their presence in Parliament (Figure(s) 4). There is some evidence that male sponsors and signatories were more likely to sponsor and sign more EDMs than their female counterparts, especially after 1997 but this gap closed during the last two Parliaments in our analysis. White sponsors were more likely to sponsor more EDMs than ethnic minority sponsors since 2001 but there was no clear trend regarding ethnicity and the ratio of signatories to signatures.

Figure(s) 4: Percentage point difference between proportion of EDM activities and proportion of female and ethnic minority MPs in Parliament, 1989-2019

EDM topics

EDMs are not directed to a particular department so we used topic modelling to identify 27 different policy areas. social welfare, macroeconomics and international affairs are the most popular topics mentioned in EDMs with at least a quarter being related to at least one of these topics (Figure 5). Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are the least popular topics.

Perhaps the most notable trend in the popularity of topics is the steady increase over time in EDMs which mention social policy (Figure(s) 6). Other topics which tended to increase in popularity over time, at least to a certain extent, are civil rights, domestic commerce, education, energy, health, and technology. Topics which tended to decrease in popularity over time, again at least to a certain extent, are agriculture, foreign trade, government operations, international affairs, and law & crime. Other topics remained broadly flat (although macroeconomics did have an increase around the time of the financial crash before falling back slowly to around the same level of popularity as previously).

When comparing different groups of MPs, what is most notable is the consistency in the topic rankings for MPs from different parties. The top five topics are the same for Conservative MPs, Labour MPs and MPs from other parties, even if the order of the ranking is not the same. Perhaps the only notable difference is the ranking of the topic labour. This topic is ranked 13th out of 27 for EDMs sponsored by a Labour MP, whereas it’s ranked 23rd and 20th for EDMs sponsored by a Conservative MP and an MP from another party respectively.

With regard to gender, Civil rights, education, health and social welfare are all more popular topics with female sponsors compared to their male counterparts with international affairs having the biggest difference between the popularity among male sponsors compared to their female counterparts. With regard to ethnicity, the biggest differences in the popularity among sponsors from an ethnic minority background compared to their white counterparts are for the topics civil rights, defence, immigration, international affairs, and social welfare.

Figure 5: Percentage of EDMs which mention topic


Figure(s) 6: Percentage of EDMs which mention topic by parliamentary session


About the author

Dr Stephen Holden Bates is a Senior Lecturer in Political Science at the Department of Political Science and International Studies at the University of Birmingham.


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Not about the best, but about the possible: working on the Welsh electoral system

By Dr Larissa Peixoto Gomes.

It must be said that Wales is a place of complex identity that I would never claim to personally understand. Many Welsh people see themselves as British, others see themselves as British and Welsh, others as Welsh and British, others still as Welsh only (Henderson 2021). Some that I have spoken to claim that they have been colonised by the English, some that they are part of the British empire. Yet, despite its complex and often contradictory nature, I did find points of similarity with my own place of origin and helped contribute to the academic debate.

Throughout the devolution process, Wales has taken the British/English institutions that they were left with and mostly maintained how they functioned under British rule, at best making incremental changes rather than making it their own, despite having the freedom to do so. When devolution finally came about, Wales and Scotland chose the same type of mixed-member proportional system, adding a proportional element to the already present pluralist system. It created a complex voting system that is misunderstood by most and has led to an abstention rate as high as 53% for Senedd elections. Wales was already a Labour stronghold, which could explain the impetus to maintain, at the time, a system that is widely accepted to return legislatures that are often ideologically and regionally unrepresentative. Currently, the government and the Senedd have been making an effort to reform the electoral system in various areas, which is where I came in.[1]

The view from outside

Welsh Government was scouring the globe for best practices in electoral administration, as the rules around elections, what is normally referred to as electoral reform, had already been the topic of an expert report (McAllister et al. 2017). Specifically, they wanted to explore ways to improve voter turnout and to understand whether issues of safety were keeping marginalised people from running. Like many other governments, they commission experts to write reports on topics they are looking to better understand, and they often do so through the Wales Centre for Public Policy (WCPP), at Cardiff University, which had just happened to hire me, in 2021, during the Covid-19 pandemic.

As political scientists, we often discuss political opportunity and change but are not always on the practical side of that. The meetings mostly involved civil servants, and it was crucial to have them be honest about the political context and the actual scope for change due to the steep learning curve about Wales that lay ahead of me. The process itself involved deciding which aspects of electoral administration they wanted to tackle, guiding them through the political science, while they guided me through the politics, i.e., how much they were willing and able to change things.

During these discussions, I was able to make the case for the broadest spectrum of possibilities so that there would be a “menu” of sorts. Yet it was important to demonstrate not just the many possibilities they could choose from, but that by pulling on one thread, another might unravel. For example, increasing the number of polling stations to help with voter participation is a fine idea in principle, but it’s not going to make a difference if people don’t have a way to get to them. This process also included going beyond the Anglo-Saxon Commonwealth and the Global North for cases, considerations around offline electronic voting and its potential for transparency, access, and data, and clarifying understanding that to discuss inclusion and safety measures for marginalised candidates, the whole potential politician pipeline had to be reviewed. These and many other building blocks had to be carefully worded to ensure that the goal remained: ensuring that people who weren’t going to the polls or submitting their ballots found a way to do so, even if that mean overcoming obstacles or disengagement. If the goal is enfranchisement, it has to be more than who isn’t in the room, but why, and what can we do to bring the room to them.

Ultimately, the report Reform of electoral law and practice included early voting, special voting arrangements (innovative electoral practices, as per their jargon), candidate and agent safety, campaign finances and spending, and electoral management bodies. The SVA section included postal and flexible voting, offline electronic ballot boxes, and ways to make voter registration easier and more accessible. Presentations played a key role, where the practices were explained in detail and with examples, such as demonstrating how electoral data repositories work.

The Elections and Elected Bodies (Wales) Bill was passed on 9 July 2024. Items included were an electoral administration body, automatic voter registration, an online platform that centralises election information, specific services for inclusion of marginalised groups aiming for diversity in candidacies, and increased campaign finance rules and oversight. Meanwhile, what seemed to be their biggest concern at the time, spoiled ballots in postal voting, does not feature in the new law. In the final debate, Members of the Senedd (MSs) voted for the bill claiming its importance for Welsh democracy (Plenary 09/07/2024). Two of my biggest concerns, lack of physical access to polling stations due to transportation and lack of secrecy in voting for blind people, went unaddressed, but the hope (that most fragile and beautiful of things), is that these will be considered and improved one day.

A relationship between academia and policy-making

Writing reports and evidence[2] is a great way to do some literature review and keep up with the research out there, but it is good to keep expectations low. The Reform of electoral law and practice was published in 2022, with something here and there alluding to it, but nothing concrete. Impact can indeed take a long time and I moved to a different department at Cardiff University.

At one point, Laura McAllister invited me to write a piece of evidence for the Senedd with her, regarding job sharing for Welsh politicians. Having witnessed and read about the experience of collective candidacies in Brazil and elsewhere, I did feel I had something to contribute, so Laura and I submitted our evidence.

I was then invited by the Senedd’s Business Committee to submit written evidence and attend the oral evidence session on the Senedd Cymru (Electoral Candidate Lists) Bill, which proposed the application of gender quotas in the now closed-list proportional representation system of Wales. Sadly, the bill was withdrawn by Welsh Government, probably due to fear over constitutional issues and that the UK government would challenge it.

I have been in other meetings with Senedd civil servants, have submitted more written evidence in job sharing and the bill submission process, was interviewed as a case study for Senedd engagement, spoke at The Learned Society of Wales about how to give evidence, and participated in discussions on the Diversity and inclusion guidance for political parties. Five years after I had started at Cardiff University, I am still a foreigner, but one who has been able to write other works about Wales. I find myself particularly concerned with transportation for MPs and the location of polling stations, something that hasn’t been taken into much consideration.

Validation, citations, and impact

As academics, we tend to look for validation in publication first and then, in citations. Being cited, even to be criticised, means that our peers have judged our work valuable enough to be repeated, judged next to theirs, improved upon. We do not often consider the possibility of actual change to the system being made by us. And our evaluation systems often do not take into account anything but peer-reviewed publications, in the ‘correct’ journals or publishers.

As an immigrant and a non-white woman, there is a feeling that I am not allowed to be wrong, which means that if they do nothing, it’s fine, but if they do something on my advice and it fails, it’ll be my fault. They won’t look to blame me, no one will say my name, but many therapy sessions will be spent on it.

But I have found that being a foreign academic in the UK, having earned my degrees in Brazil, has been one of my strengths (not that I haven’t face my share of prejudices). Not just because I came from the Global South, not just because I came from a country with an imperfect, but very good electoral administration system, but because an interdisciplinary social sciences and comparative methodology training taught me to look beyond the country and attempt to understand the framework that sustains it. I found that being able to ask them to change “the way things were”, putting my finger on those dusty corners that no one had wanted or thought to touch really opened doors and pricked up ears. However, actually working on it, being possibly responsible for people’s access to the polling station, reminded me about the humanity of the process.


[1] Wales has now fully reformed its electoral system to closed list proportional.

[2] For those not into the British lingo, “evidence” can be oral or written evidence, which are submission of expertise to politicians within the context of their respective legislature and a topic.

About the author

Dr Larissa Peixoto Gomes is a postdoctoral research fellow on the ERC-funded QUALREP project and is based at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland.


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AI integration in lawmaking requires a parliamentary change process, not just a tech project

By Franklin De Vrieze.

Across democratic governance systems, parliaments are facing a paradox. Never before have there been so many technological tools promising to improve legislative scrutiny, evidence use, and public engagement. Yet never has the gap between the pace of technological change and the capacity of democratic institutions to respond felt so wide. This is not simply a story about adopting new software or experimenting with artificial intelligence (AI); it is about institutional transformation. The application of technology and AI in legislative scrutiny requires a fundamental change process in parliaments: one that reshapes data practices, organisational culture, and even how we conceptualise lawmaking itself.

The pacing problem: when governance moves slower than technology

The “pacing problem” captures the growing mismatch between rapid technological innovation and slower institutional adaptation and governance.

Westminster Foundation for Democracy (WFD) and POPVOX Foundation distinguish three interlocking layers of this challenge with regards to parliaments. First, the external pacing problem: parliaments struggle to keep up with technologies already embedded in society. Secondly, the intra-government pacing problem: executives are often early adopters of AI for service delivery, policy design, or enforcement, while legislatures lag behind in their ability to scrutinise these tools effectively, reinforming existing patterns of executive dominance. Thirdly, the internal pacing problem: parliamentary ICT systems, data structures, and workflows frequently remain fragmented, paper-based, or incompatible with modern analytical tools.

The risks of inaction are not abstract. According to the IPU World e-Parliament Report 2024, over 70% of parliaments globally now publish legislative information online, but fewer than half report having interoperable legislative data systems capable of supporting advanced analysis. As AI adoption accelerates in the executive and private sectors, these internal weaknesses can translate into real power asymmetries, further weakening legislative oversight and checks and balances.

How parliaments are already using AI

Despite these challenges, parliaments are not starting from zero. A growing number are experimenting with AI across administrative, legislative, and participatory functions.

On the administrative side, AI is increasingly used to automate transcription, translation, document classification, and summarisation. The European Parliament, for example, deploys eTranslation, speech-to-text systems, and automated indexing to manage multilingual debates and documents at scale. Similar AI functions are noted in the Canadian House of Commons.

Legislatively, AI tools are being applied to amendment analysis, legal consistency checks, and information retrieval. Italy’s Parliament has piloted AI-supported compliance checking of amendments against constitutional and legal constraints. The National Assembly of France has created tools using open data to model fiscal and social impacts and to compare draft bills with existing legislation.

Perhaps the most comprehensive example is Brazil’s Ulysses Suite, an integrated parliamentary AI ecosystem supporting everything from bill analysis to citizen interaction. These cases reflect a broader trend: many parliaments are piloting AI for legislative research, amendment tracking, and committee support.

Yet experimentation alone does not equal transformation. Many pilots remain isolated, dependent on individual champions, or constrained by legacy systems and procurement rules.

Technology across the legislative cycle

The potential of AI becomes clearer when viewed across the full legislative cycle. As highlighted in the Course Manual for the Certified Course on Legislative Scrutiny and Technology, technology is already reshaping each phase of lawmaking.

  • During legislative drafting, AI-assisted tools can analyse vast corpora of statutes and case law, suggesting language aligned with existing norms and reducing ambiguity. This supports consistency without replacing human judgment.
  • In ex-ante impact assessment, predictive modelling and data analytics allow parliaments to interrogate the likely economic, social, or environmental consequences of proposed legislation. Such tools can surface unintended effects earlier in the process, strengthening evidence-based scrutiny.
  • Citizen engagement is also being transformed. Digital platforms enable large-scale consultations, while AI can help analyse submissions, identify patterns, and surface underrepresented perspectives. This is particularly valuable as consultation volumes increase beyond what manual analysis can reasonably handle. Some argue for a path of Augmented Deliberation regarding citizen-initiated mechanisms for democratic participation, including a governance roadmap of digital guardrails such as AI watermarking, public-interest AI platforms, and independent algorithmic audits.
  • Finally, in post-enactment analysis, data analytics can track implementation and outcomes, support post-legislative scrutiny and close feedback loops between lawmaking and lived experience.

These applications demonstrate that AI does not sit at the margins of parliamentary work. It intersects with core legislative functions.

The centrality of explainability

The opportunities are significant, but so are the risks. AI evolves faster than parliamentary cycles, creating persistent regulatory lag. Existing standing orders and parliamentary procedures rarely anticipate automated analysis or algorithmic support. Capacity gaps mean expertise is often concentrated in a handful of staff or external vendors, raising dependency risks.

There are also well-documented technical and ethical challenges: bias in training data, errors and “hallucinations” in generative AI, data protection concerns when handling sensitive parliamentary or constituency information, and the growing threat of AI-enabled disinformation through synthetic submissions, as analysed by OECD, among others.

Across all these risks, one principle stands out: explainability. As Bruce Schneier and Nathan Sanders have argued in their book “Rewiring Democracy”, democratic institutions cannot rely on systems they do not understand. If MPs and staff cannot interrogate how an AI tool reached a conclusion, its outputs cannot legitimately inform legislative scrutiny. Explainability is therefore not a technical luxury but a democratic requirement.

AI adoption is a change process, not a tech project

Too often, AI adoption is framed as a procurement or IT challenge. In reality, it is an institutional change process. Deploying tools without addressing underlying data quality, governance, skills, and culture will at best produce marginal gains, and at worst undermine trust.

Effective change requires attention to at least six interlinked elements: strategy, prioritisation, implementation, governance, training, and coordination. It involves iterative piloting rather than “big bang” rollouts; cross-parliamentary governance bodies rather than siloed initiatives; and continuous learning rather than one-off training.

Data governance is foundational. Without legislature-wide data maps, data management plans, and interoperable systems, AI outputs will be unreliable or biased. Treating data as a strategic asset is a precondition for any meaningful AI readiness.

Crucially, this change process also invites deeper reflection. Rethinking lawmaking in terms of “law as code”, exploring how digital tools reshape legislative design, and reimagining human oversight so that humans remain firmly “in the loop” are all parts of the transformation.

The theory of organizational change by sociologist Everett Rogers, called the Diffusion of Innovations, points at different categories how people adapt to proposed changes. In any organization, including in parliaments, some are innovators, early adapters, early majority, late majority and the laggards. The innovators are often in a minority, but their approach will determine if the majority adapts and accepts the proposed changes. Similar categories on people’s approach to change applies to parliaments when introducing AI in the parliamentary workspace.

Frameworks to guide the journey

Parliaments do not have to navigate this alone. The Guidelines for AI in Parliament, published by the WFD, provide a practical framework covering ethics, governance, capacity, and implementation. Complementing this, the IPU’s Maturity Framework for AI in Parliaments offers a self-assessment tool across six levels, from “initial” awareness to “leadership”, where parliaments act as global benchmarks. The UK Parliament has issued guidance to its Members on the use of generative AI tools.

Together, these frameworks suggest a pragmatic path forward: start with pilots, invest in data foundations, prioritise explainable systems, learn from peers, and embed AI within transparent, ethics-driven governance structures.

Bridging expertise: lawmaking, technology, and parliamentary strengthening

Finally, successful transformation depends on people as much as systems. One of the clearest lessons from comparative practice is the need to connect three communities that too often operate separately: lawmaking experts, technology specialists, and parliamentary strengthening practitioners.

This was the guiding logic behind the January 2026 Certified Course on Legislative Scrutiny and Technology, which deliberately brought these three perspectives together. Hence, it was co-organized by leaders in each of these three fields: Institute of Advanced Legal Studies (IALS) of the University of London, Popvox Foundation and WFD. Legislative quality scholars, parliamentary officials, technology specialists, and democracy practitioners all contributed to a shared understanding: AI in parliament is not just about efficiency, but about safeguarding democratic legitimacy in an age of acceleration.

The rise of AI and legislative technology is not merely an administrative upgrade. It is a fundamental institutional challenge. If parliaments fail to adapt, the pacing problem will deepen, oversight will weaken, and democratic accountability will erode. If they succeed, AI can become a powerful ally in strengthening scrutiny, transparency, and public trust.

About the author

Franklin De Vrieze is the Head of Practice Accountability at the Westminster Foundation for Democracy.


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Remembering David Judge

By Cristina Leston-Bandeira.

How does one write about someone who you never thought would not be here? How do you put on paper how much that person meant to you? Contrary to David, I’m terrible at writing; he would know what I want to say, without me having to say it.

For no particular reason or design, David Judge became a sort of mentor to me – and this happened without either of us thinking about it, but simply because he was such an extraordinary person and such a pleasure to work with. He was a major intellectual force in parliamentary studies, having looked at pretty much every angle well before many others, just not making much of a fuss about it, whilst also being a wonderful and kind person.

Representation, the incongruities of democratic representation, and theory would become his preferred focus, but he addressed pretty much everything else in parliamentary studies. From his seminal study on petitions in 1978 and his PhD on backbench specialisation in the UK Parliament, to his landmark The Parliamentary State, his series of books on the European Parliament, and our recent co-edited book on Reimagining Parliament, David had an eye to spot what really mattered. Also, he understood intuitively why it mattered to study different legislatures.

And yet, talking to him, you’d never get a sense of the giant scholar he was. He was never one for self-promotion and as much of a self-deprecating academic as there ever was, as illustrated by his responses to the ‘Urgent Questions’ feature of the PSA Parliaments specialist group.

The first time I met David was in Manheim in 1999 at an ECPR Joint Workshop he had put together with Gabriella Ilonszki (Corvinus University of Budapest). I was a young PhD student, away from my 2-year-old son, doing the stuff that we need to do as academics, presenting work at conferences; and very unsure that I had anything to say, especially in a workshop full of big names such as David and Michael Rush (another lovely man and huge in parliamentary studies, now also sadly gone). David obviously put me totally at ease, in a very discreet way, simply because he was kind and he understood what it meant to be unsure and to be away from your young child. Something that not many male academics understood in the late 1990s.

A few years went by, and David was less present in academic circles because he became Head of Department at Strathclyde University’s School of Government. I never worked at Strathclyde, but I know how dedicated he was to the role and how it took him away from the research and writing he so loved. He had the good sense to take early retirement and regain time for thinking and writing.

He should have been just enjoying his very well deserved retirement of course, but he kept answering the call to do more. He enjoyed the challenge of new ideas, whilst making the most of being away from academia as such. It was thanks to this that I had the privilege to work with him and co-author a couple of articles and co-edit a book. He also kept a close eye on what was happening and every so often would email me with ideas of things that needed pursuing.

To talk of David without mentioning his Lorraine, and Ben and Hannah, though, is not to mention David at all. David was so proud of his family. Every opportunity was good enough to mention Lorraine and her hope of travel and time away from work; the immense pride in his children, the repairs in Hannah’s flat, Ben’s wedding. They were all always just next to David.

The last time David and I met in person was at the Political Studies Association annual conference hosted by Strathclyde University, in 2024. Towards the end of the conference, a panel didn’t sound too appealing and David and I just sat in the corridor chatting; chatting about this and that, past colleagues, academia, family (always family), and yet again I thought what an incredible man he was. A foremost scholar in parliamentary studies whilst incredibly caring and generous.

Whenever I needed advice, whenever things were difficult, I always knew I could count with David’s support. He’d understand, he’d know what to say. One of the last things he told me was to slow down and retire early. You never know what’s ahead and, as Lorraine always reminded him, there is so much more out there than work. And yet, it is thanks to work that David leaves such a huge scholarly legacy. I shall miss him deeply; his generosity, his openness to ideas, his wise perspective over things, his reminder that what really matters are people; wouldn’t academia be so much better if we were all a bit more liked David Judge? Except that he would have been horrified to know I’ve written this;).

About the author

Cristina is a Professor of Politics at the University of Leeds.


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The Dispatch Box as Living Constitution : Lessons from Ghana and the Commonwealth

By Nimako Kuffour Anning.

If you think of a dispatch box as merely a piece of furniture in a parliamentary chamber, you would be missing a central thread in how modern legislatures order speech, accountability, and power. The paper at the heart of this discussion treats the dispatch box as more than a podium; it is a ceremonial technology that embodies authority, procedure, and an evolving political culture across Westminster-derived legislatures. In particular, it turns a Ghanaian episode from July 2025 into a lens for understanding how ritual space, Standing Orders, and partisan contestation shape the functioning of parliament. The argument is not that boxes are magical; it is that the way parliaments regulate who speaks from the box, when, and to whom, reveals the deepest commitments about accountability, representation, and the legitimacy of public debate.

WHY THE DISPATCH BOX MATTERS: HISTORY AS A GUIDE TO PRACTICE.

The author begins by insisting that the dispatch box is a recognisable symbol of Westminster-derived governance, a seat at the intersection of history, ritual, and policy. It matters because speeches from the box carry a weight beyond the immediate words spoken: they symbolise ministerial accountability and the public record’s gravity. The literature frames dispatch-box speeches as “a special weight of constitutional responsibility,” given that they articulate official government positions in a manner that is publicly auditable and (at least ideally) precise and accountable (Norton 2013; Waddle et al. 2019). This is not merely etiquette; it is the architecture of public accountability. Over time, the practice has come to represent clarity, accuracy, and integrity in governance, a point the author emphasises by tracing the origins of the box and its enduring status as a central instrument of parliamentary speech.

The historical arc is telling. The dispatch box began as a practical device—a fixed point from which important business could be presented and defended—and gradually became a formal architectural fixture of the chamber (Rush 2014; Kelso, Bennister & Larkin 2016). The etymology itself gravitates toward a functional shift: from boxes that carried messages and documents to a ceremonial platform where those messages are publicly voiced and defended (Sullivan 1994). By the nineteenth century, the dispatch box had become a standard feature in many legislatures patterned on Westminster, with colonial and postcolonial parliaments adopting and adapting the layout as a signal of legitimacy and procedural discipline (Mulgan 2003). The box thus sits at the confluence of utility and ceremony—a symbol of governance as a public, recorded act rather than a private exchange behind closed doors.

Taken together, the box is not just furniture; it’s a technology of governance. It choreographs speech, anchors accountability moments, and curates the public record. The author frames the dispatch box as a living instrument of constitutional culture—one that carries history into current debates and, in turn, helps shape how contemporary legislatures think about fairness, transparency, and legitimacy in public discourse (Rush 2014; Mansbridge 2014; Waddle et al. 2019).

GHANA IN FOCUS: CONTENTION, SPACE, AND THE POLITICS OF RITUAL

The Ghanaian Parliament provides a vivid case study of how a dispatch box operates in a contemporary, multilingual, multi-party democracy with a Westminster lineage. For decades, Ghanaian MPs and ministers have used the box as a site to answer questions, present ministerial statements, and address positions of caucuses—an arrangement familiar in many parliaments. Yet the box is also a contested space, where questions of access, privilege, and legitimacy collide with procedural rules.

The July 2025 Hansard extracts sharpen the point. One side—Majority Leader Hon Mahama Ayariga—argued that asking questions from the dispatch box was a privilege of his side, not open to the minority leader as an MP but as a caucus representative, insisting that the Minority Leader should not approach the box to pose questions he asks on behalf of his constituents (Ayariga, as quoted in the Hansard excerpt). The counterpoint from Hon Alexander Afenyo-Markin, the Minority Leader, was equally emphatic: the dispatch box belongs to the “leaders” on his side, and it may be used by any member granted leave by the Speaker. The exchange crystallises a perennial tension in Westminster-style legislatures: who has entitlement to use the box, and under what conditions?

Into this fray stepped the presiding officer, the First Deputy Speaker, Hon Bernard Ahiafor. His ruling anchored the resolution of the moment in standing orders and standard parliamentary practice: any Member acting in a representative capacity but not in the capacity of the caucus must rise at their own place to ask a Question; the Minority Leader would thus have to rise at his place to ask the question (Hansard, 2025). The ruling set a clear procedural boundary, even as it left space for contestation in the next session. It also underscored a broader point the paper makes: the dispatch box is a potent symbol, but its power is mediated through rules and rulings. Access to the box is not a matter of instinct or personality; it is a matter of procedure, precedent, and the interpretive authority of presiding officers.

Three core themes emerge from the Ghanaian episode. First, the dispatch box remains a contested site—especially in multiparty environments where the balance of power shifts with elections, coalitions, or leadership changes. Second, access to the box is governed by standing orders that codify when and by whom it may be used, and these rules can become the focus of political contestation. Third, ritualised practices around the box help transmit institutional culture, shaping expectations about leadership, accountability, and the relative power of caucuses versus individual MPs. The Ghana case makes explicit what the broader literature suggests: that the box’s authority is inseparable from the norms and rules that govern its use, and from the authority of the presiding officer who interprets those rules on the floor (Ayariga quotes; Ahiafor ruling; Standing Orders references in the Hansard).

METHODOLOGY AND SCOPE: A SCOPING-LENS APPROACH TO A CONTESTED ARTIFACT

To illuminate these dynamics, the paper adopts a qualitative, comparative approach. Recognising that literature on dispatch boxes is dispersed and uneven, the authors begin with a scoping literature review to map what is known about parliamentary symbolism, ceremonial tools, and related artefacts such as the mace. This scoping step serves as a foundation for deeper empirical inquiry, not a substitute for it. The study uses parliamentary archives—Standing Orders and Hansard—as primary sources, and it anticipates key informant interviews with clerks and seasoned legislators to triangulate the patterns observed in the archival material.

The comparative dimension spans several Commonwealth legislatures—primarily the United Kingdom, New Zealand, Canada, Australia, and Nigeria—allowing the authors to identify where there is convergence in the core logic of speaking from the dispatch box and where there are important local adaptations. The goal is to illuminate a shared constitutional logic that underpins Westminster-style practice while recognising how different institutional cultures construe and apply the rules in Ghana and elsewhere.

The themes guiding the inquiry are explicit: what the dispatch box means across Commonwealth parliaments; the historical origins of the box; and how Ghana’s Parliament has adopted, adapted, or uniquely construed the practice. The paper thus seeks to connect a long historical arc to current procedural realities and to consider how ritual devices sustain or reform parliamentary etiquette and authority in changing political contexts.

WHAT THE GHANA CASE CAN TEACH ABOUT PARLIAMENTARY CULTURE

Across the Commonwealth, the dispatch box functions as both a practical space for ministerial discourse and a symbolic locus of governance values. It is a stage for formal statements, ministerial accountability, and the public scrutiny of policy. Yet the exact rules—who may use the box, when, and under what conditions—are not uniform, and this non-uniformity becomes revealing when politics becomes more competitive or fragmented.

The Ghana example underscores several lessons. First, rule clarity matters. Ambiguities about access to the box incentivise procedural disputes and raise questions about legitimacy. A transparent, well-communicated framework helps reduce ad hoc controversies and reinforces the legitimacy of parliamentary procedure. The case suggests that even long-standing traditions need codified grounding to withstand political contestation and the friction of daily debate.

Second, ritual matters as governance tools. Parliaments are not merely debating societies; they are institutions that use ritual devices to cultivate norms of accountability, transparency, and public engagement. The dispatch box reinforces the idea that statements delivered there carry a special weight because they are delivered in full view, in public and on the record. Ritualised practice—the posture of coming to the box, the sequence of questions, the presiding officer’s rulings—helps shape expectations about how debate should transpire and how leaders should behave when defending or challenging policy.

Third, the balance between inclusivity and order is delicate but essential. Expanding access to the box—through broader leadership or caucus representation—can make debates more representative, but it must be done in a way that preserves orderly procedure. The Ghana case invites reform debates about whether standing orders should accommodate more flexible, well-defined mechanisms for caucus representation or rotating access that respects the floor’s procedural rhythm.

Fourth, comparative insights can inform reform. By placing Ghana alongside the UK, Nigeria, and other commonwealth countries, the paper invites parliaments to consider what works best in different constitutional contexts. Some parliaments reserve the box for ministerial business; others permit broader use under strict conditions; some empower presiding officers with wider discretion. Such cross-jurisdictional reflection can inform Ghana’s standing orders or help a parliament reframe how the box is designed to reflect contemporary leadership and representation norms.

Fifth, documentation and accountability in public records matter. The dispatch box’s speeches are part of the Hansard—the public record—linking the ritual moment in the chamber to citizen access and historical memory. The authors emphasise that the reliability of dispatch-box declarations contributes to public accountability and to the integrity of the parliamentary archive. In this sense, the box is a storehouse of truth-telling in public life, not only a stage for partisan theatre.

PRACTICAL TAKEAWAYS FOR POLICYMAKERS, PRACTITIONERS, AND STUDENTS

If you’re a parliamentary administrator, a policy adviser, or a student of constitutional law, the paper offers a handful of actionable insights:

– Codify access to the dispatch box. Build clear, accessible standing orders that specify who may speak from the box, in what capacity, and under what conditions. Publicly communicating these rules reduces ambiguity and helps maintain legitimacy even when partisan battles intensify.

– Treat ritual as governance technology. Recognise that ritual practices—where MPs stand, how they approach the box, and how the presiding officer adjudicates—shape behaviour and expectations. Use these rituals deliberately to promote accountability, dignity, and accessibility in debate.

– Design inclusive yet orderly rules. Seek reforms that broaden leadership and caucus participation without destabilising the procedural rhythm of the chamber. Options might include designated deputy spokespeople, time-limited deputations, or rotation schemes that preserve fairness while ensuring full representation.

– Leverage comparative learning. Look beyond national borders to understand how different Commonwealth parliaments balance authority, access, and order. Borrow ideas about flexible use of the box, or about how presiding officers interpret standing orders in practice, while respecting local constitutional arrangements.

– Strengthen the public record. Preserve and enhance the reliability of Hansard or other official transcripts tied to dispatch-box statements. Public access to precise, timely, and verifiable records strengthens accountability and public trust.

A CLOSING REFLECTION: THE DISPATCH BOX AS A LIVING INSTRUMENT OF CONSTITUTIONAL CULTURE

The dispatch box is not a fossil in a grand legislative hall. It is a living instrument that carries history into today’s chambers and helps shape tomorrow’s norms of debate, accountability, and legitimacy. The Ghanaian incident from July 2025—a vivid, high-stakes moment about who may use the box and under what conditions—offers a microcosm of how constitutional culture is negotiated in real time. The paper’s comparative lens reminds us that there is no single “correct” model for the dispatch box. Different jurisdictions reflect different balances between access and order, between tradition and reform, between symbolism and substance. Yet the common thread is clear: the way we speak from the box—the tone, the content, and the procedural etiquette—says as much about a parliament’s values as the words it records.

For scholars, the paper also demonstrates the value of a scoping, methodology-driven approach to topics that straddle ritual, law, and politics. By combining archival analysis (Standing Orders and Hansard), comparative perspectives, and interviews with practitioners, the author builds a layered, context-rich account of how a seemingly simple object can illuminate complex institutional dynamics. Historical literacy helps us understand why the box commands such authority and how that authority is continually negotiated through rules, rulings, and rituals.

The Ghana case adds a contemporary, real-world layer—showing how standing orders, presiding officers, and partisan strategy intersect in daily parliamentary life—while inviting further cross-jurisdictional study.

In short, the dispatch box is a central instrument of parliamentary culture: a stage, a rule-bound arena, and a record-keeping mechanism all at once. Its continued relevance in Commonwealth legislatures depends on how well parliaments can codify access, sustain respectful ritual, and adapt to evolving political realities without sacrificing the core commitments to accountability and public legitimacy. The Ghana example illustrates this dynamic in compelling terms, reminding us that a parliamentary chamber’s most enduring power lies not in the box’s wood or varnish but in what speakers do with it, how the rules guide them, and how their words endure in the public record for years to come.

About the author

Nimako Kuffour Anning works in the Ghanian Parliament.


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The New Playbook

Eight Ways Parliaments Can Rebuild Trust Through Citizen Engagement

By Jessica Benton Cooney.

This post was originally published on Medium by Inter Pares (https://medium.com/@interpares/the-new-playbook-f9b72f919c7b)

Trust in democracy is declining worldwide, and parliaments — the essential link between citizens and state decision-making — are no exception. While citizen engagement is more critical than ever, practical, actionable guidance for how parliaments can effectively involve the public has been hard to find.

To meet this urgent challenge, International IDEA’s Inter Pares — Parliaments in Partnership project and the International Parliament Engagement Network (IPEN), with support from the European Union, co-created a series of eight interactive Guides on Citizen Engagement for Parliaments.

These guides are more than a resource; they are toolkits built on extensive global research, with the aim of shifting the focus from “citizens as spectators” to “citizens as active participants.” Recognizing that citizen engagement is core to democratic resilience, these guides offer a wide range of actionable, evidence-based frameworks for meaningful interaction, deliberation, and co-creation.

For members of parliament, parliamentary staff, civil-society and international development partners, and scholars, this suite provides a holistic roadmap for innovation, helping parliaments worldwide redefine their role in this challenging era. Read on to learn more about the guide series.

A Complete Toolkit for Citizen Engagement

Each of the eight guides tackles a vital dimension of engagement. Together, they form a comprehensive playbook for parliaments ready to reconnect with the people they serve.

  1. Principles of Parliamentary Public EngagementThis foundational guide establishes the core framework for all engagement. It identifies and explains eight key principles — including purpose, inclusion, and impact — that ensure programs move beyond box-ticking to become ethical, strategic, and genuinely integrated into the DNA of legislative work.

“At the heart of the lack of engagement with parliaments is a growing lack of understanding how they are important in a functioning democracy. I’m excited how these guides tackle rebuilding this trust and how they show us to think smart about the use of our resources.” — Caroline Wallis, Research lead/Kaiarahi Tira Rangahau, Parliament of New Zealand

2. Youth Engagement: Essential for democracy’s future, this guide focuses on creating two-way, meaningful partnerships. It reviews models from youth reference groups and specialized committees to youth parliaments, aiming to empower young citizens as “agents of change” who contribute to political life and debate now, not just as future voters.

“The guide is timely for the National Assembly of Zambia, reinforcing its commitment to deepen public participation and ensure that the voices of the youths are not only heard but truly shape the future of the nation.” — Bridget Kalaba, Deputy Director, Parliamentary Reforms Department, National Assembly of Zambia

3. Petitions and Citizens’ InitiativesLearn how to transform formal citizen demands into constructive action. This guide provides practical steps for designing petitions and citizens’ initiatives systems that are accessible, transparent, and outcome-oriented, ensuring public concern can directly shape the legislative agenda and hold the institution accountable.

“The Citizen Engagement Guides offer fresh and practical insights that I can’t wait to share with my team at the Brazilian Senate. They’re a powerful tool to help us strengthen civic participation and rethink how we connect people to the legislative process.” — Alisson Bruno Dias de Queiroz, Coordinator of the e-Cidadania Program, Federal Senate of Brazil

4. Education ProgrammesMoving beyond basic civics, this guide details how parliaments can develop high-quality, targeted programs to deepen public understanding of their work and relevance. Investing in these initiatives strengthens legitimacy and fosters a more informed citizenry equipped for participation.

“Supporting young people’s democratic participation is not just a right — it’s a smart investment in a sustainable democracy. The Education Programme Guide streamlines the organization of our 28-year long internship program for university students, helping us better engage youth and build a more resilient democratic society.” — Natália Švecová, Director of the Parliamentary Institute, Chancellery of The National Council of The Slovak Republic

5. Public ConsultationsThis resource is vital for ensuring decisions are informed by the needs of society. It presents four main consultation approaches — from online forums to discussion-based methods — and offers guidance for implementation, making consultations a strategic tool for improving the quality and legitimacy of legislation.

“Public consultations play an increasing role in contemporary parliaments. The Public Consultations Guide offers an invaluable toolkit for building positive and interactive relationships between citizens and parliamentary institutions. A lot of interesting and inspiring practices are showcased from several parliaments around the world. The Guide is an indispensable support for everybody committed to help parliaments to better represent and engage with citizens.” — Giovanni Rizzoni, the Head of Unit for Parliamentary Cooperation and Capacity Building at the Italian Chamber of Deputies.

6. Parliament as a Space and PlaceThis guide examines how the physical buildings and virtual platforms of parliament can be leveraged to foster connection. By making the institution more welcoming, accessible, and understandable through its spaces, within parliamentary estates and in communities, parliaments can build emotional attachment and a crucial sense of belonging among citizens.

“At the base of the German Bundestag (Parliament) Dome, the plenary chamber can be seen from above, so every visitor can watch into an ongoing plenary session… This symbolizes the awareness of and responsibility towards the population and the voters.” — Anna-Maria Pawliczek, Senior Officer, Division Int 4, International Exchange Programs, International Parliamentary Cooperation, German Bundestag

7. Deliberative Engagement: Focused on quality over quantity, this guide explores methods like citizen assemblies and juries. It provides a framework for designing processes that bring diverse groups together for intensive, informed discussion, incorporating nuanced, evidence-based public input into complex policy areas.

“I’m really excited about the citizen engagement guides, especially the Guide on Deliberative Engagement, which is packed with practical insights on embedding public deliberation into parliamentary work — this is exactly what I aim to do in my work here at the Scottish Parliament.” — Alistair Stoddart, Senior Participation Specialist, Scottish Parliament

8. Engaging Underrepresented GroupsThis guide provides frameworks for proactive inclusion, focusing on strategies to identify and overcome barriers faced by marginalized and seldom-heard communities. This commitment to deep inclusion is critical for fulfilling parliament’s role as a representative body that reflects the entire society.

“Inclusion is the cornerstone of sustainable development. In the true spirit of leaving no one behind, it is critical to facilitate the engagement of the underrepresented. Their voices matter. The guide on Engaging Underrepresented Groups is a practical and vital resource that will facilitate this important process.” — Kagiso Molatlhwa, Programme Specialist, Youth and Gender, UNFPA Botswana. Former Executive Director, Botswana Council of NGOs (BOCONGO)

Turning Engagement into Effective Governance

These guides represent a timely, well-grounded, and pragmatic toolkit for legislative institutions globally. They address critical worldwide democratic challenges and offer a new playbook for all parliaments, regardless of their size or resources. They are founded on the principle that the health of democratic society depends on the strength of the relationship between its institutions and its people. Citizen engagement is, therefore, not an optional reform, but the essential work of democracy itself.

Through embracing this framework, legislative bodies can move beyond simply restoring trust to become stronger, more legitimate, and better equipped to govern in an increasingly complex world.

For both practitioners and scholars, the series offers a rich resource to reflect on how engagement can be effectively shaped, measured, and embedded in parliamentary culture.

*The guides were developed by Cristina Leston-Bandeira, Professor of Politics at the University of Leeds and Chair of IPEN, and Juliet Ollard, Senior Research and Engagement Officer, IPEN, in partnership with Inter Pares. The project team drew from extensive academic research and parliamentary practices from across the world — including many interviews with parliamentary officials and academics, and the expert advice of the International Advisory Group and the IPEN Executive Team.

About the author

Jessica Benton Cooney is the Senior Communications Consultant for Inter Pares, which is funded by the European Union and implemented by International IDEA. Previously, she was the Team Lead and Senior Strategic Communications Specialist for USAID’s Bureau for Democracy, Human Rights, and Governance.


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Why democratic financial governance needs a systems revolution

By Franklin De Vrieze.

When was the last time you had a conversation about power, trust and accountability? For those of us who joined the Global Dialogue on Strengthening Fiscal Ecosystems, it was just a few short weeks ago.

The Global Dialogue was convened by the Trust, Accountability and Inclusion (TAI) Collaborative, with the support of the Swiss State Secretariat for Economic Affairs (SECO), Gates Foundation and Ford Foundation, and joined by the World Bank, IMF, Westminster Foundation for Democracy, Accountability Lab, International Budget Partnership (IBP), INTOSAI, London School of Economics and others.

I joined colleagues from parliaments, governments, oversight bodies, civil society organisations, academia, and donor agencies to reflect on how we can make the systems that govern public money more equitable, accountable, and democratic.

This was not a technical workshop on budget classifications or fiscal rules. It was indeed a conversation about power and trust. It was about the ecosystem that shapes how public money is raised, allocated, and spent, and the role of parliaments in this system.

What is a fiscal ecosystem?

The idea of a fiscal ecosystem has emerged from more than a decade of work by different democracy organisations, responding to a paradox: despite major progress in fiscal transparency worldwide, accountability and equity often lag behind. Put simply, publishing more budget data or introducing new audit tools has not been enough to create sustainable positive change.

A fiscal ecosystem perspective starts with the recognition that no single actor, such as the Ministry of Finance, Parliament, the Auditor General, even civil society, can deliver accountable fiscal governance alone.

Instead, outcomes are shaped by the interplay of multiple actors: core state institutions such as finance ministries, legislatures, audit offices, and treasuries; other state institutions, including independent fiscal councils and constitutional courts; and non-state actors, ranging from civil society and media to investors and academics.

An ecosystems approach is valuable because it illuminates relationships and power, helps identify where reform coalitions can be built and where blockages and resistance are to be found. It shifts our gaze from isolated technical fixes to the deeper political dynamics that shape fiscal outcomes.

One participant summed it up vividly: “We’ve invested so much in auditing, transparency tools, and PFM (public financial management) systems, but none of that matters if we don’t address the political power behind the decisions. It’s not enough to have an open budget portal. We need to change the way decisions are made.”

Why this matters for democracy

Fiscal choices are political choices. They reflect whose voices are heard, whose interests are prioritised, and how trade-offs are managed. In an era of growing inequality and declining trust in democratic institutions, financial governance is at the heart of the democratic bargain.

If citizens see that public money is captured by elites, mismanaged through inefficiency, or siphoned away through corruption, their trust in democracy erodes. Whereas, if fiscal decisions are transparent, inclusive, and oriented toward equity, they can restore confidence in democratic institutions.

The fiscal ecosystem approach is therefore not just about improving budgets. It is about revitalising democracy itself.

Country case studies

We heard about case studies from Brazil, Indonesia, and South Africa, which offered both warnings and hope.

  • Brazil’s fiscal ecosystem feels stuck, with power struggles between executive and legislature paralysing budget governance.
  • Indonesia demonstrates how impressive legal frameworks can be undermined by clientelism, what one participant called “superficial transparency.”
  • South Africa shows both fragility and resilience: institutions including Parliament were corroded during “state capture” years, yet independent bodies have forced accountability back onto the agenda.

One of the most striking themes of the Global Dialogue was the oversight of public debt management. Debt sustainability is often framed narrowly as a technocratic issue, managed by finance ministries and assessed by rating agencies. But the Global Dialogue revealed how debt management itself is embedded in the fiscal ecosystem, and the anomalies emerging as a lack of oversight by parliaments, audit institutions and civil society.

In Brazil, congressional amendments and rigid spending rules complicate efforts to manage debt, while courts and media debates shape public perceptions of fiscal credibility.

In Indonesia, debt rules have kept borrowing low, but political capture and inequitable spending reveal that fiscal prudence does not guarantee fairness.

In South Africa, debt is not only a macroeconomic concern but also a political flashpoint: bailouts for SOEs, court challenges over rights-based spending, and parliamentary battles over tax reform all feed into the debt trajectory.

The Global Dialogue highlights how an ecosystems lens can “reveal relationships and power,” showing that debt is not just about numbers but about the balance of competing accountabilities:fiscal (stability), political (patronage), and developmental (equity).

I noticed that parliaments are largely an afterthought in the public financial management (PFM) system. For example, even though the Public Expenditure and Financial Accountability (PEFA) framework recognizes parliamentary oversight as the final pillar of performance, parliaments are generally not understood by multilateral and bilateral donors. Also in PFM and public debt management legislation, parliament’s role is largely nominal.

While debt transparency has improved in many places, transparency alone is not enough. Strengthening public accountability is essential. Legislatures, supreme audit institutions, and CSOs need the tools, access, and authority to scrutinize borrowing decisions and ensure they serve the public interest. In the different countries where it has been rolled out, the Public Debt Management Assessment Tool (PDMAT) has proven to generate new insights about the structures, procedures, resources and access to information for parliaments in the debt debate.

What have we learned so far about the role of parliaments in debt oversight? While formal parliamentary oversight functions, such as loan ratification, review of the debt management strategy, or budget approval, are necessary, they are not sufficient. Parliaments must also exercise substantive oversight that scrutinises the policy rationale behind borrowing, the fiscal risks involved, and the developmental returns on debt-financed investments. Parliamentary oversight is integral to preventing unsustainable borrowing and to ensuring debt contributes to equitable development outcomes.

Applying an ecosystems approach to debt could therefore open new strategies: linking debt debates to rights and equity, mobilizing courts and civil society to demand transparent justifications for borrowing, and involving parliaments and media in shaping narratives about debt sustainability. In short, the debt ecosystem may be the next frontier for systemic reform.

Looking forward

Several insights particularly struck me:

  • Power and trust are central. Lack of trust between governments, parliaments and civil society creates major obstacles.
  • Reform is political, not just technical. Without shifts in political incentives and substantive involvement of parliaments, technical reforms remain “superficial transparency.”
  • Local innovation offers hope, with subnational governments and parliaments experimenting with participatory budgeting and litigation strategies.

The fiscal ecosystems approach gives us a lens to see the whole system, identify blockages, and think strategically about coalitions for change. It challenges us to move beyond transparency for its own sake, grapple with the politics of fiscal governance, and build trust across divides.

The Global Dialogue embodied the very ecosystem we were discussing as we were seeing actors who usually work in silos engage as interdependent partners. It reminded me that strengthening fiscal ecosystems is about rebalancing relationships among many institutions, ensuring that budgets serve the many, not the few.

About the author

Franklin De Vrieze is the Head of Practice Accountability at the Westminster Foundation for Democracy


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Unfit for Hansard?

By Charlie Feldman.

“In the circumstances, both sedentary remarks will be removed from the permanent record.” – Mr. Speaker, Commons Chamber, 14 January 2008.

The official record of debates, Hansard, is relied upon as the authoritative record of what was said in Parliament. As Erskine May explains, citing a parliamentary committee’s report, “though not strictly verbatim, [it] is substantially the verbatim report, with repetitions and redundancies omitted and with obvious mistakes corrected, but which on the other hand leaves out nothing that adds to the meaning of the speech or illustrates the argument’.

While research demonstrates that remarks have been expunged from Hansard in Canada, Australia and New Zealand, the UK story appears largely unexplored. This matter was recently raised in the Commons when a Member rose on a point of order suggesting she had been censored given a divergence between her remarks as recorded in Hansard and what is heard on the audiovisual recording,

Those who listen closely to a debate and read it later in Hansard will spot modifications, including the removal of words such as deleting ‘Mr. Speaker’ at the beginning of a contribution. There are numerous conventions around what will be included in the Official Record. In the recent case, the rule strictly applied related to omitting remarks continued after the Speaker calls a member’s speech to a close. Pure Hansard expungements at Westminster are few and far between.

The quote that began this post is from an incident in 2008 in which the sedentary interjection “absolute b******s” (without asterisks) was removed by decision of the Speaker after a point of order. The original Hansard attributed it to an MP who was reportedly incensed as it was another MP who made the remark. In the context of the remark being from a sedentary position and with an unclear (and possibly misattributed) interlocutor, the Speaker removed it. Of note, while considered a swear word, “b******s” in full does appear printed in other debates, including as far back as 1986. (In a contrasting incident, one Speaker is suggested to have edited out his own fleeting use of four-letter profanity from Hansard 1989; ITN bleeped the remark in its airing of proceedings).

If one goes far back, much is missing from Hansard. As explained in The History of Hansard, one of the critiques from the period before official Hansard began (prior to 1909) concerned “some parliamentarians’ speeches being shortened or even suppressed”. While those speeches were missing from the record deliberately, some later interventions in the official era are missing unintentionally. Luckily, technological evolution has helped insofar as one no longer sees Hansard stating that a member “made an observation which was not heard in the Reporters’ Gallery.” In one sitting in 1916, for example, inaudible observations are indicated on four occasions – one of which is attributed to the Prime Minister in responding to a question. Chamber acoustics have long been an issue – an 1849 article in The Spectator begins “If there is any one point settled in history, it is that the House of Lords is the worst place for hearing in the known world.”

Focusing on the official reporting era, press reports of removed Hansard content tell us that times of war saw significant expungement. In an article published in the Sunday Dispatch of 25 August 1946, Britain’s Chief Press Censor – George Pirie Thomson – tells of edits from speeches in the House during World War II for various security reasons. MPs, it seems, often crossed the line accidentally, including then PM Winston Churchill. The censorship went further, however, as Thomson revealed censoring a parliamentary question and even working with the Speaker to change the title of a bill!

Security concerns also prompted edits during World War I. Newspaper reports tell us that in a speech given by Sir William Alfred Gelder in August 1916, he accidentally named a town when speaking to what appears now in Hansard as concerns over anti-aircraft guns being “taken away from a certain city on the East Coast”. The debate in the Hansard that follows does not reflect what press reports suggest – that another MP rose on a point of order that the location information potentially helped the enemy. While Gelder wasn’t so sure, the Speaker suggested he speak to the Editor of Hansard. As no location appears in Gelder’s remarks, it may be safe to assume the expungement occurred; the press reports it outright as being removed.

Members have on occasion asked for something to be removed from Hansard. Sir William Darling rose in debate in 1951, recorded as follows: “[T]he right hon. Gentleman, in the debate the night before last, said that I was asleep, and as this statement by him is likely to cause dissatisfaction to my constituents, who probably look upon me as a watchful and wakeful Member, may I ask what steps I can take to have it expunged from the record?” The Speaker said he would consider the matter. It’s unclear if anything actually changed — the relevant debate portion reads “Members opposite are not enthusiastic about remaining throughout the night. Some of them are already going off to sleep—look at the hon. Member for Edinburgh, South (Sir W. Darling). [Interruption.]” 

Controversies have erupted over whether certain changes to the record crossed the line into changing the meaning of a speech or suppressing content. In 1998, for example, the Speaker found that words removed from the Hansard record of a speech from PM Tony Blair did not alter his meaning. No further action was taken. In another case, what was removed from Hansard was reinserted. In 1966, the Speaker reported that the Chancellor of the Exchequer’s edit “was accepted by the reporters, but, after discussion with the Editor of the OFFICIAL REPORT, both he and I are satisfied that it ought not to have been accepted by the reporters; and the passage, in its original purity, will appear in its original form in the Bound Volume.” The Chancellor, who removed words that might be considered a slur upon farmers, later told the Commons: “I deeply regret that I struck those words out of HANSARD”.

Alas, not everything a MP may have wished to remove from Hansard disappears. In 1978, MP Andrew Faulds told the House “Unfortunately, I cannot expunge the offensive words, but I have already written to the right hon. Member for Knutsford apologising to him, and now I wish to extend my apology to you, Sir, and to the House for my regrettable lapse.” To this day his comments remain on the record, wherein he referred to another member as a “fat-arsed twit”.

These examples, while few in number, show that Hansard is not always the immutable record it is sometimes assumed to be. Whether due to acoustics, editorial discretion, wartime censorship, or parliamentary sensitivities, the official transcript has been shaped by forces beyond the spoken word. In exploring these moments of omission and revision, we are reminded that even the most authoritative records are, at times, curated ones.

About the author

Charlie Feldman is the former President of the Canadian Study of Parliament Group. His forthcoming book “Parliamentary” (University of Toronto Press, 2026) chronicles unexpected moments in Canadian parliamentary history.


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The Hidden Engine of Stability and Growth: Strong Parliaments

By Franklin De Vrieze.

Democratic legislatures are on the frontline of both domestic and international challenges. From executive overreach to authoritarian influence and deepening public mistrust, parliamentary institutions around the globe are under immense strain. The strengthening of parliaments therefore is both a critical safeguard for democracy and a lever for economic development and national security.

Many countries have an imbalance in the distribution of power between the different branches of government: the executive branch dominates, with legislatures left under-resourced, side-lined, or compromised. This concentration of power undermines democratic accountability and weakens institutional checks and balances. People lose faith when they perceive their parliaments as ineffective or complicit, and public trust falls. As executive dominance expands, legislatures struggle to perform their essential roles: representing the electorate, scrutinising the government, and shaping inclusive legislation. Without timely intervention, this democratic erosion is difficult to halt.

Early and strategic support to parliaments is therefore essential for democratic resilience and institutional recovery.

For donor countries, supporting parliamentary strengthening abroad is not merely altruism. It serves strategic interests. Democratic, transparent, and accountable institutions form the backbone of stable governance. In doing so, they promote investment-friendly environments, reduce risks of conflict and the drivers of irregular migration, climate-driven or otherwise, and create socio-economic opportunities that deter brain drain.

Here’s an example of how targeted parliamentary support can have a tangible impact: Albania’s recent reform of its gambling legislation. Using Westminster Foundation for Democracy’s (WFD) corruption proofing of legislation methodology, Albanian legislators assessed legal loopholes and improved transparency in regulating a high-risk industry. This effort resulted in a tighter legal and regulatory framework which reduces the potential for corruption, and that in turn provides necessary reassurances for foreign investors to embark and invest.

The example shows how donor-supported technical interventions can reduce incentives for corruption and improve the legal and economic framework. Addressing legislative vulnerabilities in this way enhances institutional integrity, promotes economic stability, economic partnerships and investments, and reinforces the rule of law.

Similarly, WFD’s work on the cost of emigration in the Western Balkans has helped to galvanise cross-party action in national parliaments in the Balkans to address the causes of brain drain and address the negative economic impacts of youth emigration.

Strategies for parliamentary strengthening

Parliamentary strengthening programmes can only be effective when they are locally-led, responding to locally-defined problems and based on genuine, trusted partnerships. Building upon this basic fact, parliamentary strengthening is most effective when approached through a range of strategies.

  • Regional and multi-country programming can create synergies, such as those achieved through post-legislative scrutiny (PLS) efforts in Zambia, where laws on food security were assessed for their impact in the context of climate change.
  • Thematic approaches, like the drafting of public debt legislation in Kenya, help parliaments tackle critical policy areas with precision. Upscaling the role of parliaments in climate governance, essential to ensure that it is transparent, inclusive and informed by social justice principles and thus resilient in the face of unprecedented levels of climate disinformation, is currently the focus of WFD’s work with the Parliament in Indonesia, for instance.
  • Promoting inclusion and engagement, like fostering youth participation in North Macedonia, and enhancing citizens engagement in the Maldives further increase legitimacy and democratic depth.
  • Mutual learning also plays a transformative role in parliamentary strengthening. Peer-to-peer exchange between legislatures in the Global North and South allows for reciprocal knowledge transfer and innovation. These exchanges have already catalysed improvements in parliamentary procedures, transparency, and administration.
  • Moreover, many parliaments are embracing digital transformation, using technology to improve legislative tracking, citizen engagement, and policymaking, as seen in countries like Kenya and Morocco.

Strengthening parliaments is one of the most cost-effective and sustainable interventions to bolster democracy, foster inclusive economic development, and safeguard stability and security. It is time for a renewed commitment to a standards-based approach to parliamentary development, one that is principled, context-sensitive, and collaborative.

Delving deeper

If you are interested in delving deeper into parliamentary strengthening, WFD has been involved in producing a number of efforts and initiatives to inform and guide parliamentary strengthening efforts. I invite you to explore them:

The Global Community of Practice on Post-Legislative Scrutiny, the peer-to-peer network of the Inter Pares project, and the Agora parliamentary portal offer collaborative platforms for sharing experiences, best practices, and innovations as well as helping to build and sustain momentum. Through the network of the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association (CPA), Public Accounts Committees in Asia-Pacific aligned strategies and working methods at a regional workshop hosted by the Fiji Parliament. The AFRIPAL conference recently launched the African Association of Legislation. These networks help parliaments navigate complex challenges together, amplifying the impact of support and creating a shared commitment to democratic governance.

The Common Principles for Support to Parliaments, developed by the Inter-Parliamentary Union (IPU) in cooperation with WFD and others, emphasise that effective support must be guided by parliaments’ own needs, adapted to local contexts, and focused on long-term sustainability. Inclusive of all political orientations, grounded in international democratic norms, and attentive to gender equality and local expertise, these principles provide a shared roadmap for meaningful and ethical engagement.

The Indicators for Democratic Parliaments, were launched by the IPU with the support of WFD and other partner organizations. These 25 indicators, aligned with Sustainable Development Goals 16.6 and 16.7, enable parliaments to assess their own performance across effectiveness, accountability, transparency, responsiveness, inclusivity, participation, and representation. Each indicator includes detailed dimensions and criteria, offering a comprehensive yet practical self-assessment tool. In Pakistan, the use of these indicators served as a SWOT analysis of the Senate, while in Albania, the assessment culminated in a new Open Parliament Action Plan.

The WFD Guidelines for AI in Parliament have gained global traction in advising on an ethical and step-by-step approach to the use of AI in parliamentary proceedings.

About the authors

Franklin De Vrieze is the Head of Practice Accountability for the Westminster Foundation for Democracy