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Disability inclusion in the House of Commons in the spotlight

By Dr Ekaterina Kolpinskaya.

This blog draws on the author’s time in a POST Fellowship at the UK Parliament. See the full report here: https://hass-cornwall.exeter.ac.uk/research/voice-participation-governance/hoc-work-environments/

Over the past couple of years, I have been exploring disability inclusion practices for Members of the UK House of Commons as a Parliamentary Academic Fellow with the Centre of Excellence for Procedural Practice of the House of Commons. Working from within the institution, I have examined written rules and guidelines on accessibility, observed these practices in real life, and interviewed members of the House and MPs staff, as well as several Members and peers. The aim of this research is to understand how accessible the House of Commons is to disabled Members, and what adjustments have been made – and could be made – to improve working environment for disabled politicians, i.e., having physical or mental health impairment which has a substantial and long-term adverse effect on their ability to carry out normal day-to-day activities.

The importance of disability inclusion and better descriptive representation has increased substantially with the growing presence and visibility of disability in British society in recent years. Among the population, almost one in four (24%) or 16 million Britons report being disabled, including experiencing mobility issues, low stamina, breathing difficulties, fatigue, and increasingly, reporting symptoms of depression, anxiety or stress. By contrast, only 8 MPs (or 1.2%) declared having a disability in the 2019-2024 Parliament, with the number increasing to 12 MPs (just under 2%) after the 2024 General Election. This discrepancy – although there is significant under-reporting of disability among Members – presents a challenge for the efforts to normalise disability in public life and counter ableist stereotypes, including among voters (though there are encouraging developments) and political parties. Equally, it hinders effective substantive representation of interests of disabled Britons based on first-hand experiences of disability, potentially feeding into their – already – low satisfaction with political institutions and trust in them.

By examining accessibility provisions and practices that facilitate work of disabled Members, this study addresses the demand side of parliamentary under-representation of disabled people and reflects on disability inclusion of disabled politicians elected to the House of Commons – a unique workplace environment. That is because Members of Parliament are not employees but elected office holders and are therefore excluded from the provisions of the Equality Act 2010; likewise, The House of Commons is not a ‘public authority’ for purposes of the Act. While these legal exclusions exist, in practice, the authorities of both Houses of Parliament act as if the legislation applies[1], reasonable adjustments for disabled Members are made routinely upon request.

This resonates with a special constitutional status of MPs, whose work no one should dictate or constrain[2] as they are accountable to their electorate. Their parliamentary parties, more experienced Members, and the House staff facilitate their work by explaining what opportunities this job presents but they do not define expectations meaning that Members are independent in choosing their priorities and activities as MPs. The unpredictability of the role can be challenging for some disabled Members, as management of disabilities often relies on establishing daily routines[3]. However, it can be beneficial for others, as differently from 9-to-5 jobs, MPs’ schedules can be adapted to accommodate their medical needs[4].

This unique institutional environment, the nature of the role of an MP and often conflicting needs stemming from different disabilities[5] steer the House away from a ‘catch-all’, systematic approach to making disability-relating adjustments for Members and favours ad hoc, individual solutions that result in a complex patchwork of remedial measures aiming to improve work environments for disabled MPs. This approach stands out when considering adjustments to procedural norms and practices that concern Members of the House specifically, while unicameral and bicameral services provided for all passholders (including the House and parliamentary staff, peers, MPs and their staff) are more comprehensive. The latter stem from a strong institutional commitment to improving accessibility (e.g., the House’s Inclusion and Diversity Strategy) and the ongoing efforts to enhance working conditions of House and MPs’ staff (e.g., consolidation of the House services[6], the Speaker’s Conference on the employment conditions of Members’ staff), including as part of the Restoration and Renewal Programme (R&R). There are several examples of good practice with regards to disability inclusion in the House of Commons (and the UK Parliament), namely a good range of support services provided at the unicameral and bicameral levels, as well as by external stakeholders such as the Independent Parliamentary Standards Authority – with support from informal and partisan networks, i.e., ParliAble and political parties, respectively.

In addition to this comprehensive and well-resourced provision, there have been improvements to physical access and infrastructure of the debating Chambers and of the House of Commons Committees – with an overall goal of making working environment more inclusive and enabling full participation of disabled parliamentarians. That said, several challenges remain.  

Firstly, while communication about services has improved, a lack of awareness of available health and wellbeing services, particularly with regards to early intervention, remains, and valuable peer networks and targeted support (e.g., from the Workplace Adjustments Manager) especially by Members can be underused, which resonates with MPs’ heightened concerns over public image and anonymity. Members with less visible disabilities such as dyslexia and dyspraxia may be particularly likely to struggle through on their own, while they would benefit from appropriate targeted support (e.g., specialised software, documents in a different format) put in place early.[7] There is also scope to strengthen triangulation of support and the multi-agency approach to identifying and delivering individual disability support on and off the estate with input from the Members’ Services, the PDS and their network of accessibility champions, the IPSA, and political parties (while adhering to GDPR and data protection regulations).

While improving accessibility is one of the priorities of the R&R programme, there is limited accessibility in parts of the estate, as pointed out by interviewees and campaigners. This has a knock-on effect for Members trying to get to debating Chambers and around buildings[8] and leads to their disproportionate dependence on assisting staff[9]. Challenges for physical accessibility, including to debating Chambers, necessitate Members to have permanent assistance, which increases their visibility as disabled politicians often making them reluctant to request it[10]. Even aids as basic as infrared hearing loops (a device worn on a lanyard around one’s neck to amplify sound) are under-used by Members who do not want to display such a visible marker of disability[11], which may open them for attack or mockery from other Members. While such instances were condemned by the House,[12] they did happen and may make other disabled Members wary of visibility.

Equally, Members’ assessments of how procedurally accessible for disabled Members the House of Commons is are mixed. Some point out that they are ‘incredibly hostile and quite frankly, ableist’ and ‘on occasion [prevent them] from representing … constituents’. Others – while disagreeing with certain practices (e.g., bobbing, conduct during PMQs, lack of allocated or reserved sitting) – pointed out that there is much good will in the House (and among the Speaker and his Deputies), once their attention is engaged.[13] In particular, ad-hoc, case-by-case adjustments to etiquette and courtesies observed in the Chambers are made frequently upon request and with support from the Speaker (or of the Deputy Speaker in Westminster Hall). This does not require a collective buy-in of the House or a cost-benefit analysis that would accompany a more systematic, far-reaching adjustments (e.g., reflected in Standing Orders and affecting the workings of the House). It also reflects the need to consider each adjustment within the context of other adjustments and needs of Members.

Overall, there is a sense that the House of Commons wants to be inclusive and accessible to disabled Members, but it is a busy place where partisanship trumps collegiality, and it is very difficult to organise.[14] Additionally, disability-related concerns – in addition to being complex and not sometimes in conflict with each other – are often outweighed by considerations of institutional efficiency and effectiveness and trade-offs with required resources and associated costs, as shown by discussions of retaining elements of remote participation and the R&R programme.[15] Considering the small number of visibly disabled Members and Members who self-identify as disabled, the House mostly adapts existing systems on a case-by-case basis (on demand) rather than designs a comprehensive system.[16] For example, there is a provision for individual adjustments in the debating Chambers in Erskine May 21.6.  This reinforces the need for individual Members to adapt to the ways of the House, not the other way around.[17]  

The pace of institutional change and adaptation – especially if it aims to be sustainable and lasting – is slow. Development of unicameral and bicameral services, semi-formal workplace networks and a multi-agency approach to supporting disabled politicians, as well as improvements to accessibility in some parts of the parliamentary estate are examples of good practice and a significant step forward for the institution. Likewise, technical solutions and aids provided by parliamentary services and the IPSA improve daily lives and work of disabled Members significantly. However, these successes are more modest when it comes to adjusting procedural norms and practices that rely heavily on consensus within the House that in turn requires cross-party collaboration and a more collegiate and less adversarial culture of interactions between Members from the opposite sides of the aisle.


[1] Interview 35, 11 August 2023

[2] Interview 27, 15 December 2022; Interview 19, 16 March 2023; Interview 21, 31 March 2023

[3] Interviewed by Ekaterina Kolpinskaya on 19 May 2023; Interview 10, 16 August 2023; Interview 14, 24 April 2023

[4] Interview 21, 31 March 2023; Interview 7, 24 May 2023

[5] E.g., low light is beneficial for those with ADHD but challenging for visually impaired Members.

[6] Interview 20, 03 February 2023

[7] Interview 40, 13 April 2023

[8] Interview 1, 13 July 2023; Interview 18, 17 July 2023; Interview 16, 24 May 2023

[9] Interview 1, 13 July 2023

[10] Interview 1, 13 July 2023

[11] Interview 34, 06 June 2023

[12] Interview 7, 24 May 2023

[13] Interview 14, 24 April 2023

[14] Interview 13, 24 April 2023

[15] Interview 3, 02 March 2023; Interview 27, 15 December 2022

[16] Interview 5, 03 July 2023

[17] Interview 7, 24 May 2023

About the author

Dr Ekaterina Kolpinskaya is a Senior Lecturer in British Politics at the University of Exeter.


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The real cost of MPs’ security to constituency representation

By Neil Matthews and Sean Haughey.

The abuse of MPs, both online and offline, is becoming a more prevalent feature of British political life. In the most egregious cases, abuse has escalated into violent and even fatal attacks on MPs. In response, MPs are adopting new security measures at the constituency level to protect themselves from harm. These measures range from the subtle (e.g. no longer advertising the details of surgeries) to the not-so-subtle (such as the wearing of stab vests). We know how these developments are impacting MPs personally, not least in terms of their mental health. We also know about the associated financial ramifications, with the costs of MPs’ security skyrocketing in recent years. But what about the implications for representation and democracy? Are MPs able to perform their representative role just as well amid stricter security protocols? Or are costs incurred to representative democracy when constituency service is securitised?

The security-accessibility trade-off

All security systems come with costs attached. When MPs tighten constituency service security the most obvious cost incurred pertains to accessibility. This security-accessibility trade-off manifests in one of two ways: either through a reduction in opportunities for constituents to meet with their MP, or through the adoption of security protocols which complicate access pathways. In terms of reduced opportunities for constituent-MP engagement, take for instance those MPs who have stopped holding surgeries in public venues (e.g. shopping malls) because of security concerns. Consider also the MP who, after repeated incidents of verbal abuse, admits that he no longer socialises in his own constituency. These examples of retreat from the public square are problematic, because it is through even the most innocuous and impromptu interactions – in the local pub or supermarket for instance – that MPs develop their constituency antennae, learning about the issues which matter to their constituents:

We try to be, as constituency MPs, recognisable, available, accessible to all. A successful constituency MP is the person who people feel they can go to in the pub or, as frustrating as that sometimes is, come up to you when you’re doing your shopping.

Access to MPs can be complicated by security in a number of ways. Some MPs, for example, have replaced “drop-in” surgeries with appointment-only meetings, a formality which likely results in some constituents being turned away. We also know that, on the advice of police, some MPs have discontinued in-person surgery appointments, instead offering online meetings only. Whilst this might expedite access to MPs for the digitally confident citizen, it will disincentivise engagement for those without the requisite skills. What is more, the value and quality of online meetings – relative to in-person meetings – is open to question. The social scientific evidence underlines the therapeutic value of in-person meetings between MPs and constituents. These in-person meetings are key to the development of “co-presence”, and help build a “human bridge” through which constituents feel listened to. These benefits could be much harder to attain when the interaction occurs through a screen. Similarly, with face-to-face meetings, that personal touch and sense of intimacy is likely compromised by the presence of security guards.

The symbolic costs

Public spaces articulate political and cultural messages. What messages, then, are conveyed to the public when MPs adopt airport-style (or even prison-style) security at their constituency offices? Think bulletproof glass, CCTV, reinforced doors, panic buttons and so on. Whilst these measures may reassure MPs and their staff, the effect on constituents could be quite the opposite, perhaps marking the space as somehow unsafe, where visitors need to be on their guard. Research into other sites that have been securitised suggests as much, whereby defensive urban architecture (designed to mitigate terrorist attacks) has had a chilling effect on public democratic culture, eliciting a range of subjective emotional responses from pedestrians: fearfulness, suspicion, paranoia, and exclusion. Some of the security measures at constituency offices could be eliciting a similar response from constituents. Take, for instance, the MP who tells his constituents they should “be prepared to be searched” when they arrive at his surgery:

We are following security guidance, as a result Security Operatives and/or the Police will be screening constituents attending face to face surgery appointments. Please bring along photo ID, leave bags and coats at home where possible, as they will not be permitted in the meeting toom and will need to remain outside the meeting space and be prepared to be searched.

(Guidance provided on Julian Smith MP’s website for constituents)

For the architect, Stephen Flusty, places and spaces bearing the features of security – searches of person or property, say – warrant being labelled as “jittery”. They are marked, in other words, by a tense and nervous atmosphere. We might ask then: how many of the constituency offices in the UK are showing signs of the jitters?

Security and trust: a Catch-22?

Security measures at the constituency level could, then, be counter-productive, in that MPs may be undermining the very representative connections they seek to protect. Up until now, the linkage between MPs and constituents at the local level has been held up as a positive exception to what has otherwise been a story of increasing political disengagement across western democracies. But what if new security measures at the local level are making engagement more difficult, placing distance (figuratively and literally) between MPs and constituents?

Amid a general crisis of representation, in which people in the UK typically feel unrepresented by Westminster, there is a risk that the mitigating power of constituency service will be diminished if MPs become (or are perceived to be) harder to reach – or are less present – at the local level. Moreover, if perceptions of disconnect between politicians and the public is a driver of political distrust, and that distrust in turn fuels abuse of politicians, the security steps MPs are taking to mitigate this threat could in fact be exacerbating it.

Importantly, the securitising trend affecting British political life appears set to deepen. The Speaker of the Commons, Lindsay Hoyle – a long-time advocate for greater protections for MPs – has called for a transformation in parliament’s “security culture”. To a similar end, the outgoing Conservative government signed-off on a £31m package to bolster the constituency-level security of MPs; while the recently published Walney review recommends even greater bolstering. Understanding how such enhanced security shapes  the character and delivery of representative democracy in the UK – and the myriad costs it brings to bear on both politicians and the public – warrants greater attention.

This blog post was first posted by LSE blogs. It draws on research by the authors published in Parliamentary Affairs. All views expressed are the authors’ own.

About the authors

Neil Matthews is Senior Lecturer in Politics at the School of Sociology, Politics and International Studies at the University of Bristol.

Sean Haughey is Senior Lecturer in Politics at the Institute of Irish Studies at the University of Liverpool.


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Evidence on Stage? Comparing committee hearings in the UK House of Commons and German Bundestag

By Marc Geddes.

Parliamentary and legislative committees perform a range of roles, such as the scrutiny of legislation or accountability of government. Increasingly, committees are holding public hearings, which can be really important for MPs to gather relevant knowledge and evidence to support their work and fulfil committee tasks. In recent research, I spent time in the UK House of Commons and German Bundestag and interviewed MPs and staff to get a better understanding of whether committee hearings are important information-gathering tools. Given that these are often official and formal routes for parliaments to listen to stakeholders, these are prestigious and important and can be seen as ‘evidence on stage’.

In the House of Commons, the parliament has two committee systems. For scrutinising legislation, temporary bill committees are made up of 30 or so members, appointed by parliamentary parties, to go through proposed laws via public meetings with an optional evidence-gathering stage. For scrutinising policy and holding government to account, permanent select committees exist to shadow government departments. Made up of small groups of MPs – usually around 11 members – and elected by the party colleagues, they are often independent-minded spaces. Select committees conduct policy scrutiny through inquiries that include open calls for written evidence and public hearings with a variety of witnesses (e.g. scientists, business or trade union leaders, interest groups, etc.). Committee members deliberate in private to identify key conclusions and recommendations, to which government must respond (but is not forced to accept). Analysis has shown that around 40 percent of recommendations are accepted.

In the German parliament, permanent committees mirror government departments (plus some cross-cutting ones, such as a Petitions Committee). Committees are tasked with both examining legislation and with scrutinising policy. Committee size varies depending on the topic, but they are in general much larger than UK committees. For example, the Committee on Work and Social Affairs has 49 members. Members are appointed by parliamentary parties and take on the role of rapporteur, i.e. they are allocated specific portfolios within the committee’s wider remit. For example, in the Committee on Work and Social Affairs, one MP from each party will have responsibility for migration issues, another for pensions, etc. In general, Bundestag committee meetings are private but, especially since the 1980s, they have increasingly made use of public hearings. These can be used to invite experts to give evidence as part of scrutiny of legislative or policy proposals.

At first glance, both parliaments seem reasonably similar. But this masks considerable differences. In the UK, committees are supported by a secretariat of procedural and policy specialists, who write briefing papers for all members, suggest witnesses and analyse written evidence. Witnesses are usually identified on the basis of suggestions from members and especially the committee’s chair, in consultation with the advice from parliamentary officials (including the secretariat but also the House of Commons Library and the Parliamentary Office for Science and Technology). Bundestag committees, meanwhile, are also served by a secretariat, but their role is to offer procedural advice only. Witnesses are instead nominated by parliamentary parties, often via group leaders and rapporteurs, who’s own staff will undertake research and identify experts. The number of witnesses depends on the size of the parliamentary party. Witness lists are published, inclusive of the party that nominated them, so it is fully transparent who invited whom.

The two approaches by the House of Commons and the Bundestag push evidence-gathering in different directions. In the former case, hearings are usually organised in a non-partisan way, especially for select committees. In the latter, given the inbuilt party political considerations, the process sharpens political divisions. These differences are reinforced through other practices. Briefing packs in the House of Commons are produced by the parliamentary administration and shared with all members; these often serve as agendas and give suggestions for issues to probe. Witnesses are often given oral briefing by the inquiry manager so that the witness can adequately prepare. In the Bundestag, briefings are handled by the rapporteur within each parliamentary party, often in close collaboration with the party leadership teams. Witnesses are usually briefed by the relevant party, too, in terms of the kinds of points and questions the party wants to get across.

These dynamics mean that committee hearings in both parliaments operate differently. Questioning in the House of Commons can be very political, but it is rarely directly partisan. Indeed, many hearings – especially with experts – tend to be thematic and open-ended, which may be directed a the panel in general or at specific witnesses, and without time limits (though the chair may play an active role in directing questioning). Committee hearings in this context can allow for robust questioning of political and policy positions, and allow MPs to gather information and expert opinion on a range of issues. In the Bundestag, meanwhile, questioning dynamics are very different. MPs usually focus their questions only on witnesses that they have invited, and usually have a set amount of time to both pose a question and receive an answer (in committees I’ve observed, this was often three to five minutes). Consequently, hearings do not develop thematically or where responses can build on one another; there is no dialogue. The end result is that hearings are often used by MPs to confirm existing knowledge, legitimise pre-existing political positions, or criticise the government.

Given the often assumed centrality of committees, and the growing prevalence of hearings, understanding how these function and work on a daily basis is critically important. What does this mean for committee hearings as evidence on stage? In both settings, it is clear that expertise is used, but used differently. Borrowing from the work of Christina Boswell, it seems that committee hearings in the UK case are used more ‘instrumentally’, i.e., for their problem-solving functions, while in the German case to ‘substantiate’ and ‘legitimise’ policy positions.

What I have found so far is notably different to what we might expect. Given the UK’s wider adversarial political culture, replicated in many dynamics in the House of Commons (not least prime minister’s questions), and Germany’s consensus-seeking political system characterised by coalition governments and bargaining, we would have perhaps expected committee work to echo such cultural differences. And yet, they operate in opposing ways. We can explain this at least in part due to their parliamentary structures, whereby the German Bundestag is organised with reference to its parliamentary party groups and the UK House of Commons gives primacy to the individually elected representative.

However, there are deeper underlying issues at play. First, with respect to the parliamentary administration, for example, MPs in the UK are a lot more positive about the service provided by officials who are seen as trusted and impartial. In my interviews, German MPs were a lot more sceptical of the idea of neutrality, with many questioning whether anybody can ever be neutral. Second, MPs view their roles in the institutions differently. In the House of Commons, MPs are either part of the frontbench or backbench; and if the latter, they see themselves as independent-minded and with the freedom to focus on anything they want. In the Bundestag, MPs are allocated policy portfolios on behalf of their parliamentary parties, and so see themselves as becoming specialists and advocate for their party in respective debates and committees. This suggests a more general point of difference between the two parliaments, which have developed within different parliamentary traditions and therefore have developed different structures and organisational methods to achieve those results.

About the author

Dr Marc Geddes is Senior Lecturer in Politics at the School of Social and Political Science, University of Edinburgh, and Visiting Fellow, Institute for Parliamentary Research (IParl). His past area of research expertise focuses on parliamentary committees in the UK House of Commons. Since 2024, he has begun a new research project to compare how parliaments across Europe gather, analyse and make use of different types of knowledge to fulfil their democratic functions.


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Where MPs sit in social networks matters

By Grace Cooper.

Most office workers tend to do much of their day-to-day socialising with colleagues. They meet over coffee, talk in corridors on the way to meetings, or grab a drink together at the end of a long day. These shared activities can have a significant impact on people’s behaviour and preferences. MPs are no different – Parliament is their workplace, and other MPs make up most of their social network. Their social interactions shape their preferences and behaviour, just like it would any other workplace. But the details matter for understanding how influential MPs can be, given their roles within their social networks.

How Parliament’s institutions affect MPs behaviour

MPs spend the majority of their time in Westminster in meeting rooms for select committee hearings, in the chamber, in the division lobby or in All-Party Parliamentary Group meetings (APPGs). APPGs are less formal meetings where MPs and Lords meet to discuss certain topics, such as refugees, climate change or gender equality.  An MP’s primary social network is formed of other MPs they socialise with through being on a select committee or an APPG together.

My previous research has shown that these parliamentary institutions shape the degree to which MPs are engaged in different topics. For example, if an MP is a member of the Home Affairs Select Committee or Refugee APPG, they are more likely to raise questions about refugees in Parliament above and beyond their committee obligations.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that MPs who end up having several meetings on specific issues tend to then promote those very issues in Parliament.  What’s more interesting though is that what particular role an MP ends up playing within these networks goes on to impact their behaviour, such as the number of written questions they submit about a particular policy.

As part of my research, I looked at four types of MPs who had an important role in the network and tested to see how their relationships to other MPs affected their parliamentary behaviour.

The middleman

This is the broker, the go-between. They have a structural advantage in the network and as a result an increased engagement with representative activities, such as submitting written parliamentary questions. This MP has a structural social advantage as they are the easiest person to access information from the select committees and APPGs and therefore captures this knowledge. They bridge the gaps of disconnected or uninformed MPs in parliament and connect the social network with the knowledge that they have as a key player in the network. This type of MP was found to submit more questions than their respective colleges in the same select committees or APPGs, indicating higher engagement with the issue.

The popular one 

This very important MP sits at the heart of the network. They have closer social access to other MPs in the network, highlighting connectivity and being at the centre of the flow of information. This centrality gives them easier access to the flow of information and as a result this social network influences their behaviour by being linked to a higher rate of raising questions within parliament. Some MPs worth noting are Kate Green, Tim Farron and Olivia Blake who were identified as key actors and as ‘Popular’ MPs. These MPs had the shortest pathways to other MPs in the network and therefore had a higher rate of written question submission.

The busy one 

This MP is in a lot of social groups, they are in select committees and multiple APPGs meaning they know a lot of MPs. Their social network is larger than those of other MPs in their network. In the refugee policy network, Afzal Khan was the busiest MP. However, surprisingly, there was no evidence that this gave them structural advantage. The assumption that knowing more MPs and having a larger network would mean MPs knew more, had access to more information and contacts, and therefore would encourage them to be more engaged in a specific policy area turned out not to be true. Someone like Afzal Khan was no more likely than his colleagues to submit written questions about refugees. Simply knowing more MPs or being involved in more parliamentary groups doesn’t mean an MP ends up doing more.

The social climber 

This MP is well connected to other well-connected MPs, demonstrating that they are part of the ‘popular’ groups in the parliamentary system. Initially it was assumed that as this type of MP came into contact with other well-connected MPs, it would give them a structural social advantage, leading to more engagement in the policy world they were socialising in. In other words, the thought was that their more connected and involved network would lead to an increase in their engagement. This has not been proven to be the case, however, no matter what the size of an MP’s network. Simply being an MP of a party with a larger representation, like the Conservative party, and therefore having a larger network than the MPs of smaller parties, does not increase their activity.

Where you sit in the social network matters

While being a member of a social network matters, it is the MP’s specific social, or structural position within this network that has the greatest impact on how they perform in their role. Simply having a bigger social network and joining more groups doesn’t seem to have a great effect on an MP’s levels of engagement compared to their colleagues. However, occupying the right kind of structural position, such as being the middleman or popular MP can end up having a noticeable impact on how an MP conducts themselves within parliament and how they advocate for particular groups.

It’s not enough for an MP to be in a select committee or APPG if they want to have an impact – MPs have to position themselves carefully within these networks. Parliamentary researchers should continue to look into social network analysis if they want to better understand how the social world of MPs affects and shapes their influence.

This post was first published on the LSE British Politics and Policy blog.

About the author

Grace Cooper is a PhD candidate in parliamentary studies at the University of York. Her research interests include social network analysis and the representation of refugees in Parliament.


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Does being watched make MPs behave better? 

By Ben Worthy and Cat Morgan ( Birkbeck, University of London)

One of the central dilemmas of democracy stems from the information gap between voters and those they elect. After politicians are elected, a yawning knowledge gap opens up between the seemingly all-knowing elector and the only occasionally interested or rarely watchful constituents. Of all the information gaps across democracies, this is perhaps the most fundamental, the most fragile – and the most fraught with complications.  

This gap can be both profound and dangerous for democracy. The information asymmetry can mean that once elected, representatives could easily engage in hidden behaviour that runs contrary to what their voters want. As Strom argues, this includes voting against their constituents’ wishes, using their position to make money, or simply not doing their job very well. As we’ve seen from the Brexit votes and, more recently, the lobbying smash and burn U-turn around Owen Patterson, this is not some abstract possibility.  

So how can we stop legislators ‘deviating, rent seeking or shirking’? One way is to simply provide more information or data to voters. Transparency advocates argue that this can have two separate effects. There’s the concrete impact of exposing individual legislator’s behaviour when it’s out of line or out of order. Then there’s a broader effect through ‘anticipated reactions’, meaning that the mere possibility of being watched makes misbehaviour less likely.  

Yet, with these solutions come with a warning. The hoped-for effects hinge, crucially, on if politicians perceive themselves to be watched. It also assumes what watching will then do. Being watched should, in theory, make us behave better, but it can also just make us better at hiding, or even throw the spotlight into the wrong place.  

Watching Parliament in 2021 

Our Leverhulme Trust funded study has looked at who is watching Westminster. Over the last decade, there are certainly many new ways to do so. Since 2005, a host of new formal and informal ‘political observatories’ or  Parliamentary Monitoring Organisations which aim to put ‘politicians permanently on their toes’. A family of political theory label this ‘monitory’ or ‘counter democracy’ and hope it creates permanent accountability and even ‘humility’ among those under observation.  

In the UK, there is now an ecosystem of ever-expanding tools and sources. You can see data direct from Parliament itself detailing attendance, voting and activity. There’s also a growing number of third parties providing monitoring, most famously TheyWorkForYou, providing individuals MPs’ voting and activities, and Public Whip, collecting rebellion data. If the data isn’t there you can ask for it via an FOI, as someone did about Owen Paterson long ago.  

Beyond this, there’s a shifting landscape of searchable digital platforms of MPs’ expenses data, Register of Interests declarations and sites watching everything from Climate Change voting records, which MP earned the highest additional income 2017-2019 (clue-he’s Prime Minister) to the changes made to MPs’ Wikipedia pages. The data is certainly there, but is it having an effect? 

Who is watching? 

For data to have an effect, it needs to be used. Analysis of TheyWorkForYou.com found users to be a mixture of the engaged public, private companies, NGOs, and the media, with most users already engaged or interested in politics. Outside of these usual suspects academics are significant data users, creating detailed analyses of which MPs blocked Brexit.  

Another interesting group of users are MPs themselves and their staff. TWFY cite 2% of all users as coming within the Parliamentary estate. Their use of data seems to be a mixture of research on others, self-defence of their own records, and championing their reputation. Labour MP Madeline Moon used the data to defend her work: 

TheyWorkForYou says that I have above-average commitments in terms of debates, I ask above-average numbers of questions and I have an above-average response to my electorate when I have letters, although I admit that it also indicates that my voting record is lower than some (HC Deb, 26 September 2019, c958) 

Not only the users but the uses are varied, and data are deployed in a seemingly infinite variety of ways. They are deployed heuristically to understand MPs’ voting positions, or inferentially, around lobbying or donations. Aggregated data easily becomes a metric to measure, compare and create yardsticks for what constitutes a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ MP, giving the illusion of objectivity and measurability. 

Once gotten by these groups, data are then picked up or developed by the media, campaigners as well as across social media. After the controversial Owen Paterson ‘standards’ vote data was quickly found on how many of those supporting Paterson had an outside income or were themselves under investigation. The public may become caught up when data is used to drive a narrative, when it is part of a wider campaign or when they purposely or accidentally see a tweet or an article. What happens next can be unexpected. A lot of monitoring fizzles into an angry wave but not always. In 2013, The Sun used voting record data to create a list of the country’s ‘laziest MPs’ featuring Lucy Powell, who quickly pointed out she was on maternity leave. Not only was the article withdrawn, but the controversy helped the push for proxy voting in 2019.  

What impact is it having? 

MPs do feel they are ‘being watched’ and behave according, albeit to very different degrees. The exact impact is highly dependent on the individual, with MPs in safe or unsafe seats likely to behave very differently. It is also dependent on the data itself, as most voting behaviour can (perhaps) be justified in a way that expenses largesse cannot.  

Monitoring and watching have most frequently led to accountability. MPs put out more explanations and justifications in Hansard, on Twitter or in the local press – some of which are anticipated (“how will your MP vote”). In 2020, Conservative MPs voting against the government’s Covid-19 lockdown measures and tier system took to Twitter to explain their decisions – both before and after key votes.  

In terms of any ‘anticipated effect’, there is evidence of some behaviour change when MPs are under scrutiny, with a reluctance to claim expenses (especially by women MPs) in the Commons.  

Beyond the individual data can be used to rank or compare and can become a benchmark, and a basis for a moral judgement. There is evidence that monitoring, as with monitoring data elsewhere, compels members to ‘raise their reputational game’ and to be ‘be seen doing it’ (Mau 2019, 163).  

While this can drive ‘better’ behaviour, can it also lead to gaming? Nick De Bois, an MP with a very slim majority, pointed out  in his memoirs that MPs can speak in debates 

Sometimes…so you can enlighten constituents on your position on any given issue. Either that, or because it’s not a good thing to have against your name ‘Below-average number of speeches in the House of Commons’ on that pesky ‘They Work for You’ website, which relentlessly measures how active you are in the chamber. 

But MPs do not feel they are being watched fairly. They seem to feel that monitoring is skewed or biased. 30 Conservative MPs published an open letter to the Guardian in 2019 complained about being misrepresented on their climate change records and a full 50 complained in a letter to the Head of mySociety in 2021 about the same thing.  

Nor are they being watched evenly. Certain MPs are watched more than others, and there are skews and biases. Moreover, the data only highlights some areas, such as voting or expenses, leaving constituency work or lobbying in darkness.  

Are politicians behaving better?  

More data does make for some better behaviour. Overall, it increases accountability, justification, and explanation – as well as representation. MPs are explaining more and even folding data into their representative performance. It has also created behavioural change and driven measurement rankings, which itself has an anticipatory effect – no MP wants to be on this sort of list.  

Monitoring has a self-perpetuating momentum, and data about MPs staff, familial employees or meetings has shifted the boundaries of what is known about legislators and for what they are accountable. It has opened new areas intentionally or by accident. An MP in 2021 must be aware of their voting record, their attendance and expenses in a way they would not have been in decades past.  

However, Parliament is a political place, so it’s no surprise that data equals political conflict. Data is used by groups against individuals, groups, and the institution for political and partisan reasons. This then provokes, in turn, explanation, resistance and further conflict. Data can sometimes close the gap between voters and legislator, but it can make for more conflict and controversy as it does so. 

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