Andy Sloan: I blame the government - and I understand why

I used to say I didn’t get Guernsey politics.

But I do now. All too well.

The problem isn’t that the system is mysterious – it’s that it’s broken. Outside of an election, politicians vanish from public view. There’s no serious attempt to shape public opinion, no effort to win hearts and minds between campaigns. Politics has become something we endure, not something we participate in. Just look at those registered on the electoral roll: 27,316 — that’s 3,000 fewer than in 2020. If turnout holds at similar levels, we’ll be flirting with a chamber elected by less than half the electorate.

In the inter-election period, politics in Guernsey retreats into the States Chamber, where debate becomes a turgid affair – wooden monologues and stumbling read-outs pass for discussion. Leadership is absent, and communication is treated as an optional extra. There is little attempt to persuade, explain, or inspire the public, only to get through the agenda (and often fail to do that) and move on.

Policy in Guernsey is too often developed behind closed doors. Consultation, when it happens, feels more like States committees talking to themselves than a serious effort to engage the public. As an aside, the recent publication by the ‘G8’ and Chamber of Commerce, based on this year’s business survey deserves credit – it sets out many of the right priorities and reflects the kind of strategic focus we need more of. States decisions are shaped in private, with minimal scrutiny and little transparency. And when policies fail, there’s rarely a clear line of responsibility – just a shrug and a new sub-committee. It’s no wonder public trust is wearing thin.

And yet, now, with an election looming, every deputy suddenly has something to say. We’re suddenly awash with proposals, manifestos, and position papers. Much of it well-intentioned. Some of it even well thought-out. But nearly all of it too late.

The silence between elections is just as damaging as the noise during them. In Guernsey, the political cycle is compressed into a few fevered months of commentary, then disappears into the closed confines of committees. We deserve better. Real democracy is a continuous conversation – not a periodic scramble for relevance. The public should not be treated as a box to be ticked every four years.

As readers of my columns over the last four years will be aware, I say all this as someone who’s spent much of my life being engaged in politics. I was a political activist in my 20s and 30s, later elected to a unitary authority in England. In my family, political engagement is something of a tradition — all but one of us in my immediate family has served as a councillor, and the one who didn’t spent years working for the unions and the Labour Party. I’ve also had the opportunity to engage with the EU at

close quarters, when at the States and the GFSC, watching how real consensus is formed at the highest levels of regional governance.

And all of that, plus having worked at the States, the GFSC and Guernsey Finance at a senior level, has shaped my view of what’s wrong with Guernsey – and what we need. I’ve been thinking a lot about institutions lately – perhaps unsurprisingly, given the book I’m currently reading. Why Nations Fail by Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson makes a simple but powerful argument – it’s not geography, culture, or natural resources that determine prosperity – it’s institutions. Their case study of a city divided by the US-Mexico border shows how dramatically different outcomes can result from the rules and systems that underpin a society.

It’s a thesis that feels particularly relevant to Guernsey right now. Our economic trajectory is not inevitable – it’s shaped, day by day, by the quality of our political institutions. And unless we address the way our system functions, no amount of good intention will be enough. Too many go into Guernsey politics with little background, no clear objectives, and the vague belief they can ‘do better than that lot’. In a political culture that’s always convinced this is the ‘worst States ever’, it’s easy to fall for that illusion. But reality hits quickly. First, people discover that most people don’t actually agree with them. We all socialise with like-minded people – it’s human nature – but it leaves many unprepared for dissent. Second, they lack understanding of how public policy works. And third – the triple whammy – the structure and function of the States is utterly alien to anything they’ve ever encountered. Not exactly a recipe for effective government, and its purpose goes out the window.

And what Guernsey desperately needs now is purpose. In my view, there are three fundamental objectives that must guide our politics in the next term. We must restore political function, rebuild fiscal credibility and restart economic growth.

These aren’t just policy themes – they are the foundation stones of a serious reset of our economic and social wellbeing. Without political function, we lose the ability to act. Without fiscal credibility, we lose trust. Without growth, we lose the means to support ourselves. If we can’t get these three things right, the rest doesn’t matter.

But I’m not here to prescribe a policy blueprint. That’s not the point. What we need this summer is a group of politicians with the leadership and vision to set an agenda built around these three aims – and with the capability to bring the Assembly, and the island, with them.

That’s what collaboration should look like. That’s what real consensus means.

Leadership in a small jurisdiction doesn’t mean having all the answers. It demands clarity in defining problems, courage to face unpopularity, and the ability to build support around an agenda that may not please everyone. It also calls for consistency – being present not just at election time, but throughout the term, especially when difficult decisions are needed.

Too often in Guernsey, consensus is treated as an end in itself – the idea that if everyone agrees, then progress has been made. But that’s not how politics works. It’s certainly not how leadership works.

At the EU level, consensus is strategic – driven by key actors who set the direction, while others negotiate, adapt, and shape outcomes. There is collaboration, yes. But it is underpinned by leadership. Someone drives the agenda, usually the French, the Germans and the commission.

Here, we wait for everyone to agree before moving. And so we drift. And unless we change course, we’ll keep drifting – not because we lack ideas, but because we lack the will to lead.

Many voices this election are calling for collaboration. But collaboration alone won’t cut it. Without leadership, it lacks focus, momentum, and accountability – it becomes stasis, not strategy.

Consensus is the result of direction, not a replacement for it.

So, when you cast your vote, don’t just look for promises – look for purpose. Choose candidates who you believe can provide real leadership, who have set out a clear direction, who can take others with them – and who are committed to the fiscal credibility, political reform, and the economic growth our island so urgently needs.