Sarah Hansmann Rouxel: We need more ‘improv’ in the States

When I say we need more ‘improv’ in the States, I am not just talking about actors making it up as they go along. I am talking about the serious collaboration and trust that makes that kind of spontaneity possible. Improvisation may look like chaos but it’s not; it is teamwork at its most responsive and generous. It is about listening, building on others’ ideas, and making your partners look good, not just yourself.

Reading candidate statements and opinion pieces lately, you could be forgiven for thinking that teamwork is the one thing we all agree on. Everyone says the States needs to be more collegiate, more collaborative, more unified. Yet for anyone who has observed the last few years of debate, the first word that springs to mind is unlikely to be ‘teamwork’. Words like dysfunctional, inert or fractious come far more readily.

It raises an obvious question. If so many claim to be excellent team players, why has so little actual teamwork materialised? Perhaps some deputies are indeed brilliant at teamwork, but only in a team of one.

It’s no surprise that some islanders feel consensus government doesn’t work, mostly because it’s rarely been seen. What we have instead is a group of individuals who seem convinced they’ve been elected to Westminster. They’ve imported the argy-bargy of party politics, complete with imaginary sides – some playing the government, others casting themselves as the opposition.

There’s just one small flaw in this approach: in Guernsey’s consensus system, you’re all in government. If you’re opposing your own government, you’re in opposition to… yourself.

Opposition may be more fun to play, especially when it means dodging the hard work of responsibility. It is easier to shoot things down than build anything. Criticism requires no compromise, no difficult choices, and no risk of disappointing voters. Building consensus means taking responsibility for decisions, and sharing both the credit and the blame.

In this Assembly some deputies behave as though Environment & Infrastructure and Employment & Social Security are the problem, rather than key parts of the machinery of government. E&I is, quite literally, the committee that facilitates delivery for everyone else. Yet some members seem committed to opposing its every move, not because of what it proposes, but because of who proposes it.

That sort of opposition-for-opposition’s-sake does more than stall projects. It sabotages joined-up thinking. It encourages silos. And it makes cohesive government policy nearly impossible. The fallout from this approach has been felt across some of our biggest policy areas.

Look at education. Secondary reform has now been through so many failed iterations that future students might study it as a historical case study in how not to govern. Early in the term, ESC promised a proper, unbiased review of all options. (The Review part of the Pause & Review) What we got instead was a dogged attachment to a model that had been dreamt up as an election slogan – three schools and a separate sixth form centre. An idea already examined and rejected years ago for being impractical and devilishly expensive. It was presented as new, swept through the Assembly with no scrutiny, pursued with tunnel vision, and predictably fell apart. Another term, another opportunity missed.

Housing was identified as a top priority in the Government Work Plan. Yet here we are, still deep in a housing crisis, with local families priced off the island, desperately needed key workers turning away and an economy stalled on the starting blocks. So what happened? Criticism and opposition from within the Assembly itself. Rather than ask how they could contribute, or how they could make their partner (in this case E&I) look good, many opted for the easier role of internal opposition. Yes, housing is a complex and difficult nut to crack. But instead of backing the committee tasked with delivering solutions, some members chose to ignore the work already under way and create an entirely new scene of their own, duplicating time and resources simply so they could be seen to be doing something. It is not just wasteful – it is the opposite of collaboration.

It would be unfair to suggest that the States has never understood the value of teamwork. Deputy Heidi Soulsby, in her opening speech during the Government Work Plan debate in 2021, made reference to the collaboration that had gone into producing the plan. It was not the work of a single committee imposing its will, but the result of deputies working together, navigating disagreements respectfully and ultimately reaching consensus.

Although the teamwork did not pan out in this term, it would be unfair to suggest that Deputy Soulsby was simply paying lip service. She had already demonstrated how effective true collaboration can be. In the 2016 to 2020 Assembly, she and Deputy Michelle Le Clerc provided a clear example of what it looks like when deputies genuinely work together. Elected in different districts (in those far-off pre-island-wide voting days), once in office, led the Health & Social Care and Employment & Social Security committees respectively. They coordinated their efforts, delivering real progress on health transformation and social welfare. It showed what is possible when the focus is on the island, not the headlines.

If we are serious about improving collaboration in the States, we could do worse than borrow a few lessons from improvisation. I do not mean the chaos of actors randomly shouting at each other on stage, although that might bear a passing resemblance to some recent debates. I mean the real principles of successful improv, the ones that allow a group of individuals with no script, no hierarchy and no guarantees of success to somehow produce something meaningful, surprising and often brilliant.

In improv, the first rule is simple – make your partner look good. You succeed not by grabbing the spotlight but by setting up the people around you to shine. In return, they do the same for you. The end result is something that none of you could have achieved alone.

Contrast that with the current States, where some deputies seem determined to trip up their colleagues at every opportunity and then wonder why nothing ever moves forward.

Another golden rule: say ‘yes, and’. Good improvisers accept the offers made by others and build on them. They do not block, negate or retreat into sulky silence. They listen, they add, they adapt.

In government, this would look like genuinely hearing the ideas of other committees, even if you would not have framed them that way yourself, and finding ways to strengthen and shape them rather than shoot them down for political sport.

And perhaps most importantly, improv is about trusting the group. Nobody succeeds by going it alone. You have to trust that your colleagues are trying to build something worthwhile, even if you do not immediately see where it is heading. That trust does not mean blind agreement. It means assuming good faith, valuing different perspectives, and being willing to support an imperfect collective decision because it is better than endless individual obstruction.

This is why we need more improv in the States, not more political performance.

Improvisers know that success is collective. You do not win by blocking every offer, contradicting for the sake of it, or treating every interaction as a point scoring exercise. You win by building something together, something greater than yourself.

The next Assembly will have choices to make. It will face difficult trade-offs. It will need to move quickly on complex issues. That cannot happen if members are still locked into the mindset of ‘me versus them’.

Come June, when manifestos are flying and every candidate is promising collaboration, it is worth asking them what that really means. Because anyone can say they believe in teamwork. But not everyone understands what it demands.

Trust. Generosity. Humility. The willingness to make your partner look good, even when it does not serve your ego.

And if we happen to get the bonus of a few more good punchlines and a bit less grandstanding along the way, well, that is the kind of improv I think we could all enjoy.