Peter Roffey: Conduct unbecoming?

The States Members' Code of Conduct is a relatively new thing. It was first introduced in 2006 and has gone through several different iterations since that time. The code itself has evolved, and the way in which it has been enforced has changed radically.

The first arbiter was former deputy Bailiff Chris Day, who tended to set a very high threshold on what constituted a transgression. Then we had a panel of local worthies. Finally, a single commissioner paid a significant daily rate when pressed into action.

Which sort of system is the right one? I am going to probably be in a minority of one by saying ‘none of them’. Personally I would scrap the whole wretched set-up.

I don’t believe the presence of a code helps raise standards of political behaviour one iota. What is more, something which was originally established to give Joe Public protection from misuse of political office, has instead proved to be mainly a weapon wielded by deputies during spats with their colleagues.

I don’t actually know what percentage of complaints have been submitted by ‘ordinary members of the public’, since the code was first established, and what percentage by States Members themselves. I suspect those lodged by the 45 deputies may well outweigh those by the other 63,000 members of the community.

If not, it is going to be close run thing, and even that is not a true picture, because some complaints from members of the public have been launched at the suggestion of deputies.

Stripping back to the basics. I have been a deputy in both the pre-code and post-code days. I am absolutely clear that behaviour back in the days when there was no code was generally better than it has been more recently.

Of course, I am not claiming that the presence of the code has been responsible for that deterioration. Correlation is not the same as causation.

But it does tend to suggest that it has utterly failed in fulfilling its creators’ lofty ideals of making local politics a kinder and better behaved environment.

I have to ‘fess up that I have a special reason for disliking the code of conduct system. In my time I have had two complaints made against me. One by a member of the public and one by a fellow deputy. Both were dismissed out of hand as having no substance, but the one from a colleague caused me considerable anguish. Not through its content (although that was risible) but by its timing.

It was submitted on the day my wife died of cancer, something my fellow deputies knew full well was going on. This in turn forced the civil servant supporting the complaints panel to phone me up that day to inform me of the complaint. He had no choice under the code’s procedures at that time. He was hugely apologetic and professional about it but I was still completely stunned.

Of course such a minor matter paled into insignificance compared with the tasks of dealing with the grief and the practical steps required when losing your next of kin and soul-mate. But I have to say I felt a bit like that proverbial camel having the proverbial straw placed on my back. If ever I needed proof that the code could be weaponised by States members, it gave me that proof in spades.

So I confess that I may not be the most objective commentator when it comes to the role of the code. And I sort of see that if a States member does something really beyond the pale then there needs to be some sort of sanction in place. But I still can’t help feeling that the best sanctions lie with their fellow deputies and with the public.

The former should punish, rather than reward, bad behaviour by their colleagues. By which I mean that behaving badly should make it less likely, not more, that the culprit achieves their political aims. Sadly that hasn’t always been the case.

As for the public? Well we have the ultimate sanction. It is true that, depending on when in the political term such poor behaviour is displayed, we may have to wait a while. But some dishes are still tasty when served cold.

Being realistic I know the States would never go with my suggestion of just scrapping the code. They would be worried it would send out all of the wrong messages. Headlines like ‘Guernsey’s government has decided its members no longer need to behave’ would probably not be helpful. It would be a mischaracterisation of course, but sometimes perception can be close to reality.

So, accepting that the code is here to stay, my plea would be to simplify it and make it far less subjective. What on earth do phrases like ‘Members shall at all times conduct themselves in a manner which will tend to maintain and strengthen the public’s trust and confidence in the integrity of the States of Deliberation and never undertake any action which would bring the States, or its members generally, into disrepute’ actually mean?

It is far too subjective. I suspect the same action could undermine the States reputation with one section of the public but bolster it with another. Such terminology is a recipe for a plethora of low-level complaints.

So if we have to have a code, please strip it down to the basics and make sure what is expected of members is made crystal clear. And ideally have an enforcement system which costs very little.

Sometimes a thing can sound good in principle but when, after quite a few years, it’s patently not achieving what it set out to achieve, surely it’s time for a rethink?