Soft Power and Conflict Prevention

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Friday 5th December 2014 Lords Chamber

[Lord Parekh (Lab)]

My Lords, I begin by thanking and congratulating the most reverend Primate on securing this debate and introducing it with very considerable eloquence and wisdom. Today’s debate could not have been more timely and morally more engaging. Over the past few years we have become so used to violence that we resort to force every time we want something. This is true of private individuals and groups and, sadly, it is also true of nation states and Governments. When nation states and Governments intervene violently in the name of “humanitarian intervention”—paradoxically so called—sometimes they end up causing more direct and collateral damage than the harm they are seeking to prevent. We need, therefore, to explore non-military alternatives to the use of violence, which is precisely the theme of our debate today.

Before doing that, I want to question—or if not question then certainly interrogate—the concept of soft power. I have said on several occasions in your Lordships’ House that I feel slightly uneasy about the notion of soft power for two simple reasons. The first is that it traps us in the logic of power. We seem to think that soft power can or should achieve more or less the same things as hard power except that it does so by different means. In other words, soft power refers to a different modality, but it does not question the logic of power itself. The second difficulty is that I am not entirely sure what it includes. We talk about persuasion and getting people to think in a certain way, but what about, for example, economic sanctions? Do they constitute the exercise of soft power? What about threats of a non-military kind that one nation might make to another? The arm-twisting that goes on—does that constitute soft power? We need to be careful to ensure that soft power is not understood simply as a negative category—anything that is not hard power—but that it is understood as a positive concept capable of being defined on its own terms.

Once that is done, some difficulties arise. If we engage in certain charitable and philanthropic activities such as supporting NGOs, educational programmes in schools and so on, we somehow begin to think that we have acquired the right to exercise soft power. If the countries in which we invest in these ways do not oblige, we feel cheated. We then ask ourselves what it is that we have been doing, and why. The example of Nelson Mandela was cited a little earlier. Here was a man of whom I would hesitate to say that he was exercising, consciously or unconsciously, soft power. Why does he matter to us? Why does he have such influence? It is because he exemplified a certain way of life and certain ideals, and those ideals speak for themselves.

From a religious perspective—I am not a religious person but inevitably this debate has a religious character—ideals can speak in a quiet way often without being articulated and without being turned into instruments of power. We in Britain do have considerable influence—I will not use the term “soft power”—because we exercise a certain moral authority. However, the notion of moral authority is in danger of being subsumed into and misunderstood as soft power. Beyond the soft power which comes through the kinds of things we have been talking about, there is a certain kind of influence and authority that both individuals and nations can exercise. In our case, we have exercised and continue to exercise a certain kind of moral authority. When we speak, people listen. They may not necessarily agree with us, but they will listen because they know that it is a voice of maturity born out of great historical experience and a talented people who are given to critical debate and therefore to arriving at their views through critical reflection. Ultimately, it is what we stand for which matters, and thus it is how we organise our political life and culture that will give us our moral authority.

The danger, which I began to perceive while listening to the speeches of quite a few noble Lords, lies in the debate about how to connect soft power with the prevention of conflict. The debate is increasingly concentrated on how to accumulate and use soft power, while the prevention of conflict is quietly falling from view. If we are not careful, the language of soft power can be very seductive. It is also worth bearing in mind that soft power can so easily be lost. Britain stood for something very important and exemplified some great ideals. We made a disastrous mistake in the case of Iraq, with the result that lots of people all around the world began to ask what has happened to this great country. It is capable of great wisdom and maturity, so why did it have to follow the American lead? Everyone—Nelson Mandela, the Holy Father in Rome and many others—all said loud and clear that that was not the way to go. That voice included the Jewish community, as the Chief Rabbi said that it was not the way to go, and yet we went. The damage that did to us was great. It wiped out all the years spent building up our moral authority, or what some might like to call soft power.

The first thing to bear in mind when we talk about soft power is that it is, first, a slightly nebulous concept and, secondly, it can easily be undermined by the misuse of hard power. Ultimately, moral authority is achieved because people trust us. They must trust our intentions, that we mean well, and they must trust our judgment, our capacity to arrive at the right kind of view. Trust in our intentions and trust in our judgment take years to acquire, and once they have been acquired, we must ensure that we do not follow a foreign policy or act in a manner which is so partial that it wipes out whatever moral authority we happen to have.

I turn now to a question that has not been touched on, which is the question not just of preventing conflict but of moderating conflict. Human beings being what they are, tainted by original sin, will continue to fight, so what we can hope for is not the creation of a world free of conflict, but one in which they can be managed, moderated and, it is hoped, minimised. Religion has played a very important part in conflict—some data that I looked at recently suggested that, of the about 78 conflicts that obtain in the world today, around 50 or more can be traced to religion in one form or another. Religion either creates conflict or accentuates it, and precisely because it is the source of the problem, it has to be the source of the answer. Most of these conflicts occur in transitional societies in which people who are used to a particular way of life are embracing modernity and all the tensions that that can create. They hold on to their religious institutions, practices and values in order to give them an anchor and a sense of identity. Religion plays a particularly important role in transitional societies.

As I say, religion can become a source of conflict, but it can also be the source of resolving it. I want to explore two or three ideas of how we could lead a movement in that direction under the leadership of the most reverend Primate, who has a great deal to say on these matters and who brings with him his great historical experience. I think that we could take the lead in this direction, but how could that be done? Let us look at how religion has played a part in, for example, suicide bombings in the Middle East. Muslims have debated for years whether that is a right thing for a Muslim to do: is it permitted by the Koran? It was only after three or four years of serious jurisprudential debate that imams in Beirut and Cairo said, “Yes, it is consistent with Islam”, and people engaged with it. You could see how much even suicide bombing depended on religion to give it legitimacy.

Therefore, in order to ensure that religion plays a creative role, I want to suggest that we might do three or four things. First, religion should be encouraged to build bridges between and within communities. That is extremely important. It should also learn to challenge dubious interpretations of religion, as in the case of IS. It is very striking that in the case of IS some Muslim leaders in the Middle East have taken the lead, challenging those who try to hijack religion.

I am also persuaded by a slightly different argument that people have made. In the case of Nigeria and one or two other places—for example, Buddhist monks in Cambodia supporting Pol Pot’s regime, or Serbian churches blessing Serbian nationalists who then went about killing Muslims—religious leaders could have said, “Those who engage in certain kinds of activities will be excommunicated”, or, “They will not be entitled to funeral rites in the same way that suicides and convicted murderers are not”. Religious communities have powerful sanctions and people who have worked with terrorists report them saying, “If we had been told or if we had ever had any doubt that this activity would deny us a place in heaven or that it was against our religion, we would not have engaged in it”. They were looking for some heavenly place and the heavenly place would be denied to them. If church leaders were absolutely clear and said, “Those who engage in it will not be given a decent Christian”—or Muslim or Hindu or Buddhist—“burial or cremation”, I think it would have a profound effect and I am surprised that many churches and religious institutions have not taken a lead in this.

Finally, because religious leaders generally tend to be trusted and are seen as people of good will, well meaning, with good judgment, they should play a creative role in bringing various groups together, making their concerns mutually intelligible and ensuring that people are able to talk to each other in a common language. Here we have a wonderful example: South Africa would not have been—pre or post-apartheid—what it is without the role played by Bishop Tutu and many religious people. There is also the role played by the then Archbishop Monsengwo in Congo, by the Sant’Egidio community in Mozambique and Burundi and by Bishop Belo in East Timor. These are some examples of where religious leaders, guided by religion but politically savvy and politically sophisticated, have been able to bring various groups together.

I feel slightly uneasy advocating some of those things because there is a question about whether the close relationship between the state and religion in this way might not create conflicts for secularism, but I think that can be tackled at a different level in a different way. The time has come for us to recognise that religious institutions play a significant role in creating conflict and that they can, therefore, be persuaded to play equally significant roles in dissolving conflict. Therefore, rather than avoid them, states and Governments need to collaborate with them.

Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Thursday 24th July 2014 Lords Chamber

[Lord Parekh (Lab)]

My Lords, I begin by thanking the noble Lord, Lord Alton of Liverpool, for securing this debate and introducing it so well. The freedom to profess and practise religion is obviously a fundamental human right, so I will not spend any time emphasising its importance. The noble Lord, Lord Alton, gave us a catalogue of all the various countries where this right has been systematically violated, and we have seen horrendous cases of religious hatred, bigotry and violence. I want to shift the focus slightly. Although we have been looking at the rest of the world, it might not be entirely amiss to look at ourselves from time to time.

Let us consider, for example, the controversy in France about wearing the hijab; Muslim girls are not allowed to wear it. There is the referendum in Switzerland which has declared that minarets on mosques should not exceed a certain height. This is not only a matter for day-to-day politics. It has been embodied into the Swiss constitution so it cannot be changed without an enormous amount of effort. Let us consider the trouble that Sikhs encountered here in our own country in trying to wear their turbans when working on building sites and so on. I want to suggest that, while it is absolutely vital that we should fight all forms of religious bigotry where it exists, it might be useful to look at the kind of difficulties that countries which are otherwise well-meaning face in implementing religious freedom. Extremes are easy to spot and to deal with, but what is not so easy is dealing with the practices of countries like our own, or India or most others, that mean well but get into certain difficulties and face dilemmas. I thought I would alert noble Lords to around half a dozen of the difficulties which different countries have faced from time to time.

The right to profess religion includes the right to propagate it, although it is striking to note that Article 18 makes no reference to the right to do so. However, we all recognise that religious freedom must include the right to propagate it. How far does propagating one’s religion go? Does it include proselytising? If it does, how far can proselytising go? Can you use financial inducements in the way so many American evangelicals have done in India? Can you use social or moral tricks such as saying, “If you do not convert to Christianity or Islam, your soul will be condemned to damnation”? When these things happen in certain countries, naturally people get a little worried and begin to ask themselves what legitimate limits might be placed on religious freedom. That is one area of controversy.

Another area is this. Religious freedom is fine, but religion includes all manner of beliefs. What sorts of belief might we tolerate and what might we not? For example, Catholics have taught over the years that Jews killed their Lord and are guilty of deicide. Is that the kind of belief that should be freely allowed? Should Muslims be freely allowed to tell their children that all idolaters—unfortunately, I, as a Hindu, would be an idolater—are condemned to go to hell and should be summarily dispensed with?

Thirdly, there are religious practices: church bells, for example, or muezzins calling people to prayer, or wearing a hijab, which is the kind of problem the French faced. Should all religious practices be allowed? Going a step further, there are religiously based social practices. For example, if my religion says polygamy is permitted, should it be allowed? If my religion says untouchability is sanctioned, should it be allowed?

Fourthly, there is the scope of religious freedom. This is the problem they faced in Switzerland. Minarets became a problem not in themselves, but because it was felt that minarets of a certain height changed the landscape and the identity of the country or of the area in which they were located. That is something that worried them. It was not a question of human rights because the question cannot be articulated in the language of human rights. No one’s human rights were violated. It can be articulated only in the language of collective identity. Does a nation or culture have a right to a certain kind of environment and landscape in which it can recognise itself?

My suggestion is simply that, while we ought to concentrate on these enormous acts of religious violence and hatred and deal with them as effectively as we can, there are two important issues to remember. First, problems to do with religious freedom arise in all societies—civilised and so-called not so civilised. Secondly, religions over the centuries have lived in peace in one form or another. We need to ask ourselves what has happened in modernity and what new forces it has generated, so that we can understand why people who once knew how to live together—had developed traditions, good sense and practices of living together—suddenly are at each other’s throat.

Extension of Franchise (House of Lords) Bill [HL]

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Friday 5th July 2013 Lords Chamber

[Lord Parekh]

My Lords, I support the Bill introduced by my noble friend Lord Dubs. Ever since I became a Member of your Lordships’ House, I have asked myself why we are not allowed to vote in parliamentary elections. In fact, the first Question that I asked, on 17 January 2001, was precisely this: that on the grounds of human rights and equality of treatment, we ought to be able to vote. The debate that took place following that Question makes interesting reading, because many of the points being made today seem to rehearse some of those made at that time.

Generally, there seem to be two arguments as to why we cannot vote. One is that it is an established practice, reference being made to immemorial law and common-law practice. The other has to do with the fact that we are already here, present and in person, and therefore do not need to be represented. I find both arguments somewhat flimsy. Let me take them one by one.

On the first argument, how did this become an established practice? It is not a law or something to which the House of Lords ever consented. It was a House of Commons resolution passed in 1699. If one looks at the debate surrounding the passage of that resolution, it is clear that in those days of rotten boroughs the Commons were very concerned that the Lords should not be able to influence local elections. It was designed to stop us interfering in the election. The Lords never agreed, were never consulted and were never involved. That resolution is not sacrosanct because it has been amended, first in the Peerage Act 1963 and then in the House of Lords Act 1999. Under the resolution of 1699, no Peer could vote. That was changed in 1963 so that Peers could vote, provided that they were not Members of the House of Lords—and for years, hereditary Peers have been able to vote without any kind of objection, legal or otherwise, so that practice is not sacrosanct. It has been changed and if it could be changed once, it could be changed again provided we are convinced that there is a reason to do so.

I want to argue that there is a reason to do so. That leads me to the second defence of this practice, which is that we are here in person. When I asked that question on 17 January 2001, I was told by my noble friend Lord Bassam that, since we are already here in person and are entitled to voice our feelings and express our views, to allow us to vote in the election would be to give us a unique privilege which is not given to others. I found that argument unpersuasive but during Question Time we are not at liberty to pursue the debate any further. I want to do that now.

[Lord McFall of Alcluith]

My Lords—

[Lord Parekh]

I am sorry. May I just finish this argument? When we are told that we are here in person and therefore need not be represented by the parliamentary election, we are making an important assumption: that the two Houses have equal powers. If they do not have equal powers, that argument collapses. If the Commons could do certain things that this House cannot do, then the fact that we are here in person does not give me a unique privilege if I should be entitled to vote for the other place. For example, the Commons can make and unmake Governments. It has the power to impose taxes and deal with money Bills, which we do not have. Equally importantly, under the Salisbury convention, if a particular measure of a Government or political party has been approved by the majority, the party concerned has a right to enact it—irrespective of what we think.

I am suggesting that the Commons has far greater power, and rightly so as it is the pre-eminent body. If it is the pre-eminent body then our simply being here in person but unable to vote deprives us of the opportunity to do many of the things that the Commons does and which we cannot. I therefore suggest that not being allowed to vote deprives us of the equality of treatment to which all citizens are entitled. I will give way. I just wanted to make sure that I made that point straight.

[Lord McFall of Alcluith]

As a Member of the other place for 23 years, I was both here in person and proud to vote for myself in every general election. Is it not the case that House of Lords Members are disadvantaged, and would be allowed to vote in future for someone other than themselves?

[Lord Parekh]

If we were allowed to stand, we could certainly vote for ourselves too. Logically, the argument that we are here in person and therefore should not be allowed to vote because we do not need to be represented is a flawed one. Once you undermine that argument, there seems to be no logical basis for us not being allowed to vote.

There are of course other arguments: that one should not make a piecemeal change, as it should be part of a larger change. Well, larger changes are made up of small changes and unless you start by taking the first step somewhere, you would not be able to cover the journey. We are also being told that this is not the time. When is the right time? Who decides that and by what criteria? If, for the past 250 years, we have been saying “Let’s change this”, given that I asked that Question in 2001 and my noble friend Lord Dubs has introduced this Bill, there is already a feeling of momentum—a groundswell of opinion—that if citizenship consists in being able to have a say in shaping the Government of the country, we are not citizens if we do not have that say. Symbolic as it is, that simple point is of great significance and I strongly urge the House, as and when the time comes, to vote for the Bill.

[Baroness Seccombe]

My Lords, does the noble Lord not accept that Parliament consists of two Houses: a House of Lords where Peers are appointed for life and a House of Commons where Members are elected until the next election, which is up to five years ahead? Does he not accept that we are already Members of Parliament? That is the difference between us and Members of the House of Commons.

[Lord Parekh]

The noble Baroness makes a fascinating point but there are two simple answers. She says that we are already Members of Parliament. Technically, I am but I cannot say that I am an MP. “Parliament” is used in two senses, one in the narrow sense of the House of Commons and one in the wider sense of both Houses. More importantly, if we say that we are Members of Parliament the point I would make is that membership seems to be a matter of degree. To be a Member of the House of Commons means that one can do lots of things, whereas a Member of the House of Lords cannot do certain things, such as censuring or removing the Government, or dealing with matters of taxation and so on. Therefore this abstract equality that is being emphasised—that we are all Members of Parliament alike—conceals a fallacy.

Crime: Sexual Violence

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Wednesday 6th March 2013 Lords Chamber

[Lord Parekh]

My Lords, I thank the right reverend Prelate the Bishop of Wakefield for securing and introducing the debate.

Sexual violence tends to occur in conflict situations far more than in others. That is so for three reasons. First, the perpetrators of sexual violence think that they have a right to the bodies of their victims, either because they have subdued them in war or because they have spared their lives. Secondly, there is a culture of immunity. They believe that they will be able to get away with this. Thirdly, there is a collective ethos that supports and encourages such behaviour, because of either a breakdown in law and order or a climate of hatred.

If these three are the conditions that facilitate sexual violence, the answer has to lie in addressing them. In the one and a half minutes left to me, I suggest that there are half a dozen things that we might think about, and I am simply going to list them.

First, it is very important that we must change the intellectual climate of the armed forces. They should not think that subduing somebody gives you a right to that person’s body.

Secondly, there should be successful prosecution. In order for that to happen, there must be a team of experts who will gather evidence and make sure that the prosecution succeeds.

Thirdly, as a result of conflict there are peace agreements in which perpetrators of this sort of violence are generally exempted from punishment or given amnesty. That should not happen.

Fourthly, the West must set an example. In all the cases we have talked about it is always the other part of the world that engages in sexual violence. We forget the fact that the American forces in Iraq behaved no better and that, sadly, some of our own have not proved exactly worthy of the highest standards that this country sets them. It is important that the West should set a good example.

Fifthly, the churches should play a very important role. It is not entirely a matter for the state. The churches have either been silent, as in Rwanda, or partisan.

Finally, there must be a way of introducing some kind of early-warning system. Sexual violence does not break through the surface just like that; there is a build-up to it, and if it can be caught early enough it can be stopped.

Elections: Voting Age

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Wednesday 27th February 2013 Grand Committee

[Lord Parekh]

My Lords, I thank the noble Lord, Lord Tyler, for securing and introducing the debate. I must have thought about this question for nearly 40 years as a political philosopher. Although it is a subject on which it is difficult to take a definite position, because one can see arguments on both sides, I am increasingly convinced that the case for a reduction in age from 18 to 16 is very weak and the case against it is fairly strong.

The case for it seems to rest on three arguments, which I will call the arguments of consistency, fairness and democracy. The first argument runs something like this: reducing the age to 16 will bring it in line with other areas of life; for example, children can leave school at 16, get married at 16, can and have to pay tax at 16, join the Armed Forces at 16 and consent to sexual relations at 16. If that is the common age, why can it not be true of voting as well?

The second, right-based, argument is that 16 year-olds these days have the maturity to form political judgment and it is only right that they should be able to vote in the same way as 18, 19 or 20 year-olds. The third argument is that it will increase their interest in politics and strengthen the foundations of participatory democracy.

I am afraid that I am not persuaded by any of these three arguments. The first, that it will bring it in line with other areas of life, is a half-truth. There are several areas of life in which 16 year-olds today cannot do things; for example, they cannot buy alcohol, they cannot serve on a jury and they cannot place a bet. If they can join the Armed Forces at 16, it is only with the consent of their parents, not on their own. Therefore, to say that it will bring them in line is not true.

It is also important to bear in mind that, although they pay taxes—the argument being that there should be no taxation without representation—if a five year-old or seven year-old goes to a shop to buy a bar of chocolate, he ends up paying VAT or whatever indirect taxes he is subjected to. It would be wrong to say that a nine year-old should be able to vote simply because he pays tax; the argument would be absurd.

On the second argument, that one can acquire the capacity for political judgment on what is the right thing to do at 16, there is no evidence for this. What kind of research is this alluding to? I have not seen any here, in the United States, or in any of our European partners. People having access to more information on the internet simply means that they have more information—but information is not knowledge, let alone judgment. In politics, as a voter one is concerned with a practical activity that entails a practical judgment about the range of possibilities that are open to one, and how one should exercise one’s vote. Practical judgment does not come simply by looking at Google and the internet. I would say the same of citizenship classes. One can marshal all kinds of information about various political ideologies; all the things that we have taught in universities for years. Does the kind of information that one can communicate to students in itself give someone the competence to make a political judgment on the issue of whether they should be voting Labour or Liberal Democrat, or whether or not they should be supporting the war in Iraq?

On the third argument, that this will increase their interest in politics: fair enough. However, as my good friend the noble Lord, Lord Norton, said, that seems to me to be putting the cart before the horse. You cannot dangle a vote in front of somebody, saying, “We will give you the vote now in the hope that you will take an interest in politics”. One would hope that a vote is a reward, not an incentive. We are reducing a supremely sacred political activity—the vote, the exercise of highest sovereignty a community has—to dangling a kind of carrot and asking, “Look, if we give it to you, will you vote?”. It is striking that 18 year-olds have had votes for a long time. In the previous general election, only 39.6% of them voted, compared to the rest of the population at somewhere in the region of 70%.

Therefore, I would suggest that the arguments for are not persuasive; at least I have not found them persuasive so far, but other arguments could be produced, in which case I would like to hear them. The arguments against 16 year-olds being allowed to vote seem fairly strong. First, as I say, voting is an exercise of power. It is a participation in sovereignty. If you are going to exercise power, you must have a capacity for judgment of a practical kind. Unless you have had some experience of life, some independent existence and have broken out of the sheltered environment of the family and seen the world on your own and made choices, how will you be able to know what kind of judgment you should make?

My other simple fear is that, given low turnout among young people and the fact that low turnout can be habit-forming, if a 16 year-old gets into the habit of not voting, he or she might continue that habit until the end of their lives. There is a danger that if we give 16 year-olds the vote in the hope that they will participate more enthusiastically in the voting process, the opposite will occur.

Freedom of Religion and Conscience

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Tuesday 22nd January 2013 Lords Chamber

[Lord Parekh]

My Lords, I thank the right reverend Prelate the Bishop of Guildford for securing this debate and introducing it with such wisdom and eloquence. As the subject of the debate rightly points out, freedom of religion and conscience is both a human right and a source of stability; in other words, it is desirable in principle as well as for its consequences. I have two small but critical footnotes to add to the proposition.

First, when we talk about religion and conscience, there is a danger—I do not think that the Bishop made this mistake—of equating conscience with religion as if a non-religious conscience does not have the same rights as a religious conscience. I would like to insist that atheist and secularly minded people can feel just as strongly, hold certain beliefs just as strongly and be committed to a certain way of life just as strongly as religious people, and they need to be protected. Secondly, I am slightly uneasy about calling freedom of religion a fundamental human right. If something is important enough to be a human right, by calling it fundamental one is either guilty of tautology and thus not adding anything or one creates confusion by saying that there can be human rights which are not fundamental. To call something a human right is by definition to say that it is absolutely fundamental and non-negotiable. As an academic I wanted to get those small linguistic and conceptual quibbles out of the way and get down to the politics of the proposition.

We have an obligation to promote freedom of religion internationally. How can we do that? I think that there are two ways, although there is a tendency to concentrate on one and neglect the other. We promote freedom of religion positively as well as negatively. We do it positively by persuasion, through moral and political pressure and by setting an ideal example. However, I do not think that we have always been a good example in terms of promoting freedom of religion in our own society and therefore sometimes we have spoken to the world in inconsistent voices.

I want to concentrate on how we can promote freedom of religion negatively, and on how we have failed to do so. We can easily undermine the conditions in which freedom of religion can grow and flourish in other societies. We do that by following certain kinds of economic and foreign policies that create the conditions in which religion becomes an object of suspicion, conflict is created between religious groups, and religion becomes the site where deep political and economic group conflicts are played out. By and large, in every society people know that they have to live together and they work out a kind of modus vivendi whereby those of different religions somehow rub along and learn to live together. Things begin to go wrong when the normal rhythm of that human relationship is disturbed, and that is where the outsider comes in. The outsider can disturb the rhythm of human relationships by creating conflict, wittingly or unwittingly. Situations can be created in which people feel threatened, frightened and besieged, so they turn on each other as objects of hatred. Consciously or unconsciously, I think that we did that in Iraq by invading the country and in how we ran it afterwards, creating conflict between the Shias and the Sunnis. That is what we did in uncritically supporting Saudi Arabia and the Wahhabis where religion is hardly respected; or at least only a particular kind of religion is respected.

It is also what we have done by supporting aggressive secularism, as we did in the case of Algeria several years ago when the army took over. We are so frightened of religion that we encouraged secular forces which came down heavily on religious people, who then felt threatened and became terrorists. That gave rise to a vicious cycle whereby religious and secular fundamentalism have played each other out. If we are really concerned about freedom of religion, we have to make sure that our foreign and economic policies do not create the conditions, wittingly or unwittingly, in which religious groups are at each other’s throats and, as a result, freedom of religion becomes the first casualty.

[Lord Wallace of Saltaire]

My Lords, we are very short of time so I would remind noble Lords that when the clock registers four minutes, the speaker needs to bring their remarks to a close quickly.

Gaza

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Wednesday 8th February 2012 Lords Chamber

[Lord Parekh]

My Lords, I do not think I need to argue at length that the Israeli blockade of Gaza is unlawful because it violates Israel’s general obligations as an occupying power; that it is unethical because it is causing immense hardship to a large number of people, including ordinary civilians, and amounts to collective punishment; and that it is counterproductive because it only builds up hatred and animosity and damages the long-term interest of Israel. Therefore, Israel needs to be thinking more in terms of generosity and better understanding of the aspirations of the people of Gaza. There are large numbers of people in Israel who are already thinking along those lines.

We think in terms of putting pressure on Governments. My own experience of India’s policy in Kashmir, to which I was strongly opposed, convinces me that no Government can put pressure on another Government. There are limits to what any Government can do. Therefore, I have more or less completely given up on our own Government, the quartet or the international community putting pressure on Israel. Even if they did—I do not think they will, but even if they did—I do not think they have much chance of success. They would simply force the Israeli Government to become more intransigent and more uncompromising.

Ultimately, the pressure has to come from within the country itself and from those of us outside who wish Israel well and whose record of standing up for it from time to time is beyond reproach. Therefore, it is the friends of Israel abroad, outside, who ought to be persuading the Government of Israel that this is not the way to go, trying to make representations, and through newspaper articles and in other ways making it clear to the public opinion here and in Israel that this is not the way to go.

Once again taking the Indian treatment of Kashmir as a guide, ultimately the pressure came from Indians settled abroad. In the same way, in the case of Israel, ultimately it is not only those of us who are well disposed to Israel but the great Jewish community, with its enormously impressive record of fighting against all forms of injustice, which will have to make its voice more loudly heard than seems to have been the case so far.

Constitutional Change: Constitution Committee Report

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Wednesday 7th December 2011 Grand Committee

[Lord Parekh]

My Lords, it is a pleasure to follow the noble Lord, Lord Hennessy of Nympsfield. I begin by thanking and congratulating the noble Baroness, Lady Jay, on the quality of the excellent report and on the wonderful and very articulate way in which she introduced it. I do not want to talk about the details of the report, most of which I welcome. But those of us who are sympathetic to the report find the Government's response deeply disappointing—something which, if submitted by an undergraduate, my good and noble friend Lord Norton would fail. If one looks at the Government’s response very closely, one gets the same feeling: that if this report were submitted by an undergraduate, the Government would fail it. The question to ask is, therefore: why is it that two sets of highly intelligent people disagree so profoundly on a matter of such great importance? Whenever that happens, it is always good to step back and ask oneself the following question: what is the deep disagreement about?

In this case, the deep disagreement is about the nature of the constitution and the constitutional change. The committee takes a particular view of the centrality of the constitution to the life of a political community, and believes that the constitution occupies an autonomous space and is “qualitatively different” from issues relating to policy and ordinary legislation. The Government make the opposite presumption that the constitution, certainly in a country such as ours, is not terribly different from ordinary forms of legislation and policy, and that the division between Bills should be made on the basis not of whether they are constitutional, but rather on how controversial they are and what kind of impact they will have upon society.

As somebody who has spent his life teaching the philosophy of constitutions, I thought I would step back a little and look at the nature of the role that the constitution plays in the life of a society and why, in our country, for the past 200 years there has always been a deep tension between two different views about the nature of the constitution. Those two views are articulated and reflected in the debate in which we are engaged.

The constitution does three things. First, it is obviously concerned with procedures, as the noble Lord, Lord Hennessy, said, but not just with them. It is also concerned with fundamental rights and liberties which are not just matters of procedures. The constitution constitutes a community. In other words, it is concerned with the procedures, principles and institutions which make it the kind of community it is and define its political identity. Secondly, these principles and procedures enjoy broad-based consensus and command the allegiance of ordinary citizens. Citizens may disagree deeply about a lot of things, but they are agreed on one thing: “These are the fundamentals to which we are committed, and therefore however much we disagree on partisan lines on other things, this country belongs to us because it is based on principles to which we subscribe”.

Thirdly, these principles and procedures enjoy a privileged status and may not be altered in the same way that other arrangements might be. Their alteration is reflected in some constitutions by requiring a supermajority—in other words, numerical majority is not enough—but that is not necessary. The privileged status of constitutional principles and conventions is recognised in the fact that they should be changed self-consciously, in full recognition of their importance, and after most careful parliamentary scrutiny and public debate. This is very easy to see when a constitution is written, because the constitution is clearly marked off from the rest of society. It occupies an autonomous space of its own; people know when the constitution is being debated and when something else is being debated.

When a constitution is unwritten, such as is the case with ours, there are several dangers. Constitutional changes are not clearly marked off from other changes and there is therefore always a temptation to make changes stealthily and not to bring them out into the open in debate, or to make them unself-consciously. In the same way that we seem to have acquired the empire absent-mindedly, we seem to be doing lots of things absent-mindedly in this country. In other words, in the case of an unwritten constitution, there is always a danger of blurring the most central qualitative distinction between constitutional matters and ordinary matters. Because this distinction is not recognised in an unwritten constitution, it fails to perform the function of a constitution and, therefore, virtually ceases to be a constitution.

At the heart of the unwritten constitution is a paradox. Precisely because it is unwritten, it is in danger of blurring the distinction between constitutional and non-constitutional changes, and therefore of undermining the constitution itself. I suggest that this is what has tended to happen in Britain over the past few years, particularly under the coalition Government: it is not right in principle and it creates practical problems. The Select Committee is absolutely right to highlight this central fact. Once we recognise that, all the changes that it proposes automatically follow, bar the practical consequences of a referendum and other things, with which one might disagree. However, by and large, all the Select Committee’s recommendations are underpinned by this central assumption.

It is precisely this that the Government’s response fails to recognise. They do not see the specificity and the distinctive nature of the constitution. While the Select Committee stresses the vital distinction between constitutionally significant changes and ordinary changes, the Government want to divide legislation according to—I could quote half a dozen phrases here—the scale of social impact, the effect on the daily lives of citizens or whether the changes are controversial and arouse considerable political concern. When the committee says that for constitutional Bills there should be a minimum of three weekends between First and Second Reading, the Government say, “Yes, you can have three weekends but not for constitutional Bills. It all depends on the Bill’s impact, complexity and how controversial it is”. In other words, they both recognise the importance of the recommendations but concentrate on different things.

The same difference is evident at almost every level. When the committee says that post-legislative scrutiny is necessary for constitutional Bills, the Government say, “Yes, but not for constitutional Bills—only for those that have a high social impact or are controversial”. That is the crux. In other words, the Select Committee wants to push our unwritten constitution in the direction of having the status of a properly written constitution. You can have an unwritten constitution but it must have the status of a written constitution. On the other hand, the Government want to move in the opposite direction. They do not want the constitution to have the status and sanctity of a constitution, and they therefore reduce important constitutional considerations to ordinary matters.

I suggest that the difference between the two views is profound. It is not just limited to the Select Committee on the one hand and the Government on the other. It lies right at the heart of contemporary British political discourse and the history of British political tradition over the past 200 years. Therefore, if the Select Committee wants to carry the country with it—I hope it will, since it has certainly carried me with it—it needs to do one very important thing. It needs to explain why the qualitative distinction between constitutional and non-constitutional changes is so crucial; and why, if you blur it, you risk, as the noble Lords, Lord Hennessy and Lord Desai, and others have pointed out, politicising fundamentals of our lives and creating a situation where we may have no solid ground on which different political parties can be united.

I very much hope that the Committee will consider something along these lines. Once we do, the next question becomes easily manageable—namely, what is a constitutional change? Many of us who have thought about this can give half a dozen different answers. In the case of our system, it is not very easy but here the committee is not entirely sure of its ground. It uses all kinds of phrases, such as “constitutional change”, “significant constitutional change”, “less significant” and “more significant”. This is not the appropriate vocabulary when talking about a constitution. Either something is constitutional or it is not. If it is constitutional, it is by definition significant. We need to take the next step and show that a constitutional practice can be defined in a straightforward way.

Remembrance Day

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Thursday 10th November 2011 Lords Chamber

[Lord Parekh]

My Lords, I thank the noble Lord, Lord Selkirk of Douglas, for securing this debate and introducing it in a most moving and inspirational manner. We are debating,

“the debt which our nation owes to all those who have sacrificed their lives in defence of the realm”.

This subject raises two questions. First, does the nation really owe a debt to those who have sacrificed their lives in defence of the realm? Secondly, how should that debt be repaid? I shall take these two questions in turn.

The first question looks simple, and its answer appears self-evident: of course we do. This is the assumption made in almost all the speeches that have been made so far. This is also the assumption which underlies the report of the task force on the military covenant, and the review by the noble and gallant Lord, Lord Boyce, of the Armed Forces Compensation Scheme.

Imagine how somebody might argue against this. In the standard neoliberal fashion, it might be argued that, unless the Armed Force are conscripted—in which case, of course, a different moral logic applies—they are volunteers. They know what they are doing when they join the Armed Forces. They accept a job for which they are paid. It is a contract of employment that is voluntarily entered into, and is no different from any other. If people therefore lose their lives or limbs it is part of their contract, and the nation owes no debt. This is a standard neoliberal argument made in the 18th and 19th centuries, and is also to be found in many current writings by neoliberals.

It might also be argued that sacrifice of lives and limbs is not unique to the Armed Forces. The police, miners and firemen all risk their lives: why should we single out the Armed Forces? When we do, are we treating them in some privileged manner which is founded on emotions or romantic glorification of war rather than on solid rational grounds? I suggest that there are solid rational grounds for privileging the Armed Forces, and these are fourfold.

First, they are the only group who explicitly commit themselves to the sacrifice of their lives. Unlike firemen and miners, or even the police, they are not employed to do other things which incidentally might involve loss of lives; rather, willingness to risk the loss of life is the very raison d’être of the job.

Secondly, the Armed Forces incur loss or temporary surrender of basic democratic and civil freedoms that no other occupation shares. Members of the Armed Forces may not join a trade union, they may not openly dissent from or criticise the Government and they may not question operational decisions made by their superiors. The standard democratic freedom that every other employee enjoys is denied to members of the Armed Forces.

Thirdly, the Armed Forces act on behalf of the nation in a way that no other occupation does. They swear their loyalty to the nation, place their well-being in the nation’s charge and render the most essential service of preserving the integrity of the country.

Finally, the fourth reason why there is good moral logic in privileging the Armed Forces over other occupations is that very high—indeed higher—professional ethics is required of them. Greater mutual loyalty is required of them; greater courage and bravery as well as a greater willingness to risk their lives for the sake of their comrades. They are also expected to show greater commitment to the collective ethos and to subordinate their personal security to the security of the country at large.

My answer to the first question is that yes, of course, there is every reason to argue that the nation owes a debt to the Armed Forces. That raises the next question: what form should the repayment of that debt take? Since the Armed Forces have offered to risk and lay down their lives on behalf of and in the interests of the country, the country obviously incurs several obligations. I want to mention three, only one of which has been heavily emphasised in the debate so far.

First, the nation has an obligation to remember them with gratitude, and honour their memory in appropriate ways. No financial compensation can adequately measure up to the way of remembering and cherishing people and fulfilling the dreams that their sadly truncated lives have not been able to realise. We remember, honour and cherish their memories by constructing memorials, national Remembrance Day and telling stories about their deeds in our text-books. In telling those stories and constructing memorials, we not only redeem the tragic dimension of their death but build bonds of unity among our own people. It is worth remembering that Remembrance Day is only common to five or six out of 185 countries. India has no remembrance day. France does not. Germany—for obvious reasons—does not. Even in the United States, it appears in a very unusual form. It might be worth looking not only at the history of Remembrance Day—is it a response to the Crimean War or the First World War?—but at the changes it has undergone over the years and why it is, in some sense, relatively unique to our country.

The second obligation we have is to look after the dependants of those who have died and to attend to the needs of those who have suffered grave injuries and disabilities. This calls for generous compensation schemes, pensions, rehabilitation, integration into normal life and other forms of support. The task force on the military covenant and the Boyce report make excellent suggestions and I wholeheartedly endorse them.

However, there is a third obligation, which is in danger of being neglected. The nation incurs a profound obligation to ensure that the wars in which the Armed Forces are engaged and in which they may have to sacrifice their lives are fully justified, either in terms of the interests of the country or in the wider interests of humanity at large. Since the Armed Forces are expected to obey the civilian authorities and are politically neutral, the civil authorities that decide for them often have a tendency to take them for granted and to think that the military machine can be deployed for any purposes that their masters choose. Wars are therefore declared sometimes without much forethought, because they distract attention from domestic problems or because they are politically convenient and give the halo of glory to otherwise mediocre politicians. It is precisely because the Armed Forces are expected to be uncritically loyal that the Government must think 10 times before sending them to an almost certain death. Iraq and Afghanistan do not meet this test, as I have argued before your Lordships in the past; nor, I think, did Suez or Vietnam. It becomes morally hypocritical to send young people with promising lives to ill conceived deaths and to compensate them with offers of payments, as if a promising life is worth a lump sum of so much money.

Every death is a tragedy. It should be an occasion for critical national self-reflection on how to improve the way in which we take momentous decisions involving war. The Armed Forces trust the nation to value their lives and to demand sacrifices only when they are fully justified. The nation must prove itself worthy of the trust that the Armed Forces put in it.

India

Lord Parekh Excerpts

Tuesday 18th October 2011 Lords Chamber

Asked By

[Lord Parekh]

To ask Her Majesty’s Government what assessment they have made of economic, political and cultural relations between the United Kingdom and India.

[Lord Parekh]

It is a great privilege to initiate this debate. Since it is a common practice to declare an interest, I begin by saying that I have close ties with India, I actively participate in the public life of India, I have been a recipient of two of its highest honours and I am a member of the Indian Prime Minister's global advisory committee.

For us in the UK, relations with India are of the utmost importance. Britain shaped the cultural and political physiognomy of modern India. Indians are a significant presence in the UK: in your Lordships' House alone, they number about 15. India is also an emerging economic power, destined to play an important global role in the decades to come. It is therefore important that we should periodically take a careful look at relations between the two countries and ask how they can be strengthened yet further.

At the political level, there is considerable co-operation and mutual respect between the two countries. The UK is greatly admired for its good sense and maturity. However, there are important areas of disagreement. Given India's colonial past and view of the world, it does not share our enthusiasm for high-minded so-called liberal intervention in the affairs of other countries. It is also critical of our fluctuating policy in Afghanistan. India has also felt, both in public and parliamentary debate, that we misused the United Nations resolution in Libya to justify action that the resolution did not justify, and undertook actions such as equipping the rebel army that the resolution did not permit. This is why India voted, and continues to vote, in a different way from us in the United Nations, though it has not been openly critical of us. We should appreciate this difference of view and not allow it to stand in the way of good relations. This is what most successive British Governments have often done.

India's ambition to secure a permanent seat on the Security Council is legitimate. It has more than 1 billion people and represents a distinct voice in the global conversation. Its claim is no less weighty than China's, and perhaps weightier than our own or that of France. It is only a matter of time before India's claim is met, since about 120 members of the General Assembly have indicated their consent. We can expedite this and earn ourselves good will by, for example, moving a resolution in the General Assembly, on our own or with France, as we did in the case of Libya and as we have done in other cases.

For years, India has been a victim of cross-border terrorism and has repeatedly complained about it—but we did not take it seriously until it began to affect us at home. Even now, we have not shown sufficient sensitivity to India's deepest concerns. I am not suggesting, even for a moment, that India's policy on, say, Kashmir is right. Like many in your Lordships' House, and many in India itself, I have been greatly critical of it, and I wish that it had been different. However, that cannot justify the horrendous acts of terrorism that we have seen in Delhi, Mumbai and other parts of India. We in Britain could give India greater active support and enable it to sustain its open and democratic society.

At the economic level, our ties with India are strong but could be stronger. India is the second largest investor in the UK after the United States. More than 500 Indian companies are based in the UK, and their businesses generate more than £14 billion. Our visa regime stands in the way of intracompany transfers, and some Indian companies have begun to move to Belgium. That cannot be in our interest. We are the fourth largest investor in India, but our investment is about 5 per cent of its total foreign direct investment. That is a very small amount for a country of our size and stature.

India is expanding its infrastructure in a very big way, involving nearly 1 trillion rupees. We ought to be involved in a much more active way than we are. India does not need to raise money in the UK market: it has enough indigenous resources. What it needs is equipment, expertise, consultants, efficient organisation and experience. That is what we are ideally equipped to provide. I am sorry to see that we have not been involved as actively and comprehensively as we should have been in India's programme for the development of its infrastructure, such as roads, airports and energy plants.

Of course, India needs to do more itself. It needs to improve its bureaucracy and carry through its programme of reform to make itself a more attractive destination for foreign investment. However, that has not stopped other countries such as Malaysia, France and the United States from stepping up their investment. There is no reason why we should not do the same. Sometimes I have a feeling that we—or at least our companies—tend to be averse to risk and seek a guaranteed return before we consider investing. That attitude needs to change. It is only when we seek active engagement with India that we will have a moral right to put pressure on it to reform its policies.

I now turn briefly to an area that matters a great deal to me and to India: the field of higher education. India is expanding its higher education at an unprecedented rate. Nearly 700 to 800 new universities are expected, along with new Indian institutes of technology and central universities. There is enormous scope for Britain. The UK India Education and Research Initiative has made a significant contribution but we need to do much more. I welcome the announcement of UKIERI stage 2, but it will need significantly enhanced financial support from public and private sources. It also needs to be given a new direction and greater depth. For example, British universities should be encouraged to set up campuses in India. I assume that the Indian Government’s attitude will be a little clearer than it is at present. There is no reason why our great universities cannot adapt academic departments in Indian universities and build up their teaching and research capacities.

India badly needs highly qualified faculty staff, and here too Britain can do much. For several years I have been urging a scheme. We have a large number of professors who either have come to the end of their career and retired or wish to take early retirement. There is no reason why they cannot be persuaded or incentivised to spend a lot of time in India. They have their occupational pension guaranteed here, and the Indian Government could be asked to top it up and make it attractive for them to spend either a few years in India, or part of every year teaching and guiding research in Indian universities. A rough calculation suggests that there are at least 3,500 university professors in the natural and social sciences who, I am told, would find it attractive to go and teach and do research in Indian universities. We ought to tap into that resource.

University education is not the only area of co-operation. Much can and should be done at the level of secondary education. There could be sizeable exchanges of teachers. That would benefit both teachers and students in the two countries, and would build strong and lasting intellectual and cultural bonds. If I may digress for a moment: I have a family foundation, and it has been arranging exchanges of teachers between a top school here and a top school in India. During the three years that the scheme has been going, I have been struck by the enormous enthusiasm that the English teachers have aroused in Indian schools. A teacher of English from a top school here teaching Shakespeare in an Indian school has been a remarkable experience for Indian students, and I know from my close contact with that school that many students are immensely excited and have turned to literature as their special field of interest. If one school can do that, imagine hundreds of schools being able to do that.

Finally, I think the Government have made a great mistake in restricting post-study work visas. Under the current scheme, students coming here can work for two years after graduating. This allows them to recoup part of their expenses and to contribute their skills to this country. It benefits both sides. The restrictions that the Government are proposing are very rigid. Last year, 39,000 students were guaranteed a visa to work for up to two years. The Government want to reduce that by half, which is extraordinary. Germany has decided that students who have graduated will be allowed to stay up to a year to look for an appropriate job if they have sufficient maintenance funds. New Zealand and Canada have done the same. I am really sorry that we seem to be creating a situation in which we are discouraging Indian students from coming here.