The classic argument for a first past the post (FPTP) voting system was that it kept the cranks at bay and delivered a stable, two-party system, with a third, challenger party that would give the impression of alternative options. It smacked of a slightly imperfect democracy even in the 20th century, when political allegiances were more fixed at an individual level, and the dominant parties differentiated themselves quite effortlessly at an ideological level. It was a system of representation that justified itself mainly on the principle that it wasn’t broke so why fix it, and when really pressed, used the spectre of some outliers who were too dangerous to be represented in parliament.
Yet whenever a fringe group found its voice some other way – in a local election or protest movement – it was often overtly racist. The National Front had the fourth-largest vote share for parts of the 1970s, the BNP had 50 seats in local government and two MEPs in the 2000s. However strong the arguments for constitutional reform, it seemed there was always merit in keeping those views out, on the grounds that parliamentary time should be put to better use than constantly relitigating who was British and who wasn’t. If this approach had truly suppressed racism as mobilising force in our politics, OK, that would have been brilliant.
But that was never how it worked: instead, arguably since Michael Howard’s “Are you thinking what we’re thinking?” in 2005; certainly by Theresa May’s “Go home” vans of 2013; ludicrously in Rishi Sunak’s “Stop the boats” lectern, the xenophobic, anti-migrant energy of insurgent parties with no hope at the ballot box found its way into mainstream rhetoric anyway.
And so we come to 2024, the most disproportional election FPTP has ever delivered: Labour won 63% of the seats with just under 34% of the votes. Reform and the Greens won nine seats between them (just over 1%), with a combined vote share of about 21%. The playing field, never exactly even, now looks more like a wildly irrational assault course. Twenty-four thousand votes would get you a Labour seat; a Reform candidate would need one million; a Green, 485,000; a Conservative, 56,000. It is a cute paradox that the Liberal Democrats, the longest-serving proponents of proportional representation, are the only party that, had we implemented it for this election, would have ended up with about the same number of seats.
Quite a lot has happened to pervert the course of FPTP while simultaneously eroding its anti-crank justification. Labour is heralded for its win-at-any-cost election strategy and rightly – it did, after all, win – but that could also be called gaming the system. Its policy offer looked very much as if it had been shaped by the party’s target seats.
It was evidently considered more important to soothe Tories so that they would stay at home, than to put together an offer for a voter loaded with student debt, who couldn’t afford rent and whose number one issue was climate change.
And you can’t fault that because it worked, but it also delivered what people are calling a “loveless landslide”, having been designed not to stir the enthusiasts but to dull the fears of haters. It showed in Labour’s tactics, too, as the party ceased campaigning in safe seats and unlikely ones ploughing everything into marginals. As smart as that may have been, it took the prime minister’s own vote share down by 17 points; Wes Streeting’s majority was wafer thin, at just over 500; and Jonathan Ashworth was denied victory altogether.
Despite the fact that 83% of Labour members and 45% of the general population – nearly twice the number who support FPTP – and two-thirds of Labour-affiliated unions support proportional representation, it doesn’t seem to be a priority for the government right now. It has a manifesto to enact, and besides, parties always think the way they won is they way they’ll always win.
Yet that win, a mile wide and an inch deep, won’t arrive in the same way twice. In 98 seats, Reform came second to Labour; on its other wing, the Greens came second in 39. Cleaving to FPTP means steering between two diametrically opposed threats, which just forces more caution and equivocation. Allowing the possibility of a new voting system would open up meaningful coalition-building with the Greens. The radicalism on the Green side, fighting for civil liberties, social liberalism, human rights and the climate, shouldn’t be seen as a threat by any progressive government; only under the current system does it necessarily become one.
Proportional representation would also demand a more open confrontation with Nigel Farage, who currently thrives on his own electoral marginalisation, which delivers him attention without scrutiny. Reform will certainly use net zero, as well as immigration, as its oppositional muster point – and it would be far better to take these arguments on rather than wait for a Conservative renewal with a ready-made offer.
If Ukip had got proper representation at its height, would the Brexit result have happened the way it did? If the Greens had ever been considered a serious electoral force rather than a nuisance, wouldn’t that have made all political parties less willing to dilute their environmental offer for short-term expedience? If power didn’t travel on so absolute a pendulum from one party to another, would it have been possible for so many of Labour’s last achievements, particularly on child poverty, to have been undone? Proving those counterfactuals is second to the principle, which Laura Parker, a spokesperson for Labour for a New Democracy, describes: “You can’t keep denying millions of people democratic legitimacy and hope they go away.” Even Labour members, people who’ve found their political home, can see this. The party needs to recognise a more proportional system as a way to deepen its power, rather than give it away.
Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist
