It’s not often we get to feel sorry for an elected politician. Government shutdown here, Weinergate there, a Parliamentary expenses scandal across the Pond thrown in for good measure — pity for politicos is rare and unthinkable enough as to acquire a unicorn-like novelty during this time of political apathy and disappointment in government. Yet, British politician Andrew Mitchell has given us such an opportunity, to feel that an elected public figure has been treated harshly. Moreover, the perpetrator in his case isn’t an impatient and exasperated public but, surprisingly, another arm of the state.
Roughly a year ago, Mitchell, who at the time was Conservative Chief Whip in the House of Commons, stood accused of spewing a classist slur at a policeman during an altercation that took place outside Downing Street, the prime ministerial residence. It was a narrative that was all too easy to accept; a politician from a party already perceived as out of touch had let himself go and voiced the kind of vitriol that the cynics among us might have suspected was already on his mind. The story seemed to gain even more credence when police investigators proclaimed that he was being uncooperative with their inquiry and called for his resignation. It was a wish that he fulfilled not many days later.
Fast-forward a year and circumstances are rather different. The evidence has fallen apart on a number of measures and today the story is not Mr. Mitchell’s transgressions but rather those of the police. The timing of the incident — amidst talk of extensive reforms, including elements of privatization and performance incentives being administered to the police force — politicizes the event and invites speculation about ulterior motives on the their behalf.
While no doubt slightly fantastical, as there are better ways to stymie reform than to tar high-ranking government officials with the brush of classism, it is thought provoking. While much of our ire for political grievances — and in many cases rightfully so — is directed at the elected elements of government, it’s of paramount importance that we also not lose sight of the parts that do not stand behind podiums and beseech us to vote for them again every few years. Not because they’d feel neglected, but because the permanence of agencies and bureaucracies, not subject to the change mechanism that is electoral politics, allows those bodies a degree of autonomy that can be quite harmful.
This kind of harm can and indeed does go beyond the stereotypical inefficiencies best skewered by Parkinson’s Law (“work expands so as to accommodate the number of bureaucrats available for its completion”) and most epitomized by the embarrassing shortcomings in the recently launched healthcare.gov. For example, the recent revelations that the NSA was spying on the leaders of other countries without the knowledge or permission of the President or his staff is a highly salient example of agency overreach. While it is difficult to tell how much of this was due to institutional shortcomings, as opposed to the failings of the current administration, it is hardly a stretch to speculate that more concrete checks and balances might have lessened the extent to which the NSA overstepped the line. In this instance, diplomatic relations with other countries were put at stake because of the actions of an unelected governmental body.
Bureaucracies have been around a while, and suspicions at their possibly sinister nature have been around almost as long. Robert Michels, a contemporary of Weber’s, worried at the tendency of unelected organizations, even those founded with high-minded purposes, to become oligarchic and self-sustaining in nature. While originally written in reference to the democratic socialist parties of the early twentieth century, the criticism may also be extended to governmental bodies. The actions of the police in Andrew Mitchell’s case — if we can assume the mistakes were not entirely innocent — would fall into this category of a self-serving agency. Even New York’s controversial stop-and-frisk policy could be seen as an example of an unelected governmental body expanding to give itself more powers than it should have (though it is true that support from elected figures has been forthcoming). Indeed, when polled, a majority of New Yorkers both supported the appointment of an inspector general to oversee the Police Department, and disapproved of the policy of stop-and-frisk.
This is not the time to go into depth on the pros and cons of the program, but it is a salient case of popular opinion supporting greater restraints on a body without an electoral mandate. If there was a mechanism for oversight that was publicly accountable, like the aforementioned inspector general, who would exclusively and expressly focus on the conduct of the police department, then there might not be as much controversy over the practice. Such a figure would be directly accountable to the public, relying on their votes to keep his or her job, and would consequently provide a counter-balancing force to the police, should they exceed their brief. Even the civil service in Japan, among the most revered in the world, greatly overstepped its jurisdiction by becoming the conduit through which special interests and lobbying groups could seek to sway policy, with the arguments often taking a monetary form. In this guise, the state bureaucracy became arguably the most powerful branch of government, as a legislature dominated by the ruling LDP would do little more than legitimize the proposals sent to them, resulting in rife corruption and favoritism. In this case, public disapproval was strong enough that the LDP were voted out in favor of a party that campaigned on a platform of bringing the civil service to heel.
Despite the pessimistic nature of these examples, I don’t wish to argue that bureaucracies are essentially evil (and if they are, then they are a necessary one). Rather, it is the danger that, like any branch of government, if left unchecked they tend to swell beyond the jurisdiction that is fitting for bodies of that unelected nature, whether it is going over the head of elected elements, as in the case of the NSA, or actively antagonizing those elements, as did the police in the instance of the Andrew Mitchell scandal. In short, there is more than red tape at stake here, and we cannot let bureaucracies run with their scissors.