Dominic Lawson: Once again, MPs insult our intelligence

Lawson has got it right. Why should MPs be above the law and have priveleges  not granted to the rest of us. The days are over when the Commons could be run as a private club for
members

Yesterday's Commons statement by the Justice Secretary Jack Straw – and
the Parliamentary interventions that followed – was a sublime example.
The statement followed the revelation of the bugging of two
conversations in Woodhill prison between an alleged fundraiser for
terrorists, Babar Ahmed, and his local MP, childhood friend and ex-
lawyer, Sadiq Khan.

There is an issue here of some importance: given that Mr Ahmed is in
prison fighting extradition proceedings from the US, there is an
interesting argument about whether his defence might be prejudiced by
the handing over to the American authorities of information gained in
such a manner. Yet the Members of Parliament show no interest in this:
they are, instead, only furious that Mr Khan, one of their number – and
a man at no risk of extradition – has been bugged, in clear
contravention, they claim, of the "Wilson Doctrine".

This refers to the statement by the then prime minister, Harold Wilson,
to the Commons in November 2006. It followed a series of speculative
stories in the press about the bugging of MPs by the security and
intelligence services. Wilson reassured MPs that: "I felt that it was
right to lay down the policy of no tapping of the telephones of Members
of Parliament."

It is, with the benefit of hindsight, amusing – if you like black humour
– that one of the MPs who rose to demand such an assurance from Mr
Wilson was Tom Driberg. The Queen, on the recommendation of Harold
Wilson, made Driberg a peer in 1975; but in 1999 the release of the
Mitrokhin archive revealed to the public that Driberg had been an active
KGB agent. It is obvious why Driberg should have been anxious about
being bugged. It is not obvious why, as a Member of the Commons (or
indeed, later as a Member of the House of Lords) he should have been
afforded special protection from investigation.

As a matter of fact, I cannot quite believe that he was. In response to
Driberg's very self-interested question, Wilson declared that: "If there
was any development of a kind which required a change in the general
policy, I would, at such moment as seemed compatible with the security
of the country, on my own initiative make a statement to the House about
it."

What this characteristically clever Wilson get-out actually means is
that any MP could be bugged and no one would know that the general
policy had been abandoned until the Prime Minister (or, indeed, a later
one) thought it was safe to tell the House of Commons.

Just for example, does anyone really believe that Gerry Adams or Martin
McGuinness were suddenly made exempt from bugging during the period in
which they were Members of the House of Commons? It would be
inconceivable – and yet that is what MPs seem to want to believe, in
their strange parallel universe.

They also consider it an outrage that the apparent bugging of Mr Khan's
conversations with his constituent took place without a specific
authorisation by the Home Secretary or the Prime Minister. Jack Straw's
statement was slightly obscure on the actual course of events, but he
seemed to imply that the detectives operating within the prison planted
the listening devices without any specific judicial or political consent
at all.

It's a bit late for the MPs to huff and puff about this now: it was
pointed out at the time of the passing of the Regulation of
Investigatory Powers Bill in 2000, that it allowed for police and prison
cells to be bugged without the police or the Prison Service having to
pass through any of the statutory controls involving a member of the
judiciary, still less a Home Secretary.

I suspect that the continuing decisions on whether to bug Babar Ahmed's
conversations with visitors were being taken by a detective with a rank
no higher than sergeant. It seems most unlikely that when Mr Khan turned
up, that this sergeant suddenly thought: "Oi,oi! Doesn't this infringe
the Wilson Doctrine?" It is even less likely given that Mr Khan had been
visiting Babar Ahmed at HMP Woodhill before he became an MP. I certainly
wouldn't blame a detective for believing that if it was alright to bug
the prison conversations that took place between the two men before Mr
Khan became an MP, then it could not suddenly be out of the question to
continue with the surveillance.

There is no suggestion that Mr Khan himself is under any form of
investigation. Yet just suppose that a Labour MP were to be suspected of
involvement with Al-Qa'ida. It seems invidious that the police or
security services should have to ask one of that man's Parliamentary
colleagues – who might even be a friend – if they could have permission
to put him under surveillance. Yet that is what MPs demand as their
right.

I am bound to agree with Sir Swinton Thomas, the former Interception of
Communications Commissioner, who denounced the principle of the Wilson
Doctrine in these terms: "The doctrine means that MPs and peers can
engage in serious crime or terrorism without running the risk of being
investigated in the same way as any other member of the public. It is
fundamental to the constitution of this country that no one is above the
law or seen to be above the law."

Just before Straw stood to make his statement, the Speaker of the
Commons addressed the chamber about the issue of MPs' expenses. On the
surface the two statements were entirely unconnected. In fact there is
an exact congruence between the case of Sadiq Khan and that of the Tory
MP Derek Conway – in which a Commons committee thought that a suspension
of ten days was an appropriate punishment for a misuse of funds which
would have led to instant dismissal in any other business. In both cases
it is clear that the House of Commons thinks that the normal rules do
not apply to its own members.

The argument for this exceptionalism is clear – and centuries old. All
MPs are, by definition, "Honourable Members". That is why it is
impermissible to accuse another member of dishonesty in the chamber. An
"Honourable Member" could not possibly be a liar; ergo, such a claim
can
not be uttered. It's a splendid way to run a club – it's the way the
City of London used to work before insider dealing was made a crime.

Unfortunately for the Parliamentary romantics, the days are over when
the House of Commons could be run as a private club for members: the
trouble is that most of the members don't seem to have realised.

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