John Kilcullen
Macquarie University
Copyright (c) 1995, 2000, R.J. Kilcullen.
The Australian political system is in some ways democratic, and in some ways not. The relationship between Prime Minister, Parliament and electorate seems to me the most democratic part of the system. The undemocratic features include bicameralism, federalism, monarchy, and some others. In calling certain features undemocratic I don't necessarily mean they're bad. For the views of 19th century liberals on whether democracy is a good thing, and if so subject to what limitations (if any), and several similar questions, see Liberal Democracy. My own view is that democracy (in the sense of deciding by majority vote) is not an absolute or basic political value. There is no guarantee that democratic decision making will produce justice for racial, linguistic, religious and other minorities, or that it will produce just and wise decisions about relations with other nations (e.g. on war, trading policies), or about environmental questions and other matters affecting the interests of future generations. Democracy needs to be tempered by culture or by institutions, e.g. by a liberal legal tradition, by education, perhaps by a Bill of Rights, by special representation ("over"-representation by democratic standards) of minorities, etc. These things are connected with the "liberal" tradition, rather than with democracy. There is no reason why individuals or minorities should not press for such balances to democracy, undeterred by any opposition from the majority -- there is no "political obligation" to conform to majority views.
But let's look at Australia's political institutions from a democratic point of view: How democratic are they?
But first, what does democracy mean? In Ancient Greece some cities were democracies, others were oligarchies. Democracy meant rule by the people, oligarchy meant rule by the few. Simplifying somewhat, a city was a democracy if
City affairs were subject to an Assembly, to which
all male citizens belonged, and in which
decisions were made by simple majority vote.
Point (1) does not mean that everything was decided by the Assembly, just that anything could be. In practice much was left to other smaller bodies and to officials. But any element in the Constitution which prevented the assembly from taking something out of the hands of an official or smaller body when it saw reason to do so was an oligarchical element. In fact officials and committees always did manage to keep some things from the Assembly, so no Greek city was a pure democracy.
The assembly of a Greek democracy did not include women, or slaves, or resident aliens. The assembly was an oligarchy in relation to the whole city population. So point (2) does not go far enough for a modern democrat, who would want to specify that citizenship must be open on reasonable terms to all residents, at least to all adult residents, with adult not too narrowly defined; and to both men and women. This is what we mean by universal suffrage ("suffrage" means "right to vote").
Point (3) means that no extra voting power is to be given on account of aristocratic birth, wealth, education, virtue, public service or any other reason. The decision is made by counting heads. And there is no need for a "qualified" or special majority, such as 2/3 majority, or a majority in a majority of tribes or classes. In ancient cities the Assemblies were often subdivided into tribes or classes or military formations, but this was an oligarchical practice. In a pure democracy the Assembly would be one body, and decision would be by simple majority vote.
In large modern states we can't all meet frequently in one place. If the demos is to rule it must be by more indirect methods. I will say that a political system is democratic to the extent that its decision methods are practically equivalent to those of the Greek democracies. 'To the extent that' implies that there are degrees of democracy: some arrangements come closer in their practical effects to the original democracies than others do.
The Australian political system has one undemocratic feature usually overlooked, namely the division into many electorates. This means that a decision requires a majority in a majority of the subdivisions -- which is a qualified or special majority, harder to get than a simple majority. A party may get a majority of the popular vote nation-wide and still not get a majority in Parliament. This is usually felt, when it is noticed, to be undemocratic, and so it is in classical terms -- it is equivalent to dividing the Assembly into tribes or classes. It has no necessary connexion with gerrymander or unequal electorates: even if electorates were equal and voters were allocated to them purely at random, it would still be mathematically possible for a party to get a parliamentary majority with less than half the total vote nationwide.
So it's undemocratic, but is it a bad thing? In favour of subdivision into electorates it can be said that it puts an obstacle in the way of certain self-interested coalitions. For example, it stops people in the largest population centres voting themselves blatant favours at the expense of the rest (in the location of amenities or industries, for example). If this were not checked, eventually everyone would move into one big city, and then the older city areas in the centre would combine against the newcomers on the fringes.
On the other hand, it obstructs changes of all sorts, some of which might be right. It means that any group campaigning for a change, for example Aborigines, must campaign in most parts of the country. They can't win by persuading the majority nearest to them, they have to reach a geographically dispersed majority, which puts them to much more trouble and expense. Good or bad, the subdivision into electorates is at any rate undemocratic.
Next I want to deal with a set of things often regarded as undemocratic, but in my opinion wrongly. We don't have constant referendums but vote only once in a while to choose people to make decisions for us: the chief decider is the Prime Minister, whose power seems almost dictatorial -- backbenchers often look like rubber stamps, ministers like mere advisors and agents. And we don't vote directly for Prime Minister -- we vote for Members of Parliament, who choose party leaders, one of whom becomes Prime Minister. All these features, and a few others, in my opinion go together as a set, and if you understand how they work together, I believe you will see that they are genuinely democratic.
But it's necessary first to understand what is sometimes called the "intensity problem", but could perhaps be better called the "diverse priorities" problem. People have different priorities -- one of the things we disagree about is the order of importance among the things we disagree about. Suppose we decided each issue as it arose by referendum with simple majority vote. To simplify the mathematics, suppose there are three voters, A, B and C, and three issues, 1, 2, and 3. And let us suppose that on issue 1 voters B and C agree against A, that on issue 2 voters A and C agree against B, and that on issue 3 voters A and B agree against C.
|
Issue 1 |
Issue 2 |
Issue 3 |
|
|
Voter A |
Yes |
No |
No |
|
Voter B |
No |
Yes |
No |
|
Voter C |
No |
No |
Yes |
Let us also suppose that for voter A issue 1 is more important than the other two together, that for voter B issue 2 is more important than the other two together, and that for voter C issue 3 is more important than the other two together. I have put in bold type the vote each of them cares most about. On these assumptions, they will all be on the winning side in two out of three issues but will be outvoted on the issue they care about most. They will be unanimously dissatisfied with the outcome of the process. If the 3 proposals adopted separately by majority vote had been put to them as a package, they would have rejected it, unanimously.
What is needed is some sort of deal or compromise or "package" in which one minority get their way on what they care about most, in return for allowing another minority to get their way on what they care about most.
The example is artificial, but the problem is quite real and a matter of common experience. Many organisations make decisions by majority vote, in general meetings or committees, voting on the issues one by one; and often after a meeting nearly everyone will agree it's been a terrible meeting -- each decision was made by majority vote, and yet most people are dissatisfied with the total outcome, even if they were in the majority in most votes, because they were outvoted on something they really cared about. (This does not happen at every meeting, of course, but it often does.) My artificial example helps illustrate how this happens.
The system of parliamentary government avoids this situation with a minimum of fuss. (The American system and others can also put packages together -- "log rolling"-- but less effectively and with more trouble.) The features of the Parliamentary system I listed a moment ago -- no referendums, but periodic elections which indirectly choose a temporary dictator (or Prime Minister) -- are means of putting packages together and choosing between them. Let me explain.
The Parliamentary system is in effect Prime Ministerial government. It is not cabinet government. Ministers are commissioned and fired on the sole advice of the Prime Minister, who does not have to consult the other ministers or the party or parliament (this is true even of Labor Prime Ministers, as when Mr Whitlam fired Mr Cameron). "Cabinet solidarity" does not normally mean collective leadership by a body of equals, it means that no minister can remain in office except by falling in with the Prime Minister's lead.
Now the party leaders personify packages of policies, some stated in their election speechs (for what they are worth), and, more important, other policies implicit in their personalities as electors see them, and in their party connexions, and generally in the logic of their political situation. The leader of the winning party is Prime Minister because most electors find the package he or she stands for more acceptable than any alternative package. Some of a party's supporters will dislike some part of its leader's policy package but will vote for the party anyway because they like other parts of the package, dealing with other matters that they regard as more important.
So if voters' priorities differ, as they usually do, the winning package is a compromise or trade off between voters with different priorities -- it is as if one said to another, "I will put up with A, B and C, the things you want most, if you will put up with X, Y and Z, the things I want most". So the package includes both A, B, C, and X, Y, Z. But the voters don't have to meet and negotiate: the packages are put together by the leaders. Each of the rival leaders is a political "entrepreneur" who tries to put together a package which will win majority support. The one who works out the package preferred by most electors wins. Anything which breaks the packages up, like referendums or a free vote in Parliament, makes it difficult for electors to compromise with one another -- it is a step in the direction of the unsatisfactory procedure of deciding issue by issue.
The Party system means that the same packages go before electors in every part of the country, so that what emerges is a national compromise. If there were no parties but division into local electorates (as there often is in local government), there would be no way electors in different electorates could work out a compromise simply by voting. Compromises would have to be worked out by their representatives, as city councillors do, sometimes behind the scenes. The nation-wide party system means that candidates go before the voters with packages already worked out. Vital to the party system is the indirect election of the Prime Minister -- this means that the thing about the local candidate that matters most is which Prime Ministerial candidate he or she will support, so a vote for the local candidate is indirectly a vote for the national package represented by one of the leaders.
Prime Ministerial government is a very effective solution to the "diverse priorities" problem, but we don't seem to appreciate it. The constitutions of local government, and of other organisations, are almost always modelled on the American system, with a president, committee (like Congress) and general meetings (like referendums). Proposals for improving the Prime Ministerial system often seem to me to show lack of understanding. So let's consider it in more detail.
Prime Ministerial dictatorship does not sound like democracy, but consider the context. The Prime Minister does not have a fixed term of office as the American President does. A Prime Minister remains in office only while enjoying the confidence of Parliament -- in simple terms, as long as most Members of Parliament would rather have this person as Prime Minister than any other available person. The Prime Minister will lose Parliament's confidence by getting clearly out of step with the electorate.
The Prime Minister's party have strong reasons for wanting a new leader when the present leader becomes unpopular with electors. Cabinet solidarity means that ministers must share blame for what the Prime Minister does, the indirect election of the Prime Minister (above) means that backbenchers will also share the blame because the only way electors can vote against the Prime Minister is to vote against local candidates of the same party. When the leader of the government gets out of step with public opinion he or she will come under pressure from other members of the government party to change direction, or else announce an early retirement. In an extreme case the leader may be removed by party room vote, or even defeated on the floor of Parliament (when a sufficient number of backbenchers "cross the floor" and vote with the opposition).
Thus backbenchers are not really rubber stamps. They are a jury of experts on political survival. From day to day they pass judgement on their leader's performance, his or her ability to put together an election-winning package of policies. They are professionals at sensing the mood of the electorate, with strong incentives to get it right.
If Parliament does withdraw its confidence from the current Prime Minister, the Prime Minister does not lose office immediately and automatically. There are three possibilities:
The current Prime Minister can go quietly -- that is, resign and make way for a new Prime Minister without an election. This does not happen often, only once in recent Australian political history, when Mr McMahon took Mr Gorton's place. {Update: and when Ms Gillard replaced Mr Rudd.) Or --
The current Prime Minister can try to regain Parliament's confidence -- that is, stay in office and undertake to act differently, and see if Parliament will restore its support. Or --
The current Prime Minister can fight back, by staying in office, dissolving Parliament and calling an election. (The current Prime Minister stays in office while the election is on. If afterwards the Prime Minister who called the election still doesn't have the confidence of the new parliament, he or she is supposed to go quietly and make way for whoever has.)
This third possibility, the power to call an election, is vital from a democratic point of view. And it is vital that it is a power the Prime Minister has personally, not the cabinet or party or parliament -- the Prime Minister does not have to have his colleagues' or rivals' consent to send them out to an election -- see below on the Prime Minister's right to appeal to the electorate. This right gives the Prime Minister the means of putting down, single-handed, opposition within the cabinet or Government party or in parliament to policies which the electorate clearly supports. A fixed term for Parliament, as in the American system (and as we now have in New South Wales), would deprive the Prime Minister of this power to put down parliamentary rivals and opponents -- it would be a step toward parliamentary oligarchy, in which power would be shared out behind the scenes among all who can obstruct (like the Committee chairman in the U.S. Congress, or independents or minor parties). See Submission, point 12.
The Prime Minister's power to put down rivalry and opposition single-handedly by threat of an election depends on this:- that opponents believe that if there is an election, electors will support the Prime Minister and not them. As soon as they don't believe this, a possible election will not be a threat but an opportunity. A Prime Minister's political power therefore fluctuates. How much power he or she has depends how certain it is that electors will support the Prime Minister if an election is called. If it is very certain then the Prime Minister is for the time being a dictator, able to fire ministers, announce government policy without consulting cabinet or anyone else, railroad bills through parliament, refuse to answer questions, ignore scandals, treat ministers as errand boys and backbenchers as rubber stamps. Of course highhandedness may alienate voters, but sometimes there may be a widespread desire for something and a desire that it be done without delay, and then electors will support a Prime Minister who firmly overrides opposition to do it. But if a Prime Minister does what electors don't support, or what backbench Members of Parliament (professionals at sensing what electors want, with a strong incentive to get it right) do not believe electors support, then the Prime Minister suffers some loss of power and may be replaced.
Taken together, the various features of the system mean that the Prime Minister will lose power unless he or she represents the policy package most voters are believed to prefer; and while parliamentarians believe that most voters do prefer it, the Prime Minister will have enough power over political rivals and opponents to carry those policies out. Parliamentary politics is a game in which rival politicians threaten one another with the wrath of the electors; when the threat is credible the leader who makes it prevails. The fact that it works that way means that Parliamentary govenment gives electors maximal influence over government -- politicians have a strong incentive to work out which policies electors want and a leader believed to be good at understanding what the majority of electors will support has power to carry out those policies in the face of opposition.
It seems to me that this is a form of democracy practically equivalent to Greek democracy: the Prime Minister effectively implements policies which a majority of electors is believed to support. It is a form which resolves the "diverse priorities" problem presented earlier.
Now I've described the workings of the Prime Ministerial system, I'm finished with the democratic aspects of the Australian system. The rest is undemocratic.
The powers I've been attributing to the Prime Minister to appoint and fire ministers and to dissolve Parliament and call an election are legally the Governor-General's powers. The Governor-General also has legal power to refuse assent to legislation passed by the two houses of Parliament. See Constitution, section 5, section 28, section 32, .section 58, section 59, section 64. By convention the Governor General exercises these powers in accordance with the Prime Minister's sole advice, but if a Governor-General chooses to ignore convention, or interprets convention in a way that many people find surprising, there is no legal redress (see the Dismissal). A Governor General who wants to act against the current Prime Minister's advice needs to find a substitute Prime Minister to advise that these things should be done (to preserve the convention that the Governor General acts on the Prime Minister's advice). Legally the substitute Prime Minister and Ministers need not have a parliamentary majority, need not even be Members of Parliament; they could be officers in the army, for example. (See Constitution, section 64; the only restriction is that a minister must get a seat in Parliament within 3 months.)
The Governor General's legal powers are limited by convention. A convention is a rule which is enforced not by the courts but by public opinion and conscience. That sort of enforcement may sound weak, but it is quite basic to the political system. The reason why the courts enforce the law is that the judges feel obliged in conscience and by public opinion to do so; the reason why the army does not take over is that soldiers and officers believe they oughtn't to. So convention is not nothing. But some of the conventions regulating the Governor General are unclear or undemocratic. For example, some authorities say that the Governor General ought to refuse the Prime Minister's advice to dissolve Parliament and call an election short of the legal maximum term (3 years) if the Governor General believes that some other Member of Parliament has the existing Parliament's confidence. (E.g. if Mr Gorton had wanted an election, the Governor General might have refused and commissioned Mr McMahon.) But from the democratic point of view a deposed leader should be able to appeal to the electorate, even over the heads a parliamentary majority -- otherwise a party might first use its leader's popularity to get a majority in parliament, and then after the election dump that leader for some other leader who couldn't have won the election (e.g. the ALP might have dumped Mr Whitlam for Mr Cairns). A democrat would argue that if electors don't think an election justified they can vote against the party of the Prime Minister who called it, and the Governor General should leave this judgement to the electorate. Electors can judge whether an early election is justified, and they can judge how much weight the fault of calling an election unnecessarily should be given in comparison with other items in the package the Prime Minister represents.
The Senate was meant as a check upon democracy. It was designed to be less rapidly affected than the House of Representative by changes in public opinion -- a change must persist through two Senate elections, normally three years apart, before it becomes the opinion of a majority of senators. (Senators normally hold office for six years, half the Senate going to election every three years; see Constitution, section 13.) To prevent the demos from making hasty decisions is not democracy, though it might be a good thing. (On the other hand it mightn't -- it might protect vested interests which the demos would do well to root out.) Good or bad, it is a departure from democracy.
Another undemocratic feature is the unequal size of Senate electoral subdivisions, i.e., the States. NSW has roughly 10 times the population of Tasmania, but elects only the same number of Senators. Of course, to protect the small states is the whole point of the Senate, and even if it is undemocratic, it may be a good thing to do. And probably it is what the Senate does. It is conventional to say that the Senate has become not a "States' house" but a "parties' house"; but surely it makes a difference to how the parties behave that there are so many Senate seats in the less populated States.
The most undemocratic feature of the Senate is its power to block government measures without the risk of dissolution. I argued before that the Prime Minister's power to fight back by dissolving Parliament and calling an election means that Parliament will not obstruct a Prime Minister who has the backing of the majority of electors. Anything which prevents the Prime Minister from appealing to the electorate against parliamentary opposition is a step away from democracy toward parliamentary oligarchy. But the Senate can block bills without fear of dissolution. There is a provision for double dissolution (Constitution, section 57), but the Senate could avoid this threat. It could pass bills it disliked under protest and then at an opportune time defer supply until the House of Representatives agreed to repeal the earlier Act the Senate didn't like and met such other conditions as the Senate liked to impose. The blocking of supply is not a matter for an immediate double dissolution, and supply can't wait for three months. In 1975 the Senate was not dissolved because it had blocked supply but because it had blocked a number of other measures of the Whitlam government. Mr Fraser advised the Governor General to dissolve the Senate for blocking bills that Mr Fraser had wanted blocked; when he won the following election he did not hold a Joint Sitting to enact those bills. These anomalies occurred presumably because the Governor General did not think it fair to allow the Senate to force an election on the lower house without facing one itself; but legally they could have done that. The position argued in 1975 by Sir Garfield Barwick and Sir John Kerr seems to imply that a government needs the confidence of both houses of Parliament, including the Senate which the Prime Minister cannot dissolve. (See Kerr's reasons, Barwick's reasons.)
It is sometimes argued that federalism is more democratic because it decentralises power and brings it closer to the people. But geographical closeness means nothing: political closeness needs information, and most people know least about local government, which is geographically closest. The more power a government has the more its doings are reported and the more interest people take in it (for good reasons). Power is most likely to be watched when it is concentrated -- decentralisation merely takes some government functions out of public view.
It seems to me that federalism is an undemocratic feature of our system, for several reasons. First, it makes politics more difficult to follow, and it makes it difficult for voters to hold any set of politicians responsible for anything, because it offers so much opportunity for buck passing.
Second, to regulate the relations of the various levels of government requires a constitution not subject to the ordinary political process (otherwise the national parliament could simply repeal it). The constitution needs to be interpreted by a court, against which (at the highest level) there is no appeal. The Constitution means whatever the court says it means. The court is not a democratic institution. Judges are not responsible to electors. In fact, given the expense of legal training and the connexions and interests of lawyers, courts will be conservative. And litigation is expensive. So the courts are likely in the long run and overall to interpret the constitution in favour of those with money. Study the history of the interpretation of Sec. 92 of the Australian constitution; or in the Canadian federation, the interpretation of Sec. 92 of Canada's Constitution, the British North America Act (see Dawson, The Government of Canada, 4th edn., p. 101); or the 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. In each of these federations the courts have, during some period, by dubious interpretation made some part of the constitution into a bastion of private enterprise.
Third, the Australian constitution puts special obstacles in the way of socialism. It may be that that policy would be a disaster: perhaps its a good thing that the constitution stands in its way. But it is undemocratic that the electorate is not allowed to make the choice. Perhaps Socialism could be implemented at State level. In fact this is doubtful -- Section 92 of the constitution has been interpreted by the courts in a way which might prevent socialisation of major industries by any level of government. Anyway socialism in one state is impracticable: private capital would migrate to the next state and trade freely across the border. Socialism at state level would require simultaneous or co-ordinated action by at least the major states.
The system is as it were a defence in depth of the free enterprise system. (Defence in depth: a protective belt of strong points which can support one another, arranged so that the enemy has to take many of them.) In each state there is a governor and a conservative upper house (except that Queensland has no upper house): and either or both of these could (conceivably) block socialism, which could not effectively be carried out without co-ordinated action by several states. Socialist opinions would have to be strongly held simultaneously in many parts of the country and at higher levels of society (to persuade upper houses and governors). Obviously we are safe from socialism, and any other radical madness, thanks to federalism.
When the Americans were discussing the adoption of their federal constitution, James Madison argued that in a federal form of government
the influence of factious leaders may kindle a flame within their particular states, but will be unable to spread a general conflagration through the other states... A rage for paper money, for an abolition of debts, for an equal diversion of property, or for any other improper or wicked project, will be less apt to persuade the whole body of the Union than a particular member of it; [just as] it is more likely to taint a particular country or district than an entire state. (The Federalist, no. 10)
In short, Federalism, just like the sub-division of voters into geographical electorates, puts obstacles in the way of new ideas, whether improper and wicked or not.
Finally, I want to say something about the wider context within which our political institutions work. Earlier I suggested that the reason why the army doesn't take over is that its members don't think they ought to. Conscience and public opinion are a large part of the reason why people carry out (more or less) their appointed roles in institutions. This has been recognised by political thinkers for a long time. In the 18th century David Hume asked why it is that the government, always a relatively few people, can get the obedience of the many:
The governors have nothing to support them but opinion. It is therefore on opinion only that the government is founded; and this maxim extends to the most despotic and most military governments. The emperor of Rome might drive his subjects against their sentiments and inclinations. But he must at least have led his praetorian bands like men, by their opinion. (Essays, Essay 4: "Of the First Principles of Government".)
Hume distinguished opinion of interest (that it is in my interest to co-operate with the government), and opinion of right (that I ought to do so). In the last analysis, the power of government consists in the opinion of many that it is right, or in their interest, to co-operate, and in the force wielded by those who hold such opinions. Once government disposes of some force, then it is even more in people's interest to co-operate; but some at least must believe that it is right to co-operate.
Going even further back, the ancient Greeks recognised that democratic political institutions went together with a general democratic ethos, and oligarchy with an oligarchical ethos. (In fact the Greeks did not distinguish as sharply as we do between political institutions in the narrow sense and the other aspects of city life and culture.) Plato, for example, says that in democracies when you walk down the street not even the donkeys get out of your way -- gentlemen are jostled by people of all sorts, even by slaves and animals. And he paints the democratic personality in vivid colours -- quite unfavourably. Aristotle says that to be stable a democracy must give young citizens a democratic education, and an oligarchy must give them an oligarchic education (though he suggests that in both cases the education is most favourable to the regime if it moderates the behaviour of its supporters).
In Australia certain leading institutions are quite undemocratic. In this university for example, the Senate is an oligarchy in relation to the staff, and the staff are authorities in relation to the students; and similarly in other educational institutions. (Perhaps that's how it should be. But it is not democracy.) Educational institutions insist on autonomy: that is, they deny the right of government (even when democratically elected -- perhaps especially then) to regulate them in detail. On the other hand Universities have become more dependent on private funding, which makes them less likely to be centres of social criticism.
Business organisations are not democracies. Each is run authoritatively from the top. Most people spend most of every day for most of their lives in a school or university or office or factory under non-elective authority, a sort of private oligarchical government. Even out of working hours they constantly encounter non-elected authority. Turn on the TV set, and someone tells you how it is -- some expert, some authority in the field. That there are experts on every given subject one of the characteristic beliefs of the 20th century -- the reality and importance of 'expertise' is perhaps the main message of education. You can ask questions or talk back but the expert on TV won't hear you, and your neighbours won't either, because each household watches TV separately. If you go to a public meeting of an organisation, you will encounter the president and the other honorary office bearers sitting shoulder to shoulder at the table facing the meeting, and you can't expect much of a hearing unless you have a title or some prestigious occupation, or are favourably known to the people who run the organisation. The intellectual quality of our political culture might be improved, and the system at the same time made more democratic, if there were more opportunities for dialogue between experts and ordinary people -- occasions on which the non-experts could get the experts to give an account of their views.
To reconcile belief in political democracy with the generally undemocratic character of other institutions, we give politics a rather narrow definition. Democracy is the norm in politics, but not in all these other spheres, and each of these spheres is one that politics should keep out of -- out of the classroom, out of sport, out of industrial affairs, out of religion and so forth.
Educational institutions and business are not unlike departments of government. The awarding or withholding of a degree or the promoting or firing an employee are acts of authority, like the imposition of a traffic fine or the refusal of a planning permit. In fact this level of government, if I can call it that, has a much more pervasive and constant influence over many people's lives than the local or state government has. If we add these institutions as a fourth tier to our federal political system, then the degree of democracy is even further reduced.
Note my repeated remarks that the fact that something is undemocratic does not necessarily mean that it is bad. I don't believe, and I don't think anyone does, that the fact that a majority wants something guarantees that it is just or beneficial. Perhaps some decisions ought to be made undemocratically: but 'undemocratic' is a negative term -- we would need to know more positively how decisions ought to be made. It seems to me that in countries like Australia the compromise we have between liberalism and democracy -- i.e. "responsible government", together with an independent legal system that embodies liberal values, and independent (?) institutions of higher learning and a free (?) press -- is worthy of support.
The system could be improved in various ways, especially by improving the quality of our intellectual culture -- better schools and universities, more independent of private interests; better newspapers and television (maybe there should be a tax which the individual taxpayer could allocate to the media outlet or program that in the individual's opinion produced the best quality material); more dialogue between representative panels of ordinary people and the people who lead the main cultural institutions (for example, through "deliberative polling").
In view of the "diverse priorities" problem the increasing use of referendums would not be a good idea, though they have a use when there is some issue the political parties do not want to face.
In view of the democratic value of the Prime Minister's right to call an election to combat obstruction of policies the public support (see above), the move to a "fixed term" for Parliament would not improve the system from a democratic (or from any other) point of view (though electors should, as they do, regard it as a mark against the Government if it calls an early election unnecessarily). However, longer maximum terms for Parliament would be a good idea, since it would give more time for Governments to show the long-term benefits of their policies. The abolition of the States and of the Senate may seem an improvement to residents of Sydney or Melbourne, but it would be disadvantageous in the long run even to them, since they had an interest in avoiding excessive concentration of population in a few large cities. However, the Senate's power to compel the dissolution of the lower house by refusing supply should be balanced by making the blocking of supply grounds for an immediate double dissolution.
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