By Carl Parslow
A COUPLE of weeks ago in the JEP, I discussed manifestos and their effectiveness in Jersey. Since then several people have questioned me with a patient, but slightly pained expression usually reserved for confused tourists and say: “But once they’re elected, surely we must trust them to get on with it?”
Must we? Really?
Because if that is the rule of the Jersey democratic game, it is a curious rule indeed: vote on Sunday and whatever happens between Monday and four years until the next election is apparently none of our business. Accountability, it seems, is something only the ill-mannered concern themselves with.
And yet, here’s the question that keeps returning (well, certainly for me): if we are expected to trust our leaders unconditionally after polling day, then what precisely is the point of a manifesto? What is the point of an election at all, if the (sort of) promises made beforehand can be quietly set aside the moment the votes are counted?
Let us take our now-familiar example: the Hospital. When exactly did the electorate grant a ringing, democratic endorsement to proceed with building the Hospital on the Overdale site? When did the public agree this was the settled course of action? Did I miss the referendum? The manifesto pledge? The pledge printed somewhere between the recycling notices and the parish hall raffle?
If you can be bothered to take a trip back to 2022, you won’t find too much support for the Overdale option. By the way, I am not advocating a U-turn, I am just citing this as evidence of my point.
Likewise, when were sweeping changes to essential-worker and residency-style policies ever placed before voters for approval? I don’t recall a doorstep conversation where candidates warned that, post-election, they planned to rewrite the policy and open the door 3,528% for non-entitled (sort of) essential workers. Yet, here we are: new policy, no mandate and the recurring chorus of “Just trust them.”
But should we? Or is the real question why do Jersey residents believe that trust should stand in for scrutiny?
I ask this rhetorically because I’ve had these conversations, many of them, in fact. Every time I point out that politicians rarely stick to their pledges, ironically because they don’t really make any, the answer is always the same: “Well, we voted them in, so we have to trust them to get on with it.”
It’s Jersey-style democracy by osmosis: we didn’t agree, we didn’t debate, but we’ll pretend we nodded along anyway.
And yet, how democratic is it, truly democratic, to hand politicians a blank cheque once elected? When did “trust” become an acceptable substitute for “consent”?
We might as well remove manifestos altogether, save the candidates the printing bill and ask them all to run on a single statement: “Vote for me and afterwards, I’ll let you know what I’ve decided.” At least that would be honest.
Because the uncomfortable truth is this: Jersey’s political culture sometimes treats democracy as something ceremonial. We vote. We smile. We shake hands at hustings. Then we are politely withdrawn from the scene, leaving ministers free to act as though election day provided a four-year immunity from public questioning. And if we do question them? We are told by some, gently, to stop making a fuss.
But perhaps the real fuss is the absence of fuss.
Should we nod along while major projects, hundreds of millions of pounds in public money (our hard-earned tax), proceed without the public ever being asked? Should we accept structural policy changes that never appeared in any manifesto, simply because the government thinks them sensible? Should we, as some seem to believe, politely stand back, quietly trusting that somewhere behind the frosted glass of a ministerial office, someone knows best?
Or should the Jersey-style of democracy involve something more vigorous, more demanding and frankly more adult than that?
Here is another question: when did manifestos become optional? When did “guidance” become the euphemism for “things we say to get elected but won’t necessarily do afterwards?” I have been told, more than once, that “you can’t expect them to stick to everything.”
Fair enough. Circumstances change. But everything? Or anything? And if not the things they campaigned on, then on what basis do they govern?
If the Hospital being built at Overdale, the essential-worker framework and several other measures never appeared in the glossy leaflets we all politely pretended to read, then where did these ideas gain their democratic legitimacy? From what divine authority do they spring?
Rhetorical questions, of course. We all know the answer: they didn’t (well, not really).
And this, ultimately, is the heart of it. Democracy is not a delicate flower that wilts when questioned. It thrives on scrutiny. It needs it. It depends on citizens who do more than quietly trust; it depends on citizens who ask, who challenge, who insist that government power must remain tethered to public consent.
Trust is not the enemy of democracy. Blind trust is.
So when people tell me, “Let them get on with it,” I find myself wondering: is that truly what we want? A democracy of spectators, not participants? A system where manifestos are ornamental, mandates optional and accountability considered impolite?
Or do we want something more robust, more accountable, something worthy of the name “democracy”, where elected representatives not only act, but explain, justify and remain anchored to the promises that earned them power?
If we do, then the polite silence must end. Not rudely. Not aggressively. But firmly. Respectfully. Persistently. With questions that demand real answers and manifestos that set out clear, costed pledges. Not because we distrust our leaders, but because we should value democracy too much to leave it on autopilot.
And perhaps then, Jersey voters might actually turn up to vote.
Born and educated in the Island, Carl Parslow is an experienced Jersey Advocate and notary public with over 25 years’ experience. He heads up Parslows LLP business legal services department, advising corporates and individuals on a range of issues with a particular emphasis on acting for Jersey owner-managed businesses. Outside of work, he enjoys rugby and cycling with Lasardines.
