By Carl Parslow
THERE are 49 elected politicians in Jersey. Forty-nine. In theory, this should mean the Island is governed with laser-like efficiency: a hive mind of public-spirited citizens united in the noble cause of getting things done for the combined good of Jersey.
In practice, it resembles a particularly slow-moving conga line in which everyone is very polite (sort of), deeply sincere (sort of), and resolutely unsure where they are going.
Every election season produces a bumper crop of candidates promising to listen, engage and put Jersey first. Some even mean it. They arrive brimming with optimism and fresh ideas. Within months, many acquire the haunted look of people who have discovered that “policy development” mostly involves meetings about other meetings.
And so, the great Jersey paradox continues: endless activity, acres of paper, and precious little that feels tangible. Strategies are launched. Frameworks unveiled. Roadmaps published. Working groups convened to review taskforces that evaluated previous reviews. Somewhere in this ecosystem, ideas like “grow the economy” and “cut bureaucracy” are slowly digested and rebranded as “long-term stakeholder-aligned visions”. Which are promptly forgotten.
One reason is structural. Jersey says it does not really do political parties. The Island insists it prefers “independents”, which sounds charmingly rugged. No whips. No discipline. Just dozens of individuals, with a smattering of party, each with their own manifesto, priorities, and social media following. The result is a parliament made up of political start-ups, all competing for attention and influence.
In party systems, you vote for a team and a programme. In Jersey, you vote for multiple mission statements and hope that, sometime in the following four years, they accidentally align rather like the Big Bang. Sometimes they do. More often they don’t. Policy emerges through shifting alliances. Today’s political partner is tomorrow’s procedural opponent. Motions scrape through, only to be “revisited” six months later when the cost becomes apparent. Nothing is ever settled. Everything is provisional.
Over the past few years, this tendency has been reinforced by a general left-of-centre approach born of uneasy alliances: more regulation, more oversight, more strategies for managing outcomes rather than creating opportunities. Businesses may become more cautious. Ambition slowed under layers of process. Policies and plans accumulate but tangible results are often hard to see.
Meanwhile, ministers understandably reassure the public that the economy is “resilient” and “well-positioned”. These phrases are repeated so often they resemble a lullaby. Yet many Islanders sense that things are not moving as smoothly as hoped. Costs feel higher. Small businesses feel constrained. Young people seem restless. Beneath the optimism, Jersey appears to be running harder just to stand still.
None of this is to deny the commitment or sheer workload of those who step forward for public office. Jersey’s political system is demanding, often thankless, and conducted under intense public scrutiny in a small community where decisions are rarely abstract and consequences are always personal. Many ministers and backbenchers work long hours, wrestle with complex trade-offs, and act in good faith in the interests of the Island. The difficulty appears not to be a shortage of effort or integrity, but the absence of a structure that consistently turns that effort into sustained, collective progress.
Occasionally, a different idea surfaces: that perhaps Jersey needs something more organised, more strategic, more openly committed to pulling in the same direction. Not a rigid party machine. Not ideological trench warfare. But a shared civic mindset: co-operation, long-term thinking and collective responsibility. Some might even speculate that initiatives emphasising community spirit and civic engagement, such as groups like Value Jersey, hint at ways of thinking that focus on collaboration and long-term planning. Not as a miracle cure. Just a different approach that could be explored.
Parties are generally seen as tribal and “not very Jersey”. Islanders tend to prefer consensus and people working together. But working together without structure is like rowing a boat where everyone has their own map and their own idea of the destination. You get movement. Not much direction.
After years of drift and diminishing returns, it may simply be time to try something new. After all, it is hard to see how a more co-ordinated, more collegiate approach could leave the Island worse off than it is now.
The Island sort of works despite its politics, not because of it. Which raises the awkward question: is it time to grow up politically? Not by importing tribalism. But by accepting that collective responsibility requires collective organisation by the community.
A collegiate approach. Agreed priorities. Clear accountability. Fewer personal crusades. More common purpose. In other words: teamwork and a working plan at the start of the political term, not half way through.
Jersey does not lack talent, goodwill, or ideas. What it lacks is a catalyst that turns all of this into momentum. Until we get this, the Island will continue its elegant political waltz: forward, back, pause, spin, repeat. But with very little progress.
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.
