Democracy is not an overnight affair. Nor does it entail a mere stipulation of rules and an announcement that it has been put into practice. The British Parliament is no exception but has grown out of centuries of political struggles and the pragmatism of the British people. That political power in Britain shifted from the monarch to Parliament at a relatively early date in Britain not only allowed later monarchs to escape the gruesome fate met by many of their relatives on the continent since then, but also ensured their presence down to the present day.

Up to today the Queen has continued the symbolic act of handing over her symbols of power during every year's state opening of Parliament. While in Parliament itself the everyday proceedings brim over with tradition, from the long robes and wig still worn by the Speaker to the special language used by MPs, who must address even their arch political foes as "honorable gentlemen."

On most days a long queue can be seen waiting outside Parliament. Not very long ago this was the only way for the curious to penetrate the mystique of the place. When televisions began to appear in every living room throughout the land, appeals to allow the cameras in fell on deaf ears.

At last, with renewed calls to allow the televising of Parliament in the 1980s, the situation could no longer remain unchanged. A cautious precedent was set by first allowing televising of the upper chamber, the House of Lords. However, the much more boisterous and significant House of Commons remained unseen.

One of the strongest opponents of allowing television cameras into the House of Commons during the 1980s was the then prime minister, Margaret Thatcher. When asked on one occasion by the leader of the opposition why she was so afraid of allowing television into the House, she replied: "My concern is very much for the good reputation of this House. I do not think that television will ever televise this House. If it does televise it, it will televise only a televised House, which would be quite different from the House of Commons as we know it."

One senior Labour MP objected that the prime minister was being rather inconsistent in her attitude to the cameras. After all, he pointed out, had not she always seemed so happy to appear on television in the past? In fact, "she was even taught to shift her weight from one buttock to another in order to appear more interesting on television."

Coming to the defiance of the prime minister, one of her colleagues summed up the fear of many MPs when he rebutted the attack by maintaining, "The honorable gentleman is making a good point against the televising of Parliament, although he may not realize it. He has illustrated the power of television to change things." The procedures, traditions and dignity of the "mother of parliaments" were at stake.

Objecting to such a fear of change, one MP warned that the House of Commons was in danger of becoming the "Beefeater guard" of democracy, as he recalled often wondering for how long the Beefeater guards at the Tower of London had believed they were part of the armed forces and not merely a tourist attraction. The real problem, as seen by such MPs, was that Parliament was becoming ever weaker in its relationship with the executive. A good reason for allowing television to show what was going on inside was that "the new technology of television has presented us with a way of closing the gap between the electors and elected that has existed ever since the birth of representative democracy in Athens."

Such faith in the redeeming powers of television was not universal, however. One of the most vociferous of its opponents objected strongly to the presence of the electronic box. It has "corrupted our English civilization, our taste and our morals," he fumed as other MPs joined the chorus of protest by elaborating on the fearsome nature of the changes likely to be brought about by television. One of the most dreaded was that the debating chamber of the House of Commons might descend to the level of the Canadian Parliament, where "we shall cease to address each other and, increasingly, speak to the public outside, rather like party political broadcasts or horrible things like that." There would have to be strong arguments to convince such telephones that they should leave beloved antiquity at the mercy of "mysterious television producers who manipulate events behind the scenes."

In response one senior MP pointed out that if the Commons could not even control television producers, then "how on earth can this House ever control banisters with their powerful civil servants sitting behind them?"

It was pointed out, that exclusion from the House in the P3st had made distortion of its proceedings far more likely.

Another MP questioned why newspapers should be given the privilege over television of covering the House of Commons when they had failed to do the job properly themselves. It was a puzzle to him why some newspapers bothered to have parliamentary correspondents at all. After all, "if The Sun can have someone in the parliamentary lobby, so should Penthouse." Surely it was better to rely on television than "people of that sort interposing between what goes on here and the public."

The majority of MPs were hot so clear cut in their views. Many agreed that television should be allowed into the House while at the same time expressing their lack of confidence in television Producers and editors to do the job properly. The Father of the House received much support, therefore, when he supported televising while stating that what ended up on the screens in people's living rooms "is not a matter that can be left to the media... they must be guided and controlled in this connection."

To assuage such fears a select committee was set up in 1988 to examine all the practical aspects of just how the experimental introduction of cameras into the Commons was to be carried out. When the select committee submitted its report to the House in 1989, however, the set of strict rules that had been drawn up drew much criticism from both the press and many MPs for being far too cautious.

The rules did receive much support too, some of which came from minority party MPs. They pointed out that the job of the select committee was to "assist" the broadcasters by monitoring their output and making sure the broadcasters do not "glamorize the House as consisting of two rival teams locked in mindless opposition while the reasoned, middle way is always edited out."

Yet the problems of the minority parties was only one of the subjects looked at by the select committee when considering how to ensure balance in the televising. It was equally concerned that television coverage would be monopolized by the ministers and shadow ministers who sit on the front benches to the detriment of the great majority of other MPs, who sit on the back benches. Moreover, it would not be good enough if constituents thought their MPs were being lazy when they did not see them on television either because they were edited out or because most of their work was in fact carried out in committees, which might be too dull to attract coverage.

One possible solution to such problems that was looked into by the select committee was the idea of setting up a "dedicated" channel that would show continuous live coverage of the House of Commons. The select committee agreed that a dedicated channel would be the ideal solution to many of the problems of editorial control which had been raised by MPs. Nevertheless, they had to recommend postponing such a step until the financial feasibility had been looked into in more depth as well as the technical problems involved in providing a reliable supply to people's homes.

But could MPs really want the public to see everything that goes on in the House of Commons? Many MPs were afraid that bringing the Commons into the living room of every constituent in the land would surely encourage serious scenes of disorder, both among MPs and from members of the public who were allowed to watch from the Strangers Gallery.

Readers may be surprised to find out that the "mother of parliaments" has in fact not been so bashful as to shy away from her own brand of publicity stunts. One of the most notable examples was when three lesbians abseiled into the House of Lords as part of a gay rights demonstration. The idea that television could be sufficiently controlled so as not to show such behavior was ridiculed as "like saying that if television had been there when Abraham Lincoln got shot it would have concentrated on the play."

Some of the most experienced MPs however, warned about the use of over-stringent rules against disorder. One of their number warned that if Parliament was to remain at the center of politics, "it must allow people to bring their anger here. . . . It is the day when they do not bother coming here, but take the bus to Brussels or picket the BBC, that I will be frightened."

Yet disorder was not only to be feared from visitors in the Strangers Gallery but from MPs themselves. Many argued against televising on the grounds that it would encourage publicity stunts among the honorable gentlemen. Some recalled how on one occasion not so long ago about 30 left-wing MPs had staged just such a protest by standing in the middle of the Chamber while one of their number hurled the papers of the speaking government minister in his face, causing the Speaker to suspend the House. Opposition members, on the other hand, preferred to raise the case of the Conservative MP who lost his temper and swung the heavy mace, symbol of Commons authority, above his head so as to threaten left-wingers singing. "The Red Flag," thereby earning himself the nickname "Tarzan."

The select committee took such fears seriously and included strict rules forbidding the showing of such behavior. Some MPs argued that these rules were unnecessary and perhaps even counterproductive, insisting that it was the right of the constituents of an offending MP to see how he behaved, so that they might "take vengeance at a later stage." Moreover, other MPs pointed out that such stunts had begun long before the advent of television. One even told of how his own father had knocked out an opponent in the Chamber because of a disagreement.

Despite this opposition, in 1989 the select committee announced strict rules to govern the broadcasting. The actual feed of pictures would be supplied by an independent company and a supervisor of broadcasting would be appointed to ensure the experiment was carried out according to the rules. It was decided to have a one-year trial period of televising beginning in the autumn of that year. During this period the BBC and independent television channels used the supply of material not only in their main news broadcasts but also had live broadcasts of debates and question times every afternoon.

The broadcasters had all tended to agree with those MPs who felt the rules of the select committee to be too tight and added that these limitations were more likely to force them into giving a distorted image to the audience. An example was the restriction on showing the reactions of MPs to what is being said about them.

An example of this occurred when an MP asked how Margaret Thatcher would feel if she had spent 27 years in prison. At this the shadow foreign secretary, being close to a microphone, was head to say, "as she should." The resulting shouting and disorder meant that the camera had to go to focus on the Speaker's chair, according to the rules. However, Mrs. Thatcher had actually been laughing at the remark, a telling reaction which the television audience had not been allowed to see.

When deciding how successful the experiment had been, findings by independent observers that reporting of Commons affairs on the national television news had increased by at least 80 per cent had to be taken into account. A survey by Leeds University did find that government ministers tended to dominate the daily news, but this was seen by many as an unavoidable result of the fact that ministers are the ones whose decisions are put into practice and who the public want to hear most.

Some backbenchers, on the other hand, in trying to find ways to get themselves seen on television, have resorted to abusing Commons procedures. The most blatant example of this has been the increase in the number of questions asked of ministers that are either irrelevant or merely promoting a party line. Just as prevalent has been the raising of points of order, which the Speaker must hear, yet which often turn out to be no more than an attempt for a certain MP to be seen.

It is not really surprising that the exciting and witty theater of the main debating chamber has made good television. More surprising perhaps has been how successful coverage of some of the select committees has been. Their businesslike atmosphere may be less entertaining for many than the witty and aggressive question time in the Chamber, yet televising has certainly contributed to a greater public awareness of their work as well as forcing ministers and civil servants to take them more seriously.

As for the problem of disorderly behavior among MPs, the presence of the cameras does seem to have actually improved their conduct. Observers have noted that the viewing public are most impressed by those speakers who keep calm and show that they can handle bad behavior from their opponents. Commenting further on public reactions, the political editor of the BBC said that when he spoke to church groups in his home area, he was "very favorably surprised by their reaction. They think it's very interesting. . . . I do think they understand better what's going on in Parliament."

MPs were generally happy that the television coverage had been fair between the parties, although one MP complained that the smaller parties were being squeezed out of live coverage when the main television programme ended at 4 p.m., before their representatives could be called. On the other hand, an opposition front bencher believed that televising the House "had helped the small parties very considerably." The opposition front bench spokesman on Scotland added that the Scottish backbenchers had been helped by the coverage they were given on Scottish television. Some MPs did feel that too much attention was given to the confrontation between the prime minister and the leader of the Opposition, however, and that more attention should be given to providing background information about how the Commons works.

The overall reaction from MPs was that the experiment had been a success, and in 1990 they voted to allow the televising of the Commons to continue under the supervision of a standing select committee. With the eventual goal of setting up a dedicated channel providing unedited coverage. But there were still skeptics, with some warning that the broadcasters were on their best behavior and that their demands might increase. Other dissenting voices were those who continued to object strongly to the intrusion of the cameras as on aesthetic grounds. As one MP put it: "There is a degree of mystery about the House of Commons which has its attractions. I can think of other things in life which are more mysterious and more interesting with their clothes on them than with their clothes off. And the House of Commons is one of those which is more interesting with its clothes on."

Some of the most surprising favorable reactions have not come from MPs or journalists, however, but from overseas. The Irish watched the experiment closely and judged it to be such a success that they decided to introduce a similar system into their own parliament with no experimental period. Yet even more unexpected has been the large audience in the United States attracted to Prime Minister's Questions. The London Times recently reported that there are even demands from some Congressmen for Capitol Hill to have its own question time. Television has apparently led many in Washington to find the cut and thrust of Commons questions to be more democratic than the rather less dramatic proceedings of their own system.

[Picture Caption]

Oliver Cromwell defended Parliament against the king but ended up a dictator himself. Statues outside Parliament tell the story of democracy.

Sometimes the democratic way of life needs to be protected from violent challenges. This is the scene as emergency services rush to Whitehall following the February 7 IRA mortar attack on Downing Street.

(Above) Some people may think the Speaker's garb is anachronistic but hi s wig and gown symbolize the authority of tradition. (courtesy house of Commons)

(Below) Facing each other in cramped conditions the parties engage in vigorous debate--usually witty but sometimes overheated. The mace which was swung in anger can be seen. (courtesy House of Commons)

Worried about ratings? When a debate on the Gulf was interrupted for a film the complaints flooded in.

Close-ups of the MP speaking wide-angle shots are all permitted but the rules are strict. Any disorder means the cameras must focus on the Speaker until calm is restored.

Sometimes the democratic way of life needs to be protected from violent challenges. This is the scene as emergency services rush to Whitehall following the February 7 IRA mortar attack on Downing Street.

（Above） Some people may think the Speaker's garb is anachronistic but hi s wig and gown symbolize the authority of tradition. （courtesy house of Commons）

（Below） Facing each other in cramped conditions the parties engage in vigorous debate--usually witty but sometimes overheated. The mace which was swung in anger can be seen. （courtesy House of Commons）

Worried about ratings? When a debate on the Gulf was interrupted for a film the complaints flooded in.

Close-ups of the MP speaking wide-angle shots are all permitted but the rules are strict. Any disorder means the cameras must focus on the Speaker until calm is restored.