Floating Voters

Countries in the Former Soviet Union have a broader franchise than many western countries, including the UK.

First, they have overseas polling stations so that citizens living abroad can vote. These are usually in the relevant embassy. This right is not always taken up; a tiny proportion of Ukrainians living abroad register and vote. Anecdotally, a Moldovan working in London told me that that she went to her embassy on a Sunday morning, a few years ago, but there were no ballot papers. Anyway it’s nice that the option theoretically exists.

Secondly, voters can throw a sickie and ask for the ballot box to come to them. I have seen instances of this on both my previous missions. Anecdotally, a seasoned observer told me that she accompanied a mobile ballot box to the bedside of a terminally ill patient accompanied by a representative from the polling station and a policeman. The voter was emotional as he marked his ballot paper and she felt it was a special moment for him – and for her too.

Thirdly, polling stations are located in prisons and mental hospitals. I have been to a women’s prison on a previous mission. Another seasoned observer told me that he had been to a mental hospital. The Ukrainian polar station adds an ‘l’ to become a polling station on Election Day if the head of station so requests. Likewise, ships at sea on Election Day and flying the Ukrainian flag may ask to be a polling station.

But now let us turn to Great Britain.

”To be or not to be a member of the British Parliament is a question of very considerable moment in a man’s mind. Much is often said of the great penalties which the ambitious pay for enjoying this honour; of the long and tedious hours of unpaid labour; of the weary days passed in the House; but, nevertheless, the prize is one very well worth the price paid for it – well worth any price that can be paid for it short of wading through dirt and dishonour.

No other great European nation has anything like it to offer to the ambition of its citizens; for in no other great country of Europe, not even in those which are free, has the popular constitution obtained, as with us, true sovereignty and power of rule. Here it is so; and when a man lays himself out to be a member of Parliament, he plays the highest game and for the highest stakes which the country affords.

To some men, born silver-spooned, a seat in Parliament comes as a matter of course. From the time of their early manhood they hardly know what it is not to sit there; and the honour is hardly appreciated, being too much a matter of course. As a rule, they never know how great a thing it is to be in Parliament; though when reverses come, as reverses occasionally will come, they fully feel how dreadful it is to be left out.

But to men aspiring to be members, or to those who having been once fortunate have again to fight the battle without assurance of success, the coming election must be a matter of dread concern. Oh, how delightful to hear that the long-talked-of rival has declined the contest, and that the course is clear! Or to find by a short canvas that one’s majority is safe, and the pleasures of crowing over an unlucky, friendless foe quite secured!”

So wrote Anthony Trollope in Doctor Thorne published in 1858. Incidentally, British MPs were first paid in 1911 – £400 a year, if you are interested.