The idea that a substantial number of life peers gained their seats without having really deserved them is deeply embedded in the British subconscious. Intermittent reports of a life peerage granted to a friend of Boris Johnson or an ally of Margaret Thatcher has, over time, imbued in the British public a general sense that political, financial and familial connections have made many a lord. Rather unsurprisingly, the results of our investigation confirm that these suspicions are true–even more so than you might expect.
When the latest round of life peers were announced in the political dead zone of the Friday before Christmas, any hopes that the Labour-led government would break from the decades-old system of patronage were killed stone dead. The prime minister’s list of 30 appointees, like the lists of his predecessors, was dominated by former MPs, party apparatchiks, Labour loyalists and family members of high-ranking politicians.
There was an ennoblement for Sue Gray, Starmer’s former chief of staff; there was another for Wendy Alexander, the sister of trade minister Douglas Alexander, and there was one for Carwyn Jones, former Labour Welsh first minister. Among other Labour allies, Thangam Debbonaire, the former shadow cabinet minister who lost her seat unexpectedly at the general election, was handed a place.
Although lacking the law-making power of the Commons, the Lords has an important advisory role in British democracy—it can’t block legislation introduced by the Commons, but it can scrutinise it and offer amendments. The upper chamber is made up of three main groups—hereditary peers, bishops and life peers. There are the 26 seats spared for the clergy—which makes Britain, alongside Iran, one of only two countries that automatically awards clerics votes in their legislature.
Famously, there are also up to 92 hereditary peers who inherit their seats from their parents, some of whom trace their mandate back to the Norman Conquest. The days of these aristocrats in parliament, however, may be numbered after the Commons passed a bill (which now has to make it through the Lords) to remove the hereditary peers from parliament in November. In comparison to these two groups, life peers, who comprise the bulk of the house (687 out of 799 seats), appear the most qualified of a very unqualified bunch.
However, a comprehensive review of the 500 life peers appointed since May 2010 indicates that instead of any unique expertise, a connection to one of the main political parties is the real kingmaker in the life peerage appointment process. Since 2010, our analysis reveals that 59 per cent of the life peers appointed to the Lords are either ex-politicians, Spads or major donors.
While the bishops and hereditary peers have sat in the Lords for centuries, life peers have only been a feature of the chamber for 66 years. In 1958, the new class of peers was created when Harold Macmillan’s Conservative government introduced the Life Peerages Act. The titles of these new lords and their membership of the upper chamber would only last their lifetime and could not be passed onto their children.
In 2023, on the 65th anniversary of the act, Lord McFall, the current speaker of the House, hailed the addition of life peers as having delivered “an injection of fresh blood and intellectual vigour” into the institution, by allowing for “peers appointed for their expertise in the realms of politics or business or science or the arts.” Today, according to McFall, the House of Lords represents “the nation’s finest thinktank.”
However, when viewed in the aggregate, our data suggests that individuals are being granted life peerages based on their political affiliation, and not any “expertise in the realms of politics or business or science or the arts.”
172, or 34 per cent, of life peers appointed during the 14-year period of our review are former politicians who have sat in the Commons, the European Parliament or one of the devolved parliaments or assemblies.
A further 74 have served as political advisers or senior party figures, while 22 are former council leaders. Finally, 29 are major political donors, who have donated at least £100,000 to political parties or candidates. Overall, this means that 297, or 59 per cent of the life peers appointed since 2010, are overtly party-political appointments.
The Lords exists to hold the lower chamber to account, scrutinise its legislative proposals and suggest amendments to them. Its role is to kick the tires of the laws to make sure that they’re sturdy. Apart from the obvious detriment caused by a dearth of expertise in the House, the tendency to select political appointees also fundamentally undermines the House’s independence from the Commons. If Lords are not independent from those introducing the legislation, how can they objectively examine it?
The ennoblement of political friends of parliamentarians is not the only problematic strain of nepotism rife in the appointment system. Our analysis indicates that a remarkable number of life peers are actually the family members of parliamentarians past and present.
Although few recent prime ministers (two out of the last eight) have pulled on the ermine robes, their relatives are well represented in the chamber.
There is a place on the red benches for Lord Soames, Winston Churchill’s grandson. There’s one for Baroness Jay, a daughter of Jim Callaghan, and another for Lord Johnson, a brother of Boris. There’s even a place for Baroness Bonham-Carter, Herbert Asquith’s great-granddaughter.
There are at least twelve children of peers in the House—Baronesses (Catherine) Smith, Chisholm, Jay, Bonham-Carter and Harding, as well as Barons Vaizey, Wolfson, Waldegrave, Maude and Palumbo, and lastly, the married duo Viscount and Viscountess Hailsham. The ranks of this group will soon be bolstered by the newly minted Toby Young and Simon Pitkeathley, who also had lords for parents.
The offspring of MPs are well represented in the chamber as well—both Baroness Morris and the late Baroness Roe had parents in the Commons (Jenkins also had a grandparent), while the former Labour leader John Smith’s widow and daughter were also granted life peerages. Conversely, Baronesses Rebuck, Blake and Osamor as well as Baron Boswell, Deben and Kinnock are all parents of MPs or ex MPs, and Baron Horam’s stepson, Lincoln Jopp, was elected as an MP for Spelthorne in July. Starmer’s recent appointees, Sue Gray and Margaret Curran, both have sons sitting in the House of Commons.
Even within this exclusive set, several lords rise to the top. Baroness Dido Harding (of test and trace fame) is a daughter of the hereditary peer Baron John Harding, married to cabinet minister John Penrose and also a university friend of David Cameron. Lord Deben, former Tory cabinet minister, sat in parliament for many years alongside his son Ben Gummer MP and his younger brother Lord Chadlington.
In a highly competitive field, the life peer with the most familial bonds to Members of Parliament past and present has to be the recently ennobled Lord John Cryer. Both of Cryer’s parents were Labour MPs. He himself became Labour royalty and sat for a long time as an MP and chair of the Parliamentary Labour Party. Cryer kept it in the Labour family as well—marrying cabinet minister Ellie Reeves, the sister of Chancellor Rachel Reeves.
It’s difficult to pinpoint which exact life peers were given their seats because of who they knew. However, when taken together, our data produces a picture of a system that has become a refuge for rudderless ex-politicians, a reward for donors and party players and a way for politicians to grant power to those they love.
The web of familial, commercial and political ties binding life peers to other parliamentarians casts doubt over the qualification of many appointees, and whether the House maintains arms-length independence from the chamber it’s tasked with holding to account.
If parliament wants to function effectively and shed charges of elitism, it should stop acting like an elite members’ club. A reformed upper chamber appointment system that relies on public votes, or even one that selects its members on merit, might have been a good place to start. However, the impending success of the bill to banish hereditary peers will probably satisfy parliament’s appetite for reform—pushing dreams of a radical overhaul into the far distant future.
