Hear! Hear!

After watching emerging nations make a shambles of parliamentary democracy, sympathetic observers often point out that it took Britain's mother of parliaments some 700 years to achieve its civilized way of functioning. Perhaps they should take another look. In the House of Commons last week, lawmakers were behaving more like a Saturday-afternoon soccer crowd than Honorable Members.

Historically, the House has been a lively cockpit. In 1901, twelve Irish M.P.s were hauled from their seats by police when other efforts to eject them failed. In an attempt to make debate more seemly, Speakers of the past have banned "grossly insulting language" and the use of such words as villain, hypocrite, murderer, insulting dog, swine, Pecksniffian cant, cheat, stoolpigeon and bastard. In the 1880s, one Charles Bradlaugh was refused his seat because he was an avowed atheist. When Bradlaugh tried to take it anyway, he battled ten Bobbies to a draw until he fainted from his exertions.

Banged Ear. In recent years, Tory Leo Amery crossed the floor to slap the face of Laborite George Buchanan; Labor's Emmanuel Shinwell, outraged at a reference to his Polish ancestry, punched Tory Commander Robert Bower (once an amateur boxing champion) and damaged his eardrum. Conservative Ronald McNeil obtained a sort of immortality by throwing a book at Winston Churchill; he missed.

Britons of both major parties have been disturbed by the current rowdiness and inanity. Last November, on the occasion of his maiden speech as Prime Minister, Harold Wilson was howled down by offended Tories. A fortnight ago, both Wilson and Opposition Leader Sir Alec Douglas-Home could scarcely speak above the din. Members on both sides bawl "Shut up!" and "Withdraw!" at each other. Documents are waved, fists shaken, and at times several members are on their feet simultaneously, shouting repetitious points of order whose only purpose seems obstruction.

Tossed Paper. Last week the House was at it again. On the Tory side, former Defense Minister Peter Thorneycroft charged Labor with bad faith and suggested that it would soon cancel the TSR2 plane contract with British firms and buy U.S. planes instead. Thorneycroft read an account from the Daily Express in which Wilson, in an election speech, reportedly told aircraft workers that the TSR2 would not be abandoned, and that their jobs were safe.

Wilson had been lounging back with his feet on the table. He leaped up and demanded that Thorneycroft read what was printed lower down the page--namely, the words he had actually used, which merely said that Labor would treat the TSR2 exactly as had the old Tory government. As Wilson repeatedly heckled him, Thorneycroft flung the paper across at the Prime Minister. Wilson threw it back, shouting "Since the Daily Express had the honesty, will you have it now and read those words?" Thorneycroft petulantly tossed the paper back, crying "You find it, you read it!" Wilson's riposte was: "Since you cannot read, I will do it for you." Having done so, Wilson once more hurled the paper at Thorneycroft and strode from the chamber.

Most Britons see a kind of charm in such raucous give-and-take, but some are beginning to find it a bit too much. The Guardian has called for televising Commons debates in the hope that it "would make some of the bores and exhibitionists think twice," and the Sun last week joined in, arguing that TV "could end the bellowing fatuity of some M.P.s."

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