Our democracy has always been among the strongest and most settled in the world. It relies on respect for the laws made in parliament, on an independent judiciary, on acceptance of the conventions of public life, and on self-restraint by the powerful. If any of that delicate balance goes astray – as it has, as it is – our democracy is undermined. Our government is culpable, in small but important ways, of failing to honour these conventions. Where governments fall short, candour is the best means of shoring up support. But that candour must be freely offered – not dragged out under the searchlight of inquiries. If it is not wholehearted and convincing, the loss of public trust can be swift and unforgiving. We have seen that playing out in recent weeks. Trust in politics is at a low ebb, eroded by foolish behaviour, leaving a sense of unease about how our politics is being conducted. Too often, ministers have been evasive and the truth has been optional. When they respond to legitimate questions with pre-prepared soundbites, or half-truths, or misdirection, or wild exaggeration, then respect for government and politics dies a little more. Misleading replies to questions invite disillusion. Outright lies breed contempt. In our democracy, we are able to speak truth to power. But, if democracy is to be respected, power must also speak truth to the people. And yet, in recent years, it has not been doing so. There has been cynicism about politics from the dawn of time. We are told that politicians are “all the same”, and this untruth conditions electors to condone lies as though they were the accepted currency of public life. But politicians are not “all the same”. And lies are just not acceptable. To imply otherwise is to cheapen public life, and slander the vast majority of elected politicians, who do not knowingly mislead. But some do – and their behaviour is corrosive. This tarnishes both politics and the reputation of parliament. It is a dangerous trend. If lies become commonplace, truth ceases to exist. What and whom, then, can we believe? The risk is … nothing and no one. And where are we then? Parliament is an echo chamber. Lies can become accepted as fact, which – as the Speaker has pointed out – has consequences for policy and for reputation. That is why deliberate lies to parliament have been fatal to political careers, and must always be so. If trust in the word of our leaders in parliament is lost, trust in government will be lost too. At No 10, the prime minister and officials broke lockdown laws. Brazen excuses were dreamed up. Day after day, the public was asked to believe the unbelievable. Ministers were sent out to defend the indefensible – making themselves look either gullible or foolish. Collectively, this has made the government look distinctly shifty, which has consequences that go far beyond political unpopularity. The lack of trust in the elected portion of our democracy cannot be brushed aside. Parliament has a duty to correct this. If it does not, and trust is lost at home, our politics is broken. If trust in our word is lost overseas, we may no longer be able to work effectively with friends and partners for mutual benefit – or even security. Unfortunately, that trust is being lost, and our reputation overseas has fallen because of our conduct. We are weakening our influence in the world. We should be wary. Even a casual glance at overseas opinion shows our reputation is being shredded. A nation that loses friends and allies becomes a weaker nation. And when ministers attack or blame foreign governments to gain populist support at home, we are not taken seriously. Megaphone diplomacy merely increases hostility overseas. International trust may not be easy to regain. Our way of life is built around the maintenance of law. It was unprecedented when this government broke the law by proroguing parliament, to avoid debates on Brexit that might not have gone as they wished. I had promised, in a BBC interview, that if the government attempted to muzzle parliament I would challenge their action in court. So I did, though not as swiftly as the civil rights campaigner Gina Miller. Both our challenges were upheld unanimously by the supreme court, which ruled that the government’s actions were unlawful. The prime minister said he “disagreed” with the court, and the then leader of the house accused the supreme court judges of “a constitutional coup”. The government accepted the verdict, but in bad faith. It did not apologise – nor did it mend its ways. It went on to introduce legislation giving the government the power to break international law, albeit – as one minister conceded – “in a limited but specific way”. Fortunately, the issue fell away, but it was a proposal that should never have been put forward. It cut overseas aid – which parliament had set at 0.7% of GDP – without the prior approval of parliament (although this was obtained retrospectively). And this is the government that fought a referendum to “protect the sovereignty of parliament” and the sanctity of domestic law. All of this is against the backdrop of the prime minister being investigated for several apparent breaches of the ministerial code. He chose to ignore critical reports on his ministers; rejected advice from his independent adviser on ministerial standards, who resigned; and attempted but failed to overturn a unanimous standards select committee report that condemned the behaviour of a parliamentary colleague and friend. It may be possible to find excuses for each of these lapses – and others – but all of them, taken together, tell a different tale. There have also been attempted assaults on civil rights, not all of them successful. The government briefed, but rowed back from, a serious attack on judicial review: but the intent was there and may return. It proposed legislation to allow the police to “stop and search” anyone at a protest meeting “without any cause for suspicion”. It attempted to legislate to allow the police to impose conditions on protest marches likely to be “noisy”. These are not the only examples. If the power of the state grows and the protections of the law diminish, the liberties of the individual fall. The mother of parliaments should not permit this. We British are a kindly people. When appeals are made for those in distress – at home or abroad – the good heart of our nation responds with compassion and generosity. But increasingly across the western world, populist pressure leads governments to be less generous to refugees, asylum seekers and migrants. Here in the UK, the government wishes to remove British citizenship from dual nationals, without any notice or right of appeal. It proposes serious action against criminal gangs that traffic migrants – and rightly so. But it also proposes to criminalise the migrants themselves. We should search our souls before doing this. Can it really be a crime to be frightened, homeless, desperate, destitute, fleeing from persecution or war or famine or hardship – and to cross half the world on foot and dangerous waters in an unsafe boat in the hope of finding a better life? Of course, if the numbers are too large, this creates an appalling problem for local communities. But surely, to seek sanctuary from an unbearable life cannot – morally – be treated as a crime. Yet the government’s borders bill proposes to punish asylum seekers who take an unsanctioned route with a jail sentence of up to four years. These proposals are not natural justice, and are decidedly un-British. I hope the government will reconsider. The style of the government creates its own problems. It looks for enemies where there are none. Moreover, it then chooses the wrong enemies. Most recently, it has been waging campaigns against the civil service and the BBC. In neither case is this wise or justified – or even in the government’s own interests. The civil service is the support structure to government: treating it as a hostile “blob” that seeks to undermine the government is both foolish and wrong. As for the BBC, it is a crucial part of our overseas “soft power”, and a policy of undermining it and starving it of funds is self-defeating for UK interests. Ministers should remember that both these institutions are more trusted than the government itself. They should focus their attention on reforms to improve public life. It is time to refocus on how our politics is funded. The system needs cleansing. It must never be the plaything of the rich or of pressure groups, yet no one wants our politics fully funded by the state. Certainly, I don’t. Legislation should limit funding by individuals, by companies, by trades unions, to sums that no one can reasonably claim would entitle the donor to favours, rewards or undesirable access. Donors must not be seen to sway policy through an open chequebook. For many years, travelling the world, I have been received as the lucky representative of the most stable democracy of them all. It was a position of influence built up over centuries – envied, praised and copied. Trust matters. It matters to our parliament. It matters to our country. It matters for the long-term protection and wellbeing of democracy. John Major was the prime minister of Britain from 1990 to 1997. This is an edited version of a speech, “In democracy we trust?”, given at the Institute for Government on 10 February 2022