Narrator: In 2014, Nigel Evans, a Conservative Member of Parliament, was acquitted of all charges after a lengthy and harrowing trial. But his relief was short-lived. He was soon presented with a legal bill for £130,000. To his shock, he discovered he couldn't claim back all his costs. The reason? Sweeping cuts to legal aid that his own party had pushed through Parliament. Evans, who as Deputy Speaker hadn't voted on the legislation, admitted, "It’s only when you actually go through these sorts of trauma that you see the first-hand consequences." This moment, where a lawmaker only understands the true impact of a law when it affects him personally, lies at the heart of a deep and troubling question. How does a system designed to represent the people produce politicians so disconnected from the laws they create?

In her book Why We Get the Wrong Politicians, journalist Isabel Hardman provides a forensic and often damning answer. She argues that the problem isn't just a few bad apples, but a political ecosystem that is systemically flawed. It’s a system that deters good people from entering, warps those who do, and is structured to produce policies that are often ineffective, unfair, and profoundly out of touch.

Narrator: The journey to becoming a Member of Parliament is a brutal endurance test that systematically filters out ordinary people. Hardman reveals that the process is prohibitively expensive, emotionally draining, and demands a level of personal sacrifice that few can afford. Aspiring candidates often spend years and tens of thousands of pounds campaigning for a seat with no guarantee of success.

This is powerfully illustrated by the story of Rowenna Davis, a Labour candidate who moved to Southampton Itchen, a highly marginal seat, two years before an election. She and her team raised £150,000, recruited hundreds of volunteers, and distributed half a million leaflets. She funded her full-time campaign through debt and the generosity of others, putting her life on hold. Despite this monumental effort, she lost. Hardman shows this isn't an isolated case; it's the norm. The system rewards those with independent wealth, powerful connections, or an almost superhuman single-mindedness, rather than those with valuable real-world experience. This financial barrier is particularly high for women, who, according to a Fabian Society survey, are almost twice as likely as men to say they couldn't afford what they needed for their campaign. The result is a Parliament that is unrepresentative from the very start, filled with people whose life experiences are vastly different from the majority of the population they are meant to serve.

Narrator: For those who survive the gauntlet and win a seat, Westminster is not a welcoming or effective workplace. Hardman describes it as a shock to the system. New MPs are thrown into a bewildering environment with no formal training, no clear job description, and no performance appraisals. This lack of structure is compounded by a toxic culture. The intense pressure, long hours away from family, and a pervasive drinking culture create a perfect storm for personal crises.

The book details how this environment contributes to high rates of mental illness, alcoholism, and relationship breakdowns. The tragic story of Charles Kennedy, the former Liberal Democrat leader, serves as a stark warning. A brilliant and popular politician, Kennedy’s struggle with alcoholism was an open secret in Westminster for years, yet the institution was ill-equipped to support him. His career and ultimately his life were cut short by an illness exacerbated by the pressures and loneliness of political life. Hardman argues that Parliament is a machine that is exceptionally good at finding and exploiting personal weaknesses. This pressure-cooker environment not only harms the individuals within it but also fosters a culture of subservience, where MPs are more focused on survival and career advancement than on their duties as legislators.

Narrator: One of Parliament's primary functions is to scrutinize legislation, yet Hardman argues it does this job shockingly badly. The system is designed to favor the government of the day, turning the legislative process into what many MPs describe as "theatre." The main tools for scrutiny, known as bill committees, are often dismissed as a "pointless ritual." Government MPs on these committees are expected to be loyal "yes-men," while opposition MPs have little power to make meaningful changes.

The experience of Dr. Sarah Wollaston, a Conservative MP and former GP, exemplifies this dysfunction. When the controversial Health and Social Care Bill was introduced in 2011, Wollaston, with her 24 years of experience in the health service, was a natural choice for the bill committee. However, she was told she could only join if she agreed to table only government-approved amendments. She refused, believing it would make a mockery of scrutiny, and was blocked from the committee. This story reveals a system where expertise is sidelined in favor of loyalty, and where genuine debate is stifled. As a result, bad legislation is frequently passed with minimal challenge, and its flaws only become apparent when it starts causing problems for people in the real world.

Narrator: The lack of diversity and effective scrutiny culminates in the creation of policies that are profoundly disconnected from the lives of ordinary citizens. Because Parliament is largely homogenous—dominated by people from similar educational and professional backgrounds—it suffers from a collective failure of imagination. Politicians and their advisors often design policies that look elegant on paper but are disastrous in practice.

The 2012 "Omnishambles Budget" is a classic example. Chancellor George Osborne introduced a series of measures, including a tax on hot pasties and static caravans, that disproportionately hit working-class families. The backlash was immediate and fierce, not because the policies were economically devastating, but because they revealed a government that simply didn't understand the lives of the people it governed. Osborne was forced into a series of humiliating U-turns. Hardman argues this is a recurring pattern. From the poll tax in the 1980s to cuts in working tax credits, governments repeatedly create policies without considering their practical implications. This happens because the problems of marginalized communities are often "out of sight, out of mind" for those in the Westminster bubble.

Narrator: Even when conscientious MPs try to hold the government to account, the system is structured to trap them. Hardman shows how the executive branch uses its power to control information and limit opportunities for scrutiny, particularly on the most critical decisions a country can make, such as going to war.

The 2003 invasion of Iraq is presented as the ultimate case study. Despite deep divisions and skepticism, Parliament voted to approve military action. The subsequent Chilcot Inquiry revealed that the government had presented flawed intelligence as fact and had failed to conduct any meaningful planning for the post-conflict phase. Parliament was unable to extract the necessary information to make a fully informed decision. A similar pattern emerged with the 2011 intervention in Libya, where a lack of post-conflict strategy led to the country's collapse into chaos. More recently, during the Brexit process, the government was accused of withholding economic impact assessments and using procedural tools to minimize parliamentary oversight. This demonstrates that the weakness of Parliament is not just an accident; it is a feature that the executive branch actively exploits to push its agenda, often with devastating consequences.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from Why We Get the Wrong Politicians is that public dissatisfaction with politics is not just a matter of personality; it is a product of a broken system. Isabel Hardman meticulously dismantles the idea that a few "bad apples" are to blame, revealing instead a political structure that actively deters good candidates, rewards conformity over competence, and prioritizes party loyalty above effective governance. The result is a Parliament that is too often disconnected from the public, incapable of proper scrutiny, and prone to producing harmful policies.

The book leaves us with a challenging question: if the very machinery of our democracy is flawed, can it ever be fixed? While radical change like separating the government from Parliament seems unlikely, Hardman suggests that smaller, incremental reforms—like empowering parliamentary committees and changing the incentives for MPs—are possible. Ultimately, the challenge is to create a system where being a good, thoughtful legislator is more rewarding than being a loyal yes-man. Until then, we will likely continue to get the wrong politicians, and with them, the wrong policies.