Restoring sovereignty: Syria executive decision shows that restoring powers, a core Brexit promise, is less about Brussels than Cabinet government at Westminster

The central promise of Brexit was that it would restore the UK's sovereignty. That political process in Britain would be 'reclaimed', for the people. Yet the central organ of political sovereignty, Parliament, continues to be sidelined.

The executive decision by the Prime Minister to order the Syria strikes, without Parliamentary approval, shows we're still a long way from restoring Parliamentary Sovereignty. At Westminster, the centralisation of power is still the rule.

For years politicians of all stripes in Britain spun the illusion that Westminster was shackled. Europe, largely without a voice in the British political media, took the blame for the intractability of Westminster.

Saying goodbye to Brussels means it can no longer be used as an excuse. Politicians will need to either find a new scapegoat, or finally get on with much needed reform - like turning back the tide of centralisation, that has concentrated power and money in Britain a long, long way from the hands of the people.

Reluctance to reform remains. The Conservatives in government under Theresa May would rather use contemptible words like 'betray' about their opposition - officially titled, it should be noted, Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition - and accuse them of 'doing down Britain' when they dare to criticise the government.

Brussels may be swapped out for a different scapegoat - whether it's Brexiters calling opponents 'enemies of the people' and 'undemocratic', or the Labour right-wing painting Corbyn, Momentum and the Left in much the same light - but the result is the same. The people are told: there is no alternative.

This is the theme behind all of the scapegoating. The centralising, globalising, marketising, status quo must continue. There is no alternative. In Europe or out, Westminster won't brook the fragmentation of the political power that keeps us on that path. It can't be considered, because the status quo might also fragment.

The decision to take military action without a Parliamentary debate is a whole matter unto itself. Two previous debates on bombing in Syria were split. Action against Assad was rejected in 2013, but action against Daesh was passed in 2015 - though not without criticism from the Foreign Affairs committee over the evidence base.

This time, the process was ignored - perhaps because it could not be counted on to give the 'right' answer. The dangers inherent to the choice to avoid a debate are real enough for the Syria issue alone - there is a clear consensus that military interventions come with substantial risk of creating ungoverned spaces that open the door organised criminals and terrorists.

But there is an underlying point of deep importance for Britain and the idea of Parliamentary Sovereignty. Executive power was used and Parliament was left out of a critical decision - and with it, so too was democratic oversight. Again.

It is easy, and perhaps tempting for some, to pin this all on Theresa May. She has pursued a path in power of taking advantage of every executive privilege, every obscure power. She avoids oversight. Denies transparency, at every turn.

But Theresa May is a Prime Minister inheriting a system and exploiting it, working in a narrow political moment. The problem is bigger than her and is the legacy of her predecessors, with no distinction for parties and historical circumstances.

It does not bode well that Parliament again finds itself frozen out of a critical debate. The wielding of unchecked executive power is not the restoration of sovereignty. It is that from which sovereignty must be restored.

Leak of the Panama Papers is our regular reminder of the huge credibility problem politics in the UK still faces

New revelations, about new scandals, do little to reassure a public jaded with the political process when they aren't followed up with definitive, fair and progressive action. Photograph: Protesters outside the 2015 Conservative Party Conference in Manchester .

Politics in the UK has a credibility problem. It has existed for some time. Back in 2010, before the Liberal Democrats ran into their own credibility problems, their election campaign sparked interest by drawing critical attention to a political era of empty rhetoric, deceptive spin and broken promises (Clegg, 2010).

Long locked out of power by Labour and the Conservatives, the Lib Dems were well placed to capitalise on public discontent with a political system that had also locked out the public. The 2008 crash was recent history and the deception of the Iraq War was still fresh in people's minds.

The announcement of yet another leak filled with scandal, showing billions being hidden systematically in offshore accounts (Harding, 2016) - made possible through endless technicalities and loopholes - should cause outrage. Yet the story feels like it is falling somewhat flat (Sherriff, 2016).

After standing down as Liberal Democrat leader in 2006, the late Charles Kennedy wrote that:

"The danger in all of this is that if sufficient people conclude that there is nothing in the conventional political process for them then they may opt for more simplistic and extreme options on offer. I remain an optimist. But across the mainstream political spectrum there is a candid recognition of the danger."

The era of austerity has not repaired public trust. Scandals keep being unveiled - like the HSBC scandal or the Google Tax Deal - and they never seem to be resolved. Like the banks after the crash, there is some awkward shuffling before business as usual quietly resumes.

All the while, our political and economic systems are toppling out of balance (Garside, 2016). With rising inequality, even homelessness, everyday life has begun to feel precarious for those outside of the highest echelons, as the Conservative government strips back basic social security.

And yet, even though the Conservative Party overseeing all of this seems to be riven with insurmountable contradictions that should pull it apart (D'Ancona, 2016), there doesn't seem to be a definitive alternative ready to step up. Labour, the most obvious opponent, finds itself in much the same situation.

Revelations of hidden billions and loopholes, by journalists, really aught to make the viewing public hopeful. In its own way, it shows civic institutions holding the powerful to account. The trouble is that with each subsequent scandal, and each subsequent failure to follow through and reform on the part of the accused institutions, the public instead becomes more jaded - not least when the scandals are of the media's own making or they are implicated.

Transparency isn't about invasions of privacy. It is about a system with clear rules, without loopholes, based on fair principles. Officials with clear and accountable powers. Public and private bodies with clear and accountable responsibilities. Without these things, without transparency, the credibility of any system will quickly be lost.

Without credibility, people are driven away disaffected - believing that fairness will not be observed or that change is not possible. It calls into question why one individual should fulfil their responsibilities when others do not and remain unaccountable. Social participation, at that point, is reduced to little more than the result of fear and coercion - people coerced into participating in an unfair system to which there is no alternative, for fear of losing what little security they have.

Rebuilding trust, and credibility, begins with transparency. But revelations alone are not enough. They're just a moment in time. These moments must be turned into momentum. Progress is turning these moments into a permanent ongoing process. A process structured around vigilance, fairness and reform.

Ideology in politics is unavoidable, but transparency should be as well - we need the facts to scrutinise policies and the societal ideal they are designed to build

As Romano Prodi, former President of the European Commission and Prime Minister of Italy, put it: the incorrect way to use facts is as a drunk uses lamp posts - more for support than for illumination. Photograph: Lamp Post in Rome from Pixabay (License) (Cropped)

Yesterday, George Osborne went before the Commons Treasury Committee to answer more detailed questions on the budget he announced last Wednesday (Sparrow, 2016). The Chancellor and his budget came in for some difficult questions.

During the hearing it was disclosed that, since the Coalition ended, the Chancellor had stopped analysis that would have showed, as the Institute for Fiscal Studies (IFS) analysis shows, that the budget appeared to be redistributing money from the poorest to the richest (Stone, 2016). The Chancellor's defence was that he believed that the statistics provided could be misleading, and make deficit reduction look like "a bad thing".

According to both Iain Duncan Smith and the IFS, the welfare changes will disproportionately - for the obvious reason that welfare is mostly needed by those in lower incomes - hurt the poorest 20% (Inman, 2016). It was this fact that Osborne was accused of attempting to hide by changing the way the Treasury analysed the budget impact.

Playing with facts to suit political purpose is bad enough on its own. But this was also the suppression of facts - showing austerity and deficit reduction, at the present time and by the present methods, appear to be disproportionately damaging to the poor - in order to protect an ideological political project (Dudman, 2016).

Yet the problem is not so much the ideological motivation. As Romano Prodi put it, the incorrect approach to using facts is as a drunk uses lamp posts - for support rather than illumination.

In order to reduce so called 'welfare dependence', Osborne has ignored the data in order to treat welfare as the problem in and of itself - rather than a symptom. That means ignoring the fact that high welfare bills are the result of its corrective role.

In reality, welfare at its best is a safety net that helps to guarantee basic freedoms and at worst can be criticised as a form of corporate welfare, when policies like tax credits or the personal allowance subsidise companies paying low wages - but either way it is a redistributive mechanism that anchors the affluence of the rich to the wellbeing of the poor.

In both cases a high welfare bill is a symptom. It represents people struggling with low or no incomes, a lack of access to affordable housing and a lack of opportunity (Johnson, 2015). But as conditions improve, as the low incomes turn into living incomes, housing becomes more affordable and greater opportunity spreads, the welfare bill decreases.

Ideology is an inescapable aspect of politics. It is the philosophical view of what the world is, the ethics of how to behave on a personal level and the shaping of society around those beliefs to enhance them and produce the ideal outcomes. But that is no excuse for a lack of transparency.

If the Chancellor believes that there is a positive outcome in the changes he is making, he should have no fear in these statistics. He should be able to explain how his changes fit his ideological narrative, and produce, from his perspective, a positive outcome.

Instead of trusting people with the facts, the people are shown fragments designed to fit a narrative. If people are to hold those in public office to account they need the facts. Vigilance can only do so much, without access to the facts and openness from public office holders and parties as to the big picture, broad context narrative, that they see written in the data.