The Hansard Revolution – Digitisation of Production
The computer network that reporters and sub editors today take for granted in the production of the daily Hansard began life as a pioneering exercise when nothing quite like it existed elsewhere. It sprang from a discussion I had in December 1989, shortly after I became the Editor, with Dr Paul Freeman, the Controller of Her Majesty’s Stationery Office (HMSO), which provided the House with all its print services including the printing and distribution of Hansard.
At the time, newspapers were using well established electronic print technology, and HMSO itself had dispensed with hot metal typesetting nearly 10 years before. Wasn’t it time that Hansard took advantage of computerised production, asked Dr Freeman.
It was against this background that the Official Report embarked on a programme of change that was unprecedented in its scale and complexity in what at that time was its 80-year history.
The first step was to find someone who could devise and build the bespoke system that could meet Hansard’s stringent requirements. The words “time critical” and “no fail” seemed to be being bandied about a lot.
As the department had absolutely no internal knowledge or experience of computers, a submission was made to add an IT expert to the department’s staff establishment. It was refused, but there was a loophole. At that time, any increase in the number of staff required the approval of the finance department and of the House of Commons Commission, neither of which had been forthcoming. However, House departments were free, without seeking permission, to employ contractors, who were paid from a different part of the budget. Thus, Andrew Hardie, something of an IT genius, was retained to do the job and given a free hand.
The new system was developed in an atmosphere of scepticism and near hostility among the then IT establishment in the House. The prevailing attitude, with much shaking of heads and tut-tutting, was that Hansard was opting for the wrong system, that the project was doomed to failure and that it would be a huge waste of money.
I was told that we should be putting our requirement out to tender to a major IT provider to procure a system that it would design, build and install. My view was that our requirement was so specialised that we knew better than anyone what it needed to do, and we were determined to retain control.
The danger was that outsiders would provide a system that required us to work in a way that suited their design. We wanted a setup that conformed to our ways of working, that did not require us to change our methods to conform with their system.
Only by doing it ourselves, I felt, would we be sure of achieving that, but it involved us taking a major risk. If, after all the warnings, we had spent a great deal of money and failed, the consequences did not bear thinking about. As the Editor, I was determined both that we should retain control of the operation and that it should succeed. With my reputation and, quite possibly, my job on the line, I had more sleepless nights than I could count.
However, opposition to what I proposed was not restricted to those outside the department. There was among the staff an element of resistance to such a major upheaval in the way people worked, derived from uncertainty and a natural antipathy towards change. I recall one occasion when I summoned the staff to a meeting in one of the Commons Committee Rooms to explain how we were progressing and where we were headed. It was an opportunity for the doubters to voice their objections.
One angry reporter said that if I pressed ahead with this “foolhardy” venture, there would be a “massive haemorrhage” of staff from the department. I asked where those who left expected to get another job. The answer was that there were plenty of shorthand writing jobs in the private sector to which the disaffected could migrate. “And when you arrive at this new job,” I pointed out, “the first thing they will do is sit you in front of the very computer that you are leaving Hansard to avoid. And you won’t get the pay and conditions and prestige of working in the House of Commons.” I explained that the world was moving on, that computer technology was bringing change, and that we had to embrace it.
Events were to prove me right.
A pilot debate reporting system was devised and installed in December 1990. Initially a small number of stand-alone PCs was purchased to enable Andrew to design the basic structure and prove its viability. The installation consisted of four machines for typists, which were located on the lower floor of the Wendy House, and three for subs, which were established in the subs’ room.
The cramped conditions of the reporters’ room meant that there was no room there for the three machines they had been allocated. At that time there was a small reporters rest room, which is the room that is now to be found opposite Caroline’s office on the right as one enters the reporters room. It was there that three PCs were located. It had to be refurbished for the purpose.
Staff were trained in the use of WordPerfect, at that time the most popular word processing programme. This was long before Microsoft Word had conquered the world. With the traditional system, the copy was moved from typist to reporter and reporter to sub as sheets of paper, which were then worked on with a ballpoint pen before being carried in a leather case to the Hansard Press by a messenger who travelled by van. Under the new arrangement, paper was replaced with floppy discs and the copy was processed on screens. This initial stage of the project was a success and it led to the purchase in March 1991 of more equipment to enable the creation of a network.
Andrew installed a main server operating across a network allowing communication between the typists’, reporters’ and sub editors’ computer terminals. The pilot network went live on June 10 of that year. For the first time, turns could be transmitted electronically across the system and floppy discs were dispensed with. At this stage, the final output of copy was still on paper. It was still collected by messengers and, in the traditional way, taken in relays to HMSO’s print works, the Hansard Press, off the Old Kent Road, for rekeying into their electronic system.
Some things never change in the Palace of Westminster. One of them is the desperate shortage of space as 21st century politicians strive to work in an environment designed to meet the needs of their 19th century predecessors. That lack of accommodation presented a major problem. A precondition of the introduction of electronic production was providing the staff with working conditions that met the demands of best health and safety practice. That meant giving them more room to work in.
On this aspect, staff, unions and management were agreed – no extra space, no computerisation. Our initial request was met by the House authorities with a shrugging of shoulders. There was, we were told, nowhere for us to expand. Not so. We had our eye on the room that since time immemorial had been occupied by The Times just across the landing from the reporters’ room. I had worked there as a reporter for that paper before joining Hansard.
Our bid to take over the room provoked a controversy that went as high as the Speaker and the Leader of the House, who told me in a fraught meeting, “I can’t afford to upset The Times – none of us can!” I pointed out the irony of a newspaper whose ownership had created the biggest upheaval in the history of newspaper production with the introduction of computer technology, complaining of the consequences when Hansard wanted to do the same thing.
As we now know, Hansard prevailed, but it would take time to relocate The Times and carry out the necessary building work to convert the accommodation to meet Hansard’s needs. However, by the return from the 1992 summer recess all the changes had been made and the full network was operational. The subs moved into the Times room and the reporters came back to find their old home much enlarged, smelling of fresh paint and gutted and refitted to encompass what had been the old subs room. It was fully equipped with the new desks and PCs.
The project was a complete success. At a time when stories were circulating of disastrous and extremely expensive failures of computer installations in Government Departments, the Hansard debate reporting system never failed. It never crashed and not one turn was ever lost. An enormous amount of work was devoted to it, most of it carried out by Andrew and by the Department’s own newly created IT section, which was housed in the less than wholesome environment of the Wine Cellar.
It is difficult to overstate the scale of their achievement. They were creating from scratch a computer system such as had not existed before. It was a system that could not afford to fail. The non-appearance of Hansard the next morning would almost certainly have been raised on the Floor of the House, and the Editor would have been summoned to appear before the Speaker to explain what had gone wrong. We were engaged in a high stakes endeavour.
Thus, it was pioneering work. Although there were hiccups along the way, the fact that it ran without a major hitch was a testament to the skill and determination of the people who were working on it. A crucial contribution was made by the staff - subs, reporters and typists - whose suggestions and feedback enabled Andrew and the IT team to cut and shape the specification to meet what was required and to progress to a full system that was the genesis of that which operates today.
The actual date when we moved to full electronic production and transmission of copy to HMSO has eluded diligent research. However, the success of the project was demonstrated on the first all-night sitting under the new regime. Under the old arrangement, the daily Hansard carried everything said in the House up to 10.30pm. The night manager at HMSO and I decided that the all-nighter provided the opportunity to really go for it. Members and the other House departments were astonished to receive the next morning an extra thick copy of the daily part. It was delivered to the Vote Office on time at 7.30am and contained all the proceedings up to 2.45am. That was the night we knew we had succeeded.
The benefits of the computerisation of Hansard production are numerous. In 1992, the House assumed responsibility for the printing budget. Hansard’s system enabled that budget to be cut by millions of pounds a year.
In another first, Andrew devised an ingenious on-line search engine that was made available within the House on its internal network. Researchers, particularly in the Library, fell in love with it for the facility if provided. Unfortunately, it did not survive the millennium date change and it was discontinued at midnight on the last day of the 20th century.
I consider that the most valuable spinoff from computerisation has been the easier and wider availability of Hansard. When Margaret Thatcher became Prime Minister, the price of Hansard was 80p. Curiously, in the past the responsibility for fixing the price of Hansard had rested with a junior Treasury Minister in consultation with the Prime Minister. The incumbent would go along to Number 10 every year to discuss the matter with the Prime Minister of the day.
When she was approached on the topic, Mrs Thatcher asked, perhaps unsurprisingly, “How much profit does Hansard make?”
“Profit, Prime Minister?” the astonished Minister responded. “It doesn’t make a profit. We have to subsidise it to keep the price at 80p.”
“What? Then get rid of the subsidy,” was the Iron Lady’s command.
The subsidy was eliminated, and the cover price of Hansard soared to £5. The increased price pushed the publication beyond the reach of the man or woman in the street. Not that the person in the street actually went to their newsagent to buy it, but they were able to see it in their local library. That ended when the price went up, as many libraries could no longer afford to put the publication on their shelves.
The advent of the Parliament website and the internet availability of Hansard means that today everyone can see it free, can see in what Tony Benn once described to me as “Britain’s only uncensored newspaper” what their elected representatives are saying on their behalf.
None of that would have been possible without Andrew’s groundbreaking work, a partner in the form of HMSO whose people leaned over backwards to help us, a Hansard management that was prepared to take risks, and a dedicated staff who, in spite of some initial misgivings, were determined to make the system work.
Ian Church, Editor, Official Report [Hansard] 1989-2002.