In recent weeks, many tears (and quite a bit of virtual ink) have been spilled over the decline in parliamentary standards. No political party has emerged unscathed.

Fatalism is tempting. You could say that disorderly conduct is simply a natural by-product of democracy’s cut and thrust. Indeed, some argue that the very idea of civility is hostile to marginalised voices, merely a tool to protect the interests of the powerful.

No. If we abandon civility in politics, we lose more than we realise.

G.K. Chesterton’s surrealist novel The Man Who Was Thursday tells the story of a lone detective thrust into a world of madness and absurdity. Sound like Parliament much? As the ground seems to fall away, the protagonist, Detective Gabriel Syme, remarks:

“Well, if I am not drunk, I am mad… but I trust I can behave like a gentleman in either condition.”

Civility is not earned by circumstance; it’s a restraint we place upon ourselves. The colosseum of politics, far from being an exception to rules of decorum, is in fact character’s perfect test.

Sadly, the recent conduct of parliamentarians across the house has not lived up to this ideal. Standards have dropped even compared to the ordinary practice of very recent history.

The punishment for the Te Pāti Māori MPs’ haka has been laid down. Views have differed about the justice of their ultimate sentence. Even the debate over that was childish. The constant barrages of interruption, one MP proposing dropping out of the Treaty for the duration of the suspension; Winston Peter’s disgraceful comments about Rawiri Waititi’s moko need not be repeated. The gravitas of Adrian Rurawhe was a notable exception.

Civility is not earned by circumstance; it’s a restraint we place upon ourselves.

The censured MPs will return, and the business of parliament will go on.

Until the next time… and the next.

Let’s stop lamenting the coarsening of political life. We need to rebuild.

How to begin? Many have blamed the present chaos on the Speaker of the House. His loose reins approach to managing debate in the house certainly hasn’t helped. Rulings need to be quicker, and more strict. A long leash has choked our civility.

One further suggestion, recently proposed by Liam Hehir is removing parliament TV. When MPs speak in the house today, they no longer speak to one another but to social media audiences, eager for clicks and confrontation. Performance is rewarded over substance.

Of course, as G.K. Chesterton pointed out, external constraints only go so far. So long as MPs condition their behaviour on how they are treated by others, decorum remains hostage to partisan brinkmanship. The best antidotes to incivility?

Commit to the old niceties. Please. Thank you. Address one another with surnames and honorifics. Behave as if every member of the house is trustworthy and honourable. Such traditions aren’t arbitrary, they keep open lines of communication when political hostilities sharpen.

Civility in politics matters. Not because your fellow party members deserve it, nor even your opponents (though both do). The institution of parliament deserves it. Democracy deserves it. Indeed, we deserve it.