I sit in the House of Lords – and here’s why getting rid of 92 hereditary peers won’t fix it | Jenny Jones

Before I was appointed to the House of Lords, I was very clear that there was no place for hereditary peers. For me, they illustrated parliament’s stuffy feudal roots and provided a reminder of how the UK is still struggling to emerge from a past where a select group of people (almost all public school-educated white men) were born to rule. Getting rid of this ridiculous anomaly , as Labour has announced it will do , may seem a long overdue reform – but my view on it is a little more complicated than one might expect to hear from a Green party peer from a council estate in Brighton.

Out of about 750 hereditary UK peers, only 92 may sit in the House of Lords: there is a process of limited democracy to vote them in by ballots of different ranks within the House. Rather ironically, they, unlike the rest of us, actually stand for election. It is, of course, absurd to be given that opportunity because of the family you were born into. But the application of some – those known for their hard work and expertise in various areas – has surprised me. While a few are huge landowners, the hereditary peers also include actors, computer technicians and an artist. Some you would never know were hereditaries at all. No posh accent, no airs or graces, no languid manners.

One aspect of the house I found surprising after being appointed in 2013 is that once you are in, it is oddly democratic. Yes, some people are listened to more than others, but that’s often because they usually have something worthwhile, or funny, to say. Others, with status in the outside world, are considered irritating and even boring. (Personally, Alan Sugar comes to mind.)

One crucial example of the value of individual hereditary peers was over the issue of sewage. As a house, we lords have limited powers, but sometimes we put our collective foot down and force the government to really listen. This happened with sewage two years ago , when it was the Lords that reflected the public’s anger at the water companies making billions of pounds for their shareholders by dumping sewage into our rivers.

I found myself getting behind a major rebellion led, extremely politely, by the Duke of Wellington, an Eton-educated hereditary peer and landowner. His key amendment led to a government shift, but more importantly, it forced sewage (as an issue) into every MP’s inbox as the public demanded better.

I’m not mounting a defence of privilege. I’m a firm believer in a wholly elected second chamber, which has been Green party policy since I tabled a bill on this in 2014. But I do find the latest meagre reform from Labour slightly puzzling. Why pick on hereditary peers while leaving the corrupt system of prime ministerial patronage? One effect of that cronyismis that the House has far too many non-attenders, who just take the title and run off.

Why get rid of hereditary peers but leave the 26 bishops in place? I like the moral authority bishops bring to debates, often raising the vital issues of deprivation and poverty. But does having them vote on legislation still make sense in a country where less than half the population identify as Christian and fewer than two out of every 100 people regularly attend Church of England services?

Meanwhile, the cash for peerages scandal , along with a long list of dubious appointments by Boris Johnson, show that our system may be open to exploitation by prime ministers giving titles to party donors and those who have provided political favours. It is a process open to corruption.

Getting rid of hereditary peers is just a tweak. It won’t solve the many problems with our current unelected chamber. It is typical gesture politics, which will briefly look good, cause plenty of hassle with painful debates to get the legislation through, but not actually achieve very much.

Our House will remain undemocratic, overcrowded, dominated by silly archaic practices and unrepresentative of the British population. We need a second chamber that is representative of the regions, elected by a form of proportional representation and operating in a modern parliamentary building, rather than a wonderful museum. The government really ought to know better.

• Baroness Jenny Jones is a Green party peer