Rat and pigeon infestations and fire risk: the Palace of Westminster is falling apart

LondonThe state of British democracy is more serious than it appears at first glance. And not just because of the growth of the far right and of an English nationalism with a marked racist and xenophobic toneFrom a symbolic point of view, the situation is also alarming. There is no democracy without representation. And there is no representation without a stage. And the Palace of Westminster, the seat of Parliament – the House of Commons and Lords – the best theater in London by far, where a million people pass through each year, is falling apart. Literally. And it's infested with mice. So much so that one newspaper, with the usual wit of British tabloids, is talking about it as The Mouse of Commons, that is to say, the House of Mice wave Commons Mousetrap.

To remedy the situation, anecdotal compared to the enormous structural problems of the building, before the end of the year, in the midst of a climate of budgetary constraints and tax increases, parliamentarians will have to decide on one of the three possible options that it considers the renovation and restoration plan of the Palau. It is updated like this the 2016 project, which was shelved because the cost at the time—between €4.118 billion and €7.5 billion—was prohibitive coming out of the 2008 crisis. Time has only worsened Westminster's situation. And the bill now will rise much further.

With data from 2022, the latest available, the cost would be between €8 billion and €15 billion, and it could take between 19 and 28 years to complete. The options are: moving to nearby buildings while the works last—the Commons would go to the former Department of Health; and the Lords, to the Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre; a partial evacuation, in which the Commons stays, but the Lords leave and MPs use the upper house when theirs is being renovated; or a series of rotating repairs that allow everyone to remain inside. This last option is the least disruptive, but the most expensive and time-consuming. It is estimated that a higher budget of between 40% and 60% would be required.

The problem for the Labour government is that postponing the decision on what to do is no longer feasible. So far, this has cost €2.3 million a day in urgent and structural work, an expense that, however, only serves to patch the building as pipes burst, cables burn, and chunks of stone fall to the ground. Walking through the inner courtyards of the complex—Cloister Court, the cloister of St. Stephen's Chapel, next to the Commons—is to see a series of preventive networks designed to avoid tragedy.

Architectural collapse?

The current building, dating from the mid-19th century and built after the fire of 1834, is also under constant threat of fire. At any moment can burn like Notre-Dame, according to the experts, who collect it in the annual report on the condition of the property, December 2024. It read that "it is widely accepted that the Palace of Westminster is in need of major repair and restoration work," and that the fire at the Paris cathedral was "a wake-up call" to be heeded. There have been 44 fires in the last ten years, four of them in 2024. 24-hour patrols are maintained on the grounds.

Today, the Palace of Westminster has 22 kilometers of pipes and 400 kilometers of wiring, much of which is no longer working. The building is full of asbestos: 2,500 or so contaminated points (more than 1,000 incidents have been documented since 2016). The asbestos removal operation alone would require 300 workers for about two and a half years in completely unused premises; the heating is powered by steam, which explains why the offices and much of the nearly 1,200 rooms are always freezing. Even more so. The 19th-century Parliament's waste collection system is another structural problem. And the existing 126 levels also need to be adapted, because where laws are made to integrate people with disabilities, they should also be enforced.

Mice and cats to hunt them?

Official data also support the idea of The Mouse of Commons. The Parliament records show After a peak of 661 rodent sightings in 2019, they dropped to 231 in 2020; to 107 in 2021; and to 259 in 2022. The pandemic temporarily reduced their presence, but they have since returned en masse. Between January 2023 and 2024, 348 incidents were detected, including the presence of remains in kitchens; there were also 61 investigations relating to beehives, and 107 investigations into other pests, mostly pigeons.

Westminster operates a preventative program – though largely ineffective – with 1,755 mouse poison stations, pipe traps, and bird of prey huts to keep pigeons under control. A specialized technician works full-time, with support from external consultants, and during retreats, such as those this summer, or the current one, during the two weeks during which the annual congresses of the major parties are held, the cleaning and sealing of places where they can sneak in is reinforced: a chimerical task, because a mouse can easily get through an outside.

The situation is so grotesque that on June 5th the Labour Party member Anthony Gueterbock, Lord Berkeley, officially requested the Deputy Speaker of the House of Lords if they had considered "the use of cats for pest control throughout Parliament." Lord Gardiner of Kimble's response was negative, among other reasons because the "extensive building activity taking place on the grounds of the Palace [makes it impossible] to provide a safe living environment for a free-roaming cat; because of the risk of doors closing by themselves and leaving a cat trapped without support for significant periods of time; and because of the lack of repairs."

The seat of British democracy, a symbol of liberal parliamentarianism, rests on a 19th-century neo-Gothic decor incapable of adapting to the needs of the 21st century. The metaphor is obvious. And devastating. If MPs don't decide anything before the end of the year, and kick the ball forward again, it will be a statement of intent.