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What is the collective noun for tsars? The reason I ask is that we seem to have so many of them now: tsars for drugs, homelessness, older people, antisocial behaviour and now, it seems, social care.

But surely the whole point of being tsar is that there should be no one else like you in the world, or at least in Holy Mother Russia, which covers a large part of it.

The tsar of all the Russias wielded unlimited and unquestioned power. His smile spelled success, his frown death. So why have we started to use the term to describe a particularly useless political crustacean attaching itself to the wreck of representative government which is currently in dry dock at Westminster?

What is the point of tsars, exactly? The argument in their favour is that, by focusing on one issue only, they will be able to cut through the crap, setting out what needs to be done and getting the various branches of government to follow their lead.

In terms of our modern political culture, this is about as relevant as Thomas More’s Utopia or William Morris’s News From Nowhere. Modern government is gross. It is bloated, dropsical and lethargic, like George IV when he became too large to move around, and had to be carried about in a carriage scattered with cushions. If we were to personify modern government it would be like Alice in Wonderland, bursting out of a house too small for her.

Government has, of course, long since outgrown the House of Commons. Despite the explosion of ministries and ministers, with whole teams carrying out roles that used to be performed by one person, the extent to which MPs

are in charge is slight. Ministers have limited control over their senior officials, and risk being removed if they go against their advice. And that is before we take into account the special advisers, the publicists and the consultants, who wield far more influence than most of our elected members.

Some MPs can hardly be bothered to turn up to parliament to vote, never mind join in the debates, and we repay the compliment by not bothering to turn out at election time.

The sad truth is that, as government has taken on more and more roles, it has become less and less effective. Politicians are perceived as being unable to get a grip on even the most vital and undisputed responsibilities of government, such as maintaining law and order.

Health and education, those twin pillars of the modern political world, are scarcely considered as being seriously improvable now. We just accept that many people are going to get a rubbish service, and that the chancellor will inject another few billion into them at some stage just to show he cares. As for those wilder fantasies of politicians - that they can make us nicer people by promoting equality, tolerance, diversity and social inclusion - it is probably kinder to draw a veil over them.

Despite this, politicians feel that they have to be seen to be doing something. In the old days - and you don’t have to go back to the days of periwigs for this - the cabinet would formulate a policy to address an issue, which the responsible minister would put into effect. The minister would be accountable in the House of Commons, members of parliament were accountable to their constituents, and the government was held accountable at the ballot box. But who can be bothered with all that now? It is so boringly democratic.

How much more exciting to go on Richard and Judy, or some similar outlet of iconic status, and announce a sweeping new government initiative to be headed by - guess who - a tsar! My goodness, we voters are meant to think, this means the government really is getting serious about drugs/homelessness/(fill in the blank here).

The fact that nothing happens because the poor tsar is the merest puppet of political expediency is beside the point. Before we even notice that the tsar has been deposed, another one has been appointed somewhere else. It is all part of the rich tapestry of political life. Lots of spin, targets, initiatives and crackdowns, but nothing changes, except our tax bill. And we wonder why young people cannot be persuaded to vote.

Robert Whelan is the deputy director of Civitas.