The oldest building in the palace is Westminster Hall. Originally constructed in 1097, its famous hammerbeam roof has yawned over the great and good of British politics since the 14th century.

Much of the rest of the original structure burned to the ground in 1834, after workers accidentally set the place on fire.

The flames were visible for miles around.

“There was an immense pillar of bright char fire springing up behind it, and a cloud of white, yet dazzling smoke, careering above it, through which, as it was parted by the wind, you could occasionally perceive the lantern and pinnacles, by which the building is ornamented,” read a contemporary report in the London Times.

After the catastrophe, a competition held to reimagine and rebuild the parliament was won by Charles Barry and Augustus Pugin. It is their design — a neogothic structure glinting with gilt and presided over by gargoyles — that we see today.

The estate was damaged again during World War II. Again, rescuers prioritized Westminster Hall, while the Commons chamber collapsed.

It is from this reconstruction that the building’s inner workings date: a vast network of sewage, heating and wiring systems that were projected to reach the end of their life in the 1980s.

Over time, the estate has expanded. The Norman Shaw buildings were added in the 1970s and Portcullis House in 2001. A site that hosted some 1,000 workers in 1945 is now the workplace of around 3,000 researchers, office managers, clerks, librarians, security guards, catering staff and cleaners.

It’s that vast army of employees, as well as the U.K.’s elected representatives that will have to somehow be worked around if the Palace of Westminster is to get the upgrade it clearly needs.

In 2016, a cross-party committee of parliamentarians was convened to study the problem.

They concluded that the ad hoc approach to fixing the palace’s mechanical and electrical problems is unsustainable. “It is like trying to fill a bathtub with a thimble while the water is draining out of the plughole at the other end,” read their report.

“Three-quarters of the work will be replacing the ancient mechanical and electrical services,” said Alexandra Meakin, a politics lecturer at Leeds University and a former Commons employee. “Since most of these reached the end of their expected lifespan decades ago, parliament has been living on borrowed time.”

The committee also proposed a solution: what has become known as a “full decant” — moving MPs out of the Palace while a full-scale restoration is carried out, including the gutting and replacement of the dreaded basement.

Three separate reports over the next two years — by the independent “sponsor body” created to oversee the work, the National Audit Office and the Public Accounts Committee — concluded that a full decant was the safest and most cost-effective option.

But not everybody agrees that moving out is a good idea.

Last year, the House of Commons Commission — a powerful management body chaired by the Speaker, Lindsay Hoyle — asked the sponsor body to study whether the works could be carried out with the “continued presence” of MPs in the Palace. 

That exercise, carried out at a cost of £5 million, again found that a full decant would be cheaper and faster than any scenario in which MPs remained on the estate.

Not long after that, the Commission moved to abolish the independent sponsor body altogether. The body’s director has resigned, and other employees expect it to be wound up within months.

In its place, it will be up to MPs and peers in the House of Lords to decide how to carry out the refurbishment.

A full decant is likely off the cards.

At its heart, the debate revolves around how best to honor British democracy.

Should the priority be to preserve its storied seat? Or in an age of financial uncertainty, is it disrespectful to British voters to focus on the pomp of parliament?

Many MPs are mindful that they were elected on a promise to “level up” the country — that is, to address the deep-seated regional inequalities across the United Kingdom. 

“Before I became an MP I worked in the real world,” is how one MP, Duncan Baker, put it. “We never shut any of our businesses, ever.

“But what I do believe repeats itself is human nature — and the inability of the inhabitants of the Palace of Westminster to get their act together about saving the building.”