Fundamental Ideas in Constitutional Theory
We might begin by asking ‘what is the basic purpose of a constitution?’. One influential answer, at least in Western constitutional thought, has been that constitutions are necessary in order to control the power of the state; another strand in that train of thought emphasises the role constitutions play in ensuring that that power derives from a legitimate source. On the one hand, it tells us how power may be used; on the other, from where it should derive. To the first idea may be attributed the notions of the Rule of Law, and the separation of powers, whilst the second is clearly related to the notion of democratic legitimacy.
As for what makes a constitution ‘legitimate’ or ‘lawful’, different scholars give different answers depending upon their legal-philosophical stances. A positivist approach7 argues, that in the end a constitution becomes binding and legitimate, simply by working, that is, by acquiring the acquiescence of at least the bulk of the population, and of state officials, like judges and civil servants. As we shall see, similar arguments are made about the basis of parliamentary sovereignty, traditionally the UK’s ultimate rule.8 Clearly, such an account says nothing about what a constitution ought to do or its content. David Feldman however suggests that such a view treats states simply as ‘robber bands writ large’:
When St. Augustine asked, ‘What are states without justice but robber-bands enlarged?’ he was putting his finger on a key question for political theory. The difference between bands of robbers and states is that states are, or should be, organised through their constitutions in such a way as to limit the robber-band’s capacity to use its powers in arbitrary, anti-social and unaccountable ways. In short, constitutions subject states to moral values and principles, thereby converting brute force into legitimate authority. They do this partly by adhering to traditional modes of operation where those have acquired their own authority over time, and partly by explaining, interpreting, or changing those modes in the light of currently acceptable normative standards.9
Some of the complexity in discussing constitutions arises from the fact that the term is used in a number of different ways: Anthony King notes that the Oxford English Dictionary has a total of eight definitions.10 He starts with the simplest and least contentious, whereby a ‘constitution’ refers to:
The set of the most important rules and common understandings in any given country that regulate the relations among that country’s governing institutions and also the relationship between [those] governing institutions and the people of that country.
As he notes, under this definition, all countries have constitutions, save for collapsed or ‘failed states’.11 Plainly also, under this definition, Britain has a constitution; moreover, it is ‘wildly misleading’, he argues, to say that it does not have a written constitution: ‘What Britain lacks is not a written constitution but a codified Constitution, a Constitution with a capital “C”, one that has been formally adopted.’12
King goes on to argue that the significance of the distinction between ‘written’ and ‘unwritten’ constitutions is generally exaggerated. He notes the ‘hundreds of pages of constitutional legislation’ existing in the UK and concludes that, ‘To describe the UK constitution, against that background, as unwritten, is simply bizarre’.13 He then goes on to distinguish constitutions, as simply the way the system of government operates, from the notion of constitutionalism, as a set of ideals—the kind of thing that David Feldman was referring to.
A King, The British Constitution (2007), pp 6–9, 10–13
Much of Britain’s constitution is, indeed, unwritten. The role of the prime minister is not provided for by statute [and], the Cabinet is not mentioned anywhere in statute law … Similarly, although the institutions and practices of local government are subject to innumerable statutes, no single statute defines the role of local government in Britain’s overall constitutional structure. However, the fact that much of Britain’s constitution is unwritten does not distinguish the UK from most other countries, including countries with codified, capital-C Constitutions. To take an obvious example, the US Constitution nowhere explicitly empowers US courts to strike down federal statutes and other acts of government on the grounds that they are unconstitutional (as distinct from merely illegal). Those who wrote the US Constitution did assume that the courts in the new system would play such a role, but they felt no need, perhaps for that very reason, to draft a formal constitutional provision along those lines. They thought a ‘common understanding’ rather than a formal rule would suffice. And they were right. Led by Chief Justice John Marshall, the US Supreme Court in Marbury v Madison in 1803 struck down a clause of the Judiciary Act 1789 on the grounds of its unconstitutionality. The court did not thereby amend the US Constitution, but it certainly amended the US small-c constitution (albeit along lines that had already been anticipated).
More generally, almost no country with a capital-C Constitution provides in its Constitution for one of the most significant features of any constitutional order: the country’s electoral system. [King points out that the US, French and German countries do not specify this]. Yet clearly any democratic country’s electoral system constitutes one of the most important rules regulating the relationship between that country’s governing institutions and its citizens. The type of electoral system that a country has profoundly influences the structure of its party system, the particular parties that people choose to vote for, the way in which shares of the people’s vote are translated into parliamentary seats, the ways in which governments are formed and the ways in which, having been formed, they proceed to govern.
Not only do capital-C Constitutions quite commonly omit to cover matters of high constitutional importance: they quite commonly contain provisions relating to matters that are of no constitutional importance whatsoever. The aforementioned German Constitution solemnly declares that ‘All German merchant vessels shall constitute a unitary merchant fleet.’ Even better, the Austrian Constitution [describes in detail the coat of arms of Austria] [while] … the Constitution of Iceland insists that ‘the President of the Republic shall reside in or near Reykjavik’. Capital-C Constitutions are not always the Solomon-like documents they are sometimes made out to be.
None of this is to say that codified Constitutions do not matter. Of course they do—or may. The fact that the US Constitution provides that ‘the President shall be Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States’ gives the US president enormous power in times of international conflict, as the wars in Korea, Vietnam and Iraq amply demonstrated. It is merely to say that the observer needs to keep his or her eye on the Big Picture—a country’s small-c constitution—and not be over-concerned with what happens to be written down and what happens not to be. In the specific case of Britain, although the country is far from acquiring a capital-C Constitution, more and more of its small-c constitution, as we shall see, has come to be written down in recent years.
It is worth exploring the implications of this distinction between constitutions and Constitutions a little further, if only in the interests of avoiding confusion.
Because the UK has no capital-C Constitution, it has no legal mechanism designed specifically for the purposes of bringing about changes in its constitution. All upper-case Constitutions contain provisions for their own amendment—usually provisions that call for quite complicated procedures outside the usual norm and requiring some kind of super-majority to be obtained—but a Constitution that does not exist cannot be amended in that sense. Indeed the British constitution is never ‘amended’; it is only changed. It can be changed either as...