Lessons for Kenya from constitution of Britain and the play King Charles III

One of the great “aha moments” of my life came when I was an economics undergraduate at University College London in the mid-1960s.

It arose not so much from being introduced to the mysteries of economics itself but from two of the associated courses.

One was on the history of political philosophy, where I learned about the theories of everyone from Plato to Marx and the other was on the British Constitution.

Any mention of Britain’s Constitution makes me think of Walter Bagehot. He was an undergraduate at UCL about 120 years before me, and later became editor-in-chief of the Economist.

(So distinguished was he during his 17-year tenure that until today his name features as the title of a column in the magazine.)

Bagehot first published The English Constitution in 1867, and a 1963 edition that includes an extensive introduction by Richard Crossman (a renowned politician of the day) still sits on my bookshelf.

Bagehot did a great job describing the ins and outs of the separation of powers — an issue with which we Kenyans are annoyingly familiar now that our 2010 Constitution has introduced so many new checks and balances.

Bagehot not only examined the sharing of power between the three arms of government, he also laid out how the flow of power had migrated over time from first the monarch then, with the advent of the “constitutional monarchy”, to the House of Lords, and then to the House of Commons, once MPs became elected by universal suffrage.

Later, these MPs came to be considered more as “lobby fodder” than power barons, voting in debates according to party instructions. It was now the cabinet they notionally elected which became their virtual board of directors.

The migration did not stop there. In more recent times even the authority of Britain’s cabinet has eroded, as a result of both the rising influence of civil service technocrats and the hiring of an increasingly large and powerful phalanx of prime ministerial advisers, supporting what came to be a more presidential style of government — a model that Kenya is increasingly adopting.

The key element in Bagehot’s analysis came with his no-nonsense contrast of government institutions between two categories: the “dignified” and the “efficient”.

All this was brought vividly to mind on a recent visit to London, when I saw King Charles III, a play set in the not too distant future that starts with the funeral of the present Queen.

Soon after, Prince — now King — Charles is confronted with an agonising dilemma: he is asked by his Prime Minister to assent to a new law that threatens Press freedom.

But despite the many ways in which he and his family have been abused by the media, Charles feels the bill goes much too far and refuses to sign.

This provokes a constitutional crisis, as for a long time the role of the monarch has been but to “advise and consent”, formalising whatever parliament decided.

With King Charles though, exerting mere behind-the-scenes influence is not enough for such a strong-willed man of principle.

Oh dear. The head of government threatens to introduce a bill abolishing the need for the king’s sign-off, as a result of which Charles dissolves Parliament… which refuses to pack its bags.

I’ll hold back from revealing the final resolution to the crisis, in case some of my readers have the opportunity to see the play.

Instead, let me conclude with some comments on the constitutional stresses and strains it reveals, and how they relate to what is happening in our far younger democracy here.

For many years now, the British style of democracy — despite (or maybe even thanks to) the absence of a written constitution — has provided a stable yet flexible arrangement of governance.

The various components have understood and accepted the limitations to their power, and have learned how to exert appropriate influence vis-à-vis the other elements.

That is why the constitutional crisis envisaged in Charles III is so fascinating, showing that even in such a mature society as Britain’s the balance of powers can become so quickly and so easily unbalanced.

Watch in dismay

Here in Kenya we watch in dismay as the leaders of our various branches of government grapple non-stop in their zero-sum power games, constantly manoeuvring for tactical advantage.

Governors fight with Senators and with their County Assemblies, Parliament with the Judiciary, the Executive with the Legislature, and the Senate with the National Assembly, each flexing their constitutional muscles.

“Chapter XX of the Constitution clearly states…” starts almost every argument, always justifying relative supremacy… and a claim to being more “efficient” while relegating the other party to the more “ceremonial” (or, to use contemporary parlance, “sycophantic”).

In these early days of applying our still novel constitution, far too much energy is being devoted to testing the limits of the very clever checks and balances that have been built into it.

Too few mediators are on hand to help with the much-needed alignment, while the media takes particular delight in covering the most combative voices.

Watching King Charles III in action I was reminded of an earlier article in which I had declared myself Dictator-in-Chief, thereby eliminating all the time and money wasted on elections and political squabbling.

I also remembered that a few years ago Prince Charles (no joke) was offered the crown of Romania (the country of my ancestors — again no joke), where he had acquired some properties.

So now, dear readers, I proudly announce that Kenya is to become a monarchy, under His Majesty King Michael I. Only to warn and to advise, you understand.