The Irish Constitution: Explained/Explanation
The Irish Constitution
I.
WHAT IS A CONSTITUTION?
During the early days of the second French Republic a customer entered a bookseller's and asked: "Have you a copy of the French Constitution?" "We do not," the bookseller politely replied, "deal in periodical literature."
Now, to any student of history such a story is a sure indication of the time of which it is told. He need not inquire to know that the time was one of revolution, change, and unsettlement. He also knows the mind of the people of that time, for insecure conditions beget a nervous, restless fear. And these things are significant. They reveal a quality of constitution-making that is not always, or easily, remembered. For whatever changes may proceed in legislation—however many and rapid they be—as long as the Constitution, written or unwritten, remains intact, the State at least is stable and its foundations are secure.
Plainly, therefore, nothing should be written into a Constitution that is of a temporary, experimental, or questionable nature, or which should fall to the lot of ordinary law-making and the changing convenience of practice. A Constitution is that which is permanent, as far as anything in this world may be permanent. Even to amend it, or add to it, requires in all countries (except England, where the Constitution has not taken a written form) a procedure quite different from that of ordinary legislation. To change it, or recast it, requires a revolution. Such a revolution may not be accompanied by bloodshedding, or it may, but it is certainly accompanied by insecurity and unsettlement.
It should, therefore, be the business of constitution-makers to prescribe only what to them is fundamental and irrefutable; to lay down the secure foundations of their "State; and to leave all other matters to the experience of the nation, without seeking to shackle that experience by .provisions that time may not commend. Otherwise, a convulsion may be necessary to get done what ordinary legislation could have accomplished without affecting the stability of the State.
This, then, is the first definition of a Constitution, that it contains the Fundamental Law of a State, and only the Fundamental Law. In England there is no such thing as a Fundamental Law. It is claimed by English constitutional lawyers that this is because Parliament is sovereign; but the historical truth is that in England Parliament exercises a sovereignty in fact which the King is supposed to exercise in theory; and any attempt to make the theory square with the fact by the writing of a Fundamental Law; would lead, perhaps, to a surprising situation.
Yet in England certain fundamental rights are recognised, with which Parliament would not lightly tamper; and these amount,in effect to a Fundamental Law, holding a higher rank than ordinary laws. In practically all other countries such rights are set forth in a document, different from all other legal documents, inasmuch as unless these other documents observe the conditions required in the first, and do not conflict with its provisions, they are null and void. In both sets of documents the laws of the realm are to be found; but the two sets of laws are of different sorts. One is fundamental and permanent; the other is by contrast casual and changeable.
This, then, is the second definition of a Constitution, not only that it contains the fundamental law of a State, but that it prescribes the manner in which all other laws must be made, and put limits and restrictions on all other lawmaking. In the American phrase, it is a "Frame of Government."
In English the words Constitution and Legislation do not carry on their face the relation of one to the other, and the distinction between them. In Irish the case is different. In Irish the word for Legislation is Reacht, and the word for Constitution is Bunreacht—fixed and foundation legislation. But even the distinction so simply carried on the face of these words does not complete the relation of one to the other. For that relation is precise; and consists in the fact that all laws comprising the Reacht must be built upon the foundation of the Bunreacht, and must be contained within the fixed limits of the Bunreacht, The moment they attempt to build elsewhere, or go outside those limits, that moment they cease to be binding on any citizen; and all citizens may claim the protection of the courts of law against them.
From this follows the third definition of a Constitution, which is that it contains the highest and completest sovereign act of a nation. A nation may confer a Constitution on itself, and that Constitution may contain no declaration that the people are sovereign; but the fact that the nation did so make their own Constitution is itself a declaration of sovereignty. Declarations of sovereignty in the body of a Constitution maybe very wise; and they are always pleasant; but they are not necessary. Similarly, a nation may make a (institution for itself, and in that Constitution confer the chief executive authority on a person to be known as a king; and that person may be known in name as a sovereign; but the fact that he derives his power from the Constitution is evidence that, not he, but the people, are sovereign. His is only a sovereign name; theirs is the sovereign reality.
Such Constitutions were made in 1814 by Norway, in 1830 by Belgium, and only last year by "Jugo-Slavia." In the last case the kingly line already existed before the Constitution was framed, and an oath was prescribed in it, according to which the King swore "to maintain the Constitution intact." In the first two cases the kingly lines were not chosen until the Constitutions had been framed, when the chosen dynasties stepped into the places appointed for them, and carried out the functions defined for them. In each case, however, the authority of the king sprang, not from the divine right of kings, but from the divine right of the people, as set forth in the sovereign act of giving themselves a Constitution.
How different the power of kings such as these from the power of the French monarch who in the 18th century declared, "L'Etat, c'est moi"—"I am the State." He was right. He was sovereign. Sovereignty had to reside somewhere; and until the people arose and declared that it resided in them, and expressed that declaration in a formal Constitution, it continued to reside in the ruler who claimed it.
When, however, in 1787, the thirteen American States "ordained and established a Constitution" for their Union, then in the modern world the people came by their own. France quickly followed the example, but as a result of the wars which followed the world was thrown back into reaction. Throughout the 19th century, however, the statement of democratic sovereignty as a fundamental law of the State found expression in Constitution after Constitution;v.with the result that now, in modern practice, the existence of a Constitution is practically identical with a statement of national sovereignty.
There has hitherto been one chief exception; and that exception is of striking interest at the present time. For within the British Empire the theory has been that there is only one sovereign assembly, the Parliament at Westminster. It is true that the Constitutions of Canada, Australia and South Africa were each drawn up by Constituent Conventions in the countries themselves; but by the prevalent theory none of these peoples were competent to confer these Constitutions upon themselves. They were not, that is to say, sovereign; and before the Constitutions they devised therefore could come of effect they had to be passed as Imperial Acts by the Parliament at Westminster.
Yet that also has now changed. Ireland has wrought the change; and the deep influence of that change cannot be foretold. For the Bail elected to pass the Constitution will act, not as a Constituent Convention, but as a Constituent Assembly. It will not only devise the Constitution, with the present Constitution before it as a Bill for discussion, but, having devised it, will prescribe it; and thus, through their elected representatives, the people of Ireland will have conferred it on themselves as their Fundamental Law.
That is a sovereign act; and that act will differ in no degree from a similar act by any other sovereign people. From this, however, one last consideration follows; and, though it is simple, it is not usually remembered. For if the passing of a Constitution is an act of full sovereignty, and if that Constitution, being a Fundamental Law, restricts and limits all future law-making, then the assemblies to come which will pass those future laws will not be sovereign.
They will not be able to do what they will, and they will not be able to act as they will, for they must obey the requirements and act within the limits of the Constitution, as prescribed by the first Assembly, which alone was of full sovereignty. For this reason every nation has gone to great care to choose persons of special competence for the body which is to act as a Constituent Assembly—^the body, indeed, which is to act as the first, and, so long as that Constitution shall remain, the last Sovereign Assembly of the nation. The act of prescribing a Constitution being the Highest act that a nation can make, care has always been taken to make it the fullest and the freest. For, once done, it cannot be undone, except at great trouble, and perhaps as the result of great convulsion.
II.
THE PLAN OF THE CONSTITUTION.
To draw up a plan is almost inevitably to express a philosophy. In shaping the sequence and proportion of the parts which are to comprise the whole, the trick of the mind will out; and it is in that trick of the mind that, ultimately, all philosophies are contained. Perhaps there are few who, after consideration, would deny this in all the ordinary (greater or lesser) concerns of life; but many will think it strange in a matter so dry as the drafting of a Constitution. Yet even in the drafting of a Constitution it will be found equally true.
A Constitution may be likened to a pyramid, the apex of which is the Executive Authority, and the base the People. The first question that therefore at once arises is, where shall one begin first with this pyramid? But before this question can be answered, another must first be met; and it is, whether the base is hung from the apex, or whether the apex rests on the base? What relation has the Executive Authority (whether kingly, presidential or consular) to the People, and the People to the Executive Authority; and which, names and titles apart, is ultimately the Sovereign? These are ripe questions; and only in the making of the plan can they be answered.
I have already shewn that the writing of a Constitution is itself evidence that the people are sovereign, even though no statement to that effect is included in the writing. But when one comes to look in the Constitutions of the world it is curious to note the persistence with which that truth is overlooked. The Canadian Constitution, for example, having provided for the Union of Provinces by which the Federation was created, begins at once with the statement that "the Executive Government and authority of and over Canada is hereby declared to continue and be vested in the Queen." Nothing has been said about a Legislature—nothing about the people of Canada. The Constitution begins at once with an Executive Authority which nothing has brought into being, and which therefore exists of its own right, original and indefeasible, all things else in the Constitution depending from it. The pyramid is hung from heaven, for the philosophy of the plan is to be found in the mediaeval myth of the Divine Right of Kings.
The Constitution of Canada consequently proceeds downwards from that apex to the Legislature; and in that Legislature, according to the philosophy, the Senate comes before the Commons. "There shall," it says, "be one Parliament for Canada, consisting of the Queen, an Upper House, styled the Senate, and the House of Commons." As for the base, it is found nowhere at all. The interest is exhausted before it is reached; and the People are not mentioned.
I have taken the Canadian Constitution because it is specially mentioned in the present draft of the Constitution of Saorstat Eireann; but the same supposition is found in many other constitutions, such as those of Denmark, Sweden, South Africa. In them are to be found the relics of the mediaeval theory of government, of a divine authority conferred on a family, which therefore ruled of its own right; and of its own grace summoned the subjects of that authority for counsel and advice. Therefore in these constitutions it is assumed that the sovereignty is above and the subjection below—even though no one to-day supposes that the practical facts are what they assume them to be.
In the Irish Constitution, as in most modern constitutions, this order is inverted. The sovereignty is below, and the subjection is above. Never once throughout the Irish Constitution (either in its original or its present form) are the people once considered as subjects, but always as sovereign citizens. The pyramid is based on the broad earth, in the divine right of the people; and a beginning is therefore made with the base, proceeding upward to the apex. The plan in fact is reversed because the philosophy is different.
The Contitution of Saorstat Eireann begins with the people, and with a statement of the sovereignty of the people. "All powers of Government," it says in Article 2, "and all authority, legislative, executive and judicial, are derived from the people and the same shall be exercised in Saorstat Eireann through the organisations established by or under, and in accord with, this Constitution." In this Constitution, therefore, the people of Ireland establish their own right, original and indefeasible, and all things and persons and institutions named or created by or under it depend from them. That is in the present, as it was in the orignial, draft. Whatever institution or organisation is established to act on their behalf, acts under an authority conferred by them; and in accord with the specific bestowal of that authority; and not otherwise. Whatever person or power is named, is named to act on their behalf; acts under the same authority; in accord with the specific bestowal of that authority; and not otherwise. The people confer of their own right; and what they may confer they may withdraw. If the authority they confer be abused or transgressed, it ceases thereupon to have any sanction or reverence, and possesses no binding effect. That is to say, in the terms of my figure, the apex of the pyramid rests on the base, is hung from no mythical divine right of kings, and has no support outside the people of Ireland.
The people, consequently, are citizens of a free state, not the subjects of authority. It is necessary, therefore, at once to state who are the citizens of this state, and what constitutes their citizenship. This the next article proceeds to define. In this article the whole question of future citizenship is referred to legislation. It properly belongs to legislation, since it includes a number of complex matters and details quite unsuited to a Constitution. Yet there must be an original citizenship, otherwise the service of the state could not begin. Article 3, therefore, states what constitutes the original citizenship of Saorstat Eireann; and leaves all matters "governing the future acquisition and termination of citizenship" to be "determined by law," making it a constitutional provision, however, that "men and women have equal rights as citizens." And Article 4 provides that the official language of that citizenship shall be the Irish language.
From these original citizens, and from whomever shall be admitted to citizenship in the future, all the authority of the State derives under the Constitution. They are the base of the pyramid, and it is they who in the Constitution (according to the plan on which it is framed) confer on certain persons and organisations definite powers of Government in Ireland. But the authority which can confer, can also withhold; and from the powers which they grant, certain matters are withheld. For there are matters which comprise the fundamental rights of their sovereignty, with which no Government created by them can interfere. If the Government had existed, or had claimed to have existed, of its own original right, it could, being itself sovereign, have acted as it pleased; and in past times it did so. But since Government under the Constitution exists only by reason of an authority conferred by a sovereign people, these Fundamental Rights of their sovereignty are kept apart; and no authority—legislative, executive or judicial—and no power of Government is conceded the right to touch them.
Therefore in the first section of the Constitution, where the original authority of the people is stated, certain matters are withheld. They are described as Fun^mental Rights. The liberty of the Person, the Inviolability of the Dwelling, Freedom of Conscience and the Free Practice and Profession of Religion, the Free Expression of Opinion, Free Assembly, Free Association, Free Elementary Education, and the Inalienability of Natural Resources, are each dealt with in successive articles as forming the essentials of these rights. Before any powers are conferred, before any organisations or institutions of Government are created, these matters are put to one side and reserved. They belong to the people. None shall interfere with them. The people are sovereign, and they so decide.
Such is the plan, for such is the philosophy. The first section of the Constitution, therefore, includes what may be described as the base of the pyramid, resting on the soil of Ireland and established in the right of the People of Ireland. From that base the pyramid is built up toward the Executive Authority, in section by section, giving the logical order in which power is derived. Each section is based on that which precedes it; for the order is the same as in the original draft, and therefore the plan is preserved.
III.
THE MAKING OF LAWS.
All powers of Government may derive from the people, but the people cannot of themselves govern themselves. In simple small communities the people may gather together and frame the manner of their government from meeting to meeting (and only then when ancient custom has given them the practice and expectation of such assemblies); but among nations for a people to discipline and rule themselves it is necessary that they bestow recognised and definite powers of government on representatives of their choice. Such representatives, to be sure, have a habit of conceiving that they are rulers of their own right. Cases have even been known where they have endeavoured to obstruct the right of the people to depose them. But the truth is that such representatives are merely a convenience. They are a people's instruments, and no more. Without them the achievement of a common agreement, and the formulation of laws based on that common agreement, would prove so cumbersome as to be impossible. A people must therefore tolerate them with good humour; and keep them under proper control. And when such representatives have been chosen, they together form an organised body for the making of laws, and for the supervision and control of the execution of such laws.
Obviously, then, once a Constitution has stated the sovereign source of all authority, and defined the fundamental rights of that sovereignty, it is essential that it should prescribe the manner in which laws shall be made for the 25 peace, order and good government of the whole people. The second section of the Constitution, therefore, deals with the Legislative Provisions of the State. The most important of these, manifestly, is the creation of an organisation of representatives; but, owing to the tendency of representatives to arrogate powers to themselves, of late years the peoples of many States have insisted on a direct voice in the checking, and even in the making, of laws. This direct voice has been exerted by means of two instruments known generally as the Referendum and the Initiative. Wherever these prevail, the Assembly of Representatives is given only a limited power in the making of laws, the sovereign authority reserving to itself a constant and continuous control over its action. And in our Constitution both these instruments are given a place. For it is a sound rule that the people are generally better than their representatives—wiser of counsel, more disinterested of judgment—and it is therefore provided in the Constitution that there shall be an Assembly of Representatives, but that the people may require of that Assembly that laws be referred to them for final decision, or that laws be made to suit their desire.
The most important part of these legislative provisions, however, is the setting up of a National Assembly, or Synod, to be known as the Oireachtas. This is to be formed of two Houses, Bail Eireann and Seanad Eireann. There are many' powerful arguments against the two-chamber system. In the end they all resolve themselves into a question of ultimate responsibility. In a simple illustration, if there be one thimble and one pea, it is easy enough to know where the pea is. But directly a second thimble is brought up beside the first, the difficulty of placing the pea becomes at once a problem. On the other hand, the arguments in favour of a second-chamber system also resolve themselves into a question of responsibility. For if there is only one chamber, without a second to check it and act together with it, there is, it is argued, a greater likelihood of its acting in an irresponsible manner, and of its running into hasty, ill-advised legislation. Its members, having acquired the habit of concerted action, may moreover strike a bargain behind the people’s back, even while preserving all the forms of opposition and discussion. With the two instruments of the Referendum and the Initiative in operation this danger is less likely, provided that the people be sufficiently alert. Yet it exists. In most countries, therefore, two chambers are the rule; and in our Constitution it is provided that there shall be two chambers, care being taken to fix responsibility ultimately in the first in case of doubt or delay.
Given two chambers, the difficulty is the creation of the Second Chamber. The First Chamber causes little difficulty, and is mainly a matter not for the Constitution, but for an Electoral Law. The Second Chamber is a matter for the Constitution. Indeed, the question and creation of a Second Chamber, and the formation of the Executive Power, are the two foremost problems for the making of every Constitution. The first difficulty is to find for the Second Chamber a sufficient constituency, and the second difficulty is to find for it a proper function; and both these problems are essentially matters for the Constitution of a State. To answer both of them satisfactorily is the difficulty; and an examination of the constitutions of other countries reveals that in few cases have they been answered even to general satisfaction.
As for the constituency, it is clear that this cannot be the same as for the first chamber, otherwise the two Houses are simply repetitions. That is one consideration to be remembered. There is another. For from earliest times mankind has desired to call into its special councils those who have distinguished themselves in the conduct of its affairs. Folk may disagree with such persons, but they defer to them and hear them. What may be called the Senatorial Person is a recognised factor in the history of all nations. In the push and jostle of entry to the First House—where special and local interests are represented—such a Senatorial Person is most likely to be thrust aside. even if he or she be inclined- to mingle in the fray. He is consequently lost to the councils of the nation. How shall a place be found for him or for her; and when the place is found, what shall be the measure of his or her counsel?
Other nations have answered these problems in divers ways. None has answered them as they are answered in the Constitution of Saorstat Eireann. For it is clear that if there is to be a Second Chamber, the right place for such a Senatorial Person is in that Second Chamber, since only thus is it possible to avoid making one chamber a mere copy of the other. In some countries, therefore, the Second Chamber is composed of persons on whom a title has been conferred—and on their children who succeed to that title. In other countries the Second Chamber is created by nomination—with at least the ostensible wish that only Senatorial Persons will be appointed. Both these methods have led to corruption. Both, moreover, have led to one fatal fault. For Second Chambers are mainly of value at times when the First Chamber is likely to rush to a mistake; and at such times no people are inclined to give careful heed to the counsel of persons whom they have not themselves chosen to give that counsel. They may be exactly such persons as they themselves would have chosen; but the fact that they did not choose them, the fact that they came there by the accident of birth, or the power of money, robs them authority just when their authority is most required.
For this reason, the people’s own choice of Senators is necessary to their efficiency and authority. In countries formed out of a Confederation this difficulty is evaded by the creation of the Senate from the Federated States, while creating the First Chamber directly from the whole people. But where there are no Federated States the people’s direct bestowal of authority cannot be evaded if friction and loss of strength are to be avoided. Thus one returns to the original problem, which is, how the people shall choose a Senate which will not be a copy of the Chamber of Deputies, and how the Senatorial Person will find his way to the councils of the nation, bringing with him an unanswerable authority.
Our Constitution meets this by making the whole counter one constituency for the election of the Senate. The Deputies are elected from localities where they are known, and the special interests of which they are qualified to represent. Over those interests the major interest of the whole nation stands guard. It would be possible for persons to enter the Chamber of Deputies who are not known ^ outside their own localities, but who are qualified to represent those localities. But by making the entire country one constituency for the election of the Senate, no merely local interest will have power to secure election. And thus it will be possible to find a place for the Senatorial Person from, as the Constitution reads, "citizens who have done honour to the nation by reason of useful public service, or who, because of special qualifications or attainments, represent important aspects of the nation’s life." These persons are to be elected by Proportional Representation; and in order that the business of election shall not prove too cumbersome it is appointed that one-fourth of the Senate shall retire every three years, and that before each election a list shall be prepared by both Houses consisting of at least three times as many persons as there are vacancies to be filled.
Such form the two Houses of the Oireachtas. Their relation to one another is carefully defined. The Seanad is created as an advisory and delaying body, and the ultimate responsibility is given to the Dail. But endowed, as it is, with so strong an authority, vested in it by the entire nation voting as a whole, it is unlikely that its criticisms and advice can be neglected. For such criticisms will be furnished in the course of debates that will be read by the whole people; and behind them there will always be the possibility of appeal to the whole nation by Referendum, which the Senate can compel by a three-fifths vote. The Senate and the people, therefore, arc placed in a watchful alliance over the acts ‘and proceedings of the Bail. Indeed, it is not unlikely that in the future the Senate and the people (by Referendum) will often be found in practical alliance against any attempt of the Bail to arrogate power to itself. The Senate has the power to make it so—a power of greater worth to it, and to the nation, than any constitutional right arbitrarily to obstruct legislation or to make legislation abortive.
IV.
THE PEOPLE AS LAW-MAKERS.
More is spoken of the two instruments of the Referendum and the Initiative (particularly the former) than is known about them; for in the countries where they have been adopted, folk use them and do not talk about them, and where they have not been adopted folk talk about them with ardour or with fear but without knowledge. Briefly they may be described as a retention by the sovereign people of sovereign authority over the making of laws.
The case is not without an historical parallel. In earlier times in other states the sovereign was the king, who said, "L’Etat, c’est moi." He was therefore the law-maker, by supreme right. He might summon the estates of his realm—Lords and Commons—to advise and counsel him; and he might, normally, allow their acts without his interference; but, being sovereign, he reserved the right to cause those acts to be referred to him for the final act of his will; and he at all times reserved the right to send a message to them instructing them to make laws on matters that seemed to him to require attention. This he did, being the sovereign. His parliament was the legislature of the State, but he preserved the Referendum and the Initiative, and held them as his sovereign authority over the authority deputed to the legislature.
When, however, sovereignty passed to the people, they assumed the attributes and the functions of that sovereignty. Where once the king’s person and the king's dwelling, for example, had been declared to be inviolable, now (as in our Constitution) the people's persons and the people's dwelling's are declared to be inviolable. And where once the king reserved the right to veto and to initiate legislation, so now (as again in our Constitution) the people reserve the right to veto and to initiate legislation. And this is the plain and simple meaning of the two instruments of the Referendum and the Initiative, Their effect is to shift sovereignty from the parliament to the people, where the revolutions of the 17th and 18th ^ centuries shifted sovereignty from the king to the parliament.
It frequently happens that theories (for whatever they may be worth) are carried to their logical ends by practical people and not by theorists—for theory generally lags in the rear of practice. So it happened in this case. For it was the soberly practical and conservative people of Switzerland who in modern times first devised the Referendum, and then the Initiative. Since then they have been adopted in many countries, chief of which are Belgium, Australia, and many of the American States; and they appear in most of the constitutions recently adopted in Europe. But it is in Switzerland that they can most usefully be studied, for there they have a solid experience of ninety years continuous practice behind them.
The Referendum came first; and in its modern form was first adopted in the Constitution of the canton of St. Gall in 1831, the second and third articles of which read:
Art. 2.—The people of the canton are sovereign. Sovereignty, which is the sum of all political powers, resides in the whole body of citizens.
Art. 3.—It results from this that the people themselves exercise the legislative powers, and every law is submitted to their sanction. This sanction is the right of the people to refuse to recognise any law submitted to them, and to prevent its execution in virtue of their sovereign power.
At first sight measures such as these appear to be revolutionary and drastic. In practice they have proved to be conservative. The mere existence of the Referendum has proved to be a check on legislation that might otherwise have been carried by parliamentary manoeuvring for votes. The people, in actual fact, have proved to be both purer and more conservative than their representatives; and the tendency towards economy in the expenditure of public moneys has, in the main, been not the least benefit it has conferred. People are little inclined to study bills debated in the national assembly when they realise that they are powerless to change or check the measures it may pass. The power to throw out their representatives at the next general election is only a limited form of freedom, and it is illusory in face of the fact that those representatives are generally chosen by powerful political organisations which take care to select pliant and obedient tools. Only at times of great crisis does the wish of the people become vocal; and even then it is more usually neglected than not. But with the Referendum in their hands (especially with the Initiative added to it) the will of the people is always present. The people can hasten legislation where it moves slowly. They can retard it where it presses too fast ahead. They themselves can make the pace. And the effect on themselves is that with this added responsibility, they take a quick interest in their own concerns. In the first place they break up the power of political organisations; and in the second place they themselves become alert and educated citizens, responsible and intelligent guiders of their own destinies.
Nor are these the imaginings of theory. They are the practical outcome in every country or state where the Referendum and Initiative have been adopted. They have especially been the result in Switzerland, where, by means of the Initiative, the people have insisted on measures being passed that no political party "would have dared to undertake. For there are many questions that cut clean across all parties, which dare not offend a majority or a minority, and where therefore the unity of the party comes before the interest of the nation. But minorities from all parties may join, and in Switzerland have joined, together to press for their adoption, with the consequence that the National Assembly has had no alternative but to frame legislation to deal with them. And when such legislation has come before the people by the Referendum, the people have in many cases adopted them.
The presence, therefore, in our Constitution of both the Referendum and the Initiative is therefore a sign that the people of Ireland are to be rulers in their own house—not merely as against foreign control, but as against the dominance of political parties. It means more. It means that responsibility is now definitely reposed in them. There are provisions which, in the present draft of the Constitution, could with advantage be changed. For to require, in Article 43, that a petition from the people of not less than "one-twentieth of the voters then on the register" is necessary (in the alternative of a vote of three-fifths of the Senate), before a measure may be put to the Referendum, is to impose an almost impracticable, and certainly an extremely difficult, task. It reveals a fear of the exercise of the Referendum that experience in other countries does not justify. With the wide franchise allowed in the Constitution, the tendency will be to play into the hands of political parties, and one of the purposes of the Referendum is to destroy the power of political parties. Yet a slight change here may easily be made. And the essential fact is that the people of Ireland, having asserted the fact of their sovereignty, and defined its qualities, proceed to exercise its functions by holding over the Oireachtas the two instruments of the Referendum and the Initiative.
How will those functions be exercised? It is impossible to say, except that there is so education like the education of responsibility.
V.
THE EXECUTIVE POWER.
I have likened a Constitution to a pyramid, the base of, which is the People, and the apex the Executive Authority. In all pyramids, it is the apex that first catches the eye, not the base; yet it is from the base upward that democratic constitutions are built. Usually it happens in most countries that the Executive masters the Law-making body, and that the Law-making body in turn masters the People. It is therefore necessary to remember, and to emphasise, that the true order is the other way about, the People being the master of the Law-making body, and the Law-making body the master of the Executive. In the degree in which that true order is asserted, and observed, the health of the State is preserved. In the degree in which it is neglected, or frustrated, there is suspicion, irritation, discontent. And as it is always the Executive which tends naturally, where it does not intrigue deliberately, to upset that order, by gathering all power into its hands, obviously the provisions respecting the formation and maintenance of Executive Power are the most critical part of every Constitution.
It was a wise man, and an experienced, who said that it did not matter to him who had the making of laws, so long as he had the administration of them. "For forms of government let fools contest," said the poet; "That which is best administered is best." And as the administration of a State is reposed in the care of the Executive Power, for the most part beyond the sight of the making Assembly of the people, it is essential that the Constitution should provide that the Executive should at all times, and with the utmost flexibility, lie in the control of the Legislature. Otherwise, whatever safeguards may be provided that laws carry the consent of the people, the people will in the end find themselves baffled, unable to track into the thicket of secret decisions the will that they have elsewhere endeavoured plainly to express.
It is therefore the plain duty of every Constitution to keep the Executive simple and flexible, responsive always to the will of the Legislature, as the Legislature should always be responsive to the will of the people. Crises will arise in the history of every nation when the powers of the Executive require to be strengthened; and at such times those powers will be readily conceded. But it is the Legislature and the people which must decide; and the Constitution must leave them free to do so. It is no part of the duty of a Constitution to provide for a time of crisis, and to make that provision fixed and rigid for all later times, when circumstances will have completely changed.
All that it is the absolute duty of a Constitution to do is to state how the Executive shall be formed, and to define its responsibility to the Legislature. The rest may be left to the practice of the future. Certainly to indulge in experiments in a Constitution respecting so vital a part of it as the Executive (experiments unlike anything yet attempted in any Constitution in the world) is an extremely hazardous proceeding. Nor are such experiments necessary in a Constitution, since they may be tried in the course of ordinary legislation, and surrendered if they prove impracticable. It is one thing to experiment—which a Constitution should allow. It is another thing to be pledged to one’s experiments for ever—which is what a Constitutional provision is intended to mean.
The experimental nature of the provisions for the Executive in the present draft of the Constitution is manifest. They are unlike anything in any Constitution. They are quite unlike the provisions in the Swiss Constitution, from which the inspiration is supposed to be derived. Switzerland is a Confederateion, consisting of twenty-two sovereign cantons, where only limited powers are conferred on the federal authorities. The twenty-two sovereign cantons differ widely in religion, language, habits and traditions. They are jealous of the federal authorities, and jealous of one another, and therefore insist that the Federal Council (which acts as the Executive), as well as the Federal Assembly, shall be representative directly of the languages, religions and traditions of different parts of the country. Certain of the larger towns and cantons, indeed, claim prescriptive rights to the appointment of members of the Federal Council. This Council, therefore, is appointed for the whole term of the Assembly by the two chambers of the Assembly sitting together, and are chosen by the two chambers, as the Constitution says, "from among all Swiss citizens eligible to the National Council." The members of the Council may speak, and propose motions, in both chambers, but they may not vote in either, for they form a separate institution outside the Assembly.
It is well to see what are the provisions for the Executive Power under the Swiss Constitution in order to note how widely the Executive in our draft differs from them. Good or bad, our draft stands or falls by itself, and cannot depend from the Swiss example, from which it differs both in itself and in the circumstance which it is designed to meet. The intention may be of the noblest; but intentions are only prophecies; and the Fundamental Law of a Constitution is scarcely the place to commit a whole people to a prophecy. The intention is to overcome party government, and is conceived at a time when parties are divided along lines that do not represent the economic issues that ordinarily influence the course of legislation. For parties, in so far as parties represent true economic issues, are a natural and inevitable medium for conducting the government of a country. Where parties do not represent such issues, but are held together by unnatural organisations, they do, it is true, obscure the orderly government of a country. The remedy is to be found, not in an enforced and arbitrary creation of an Executive, but in the right election of the Legislature, of which the Executive must be a reflection if the Legislature is to work harmoniously with it, and keep a constant control over it. To attempt by arbitrary provisions to create an Executive that does not accurately and at all times reflect the Legislature (on whatever party lines that Legislature be composed) is automatically to remove that Executive from the continuous control of the Legislature. And it is surely the essential business of a Constitution to insist that that control be emphasised, not diminished. Otherwise, whatever be the intention, the Executive will become irresponsible, government will fall into the hands of rulers who can only with difficulty be removed, and constant friction will ensue.
Such is the broader line of argument. In detail the Executive provisions of the present draft seem even less defensible. For authority is reposed in an Executive Council formed of two parts. Of twelve Ministers, it is stated, four must be members of the Chamber and eight must not be members—or, if they were members before, they cannot continue to be members, and must resign. It is true that on the motion of the President of the Council these four (who are members of the Chamber) may be increased to seven; but the draft makes it perfectly clear that according to the normal procedure under the Constitution the proportions are to be four and eight; and it is on the normal, not on the exceptional, procedure that attention must therefore necessarily be laid.
Eight out of twelve Ministers, therefore, are not permitted by the draft to be, or to remain, members of the Legislature. If they were members before their appointment as Ministers, they must resign. Consequently, within a few days of a General Election, bye-elections become necessary in respect of so many Ministers as were elected as deputies—although other Ministers who are elected as deputies may continue to remain both as Ministers and as deputies. The General Election, however, was held under the Constitution on the principles of Proportional Representation. But bye-elections, in such a case, cannot be held according to Proportional Representation. They become a party tussle between two or more candidates. The first effect of this arrangement, therefore, is to increase the number of elections, with their confusion and unrest, to create party contests in their strongest form, and to undo the proportional representation of the nation in the Legislature. Someone of an entirely different party might be returned in such a bye-election from the person who resigned on appointment as Minister; and the representation of minorities be directly injured as a consequence.
That would be the immediate result. The next to follow would be that the nation would find itself faced with the danger of an Executive within an Executive. For the eight external Ministers are to be appointed for the whole life of that Chamber. They are to be nominated by a Committee itself specially elected for that purpose. They cannot be removed during the life of that Chamber unless the Committee finds that they have been guilty of malfeasance, incompetence or disobedience to the will of the Chamber—definite sins of omission which are not always easily susceptible of proof. This is of itself sufficient to remove them from constant control by the Chamber. But the four internal Ministers are, for son&e reason, to be appointed in quite a different manner, and they hold office by quite a different tenure. They are to be appointed on the nomination of the President of the Council. They can at any time be removed by an ordinary vote of the Chamber. They must therefore study the Chamber, and devise their policies to suit its will, for they are subject to its constant control.
The whole twelve, it is true, are said to form one single Executive Council. But what are the chances of this? Is it not only too clear that the four internal Ministers, since they can be removed by an ordinary vote (which the eight cannot), will frequently, and in most larger matters, meet and act separately together in coming to their decisions? Will not necessity drive them to this? But this would mean at once, not one Executive Council, but two—one within the other. This is acknowledged to«be a dangerous practice. We know what happened in England when during the European war a similar practice was adopted, and how soon it became necessary to change it. And is it not equally clear that they will, and must, use the majority that keeps them in power to make the eight external Ministers subservient to their will, if their policies cross, without calling them in(p council? For the policies of all Ministers cross, and inter-cross, and should do so if there is to be a harmonious and healthy administration, especially in questions and policies of finance.
Ultimately the temptation will always be present to these four internal Ministers to get subservient persons nominated to the positions to be held by the eight external Ministers. They themselves will have come to power by a majority of the Chamber. Of that majority they will be the acknowledged leaders; and it would be strange if they did not use that majority to find eight external Ministers to their liking. But where this happened (as happen it certainly would, in the ordinary human probabilities of the situation) a very remarkable result would come to pass, unlike anything in the history of representative government. This is, that the Four would in practice dictate the Executive policy of the Eight, but they would not be answerable to the Chamber for the administrative conduct of those eight departments. They would require what must be done, but they would not themselves be responsible for the manner in which it was done, or whether it were done at all. For the Eight would have been nominated for the life of the Chamber by a special Committee, they would not be members^ of the Chamber, they would not be susceptible to a vote of lack of confidence, but could only be removed when the Committee which nominated them^had found them guilty of some public misconduct in their administration.
The first result of this amazing separation of executive and administrative responsibility would be that the Chamber, looking from one to the other in the attempt to fix the ultimate responsibility, would find itself with only the vain shadow of control. For the Eight would in theory be responsible to it, but in practice—certainly on all major matters of policy—would be directed by the Four. Yet the Four could not be held responsible for the doings of the Eight. And the second result would be that the Eight would be little more than Civil Servants. Yet they would not be Civil Servants. They would neither be Ministers nor Civil Servants, having neither one kind of responsibility nor the other.
The baffling consequence would be that the Chamber would not only lose control over the Eight, but, because of the same division between executive and administrative responsibility, would lose control over the whole Executive (including the Four) in respect of functions ascribed to the Eight. It is in the details of administrative practice that the control of the Legislature is usually most important; and it is in just these details that, by the division of the Council into two kinds of Ministers, with different methods of appointment and removal and different sorts of tenure, that the Chamber will under these provisions have lost its control. It is true that it would have the remedy of putting out the Four; but few Chambers, having appointed the head or heads of a Government, desire to throw them out except on some fundamental, paramount issue. The remedy might be worse than the evil; and thus, by its reluctance to take so drastic a step, and by the division of responsibility, it would lose its continuous control over the Executive which is the very breath of legislative freedom.
It is unnecessary to point, further, to the danger of nominating a large part of an Executive under these circumstances through a Committee. It is notorious that Committees are, or can be made, more easily accessible to intrigue than larger assemblies. The Chamber itself should be its own Committee for the selection of Ministers, on the recommendation of the President of the Council, with whom they would have to work. This provision still further removes the Executive from the control of the Chamber. And so the order of responsibility is inverted, which the plan of the Constitution elsewhere so constantly emphasises. For the People may at all times, by the Referendum and the Initiative, control the Legislature. But the Legislature cannot, under these provisions, at all times and so simply control the Executive. And so control fails just at the point where authority tends most to arrogate power to itself.
Incidentally, also, the Legislature loses what generally has proved its greatest source of strength. For the best informed critics of any Chamber are those who once were Ministers, who appreciate the responsibility of Ministers, and who temper their words as members with their knowledge and experience. But, under these provisions, a member who is appointed as one of the external Ministers ceases to be a Member. If he therefore finds it incumbent on him to resign, because of disagreement with his colleagues of the Executive (Inner or Outer), he ceases to be both a Minister and a Member, and his service and knowledge are lost to the Chamber—not to speak of the loss of detailed information on the cause of the particular issue of his resignation, on which the Chamber may wish enlightenment. Indeed, such a provision as this seems peculiarly arbitrary and meaningless.
There is, indeed, much virtue in the liberty of the Chamber to appoint as Ministers persons who may be specially qualified, but who may not be members. In the jostle at the hustings to enter a Chamber of but two hundred members it is unlikely that the best ability would always succeed, if it were so much as willing to share the fray. A Legislature should therefore not be hampered in the choice of its Executive by restricting that choice to two hundred persons. If persons, not members of the Chamber, were appointed as Ministers, clearly they could not vote; but they could be present, could speak, and could propose motions on behalf of the Executive of which they were members. But the whole Executive should share an equal responsibility, and be subject at all times to the continuous control of the Legislature, of which they are the servants, not the masters.
VI.
THE JUDICIARY.
The three organic parts of every Constitution are the Legislature, for the making and enacting of laws, the Executive, for the execution and administration of laws, and the Judicature, for the interpretation and enforcement of laws. These three comprise the powers of Government which a people bestow on certain organisations which they create for that purpose, in the sovereign act of conferring a Constitution on themselves. The authority which such organisations shall henceforward exercise in Ireland derive, under the Constitution, from the people of Ireland; and from no right or power, pretended or real, existing elsewhere.
The first of these three organic parts, obviously, is the Legislature, since laws cannot be executed or interpreted until they first exist. The second, equally obviously, is the Executive, since laws, having come into existence, must first be put into execution before they can be liable to interpretation, or before they can be said to require enforcement. But when a Legislature and an Executive have been brought into existence, as necessary organisations for a people’s government of themselves, a Judicial organisation at once becomes necessary. For no law can so be made as of itself to fit each particular case. Laws, by their nature, are of general meaning, and must be interpreted to the particular instance where its construction is questioned. And there is (unhappily) no law that is not sometimes altogether challenged, and set at defiance, when therefore the law made by the people at large must be enforced on the individual, and its defiance punished. Unfortunately few people regard their Judicature with the same pride of possession with which they (sometimes) regard the Legislature, and even the Executive. Even when folk; disapprove of their law-makers and their ministers, they disapprove because they conceive they have acted mistakenly on their behalf, whereas they conceive of judges as having acted from a malignancy inborn in them or in the system, with the kind of disapproval reserved for those who are created and are destined to act against their behalf. That is—in most countries, and especially in Ireland—a legacy from evil days, when judges were not the people's judges, but whips sent forth through the land by some person who claimed to be sovereign. With the reversal of sovereignty, however, the judges become the people's judges; the courts are the people's courts, where the laws of their own making are interpreted; the judicial system is the people’s system; and it is for the people to insist that this attitude is observed, not only by them, but by those who interpret the laws and administer justice. For, under the Constitution, no judge sits in any court in the land save by an authority bestowed on him by the people, in the Constitution which they confer on themselves. And it is for the people to remember that fact; for only by that memory will it be recognised in the courts themselves—and, indeed, only thus will it deserve to be recognised there.
It is not, however, necessary that the details of the judicial system should be worked out in the Constitution. It is not, indeed, desirable that they should be (a consideration worthy of attention, not alone here, but in connection with the provisions for the Executive also), for such details belong to later legislation. All that is required in the Constitution is the general outline of the Judiciary, and a statement of its organic relation to the other parts of the powers of government created under it. How that outline will be completed, and the details of the organic relation made good, must be dealt with in a subsequent Judiciary Act, preceded probably by a Judiciary Commission established to review the whole of the present system and to report to Government on the changes required. In the meantime the present system will continue, subject to the principles and plan of the Constitution, which is the law fundamental to the later Act, and therefore at once of effect in respect of its general principles and plan.
According to that plan the entire system of courts and titles that derive from ancient feudal practice is abolished. A new and simple system comes into existence, comprising a number of courts, civil or criminal, of original instance and a Court of Final Appeal. The Court of Final Appeal is to be known as the Supreme Court, and the chief of the courts of first instance as the High Court. In these courts all cases are entered, and the Civil Authority of the Nation is made paramount in all circumstances."The jurisdiction of Courts Martial," says Article 69, "shall not be extended to or exercised over the civil population save in time of war, and for acts committed in time of war, and in accordance with the regulations to be preserved by law. Such jurisdiction shall not be exercised in any area in which the civil courts are open or capable of being held, and no person shall be removed from one area to another for the purpose of creating such jurisdiction." Moreover, soldiers themselves are relieved from Courts Martial, unless they are on active service, except for purely military offences. For Article 70 reads: " A member of the armed forces of the Irish Free State not on active service shall not be tried by any Court Martial for an offence cognisable by the Civil Courts."
It may be asked, however, how safeguards such as these, together with the qualities of sovereignty declared in the Constitution to be the Fundamental Rights of the people, shall be protected. For it is a temptation to all governments to find an easy way out of difficulties by riding roughshod over rights and safeguards, however earnestly they may be declared. There is only one answer. In the making of constitutions there can be only one answer. It is that the Judiciary is the People's Judiciary, and the third part of the organic whole of Government which the people create. Article 64, therefore, reads that "the judicial power of the High Court"—with appeal to the Supreme Court—" shall extend to the question of the validity of any law having regard to the provisions of the Constitution." The Judiciary is the interpreter of laws. It is therefore the interpreter of the Fundamental Law. And it is therefore the interpreter of the Fundamental Law and the protector of the Fundamental Law, as against all other laws of the Legislature that may violate it, not to say arbitrary acts of the Executive that may neglect it.
It must be so. There is no other way to protect the guarantee of fundamental rights written carefully in a people's constitution. Without some such provision a Constitution might be written in water, and its guarantees set aside by any powerful executive, or any executive not instantly answerable to the people's will. A provision of this kind is, therefore, a necessary democratic safeguard. It is true that in the United States the judicial review of the Supreme Court over legislative and executive acts has led to unfortunate decisions and much acrimonious discussion. The evils of an institution are always apparent, and no institution but has its evils. The evils that would have come into existence had that institution not been there, however, are not apparent. They are the incalculable part of the bargain; and, being incalculable, are inevitably neglected in argument. Yet they may prove to be the overwhelming factor of the argument. So it is in this case. It would be blindness to neglect it. The mere existence of the Judicial Review in the United States has unquestionably prevented many an arbitrary act of the Executive in defiance of the rights ensured by the Constitution; and if the Supreme Court has, as it undoubtedly has, abused its power of interpretation, the remedy is, not to sweep away that Judicial Review, and so to jeopardise the provisions of the Constitution, but to amend the Constitution in plainer terms, or to amend the Supreme Court. For it is plain that without Judicial Protection of the Fundamental Law (as the Judiciary is required to protect, interpret and enforce the ordinary law) its clearest provisions could be neglected at pleasure.
I may take only one instance. Article 9 of" the Constitution protects the right of free expression of opinion, the right of free assembly, and the right of forming associations not opposed to public morality. Now it hardly needs to be said that no Government likes the expression of opinions hostile to itself. And no Government likes associations formed to bring its hour to an end. Under the Constitution the minorites of the day have the honest chance of becoming the majorites of the morrow in a peaceable manner. But what would be the worth of this honest chance before a powerful Government unless these protections, these rights of a sovereign people, were placed in the care of the third institution of the Constitution, the institution entrusted with the interpretation and enforcement of laws?
It is true that the Judiciary may abuse its power (since power is nearly always abused) by interpreting social reform, let us say, to be "opposed to public morality." But in this connection, it is right to remember, first, that judgment is not reserved only to one Court, but to two Courts—to the High Court, with appeal to the Supreme Court. And it is right to remember, next, that the people have always in their possession the instruments of the Initiative and the Referendum, by which they may require either the Fundamental Law or later laws to be amended to meet their need. There are, therefore, considerable safeguards in the Constitution against abuse. Yet, even so, because one-fourth of a fundamental right may be jeopardised by an abuse of the Judicial Power, that is no reason why four-fourths should be surrendered to the abuse of the Executive Power.
Therefore the Judiciary is placed in care of the provisions of the Constitution, not to imperil but to protect them. The rights conferred in the Constitution are the People’s rights. The Constitution is the People's Constitution. The Judiciary is the People's Judiciary. It is for the people, by alert and active citizenship, to make them so in every real sense.
VII.
THE QUESTION OF APPEALS.
In the section dealing with the Judiciary one provision lends itself at once to criticism. It is hostile, on the face of it, to the entire spirit of the Constitution. It has everywhere created bitterness and irritation among the other co-equal members of the Commonwealth of Nations, which Ireland has now joined. If the purpose of life, therefore, is to learn from experience as one may reasonably believe, in spite of an apparently united conviction to the contrary) a new State at the outset of its career would be well advised not to create trouble for the future, and others would be well advised to honour that quite reasonable wish. And yet in this provision there lies hid a principle of very great meaning, if it could be extracted, separated from its feudal lumber, and wrought upon creatively.
I refer to the provision at the end of Article 65. The article itself reads:
"The Supreme Court of the Irish Free State shall, with such exceptions (not including cases which involve questions as to the validity of any law) and subject to such regulations as may be prescribed by law, have appellate jurisdiction from all decisions of the High Court. The decision of the Supreme Court shall in all cases be final and conclusive, and shall not be reviewed or capable of being Reviewed by any other Court, Tribunal or Authority whatsoever."
To which, in the present draft, the following apparently contradictory words are now added:
"Provided that nothing in this Constitution shall impair the right of any person to petition His Majesty for special leave to appeal from the Supreme Court to His Majesty in Council or the right of His Majesty to grant such leave."
According to this article as it now stands the Supreme Court of the Irish Free State is the highest court of appeal for all citizens of that State; but if any citizen, or any corporation, desires to affront the sense of those amongst whom he, or it, lives, he or it may carry a case elsewhere, outside the country altogether. This is known as the right of appeal to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council. The right is rooted in the principle of Crown prerogative—a prerogative which has been removed in the highest questions of life and death, but which apparently exists in smaller matters, although there too it has been described by no less an authority than Professor Berriedale Keith as "in process of obsolescence,” so far as the other members of the Commonwealth are concerned.
Apart from the theory of the matter, however (a theory vested in an outworn feudalism), what is its effect in practice? That practice can be investigated on its merits, without the least prejudice; and it will be found that it has not produced justice, and that it has proved fruitful of increasing irritation and anger.
In the first place, such a right of appeal out of the country defeats the ends of justice by placing a premium on wealth. It has so proved among the other members of the Commonwealth. It is obvious that it must be so. For it requires a large purse to carry a case out of the country, once it has been well handled in at least two courts at home. Therefore the experience in Canada, Australia and S. Africa is that only strong corporations take advantage of such a right of appeal, because only strong corporations possess the moneys, and only strong corporations can afford to defy local feeling, since local feeling cannot react easily against anything so powerful while so intangible as a corporation.
In the second place, it defeats the ends of justice because it is an appeal to a court where the local circumstances are not familiar, and where it may even happen (as it will certainly happen in the case of Ireland) that the very axioms of the law may not be rightly apprehended. For a central court of appeal of this kind supposes uniform circumstances and uniform law. Now the circumstances manifestly are not uniform. Yet neither is the law likely to be uniform. The example of S. Africa may be taken. In S. Africa the law in force is Roman-Dutch law, not the English Common Law. It has therefore proved that the Judicial Committee has been required to handle an instrument with which it is unfamiliar. The same will apply in Ireland, where it has already proved, notoriously, that the principles of the law known familiarly as "Brehon law” have worked in opposition to the black-letter precedents of English law.
In addition to this, however, it is to be remembered that the lawyers composing the Judicial Committee are obviously unfamiliar with the principles underlying the structure of our Constitution, since they are quite unlike the principles with which they themselves have to deal. One need not argue which are the better. It is enough that they are unlike. A mechanic cannot be supposed to deliver impartial justice between two farmers in a matter of farming economy. The famous case of the Loch Neagh fisheries is enough to prove that only those who are familiar, not only with Irish circumstances, but with Irish history, can expect to deliver justice in Irish matters.
Moreover, there is a further consideration, which the plain facts of the case require should be firmly stated—and which the experience of other nations of the Commonwealth emphasises. It is that under the chief of the two heads under which such appeals to the Judicial Committee would fall the very intention to do impartial and indifferent justice could not presumed in advance. For all such appeals involve two classes of cases. The first deals with appeals from interpretation of the ordinary law. The second deals with appeals from interpretations of the Fundamental Law of the Constitution. Now appeals from an interpretation of the ordinary law heard in some country where the principles of that law are unfamiliar would, as has been indicated, involve injustices enough; but they would concern only the individual or some corporate enterprise. The injustice would exist; but it would be limited; and lawyers of another country might be supposed to wish to search for justice, even if the trading enterprise had its seat in their own nation and the individual were Irish. But a Constitution is the very charter of a nation's freedom.
Cases concerning an interpretation of the Constitution are vital to a whole people, and, as between two nations, vital to international safety and polity. And such cases could, under the circumstances, only arise between two nations, Ireland, whose the Constitution is, and England, whose the Constitution is not, and where parties might arise to power who would intrigue to impeach that Constitution. Moreover, in England it is frequently the practice to recruit the higher offices of the Judiciary, not from men of acknowledged skill in the achievement of equity, but rather from men who have snatched a casual eminence in the heat of party strife, men of political passions and political prejudices, who have come to the front by the very profession of partisanship. It is such men who will form for the most part the lawyers of the Judicial Committee. Even if the road to that Committee were of the straightest and purest legal character, no reasonable person would expect it to deliver impartial judgment on the Fundamental Law of another nation, especially if an adjustment of the liberties of two nations were concerned, one of those nations being, more than conceivably, their own. But since the road is, admittedly, neither of the straightest nor of the purest, the expectation of impartial and indifferent justice would be a fool's dream. And where a Court exists from which a people presumes injustice in advance, the wells of security and good order are at once poisoned.
Yet, even supposing that these questions of justice are neglected, how is the system likely to work? How has it, in fact, worked elsewhere? Assume that a case has been decided in a certain way by the Supreme Court in Ireland. It is carried to the Judicial Committee, which decides in favour of the opposite party. How is such a decision of the Judicial Committee to be put into effect? Such cases have occurred in Australia; and the Australian High Court has refused to recognise the decisions of the Judicial Committee, or to give them effect. Special legislation therefore at once became necessary; but the obvious fact which emerged was that the Judicial Committee had no machinery to put decisions into effect which were contrary to local feeling. Of the last of these cases the Australian Premier said at the "'Imperial Conference,' 1917," that the "decision was one which must have caused great embarrassment and confusion if it were not for the fortunate fact that the reasons for the Judicial Commitee's decision are stated in such a way that no Court and no Council in Australia has yet been able to find out what they were."
It is little wonder that Mr. Hughes, in the same speech should have said that "Australia's experience of the Privy Council in constitutional cases has been, to say the least of it, unfortunate." He also read an extract from a resolution of the Final Court of Appeal of New Zealand, which declared of the Judicial Committee that "by its imputations in the present case, by the ignorance it has shown in this and in other cases of our history, of our legislation, and of our practice, and by its long delayed judgments, it has displayed every characteristic of an alien tribunal."
The spokesmen for the other States present were equally emphatic. "I think," said Sir Robert Borden for Canada, "we have had just about enough Appeal Courts, and I think the tendency in our country will be to restrict appeals to the Privy Council rather than to increase them." "There is," said Mr. Rowell for the same State, "a growing opinion that our own Courts should be the final authority." "You know what our opinion is in S. Africa," said Mr. Burton. "In our Constitution we have abolished the right of appeal to the Privy Council as a right. There is no such right with us at all, but the Constitution merely says that any right residing in the King in Council to grant special leave to appeal shall not be interfered with."
These utterances, and the entire course of history on this matter, reveal an irritation which has grown with experience. The mechanism is merely a mechanism, and it has not worked well. It has injured harmony, and it manifestly has not brought justice. Even assuming that the Irish courts should agree that the decision in any individual case appealed from should stand, it could equally well argue that that decision could not be held to govern other cases; and the effect of such a decision would be to make the appeal nugatory in law.
Besides all of which, the right to allow such appeals to the Judicial Committee is based, ultimately, on the acknowledgment of the supremacy of British legislation; and the plain intention of our Constitution is that this supremacy is not acknowledged, each party to the Treaty being a co-equal member of a larger Community. Not only, therefore, are the practical reasons against such a right of appeal, but there is. no Substance in the Constitution to make such a right allowable.
There is, indeed, nothing that can be said in favour of such a provision, from the point of view either of justice, of law, of equity or of harmony. If it be destined to remain, it is to be hoped that it will remain a dead letter. Otherwise it will lead to boundless friction and ill-will, internal and external.
Yet there is an excellent principle embedded in this provision. It is very deeply, and perhaps almost inextricably, embedded; but it is there. For if a number of nations are to join together as co-equal members of a Community, plainly there should be some common Court to which all can appeal with equal confidence. Ireland and England, for instance, have made a Treaty. Either side may violate that Treaty. Who is to judge between them? Is the appeal to be to the arbitrament of strength? If so, what of the co-equality of the Community? It becomes an idle phrase, however separate one may claim to be from the other.
The case may be carried even further. A case exists for such a Court, not only in respect of their interdependent relations, but not less in respect of their internal relations. It may even happen that the citizen of a State, or a combination of citizens, may have a plain case to be carried to such a Court as against their State, if a Court of sufficient impartiality could be established. States are not always immaculate of justice, particularly to minorities.
Can such a Court be found? I believe it can. An exposition of the present draft of our Constitution is not the place to give the details of such an alternative. It is sufficient to say that there is such an alternative, for which provision could therefore be made in substitution of the present provision, against which the requirements of justice and the entire experience of the Commonwealth rises in evidence.
VIII.
FUNCTIONAL COUNCILS.
It is the duty of a Constitution, not merely to provide for the present, but to leave itself lissom and flexible for the development of the future. If those developments can in any way be foreseen, it is its duty further, to indicate them by allowing specifically for them, without of necessity pledging the future to them. How far these indications may profitably be carried is a question not so easy to answer. Times differ. Constitutions made at a time of fixed social and political ideas, are necessarily fixed in their provisions. Constitutions made at a time, such as the present, when social and political ideas are rapidly shifting and changing must needs indicate the likelihood of change in certain directions; and make allowance for such changes. It is therefore striking to notice that in nearly every Constitution made during and since the Great War such indications are scattered freely. And from that fact alone the historian of the future could tell with assurance that these were years of rapidly changing conceptions.
We in Ireland cannot but have a share in these changes. Fortunately for us, heirs of an ancient tradition, in looking forward we look backward, and in looking backward we look forward. We may, and often do, use phrases identical with those used by other nations; but in many cases it will be found by the thoughtful student that what to them is often social theory, to us is a slumbering historic memory. Very frequently this will be found to be the case.
An indication of this kind, that looks both forward and backward, is to be found in Article 44 of our Constitution. This article has aroused considerable interest. It reads:—
"The Oireachtas may provide for the establishment of Functional or Vocational Councils representing branches of the social and economic life of the Nation. A law establishing any such Council shall determine its powers, rights and duties, and its relation to the government of the Irish Free State."
As a matter of curious interest it happens that the German Constitution contains an article very similar to this; but the conception had been in development in Ireland for some years. It had, indeed (as I endeavoured to shew in a little book on The Gaelic State, published in 1917), been a slumbering memory of the Irish Nation during the centuries when the characteristic political conceptions of the people were frustrate and idle, as they may now be put into practical development. It had been worked out in practical detail for one of our largest and most important industries in the Report on Sea Fisheries of the Commission of Inquiry, published in 1921. And it had actually, though imperfectly, been in operation for another great industry since 1896 in the Council of Agriculture.
What, then, are these Functional (or Vocational or Occupational) Councils for which provision is made, and on what political or social conception do they rest? One need not travel outside the present draft Constitution to discover the need for them. For in this Constitution, as in most constitutions, the people are, outside this one Article, considered in only two of the three relations that go to make up their lives, and which therefore constitute the complete life of the Nation. All the persons of the State are considered either as individuals or as citizens. But these two descriptions do not exhaust their lives. In addition to being individuals and citizens they are also workers in some craft, industry, trade or profession. Indeed, it is seldom they have time to be individuals, and it is seldom they are reminded that they are citizens. For good or for ill, these are only occasional parts of their lives* But they are never permitted to forget the parts they are required to play in. the social and economic life of the Nation.
The Constitution establishes their rights as individuals putting these rights beyond the reach of interference either of those who make or those who execute the law. It also establishes their rights as citizens, certifies the manner of their action as citizens, and derives all authority in the State from those rights and actions. But these are only the lesser, however supremely important, parts of our lives. The greater part of our days is, for each of us, packed with the thoughts are cares of our functional lives. We are more frequently, in the intake and output of our lives, blacksmiths or architects, or whatever else, than we are individuals or citizens. Have we not rights and duties there too, both for ourselves and to the Nation; and should not the Constitution make provision for this, the larger part of our lives, as well as for the lesser parts? Can provision be said to have been completely made either for our own lives or for the interplay that constitutes the life of the Nation if this aspect be neglected?
We are faced at once with a difficulty. Seeing that we have the experience of it, it is easy to perceive how we can be represented in the State as citizens. How can we be represented in the State in respect of our functions? To answer this question one may turn to an instance that lives before us, an example from elder days when such an order of society was familiar. For in old Ireland (as in other nations) guilds were a recognised form of the industrial life of the nation. They were also, though not known by that name, a recognised form of the professional life of the Nation. And as a relic of those times we have to-day what is in effect a guild of Lawyers. The lawyers of Ireland, for example, are organised as a whole, with a Council representative of the profession as a whole. That Council, representative of all who practice as lawyers, is a responsible body, not only to the lawyers who are represented in it, but to and in the State on behalf of the legal profession. It is responsible for the honour and good conduct of lawyers. It is responsible for the economic maintenance of its constituents. No lawyer is allowed to practice except by consent of the Legal Council—that is to say, except by the consent of all other lawyers. The legal profession as a whole—in the legal sense, as a Person—protects its own honour, protects the individual lawyer, protects the public interest (in theory, at least), and requires a guarantee of efficiency and rectitude from every lawyer before he is allowed to practice his profession.
So it was in ancient Ireland. At that time, when the Assembly of the Nation met, the lawyers, or 'brehons,' met in a Council of their own. The administrative heads of each unit of local government met in a Council of their own. The Recorders, or Seanchaidhe, of the local petty states, met in a Council of their own. And each Council was responsible for the administration of its own concerns. Each Council drew up its own regulations, for the conduct of it own duties in the State, and for the protection of its own 'functional' rights. Each Council, in the modern legal phrase, was a responsible 'Person,' and was by the State, as it existed at that time, entrusted with the conduct and administration of its own affairs, subject to the general execution of the public interest.
It lay with the Assembly of the Nation to co-ordinate the whole in the public interest. Whether this was or was not done effectively in olden times is indifferent to the present problem of Functional Councils in the modern State, with its better organisation and more perfect national sense. The problem of organisation is very real, but it does not affect the necessity of functional representation and functional responsibility in the State. It is, for example, absurd that persons unfamiliar with architectural problems, however highly placed in the nation they may be, should be entrusted with architectural decisions that require special training and knowledge. It is equally absurd that a person unfamiliar with the needs of the Fishing Industry should, because for political reasons he should happen to be chosen as Minister of Fisheries, make proposals and be responsible for decisions that affect the present livelihood of fishermen and the successful future of the Fishing Industry. These matters must be reposed in the care of representative Functional (Occupational or Vocational) Councils, that should be required to render account, on the one hand, to the Function which they represent, and, on the other hand, to the State on behalf of that Function.
When such an organisation of the social and economic life of the Nation has been achieved, then, and only then, will it be possible to say that all parts of the life of the Nation have been brought within the reach and authority of the Constitution. It may be objected that these matters lie in the future. That is true. The Constitution allows for them, and by allowing for them indicates that they should be, and probably will be, the natural development of the future of the Irish Nation.