A new book by Lord Hennessy and Andrew Blick (Could It Happen Here? The Day a Prime Minister Refuses to Resign) makes amusing and instructive reading: the authors speculate about what might ensue if a right-wing populist prime minister were to lose his majority in the House of Commons, and attempted to cling to power through a minority government, on the ground that his party is the largest in the House. In such a constitutional crisis, with the prime minister refusing to resign, what expedients are available for the restoration of order?
The answers to this question make Hennessy and Blick’s account interesting to a constitutional critic: for they tell us plainly, and quite ingenuously, that the securities on which the constitution depends in extremis have a dark and sinister aspect.
They tell us, for example, that the King—far from being a purely ceremonial head of state, as we are incessantly told—would play an important part in the resolution of such a crisis, in accordance with his pledge to uphold the constitution. He retains the legal power, we are reminded, to dismiss a prime minister, and to dissolve parliament if he wishes: and although such powers have not been employed for approximately two hundred years, there is yet no legal barrier to their being used. Perhaps the King would not go to such an extreme: he might confine himself to making a public broadcast, directly intervening in the politics of the day, and exerting pressure upon the embattled government. In the meantime, the palace would conduct private discussions with the Speaker of the House of Commons, and other political parties, as part of efforts to re-establish order. Behold the powerless, ceremonial British Crown. The authors do not stop to contemplate what ruinous effects the monarch might have, if—as is just possible—a fool, a fascist, or a corruptionist were to inherit the throne: for there is surely no better means of selecting a constitutional guardian, than by the lottery of birth.
We learn from our authors, too, that the security services may (regrettably) have to become involved in such a crisis: for the Security Service Act 1989 stipulates that the function of the service includes the protection of national security “from actions intended to overthrow or undermine parliamentary democracy by political, industrial or violent means.” The same act, it is true, tells the security services to refrain from inappropriate intrusions in party politics: but that has never stopped them before. Indeed, even the surveillance of the communications of members of Parliament, and below them, members of the devolved legislatures, is lawful, provided that the prime minister approves it. It begins to seem, I venture to say, that Britain is not so perfect a democracy as we are accustomed to think!
In a discussion of what might be done by cabinet ministers, on the supposition that they may turn on the “limpet prime minister”, we are told the following: “A chancellor of the Exchequer, for example, might choose not to use their power to impose courses of action upon the Bank of England intended to deal with problems in the financial markets, which can be the most potent force of all in trumping political outcomes.” There are no misgivings or anxieties here for the fate of democracy: the “trumping” and “potent” financial markets wield their authority free of concern for such superficialities as elections: and it perhaps makes little difference whether a renegade chancellor decides to help them along.
The list of constitutional barricades continues: perhaps the Chief of Defence Staff might refuse to follow prime ministerial instructions; perhaps the Speaker would decline to sit upon his chair, and the clerks abandon their table; and so forth.
I do not raise these matters because it would gratify me to see a hard Right prime minister remain in office: I raise them because any attempt to democratise British society, and challenge the established power of the capitalist class, will no doubt be met with the full catalogue of sinister designs; and socialists ought, therefore, to understand them. In the interval, it is our obligation to expose the oligarchical armour of the British Constitution, and to labour for a true democracy, capable of promoting the general interest.
Notes in the Margins of the Days 