All stable and functional states are ruled by aristocracies of one form or other. Even what appear to be exceptions are not. Who is Louis XIV without Turenne and Condé, Vauban and Luxembourg? The French civil war in which Turenne and Condé bowed to the boy who would one day be known as the Sun King was not an argument over whether the King really was the l'etat, no matter his later self-assertion. It was over what role the monarch had in the aristocracy – was he merely the most senior ermine robe or was he the director and mastermind of the whole body?
Equally, America proves no exception – it is a limited republic, not a democracy (though the critics of the Electoral College want to change this). Its form of government, its classic three branch system, the checks and balances so carefully weighed and measured, is an attempt to create a balanced form of government, as is so excellently articulated in the Federalist Papers – and the expectation was that the lawyer class of New England and the planter class of the South would be the guardians and benefactors of the whole. Indeed, it is the presence of the planters that shows to us that the American revolution was fundamentally an aristocratic revolution, not a popular one.
Switzerland, too, for all its emphasis on referendums, is nonetheless a federation like America, with limitations and powers that have not been alienated from subsidiary political bodies. Those bodies are themselves limited governments, not strict democracies. Furthermore, the referendum system there relies for its stability on a great tradition of Alpine republicanism, and traditions are themselves the aristocracy of the dead.
On the other hand, any system which claims to give total power to the great mass of the people on any sort of occasion will die by that same sword. It does not matter whether the claim is true or not. Undoubtedly Robespierre was too sane to really think “the People” were the real genius of his actions. But Robespierre and the Directory alike were consumed by the mob, who chose the safer ground of a bloody-handed Corsican. When that Corsican was in turn overthrown, it was to the old monarchy that the French people returned, and it took well over a century of effort to achieve a stable republican system in France, due to the gross instabilities woven into the Second, Third, and Fourth Republics by their pseudo-democratic constitutions.
Aristocracy - “rule by the best” - is a government by those of excellent parts. In English we typically associate it with hereditary rule, but “Soviet scientific centralism” was just as aristocratic, claiming as it did a right to select the “best” without regard to the free choice of the demos, the people. The crushing failure of the Soviet project just demonstrates that it was a poor aristocracy. The choice for any nation – and so the choice for Britain in the 21st century – is this: which aristocracy shall rule us? In the final event, the democratic element of any stable state is the effective consent of the vast majority of the people; even if a government is unpopular, if the people assent to the principle of its rule, it will rule. If the great body of the people as a whole reject the principle of its rule, it will fall, whether that fall is as gentle as the folding of the Second French Republic into the Second Empire, or as bloody as the funeral pyre of the Roman Republic.
Whilst, then, it might sound strange to say the people must choose their aristocracy, it is a scientific fact as certain as anything discovered by our physicists. It is a law of nature. The people must give up the sheer power achievable by their innumerable mass so as to enable enlightened and wise rule, immune to the variable passions of any large body of people. There is no obvious moral preferability to, say, a republican form of government compared to Westminster Parliamentarianism or the sortition aristocracy of ancient Athens. Different soil suits different plants. Governments must be fitted to their people. Have pity on the people whose constitution is too intemperate to permit a stable Constitution.
In Britain, now, in 2019, what are our options? Things cannot continue as they are – that much is plain. The edifice of the old British constitution is collapsing in front of us. It has been rotten for decades, but such was its beauty, it was understandable that we were loath to demolish it. Now we can have no such concerns.
Do we desire the untrammelled supremacy of a legislature consisting of the lawyer and bureaucrat classes? That is to say – do we want an occasionally-elected aristocracy of the bourgeoisie? Do we want, as one commentator has recently put it, a “Parliamentary republic” under the power of the Speaker? If so, we must cease to complain about the grey-suited manner in which they are selected; such an aristocracy must necessarily rely on those who have always worked in politics or at the Stock Exchange. If so, the Monarch must be at least eliminated from any ceremonial part in the Constitution – and perhaps, better, unthroned. If we desire to make true the slander of Rousseau that every five years we free Britons elect our slavemasters, we shouldn't cover that with the fig leaf of a hereditary monarch. Similarly, we must codify all those ways in which our Parliamentary republic can, for the sake of prudence, ignore the masses – so the referendum must be abolished, and the provisions of how general elections are allowed to happen clarified. This option, incidentally, is not the old one of “Parliamentary sovereignty”, but something quite novel, though one in germination for 150 years. This is a refreshingly unromantic option, as it honestly recognises the ambitions of the professional class and officially gives them the power. It ought to be added that this is not prima facie a bad option; it certainly is the nearest thing to reality at present.
The question we must ask if whether these aristocrats are in any sense “the best”. I, at least, must voice scepticism. The idea that most of this current gaggle are anything other than interlopers on the green benches of Holles and Pitt and Gladstone and Churchill is an obvious and unfunny joke. If these truly are “the best” of us, then we are in dire straits; we have no true strength left, only wild energy for idiocy and petty partisanship.
Do we, then, desire a “juristocracy”? The “Supreme Court” has in recent days arrogated to itself powers both it and its former members confess are novel; it has breached ancient precedent; it has castrated the executive in public. There is no doubt, in this case, that the judiciary of this nation are intelligent, serious people. Their opinions and view of themselves are no proof that they are as incompetent as the imposters in the legislature. This would be not mere rule by country lawyers; as Burke observed, these judges are the true stars in the constellation of the legal profession. We might reasonably choose to trust such people with real, concrete, final law-making power; not merely the interpretation of laws, but the construction of them. We might even retain a ceremonial role for the Monarchy.
However, if we accept rule by judges we must accept a key limitation: these judges, precisely so as to preserve their excellence, must never be directly accountable to the people. Even the United States' system of confirmation smacks too much of mob theatre. If we want a juristocracy, we must with open eyes declare that they are “the best” and submit to their rule, including all the methods of selection peculiar to their profession. This will be the most indirect of indirect democracies. Our legislature will be a subordinate body, making rules within the framework of rulings provided them, and acting as a sounding board to those with the highest power to form the constitution. The executive may assert itself by sheer charisma or political talent – see Angela Merkel – but even it must submit to the rule of the unelected wise in the courts.
Another option – another aristocracy – comes to mind. The preceding two options are those now vying for supremacy; this third option is not and will not so vie. It is a hypothetical, a dusty writing taken from old books. What about an openly recognised aristocracy of blood and property? Every aristocracy replicates itself. Stephen Kinnock and Jack Straw are happy proofs of the principle within the current Labour Party. And why not? There is no such thing as a level playing field. The family is the natural and proper “first place” for love, and love involves giving of one's own substance and being. If a grandfather can pass on a gold watch, why not a good education or a helpful introduction? Why are the latter examples unloving and improper and the first one quite reasonable? Property is always the guardian of order – ask the dacha-loving Russian leaders of the Cold War. Neither civilised stability nor aspiration is possible without some idea of property. Our great love for the “council estate girl made good” is sure proof of this. What “good” has she made? A good job and good money, leading to a good house, and a good education for her children. Even a 100% inheritance tax would not prevent all these advantages being passed to her children, and none should begrudge her that. She might also work to enable prosperity for other people's children, but we would consider her a monster if she did not practice this principle at home first.
So we could be honest about the matter. Hereditary peers before 1999, free of any need to please political masters to ensure their place in Parliament, were the walking aristocracy of the dead – and that is no slur! Even where they disagreed with their forefathers – and often they did, and that itself was a proof of the vitality of the system – they represented the high achievements possible by courage and ability. Life peerage is a pale and politically grimy replacement. Such a body – generally secure politically and financially – also act as a great brake on revolutionary measures, given that revolutionary measures nearly always threaten property first. It is easier to recruit for a revolution with the promise of spoils than with promises of abstract egalité.
We could accept that our MPs will be chiefly selected from families able to send their children to private schools, or from families with multi-generational involvement in guild bureaucracies (that is, Trade Unions!), or other such qualifications. We could accept that the right to vote ought to come with the responsibility attendant to a real stake in the result – we can admit that there is a foolishness to our pretence that there is a natural and material right to tick a ballot box every now and then. We could accept that our monarch's training from birth to advise and counsel ought to have a more formal role in matters, rather than relegating the wearer of the Crown to the dignity of a fussy aunt. We could claim familial ties with our past and bear forward the torch of tradition.
We will not, of course, do any of these things; we must, in pragmatic terms, choose between a Parliamentary republic and a juristocracy, or some reasonable hybrid of the two. But for posterity, let it be said that what some call “turning back the clock” others know is “returning to the point where we got lost”.
