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At the moment, when I am asked whether I am working
on history or politics, I often find it very difficult to answer. This is
because of two issues. One is the relationship between statute and common
law, brought to a head by David Blunkett's persistent attempts to override
judicial review as it was by James VI and I's attempts to do the same thing.
Of this some other time.
The other is the issue of national sovereignty, unexpectedly
brought to a head this week by the revival of the European Constitution,
and in March 1603 when James VI, King of the sovereign nation state of
Scotland, became also King of the sovereign nation state of England. This
was the moment when England lost its national sovereignty, and it has
not yet noticed. Working up for press three of last year's centenary papers,
I find all sorts of resonances.
This is especially true of the lecture delivered in
Edinburgh, from the pulpit of St Giles's Church in Edinburgh, in which,
having been historian of the one and actor in the other, 1 was able to
compare the debate caused by the Union of the Crowns in 1603 with that
caused by the revival of the Scottish Parliament, in 1997-9. It is positively
alarming to find how little English arguments have moved on in the intervening
four centuries, and how far they are identical to the modern arguments
of euroscepticism. As it was only the English who advanced these arguments
in 17th century Britain, it is only the English who advance them in 21st
century Europe. When I say 'English' I do not mean British: the Welsh
and Scots, because of their relations with the 'awkward neighbour', know
better.
The characteristics of a sovereign power are, first,
that it had no superior save God. This was why Henry VIII thought the
Pope offended his sovereignty, and More was a good European. Second, its
will was law, and it could not he controlled but by itself. As John Selden
said in 1628, the King in Parliament could make it a capital offence to
get up before nine in the morning. Third, its law was uniform for the
whole of the state. There could be no liberties, exceptions or peculiar
jurisdictions, save in so far as the sovereign lawmaker said so. That
is one reason why the survival of Scottish law after 1603 meant the end
of sovereignty in Britain.
In this creed, the focus of loyalty has to be unique.
As an MP said in 1604: "We are English and so cannot be Britons."
That is why for their successors it does not matter what the constitution
of Europe says: the mere fact of a constitution means their imaginary
pass has been sold.
These are the principles of a very solitary creed. Though
they allow treaties to last as long as the sovereign power wishes, outside
adjudication on whether the sovereign power is in breach of the treaty
is not allowed.
One might say it is the creed of a bachelor nation.
In 1996 Lord Wilberforce remarked in a Parliamentary debate that there
are now only two major democracies without a written constitution: those
of Britain and of Israel. In addition, states largely because of the global
character of the economy, are enmeshed in a body of international law
put together as treaties under the authority of the UN. The UN Convention
of 1951 on refugees is a good example, and one of the many reasons why
the Home Office hates it is that it interferes with British sovereignty.
From this point of view, one can perhaps see why the
European Constitution which appears to most of us a more or less sensible
tidying-up exercise, appears to them a desperate encroachment. It recognises
the breach of all three of the principles to which the sovereign-worshipper
is wedded. It recognises a power superior to the Queen in Parliament,
and so offends the central principles of Henry VIII's Reformation, which
eurosceptics assert surprisingly often. It says there are some things
Parliament cannot do. It is not a unitary source of authority: it is part
of an argumentative family of authorities.
The eurosceptics say the world has to be like this.
It is awkward for them that, as the Scots pointed out in 1604, this argumentative
family of authorities is the normal European pattern. In 1603, no other
country in Europe enjoyed the sovereignty England was complaining of losing.
In 1998 David Steel pointed to plural sources of authority in Germany
and Catalonia. Lord Beloff said if David Steel thought this was relevant,
he was living in a fantasy world. Isn't it really the other way round?
Isn't the fantasy world that of the English, who think they're the only
ones here?
Conrad Russell is a noted historian and a Liberal
Democrat member of the House of Lords. This article was first published
in Liberal Democrat News, 23 April 2004.
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