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There was a time when constitutional history
was a critical part of the curricula in History, Law and Politics. At the beginning of the twentieth century at
the University of Cambridge, for example, a student on the History tripos could
expect to have 70 lectures in ‘English’ constitutional history and up to 15 on
comparative constitutions. During the
period, as Linda Colley points out in her global history of constitutions,
between the 1820s and 1920s, the publication of new constitutional histories
printed across Britain increased by almost twenty times (p. 415). Fast forward a hundred years and the reality
is very different. History no longer
seeks a place at High Table when it comes to covering constitutions and a
History student in the UK and elsewhere, with a few exceptions, would struggle
to find in their reading lists any texts on constitutions or their history, let
alone as a key part of their courses.
Political Science is transfixed by constitutions, especially now as we
are often reminded that we live in ‘interesting times’, but this focus on the
moment can blind the ability to use history to complicate and contest
assumptions and thereby evade the all too common resort to describe events and
issues as ‘unprecedented’. Law has
filled much of the gap left by History and Political Science. It has in recent years seen a growing
analytical legal-historical approach towards constitutions and a resulting
abundance of works on an array of ‘constitutionalisms’ helpfully prefixed to
display the writer’s (not always unique) contribution. However, many of the volumes of this growing
legal genre while theoretically impressive and ambitious in scope still ignore
the opportunities to look beyond the legal documents and include the richness
of culture, personalities, politics and history that permeate the
constitutionalisms they seek to promote. A powerful and eloquent corrective to
the current deficiencies in these disciplines covering the historical
importance of constitutions has come in the form of Colley’s scintillating new
book - The
Gun, the Ship, and the Pen: Warfare, Constitutions, and the Making of the
Modern World.
The 20th
century British ‘Constitution-Maker’ Sir Ivor Jennings argued in his
seminal text Cabinet
Government (1936),on the
history and practices of the British state, that constitutional history is the
‘servant of the lawyer and the politician’.
He might also have added that training in constitutional history was
once a critical part of the Historian’s trade. What made Jennings’ statement more powerful
and influential was that despite being about the United Kingdom it was understood
and interpreted by thousands whose land of birth was far from London’s SW1
postcode. Students from Trinidad like the
Afro-Caribbean Ellis Clarke studying law in 1930s at the London School of
Economics (later his country’s first president) or those at the University of
Ceylon, like Kingsley M. De Silva in the early 1950s (who would become the
island’s premier modern historian) all studied this book as undergraduates. Students
from the ‘white settler’ parts of the British Empire-Commonwealth also shared
this reading experience like the Australian Maurice Byers at Sydney University
who would later draw on Jennings as Solicitor-General during the Australian constitutional
crisis of 1975, when his opinion was needed on the legality of dismissing a
prime minister. Though these states
lacked what Clarke
called ‘geographical
propinquity’ to Britain’s constitution these students and others knew its
transnational value, which did not ‘preclude the growth’ or the ‘nuances of
distinction’ in their own constitutional and cultural contexts. These small linked examples of global
constitutionalism were by new means unique, but a give a feel for the global
constitutional ideas and the rich constitutional
history of decolonisation in the 20th century, which I recently examined that was once
highly active in academia as well as used by freedom movements and colonial
rulers alike.
The power of
Colley’s new book is to look earlier at the first real global constitutional
generation that whirled with tremendous influence from the 18th and
19th centuries. Colley shows
that constitutions were not just for the great powers and their acolytes. Communities
from Corsicans to the Cherokees turned to writing constitutions to prove not
just their modernity, but also their legitimacy to withstand the avaricious
attentions of their neighbours. The
Cherokee constitution written in 1827 (in English as well as Cherokee) stated
unequivocally, the claim that the Cherokee were a ‘free and distinct
nation’. As with many such attempts
around the world the effort to assert independence failed. The US Federal
Government with its ‘We the People’ constitution and the all-white legislature
of Georgia, where the Cherokees were mainly situated, rejected the Cherokee
constitution’s legality and validity (p. 150-153). In this Washington rigorously asserted its
monopoly of constitutions.
Nonetheless, the
migration and use of constitutions and their ideas as a form of confirming
independence was an attractive and ubiquitous phenomenon, where constitutions
took the form of a legal and political ‘technology’ (p. 3). The transnational power of these constitutional
technologies was such that a revised version of the famous 1812 Cadiz
constitution was dedicated by the reformers to their kindred spirit in Bengali
liberal intellectual Rammohan Roy: ‘Al
liberalismo del noble, sabio, y virtuoso Brahma Ram-Mohan Roy’. Roy had taken great interest in Cadiz and
other liberal experiments (including contributing to a translation of a draft
constitution of Peru) and he was able to learn of such exploits thanks in no
short measure to the rich literary and publishing scene of the great cultural
entrepôt of Calcutta (pp. 142-146, 188). The attraction of constitutional
liberalism was global. Even the sparsely
populated Pacific Island of Pitcairn was not immune to the global
constitutional moment when in 1838 it established through a Scottish Royal Navy
Captain a constitution that contained, for example, progressive clauses to
protect the environment and wildlife and also secured the rights of both women
and men, including in selecting their leader.
Here, as throughout the book, Colley is not content to allow the case
sit alone. The tiny territory’s history
and constitutional experiment is persuasively shown as part of wider currents
stretching from Poland to Chile (pp. 253-260).
Through this wide canvas which sees figures like Japan’s Hirobumi Ito or Tunisia’s Khayr al-Din, who not only read widely, but
travelled extensively in the 19th century, in order to gain ideas as
to how to revive their states in the face of growing Western dominance. As Colley shows, once again, constitutions
were to be the vessel of their quest for reform and modernity on one hand, but
also the preservation of local traditions and civilisations on the other.
One of the reasons the
historian of Tudor Government, Sir Geoffrey Elton, believed in the virtues of
constitutional history was its traditional attention to law and evidence, which
gave the historian ‘excellent
training in rigorous analysis’.
Nonetheless Elton’s well-known faith in archives and documents as the
repository of truth blinded him and others to the opportunities of a wider
understanding of constitutional history.
Here in Colley’s book we have global constitutional history that is not
only embracing of so many historical strands of society and life, but also
deeply alive to the significance of law, the reality of politics and the power
of culture. It is to be hoped that The
Gun, the Ship & the Pen emboldens an exciting turn in constitutional
history (or at least the use of history in studying constitutions) since it
showcases the opportunities a wider understanding constitutional history brings
and the bounty to be found in the scholarly exchange between History, Law and
Politics. Afterall, as Colley book
proves, constitutions and their history made the modern world.
Dr H. Kumarasingham is Senior Lecturer in
Politics at the University of Edinburgh. Email: harshan.kumarasingham@ed.ac.uk.