are inside one, just as a bee knows when it is in the hive. Institutions have boundaries, often walls. And, crucially, they have rules.
For some readers, I dare say, the word ‘institution’ still conjures up a Victorian vision of lunatic asylums: poor old Niall, he’s in an
institution
now. That is not the kind of institution I mean. I am talking about, for example, political institutions, like the British Parliament or the American Congress. When we talk about ‘democracy’, we are in fact referring to a number of different interlocking institutions. People sticking pieces of paper into ballot boxes, yes. Their elected representatives making speeches and voting in a large assembly hall, yes. But those things alone do not automatically give you democracy. Outwardly, the legislators of countries like Russia and Venezuela are elected, but neither qualifies as a true democracy in the eyes of impartial observers, not to mention those of local opposition leaders.
Just as important as the act of putting crossed or stamped papers in ballot boxes are the institutions – usually parties – that nominate candidates for election. Just as important as the parties are the officials – civil servants, judges or ombudsmen – whose responsibility it is to ensure that the elections are fair. And then it matters hugely how the legislature itself actually operates. A body of elected representatives can be anything from a wholly sovereign entity, as the British Parliament was until European law began to encroach on it, to an impotent rubber stamp, like the old Supreme Soviet. Its members can stoutly uphold the interests of their constituents (including those who voted against them), or they can be in hock to the vested interests that financed their election campaigns.
In August 2011, as Colonel Gaddafi’s regime in Libya was falling apart, a BBC correspondent in Benghazi spotted some remarkable graffiti on a wall. On the left side of the wall there was a classically straightforward revolutionary message: ‘The tyrant should fall, he’s a monster.’ Direct and to the point. But on the right side, the message was anything but simple. It read: ‘We want constitutional rule and for the president to have less authority and the four-year presidential term should not be extended.’ 17 As that (quite correctly) suggests, the devil in any political transition lies in the detail of the constitution, not to mention the rules governing the constituent assembly that designs it.
How does the legislature stand relative to the executive and the judiciary? Most constitutions spell that out. But how do the organs of civilian government relate to the military, a question of burning importance in Egypt? Nor can one stop there. Modern nation-states have developed a whole range of institutions that were undreamed of as recently as a hundred years ago, dedicated to regulating economic and social life and redistributing income. The welfare state is not part of democracy as the ancient Athenians conceived of it. In bee terms, the welfare state seems to create an ever increasing number of dependent drones whom the worker-bees have to support. It also employs a great many bees simply to transfer resources from the workers to the drones. And it seeks to finance itself by accumulating claims on future bees, in the form of public debt. In Chapter 1, I will consider this and other distributional aspects of democracy. In particular, I will ask if we are witnessing a fundamental breakdown in what Edmund Burke called the partnership between the generations.
These days, nearly everyone claims to be democratic. I have even heard it claimed that the Chinese Communist Party is democratic. ‘Capitalist’, by contrast, is a word too often used as a term of abuse to be much heard in polite company. How do the institutions of the democratic state and those of the market economy relate to one another? Do corporations play an active part in politics, through
Catherine de Saint Phalle
W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O'Neal Gear