Exceptionalism is a hobgoblin for even the broadest minds. A bad thing may have happened to others, but it wouldn’t happen to us. In the words of the 1935 novel coming back into vogue: It Can’t Happen Here.
This is a common sentiment, even outside of politics. In his 1992 memoir, Fever Pitch, Nick Hornby writes vividly of a crush at an English football match in 1980. Fatalities from such crushes may have happened in Scotland but something like this, he thought at the time, would not happen south of the border: “The Ibrox thing, well that was different, a freak combination of events; and in any case that was in Scotland during an Old Firm game, and everyone knows that these are especially problematic.” It couldn’t happen here.
But it did happen in England, in 1989 at Hillsborough. England was not exceptional; bad stadium management was not exceptional. Bad things can also happen here.
In politics, there is a sense in countries which have not had recent upheavals that upheavals are for other countries. Those political systems are different, and there are freak combinations of events, and everyone knows that such political systems are especially problematic.
Such a view is complacent and misconceived. Every political system is open to failure, for that is the nature of human affairs. It is often only circumstance and luck, and sometimes prudent political leadership, that avert crises in any polity. All constitutions are fragile, codified or otherwise, if enough people lose their belief in constitutionalism.
And so what is now happening in the United States and elsewhere could well happen in the United Kingdom. Indeed in the UK, where political and legal power is generally concentrated in a unitary system, the system is especially vulnerable to being destabilised.
At least the US and some other countries have a federal structure that provides political fire doors to shut out (at least for a while) incendiary politics from the centre. With some exceptions, the UK has none. If you have firm control of Westminster and Whitehall there is no limit to the damage that can be done to our system of governance.
Part of this comes down to basic constitutional principles. The supremacy of parliament means there is no legal or conceptual limit to what can be done with an act of parliament.
The only real limits are practical and conventional, nothing hard. A government with a firm majority in the House of Commons could do as it wished. The House of Lords would only offer delay. The other limits—involving the king or the courts—are theoretical and, if asserted, would cause their own political crises.
There is also the notion of the royal prerogative which places immense legally effective powers in the hands of the prime minister, though technically on behalf of the Crown. Ministers can be sacked, treaties repudiated, armed forces directed, pardons given—all without any formal limits.
Pretty much many of the powers used and abused by President Donald Trump can be exercised over here too. And in addition to the powers of Trump, a prime minister can appoint a member of the upper house of legislature. The restraints to misuse are again primarily practical and conventional.
And then there are the hundreds, if not thousands, of statutory powers under so-called Henry VIII clauses in existing acts of parliament which allow ministers extraordinary powers to make and unmake and amend law by mere discretion. What Trump has sought to do by executive orders could be done here on a far greater scale by ministers issuing statutory instruments, codes of practice and other instruments.
In essence: the UK is vulnerable to a Trump and Doge-style assault on its government and constitutional arrangements. All that would be needed is a firm Commons majority and preparation and competence by ministers and their advisors.
So far, the UK has been lucky in that Boris Johnson and Elizabeth Truss were not up to the job of prime minister and Dominic Cummings really dislikes government lawyers. Constitutionalism in the UK has so far been fortunate in its enemies.
A dedicated team of British equivalents to Trump appointee Stephen Miller, working with rather than against lawyers, could do huge damage to our liberal polity, at scale and at speed. They would not even need to break the law. There is so much that can be done with the wide laws already in place once there is no sense of political self-restraint.
What, if anything, could be done to avert this? On one level, the answer is political. The illiberal radicals in Reform UK and elsewhere need to be taken on and defeated rather than appeased. Some would also aver that proportional representation would prevent such politicians from getting a parliamentary majority.
But there are practical things which could be done by means of constitutional reforms that would not be easy for an incoming illiberal and radical government to undo, at least not quickly. There could be fundamental reform of the House of Lords to extinguish prime ministerial patronage. The Royal Prerogative could be placed on an entirely statutory basis.
There could also be a thorough overhaul of the existing Henry VIII clauses, treating them as gaping holes in a political roof that can be fixed during the (relatively) clement weather of a large Labour majority. The process for making statutory instruments and issuing other delegated legislation could be tightened up with more parliamentary involvement.
If there was an incoming illiberal and radical government, the machinery of government could be left in such a way as to make it difficult, even impossible, for significant damage to be done easily. The keys could be handed over to a safer vehicle. Of course, over time these protective measures might be undone, but a new administration would find it harder to move fast and break things.
None of this required constitutional overhaul will take place, of course, for the current arrangements suit ministers and their officials. Those who could make the changes now are too politically and administratively selfish to limit their own convenience because of the damage that an incoming government may do.
Perhaps we will again be lucky. Everything will be alright. Those in charge of the political stadium will make sure that nothing will go wrong for the rest of us. Perhaps an incoming illiberal and radical government will fall apart quickly. The gatekeepers will turn up again and save us.
Yet just as those who were around Trump in his first administration learned the lessons of that initial bout of government power, we cannot rely on incompetence and arrogance to save our constitution from itself.
As with the Palace of Westminster, our constitutional arrangements are in urgent need of repair. And as has happened with the fabric of that building, we will put off what is necessary. Westminster both symbolically and physically will fall apart, together. For what has happened in the US and elsewhere can certainly happen here.
