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It 
may appear to be a truism to state that constitution-making is the pre-eminently 
political act. Nevertheless, after a generation of withdrawal on the part of 
many political scientists from consideration of all that is labelled 
"constitutional" in the world of government and politics, on the 
grounds that such matters are merely "formal" and hence not 
"real," it is a truism that needs restating.
Modern 
constitutionalism first emerged in British North America with the American 
colonial constitutions beginning with the Fundamental Orders of Connecticut in 
1639. After the Declaration of American Independence in 1776, virtually all of 
the new states drafted and adopted state constitutions which took modern 
constitutionalism a long step forward. That trend reached its first full 
flowering in the U.S. Constitution of 1787, whose bicentennial is upon us. With 
it emerged the twin ideas of constitutional choice and constitutional design as 
the first expressions of political and civic life in democratic republics. In 
the words of The Federalist, the Americans demonstrated that governments could 
be established by "reflection and choice," rather than by 
"force" or "accident."
Constitution-making, 
properly considered, brings us back to the essence of the political. However 
much extra-political forces may influence particular constitution-making 
situations or constitutional acts, ultimately both involve directly political 
expressions, involvements, and choices. In that sense, the dynamics of 
constitution-making have to do with questions of what Vincent Ostrom has termed 
constitutional choice.1 
A proper study of the subject, then, involves not only what is chosen but who 
does the choosing, and how.
Constitutional 
choice is more art than science. There are scientific principles involved in the 
making of constitutions, as the fathers of the United States Constitution of 
1787 demonstrated in their reliance on the "new science of politics," 
which had discovered such vital principles of republican regimes as separation 
of powers, federalism, and the institution of the presidency.2 
But the combination of those elements and their adaptation to the constituency 
to be served is an art. 
It 
is an even greater art to bring the constituency to endow the constitution with 
legitimacy. Constitutional legitimacy involves consent. It is not a commitment 
which can be coerced -- however much people can be coerced into obedience to a 
particular regime. Consensual legitimacy is utterly necessary for a constitution 
to have real meaning and to last. The very fact that, while rule can be imposed 
by force, constitutions can only exist as meaningful instruments by consent, is 
another demonstration that constitution-making is the preeminent political act.
A 
constitution is also a political artifact;3 
making one combines science, art and craft, including the identification of 
basic scientific principles of constitutional design and the technologies which 
are derived from them by a constitutional artisan or group of artisans.
Because 
of its pre-eminence in constitutional history, the United States Constitution 
often is taken to be the only model. Despite its greatness, it is not. Other 
models have developed and must be considered. Looking at the relationship 
between the contents of the constitutional document and the fundamental 
character or form of the polity it is designed to serve, we can identify five 
basic models: 
1.      
The constitution as frame of government and protector of rights. 
2.      
The constitution as code.
3.      
The constitution as revolutionary manifesto.
4.      
The constitution as (tempered) political idea.
5.      
The constitution as modern adaptation of an ancient traditional 
constitution.
 
This 
constitutional model is characteristic of the United States, the oldest of the 
modern constitutions. As a frame of government, it delineates the basic 
structure, institutions, and procedures of the polity; and as protector of 
citizens, it declares certain rights to be basic and provides means for their 
protection in civil society. It is not a code. Hence it is not designed to be 
highly specific and is only explicit in connection with those elements essential 
to the framing of a government. American constitutions frame governments and not 
the state because the absence of any sense of state as a pre-existing 
phenomenon, a reified entity which continues to exist regardless of how it is 
constitutionalized (or not constitutionalized) at any particular moment is 
characteristic of the American system. 
Frame 
of government constitutions establish polities as often as they establish 
governments. Written constitutions of this model often are designed to be 
devices for organizing new societies founded in new territories, such as the 
United States, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa. In such cases, 
they frequently begin with political covenants or compacts which establish the 
body politic in question. For example, the Preamble of the Massachusetts 
Constitution (1780) specifies that the people of that commonwealth both covenant 
and compact to form a body politic. The Montana Constitution (1978) includes a 
compact with the land in its Preamble. 
Reform 
in such situations really amounts to keeping the frame of government in tune 
with societal change. Often, the frame can be tuned up through mechanisms like 
Supreme Court decisions, which will not be written into the fundamental 
document, but which becomes an integral part of the constitutional tradition. 
Only where reform requires changes in specific wording is formal amendment used. 
In the American states, new constitutions have been adopted for that reason or 
when the mechanism of judicial tuning has broken down. 
 
In 
contrast to the frame of government model, Western European constitutional codes 
tend to be far more rigid and require precise and deliberate formal textual 
change to be tuned or adopted. The frame of government model works best in 
political systems where there exists basic consensus with regard to the 
character of the polity, while the constitutions as code model reflects the 
reality of polities in which the character of the regime itself is sufficiently 
problematic for change in its authority, powers, or functions to require 
explicit consent. 
For 
most Western European states, the constitution is a state code designed to cope 
with an established order, with established pre-existing constituencies, not to 
speak of a pre-existing state. As the word "code" signifies, it is 
long, detailed, highly specific, and explicit, certainly by American standards. 
Constitutional change in the case of such constitutions reflects either a change 
in regime or the necessity to adapt the constitution to delineate precisely the 
ends of government at a given time. The constitutions of Austria and the German 
Federal Republic are classic examples of that highly rigid model, but so is the 
1978 Spanish constitution, introduced after Franco's death as the basis for the 
introduction of a more liberal regime.
 
The 
third model, most common in the Socialist (Communist) states, is designed for 
the comprehensive revolutionary reconstruction of an established civil society, 
based upon the achievement of a social revolution of the most fundamental kind, 
with all of its political manifestations and impact. This is a constitution 
designed to root out the old order and to reorder its elements in their 
entirety. Thus Communist constitutions tend to exclude certain groups or classes 
from participation in the body politic as much as to define the rights, roles, 
and responsibilities of those who are entitled to participate. Moreover, the 
central feature of every Communist constitution is the location of power in the 
hands of the organized revolutionary cadres. Indeed, the constitution is not 
only used to establish the myth of the social revolution but as an instrument 
for fostering that myth and enhancing the power of the revolutionary cadres to 
make the revolution in the name of the myth.
If 
there is such a thing as constitutional reform in such systems, it involves 
bridging the gap between the constitutional myth and regime reality. Such 
constitutions establish certain myths about the state and its society which are 
far from the realities of political life. At some point, the gap between the 
constitutional myth and the regime reality becomes too great and there has to be 
some attempt at reform. This has been particularly true in Yugoslavia where the 
federal republican constitution has been rewritten several times since the 
regime was instituted at the end of World War II to reflect changes in the 
distribution of power between the federal government and the republics and 
between the various classes and groups within Yugoslav society. Another such 
change was instituted in Czechoslovakia as a result of the 1968 revolt in the 
country. While the socio-political liberalization sought by the liberals was 
rejected by the ruling Communist party, a federal arrangement was introduced to 
accommodate the ethnic aspirations of Czechs and Slovaks. 
The 
USSR itself has undergone the least constitutional change in this respect. Its 
most recent effort was launched by Nakita Khruschev when he was in power, 
principally to eliminate the federal structure which he, following Leninist 
doctrine, held to be a temporary expedient to communize non-Russian 
nationalities which was no longer needed. After seventeen years of negotiations 
and long after Khruschev himself has passed from the scene, a new constitution 
was indeed adopted with the federal structure intact. Even the Communist leaders 
of the national states in the USSR had refused to accept the change.
 
This 
model is most closely identified with the Third World. It was pioneered by the 
Latin American countries in the nineteenth century. This type of constitution 
combines an expression of what its citizens believe the regime should be with 
the basic structure of authority which will enable the current powerholders to 
rule with a measure of legitimacy. The former is presented without any serious 
expectation that the polity or regime will achieve that constitutional ideal, 
and the latter in anticipation of periodic change as rulers change, usually 
through revolution or coup. This model bears some superficial resemblance to the 
communist model but it has a political rather than a social revolutionary 
intent. In essence, most Third World constitutions are designed to present an 
ideal picture of the institutional framework of the proper polity while 
simultaneously reflecting the character of already rooted power systems and the 
specifics of rule by the current powerholders.
Constitutional 
change in much of the Third World involves balancing regime realities with 
constitutional aspirations. Hence, Third World polities seem to be constantly 
changing their constitutions in their entirety. In fact, while each constitution 
is presented as new, usually there is a great continuity of basic articles from 
one document to the next, combined with changes in specifics to reflect each new 
regime.
Latin 
American constitutions over the past 150 years or more demonstrate this pattern: 
on the surface an apparently frequent change of documents but underneath 
substantial continuity in their contents. In each Latin American polity, there 
is a "classic" constitution, usually adopted sometime during or at the 
close of the first generation of independence, in which the fundamental tensions 
o the founding are sufficiently reconciled to enable the polity to continue to 
exist. Each subsequent constitution accepts this original reconciliation and 
adapts it to reconcile present realities with long-term constitutional 
aspirations. In most cases, after a revolution or coup, when a constitution is 
changed, the new powerholders will explicitly make this point: that what they 
are doing is "temporary" or "interim," to make possible the 
achievement of larger constitutional aspirations. If this is so much rhetoric, 
it remains an important part of the Latin American political mythology.
 
Polities 
utilizing this model have a deeply-rooted commitment to what can only be 
characterized as an ancient and continuing constitutional tradition, rooted in 
their history or religion, or both. This commitment frequently finds expression 
in what is conveniently referred to as an "unwritten constitution," 
which often encompasses a collection of documents of constitutional import, each 
of which marks an adaptation of the great tradition to changed circumstances.
The 
United Kingdom is one example. Its constitution is celebrated for its piecemeal 
constitutional development, uninterrupted at least since the Norman Conquest and 
perhaps even before if William the Conqueror's claims to the throne are 
recognized. The only time there has been constitution-writing in the United 
Kingdom or any of its constituent countries has been in connection with some 
strong necessity to clarify or adapt what are viewed as ancient principles, as 
in the case of Magna Carta (1215), the 1689 Bill of Rights connected with the 
Glorious Revolution, and the 1832 Reform Act, or when constitutional documents 
are used to establish new relationships among its constituent countries as in 
the case of the Act of Union between England and Scotland (1707) or the 
reconstitution of Ireland in the 1920s. Indeed, when this element has been 
lacking, efforts to change the British Constitution in a formal way have 
generally failed. This was true most recently in the attempted devolution of 
legislative powers to Scotland and Wales. At all times, constitutional change is 
achieved through ordinary legislative procedures which are endowed by convention 
with constitutional status.
Israel 
may be another example of this model. In Israel, the first Knesset was elected 
as a constituent assembly and spent the better part of a year debating whether 
or not to write a constitution. The body was deadlocked as the traditional 
religious parties opposed the idea of a constitution other than the Torah (Five 
Books of Moses-as-interpreted), which is the classic constitution of the Jewish 
people, while the socialists were equally opposed because they knew that the 
constitution which would emerge would not embrace their Marxian vision of what 
the new state should be.
In 
a classic speech, David Ben-Gurion, Israel's first prime minister, moved that 
the writing of a comprehensive constitution in one stroke be set aside in favor 
of a system of enacting basic laws piecemeal as consensus was achieved with 
regard to each subject, which would ultimately form a constitution. He suggested 
that polities need written constitutions for one of two reasons -- either to 
link constituent units in a federal system or to republicanize absolutism. Since 
Israel was not a federal state and the Jewish people has always been republican, 
Israel did not need a comprehensive written constitution, only basic laws to 
frame its government.4
The 
proposal for piecemeal writing of the constitution was accepted. Now every 
Knesset is a constituent assembly when it wants to be, and can enact a basic law 
by a modest special majority, namely, half plus one of its total membership. 
Basic laws constitutionalizing its legislative, executive and judicial organs, 
the presidency, the state lands, civil-military relations, and the status of 
Jerusalem have been enacted since the early 1950s. Israel's Declaration of 
Independence (a covenantal document) has been given quasi-constitutional status 
by the courts in lieu of a formal bill of rights, since it specifies the basic 
principles of the regime, while unsettled issues such as the status and powers 
of local government or controversial ones such as a bill of rights, have been 
left in abeyance. The relationship between Israel and the Jewish people has also 
been constitutionalized through a covenant negotiated with the World Zionist 
Organization and the Jewish Agency, and enacted as legislation by the Knesset.
In 
the Israeli case, direct consideration of the ancient Jewish constitution is 
discussed through presumably neutral rhetoric because of the ideological 
disagreements between those who seek a traditional grounding for the Jewish 
state and those who want the state to have a strictly secular grounding. Most 
Israelis view their state as a regime based on civil rather than religious law 
but believe it only proper that the Knesset specify in law that the state's 
legal system should be based as far as possible on traditional Jewish 
legal-constitutional principles. To the extent that the Torah, however 
understood and interpreted, is perceived to have constitutional import, it 
provides a larger constitutional grounding for the frame of government that is 
emerging out of the Israeli constitutional process. Israel's Declaration of 
Independence, known in Hebrew as the "Scroll of Independence," serves 
as a bridge between this idea of an ancient traditional constitution still 
possessing a certain validity and a modern frame of government.
One 
of the characteristics of this model is the inclusion among its constitutional 
documents of basic laws which relate to specific ancient traditions: The basic 
laws of Israel relating to state lands and to Jerusalem, plus parts of three 
others: the Knesset, the President of the State, and the State Economy, plus the 
Scroll of Independence and the covenant with the diaspora. Thus seven of the 
eleven constitutional texts of the contemporary Jewish state speak directly to 
the issues of the ancient traditional constitution. So, too, does the 
quasi-constitutional Law of Return.
Are 
there other examples of this model? It may be especially real in the Islamic 
world, with the Ayatollah Khomeini's "Islamic republic" in Iran, the 
extreme example but not too far beyond the constitutions of the Arab states, all 
of which link their polities to Islamic law and tradition. Does Japan consider 
itself bound by some ancient traditional constitution even though its frame of 
government is so deliberately modern? The matter bears investigation.
Despite 
the tendency for each constitutional model to be prevalent in a particular 
geo-cultural area, the models are not strictly confined to a particular region. 
For example, India is a Third World country whose constitution is closer to the 
Continental European pattern. The Indian constitution is not only more like a 
code than a frame of government, but it deliberately seeks to democratize the 
Indian political tradition. 
 
| 
         1. Constitution as Frame of Government and Protector of Rights  | 
      
         e.g., English-speaking countries of the New World  | 
    
| 
         2. Constitution as Code  | 
      
         e.g., Continental European democracies, India  | 
    
| 
         3. Constitution as Revolutionary Manifesto  | 
      
         e.g., Soviet bloc countries, Yugoslavia  | 
    
| 
         4. Constitution as Political Ideal  | 
      
         e.g., Latin American and African states  | 
    
| 
         5. Constitution as Adaptation of Ancient Traditions  | 
      
         e.g., United Kingdom, Israel, Iran  | 
    
 
Constitutions 
are not only frames of government but also "power maps," to use Ivo 
Duchacek's term; they reflect the realities of the distribution of political 
power in the polity served.5 
They have yet a third dimension: they also reflect explicitly or implicitly, the 
moral principles underlying polities or regimes. These are, in fact, the three 
dimensions of constitutionalism, recognized by Aristotle and by students of the 
subject ever since.6 
Every 
modern constitution must directly provide for a frame of government. The various 
models reflect the other two dimensions to a greater or lesser degree, sometimes 
directly and sometimes by implication. A constitution which does not 
sufficiently reflect and accommodate socio-economic power realities remains a 
dead letter. Revolutionary constitutions actually specify the new power 
arrangements being instituted by the revolutionary regime. 
While 
the moral underpinnings of some constitutions may be confined to codewords or 
phrases in the preamble or declaration of rights which are virtually 
unenforceable, they nonetheless have a reality and power of their own. In many, 
they are at least partially enforceable through the courts. The moral dimension 
of the constitution serves to limit, undergird, and direct ordinary political 
behavior within constitutional systems. 
In 
every case, the moral basis of a constitution is an expression of the political 
culture of the polity it serves. These aspects are crucial to any comparative 
study of constitutions, constitution-making, and constitutional change. Indeed, 
if there is one reason why the study of constitutions became arid two 
generations ago, it is because constitutional documents came to be taken in the 
abstract, divorced from the power systems of which they were a part and the 
political cultures from which they grew and to which they were responding. 
Failure to recognize this helps explain the limitations of trying to transplant 
constitutional forms.
Constitution-makers 
often borrow from one another, not only within the framework of a particular 
constitutional tradition but across traditions as well. Such borrowings were 
once commonplace and advocated by reformers as a matter of course. But through a 
process of trial and error, constitutional designers have learned the limits of 
borrowing. Constitutional architects and designers can borrow a mechanism here 
or there but, in the last analysis, those mechanisms must be integrated in a 
manner that is true to the spirit of the civil society for which the 
constitution is designed.
For 
example, the Spanish Constitution of 1978 at first glance may seem to have 
certain consociational features, but in fact, Spain is not consociational at all 
because it does not give the nationalities as such within the country a real 
share in the national government. Similarly, while there are many apparently 
federal features of the Spanish Constitution, it deliberately rejects the 
constitutional principle that the territories have ancient rights (fueros in 
Spanish) other than those provided in the constitution itself.
Perhaps 
the constitution closest to the Spanish is the Italian constitution, in which 
the regions are given certain autonomous powers of home rule without being 
involved qua regions in the general government. Indeed, the Italians borrowed 
their model from the pre-Civil War Spanish republican constitution and then 
Spain very deliberately borrowed back some of the same ideas.7 
But Spain is not Italy and its nationalities do not see themselves as merely 
regional expressions of a common Spanish culture as is the case in the latter 
country. Hence the reborrowing has involved a transformation as well.
The 
Spanish Constitution of 1978 may have been the first step in the evolution of 
what I have elsewhere termed "formalistic" federalism, that is to say, 
a combination of self-rule and shared rule arrangements between the general 
government and the autonomous regional governments based upon bilateral 
negotiations between Madrid and each region, leading to special constitutional 
arrangements for each entity. This process has been completed for three regions 
and is under way in all of them. It offers the possibility of designing 
constitutional arrangements appropriate to the "personality" of each 
entity. Since each arrangement is then embodied in a constitutional document 
ratified bilaterally, the system is, in essence, a modern adaptation of the 
ancient Spanish system of fueros for a democratic state, and hence anchored in 
Spain's political culture.8
 
The 
basic processes for constitutional change are shaped by the fundamental form or 
character of the polity. Let us refer for a moment to the question of how 
polities are founded. Throughout the ages, from ancient times to the present, 
political scientists have identified three basic models of political founding 
and organization: 1) polities founded by conquest which generate power pyramids 
in which political organization is hierarchical; 2) polities which evolved 
organically out of more limited forms of human organization and which over time 
concretize power centers which govern their peripheries; 3) polities founded by 
design through covenant or compact in which power is shared through a matrix of 
centers framed by the government of the whole, on the basis of federal 
principles broadly understood.9
In 
hierarchical polities, constitution-making is essentially a process of handing 
down a constitution from the top, the way medieval kings granted charters. 
Indeed, the principal constitutional mechanism in hierarchical systems is the 
charter. The basic means of consenting to such a constitution is through pledges 
of fealty up and down the hierarchy. Constitutions are changed only when there 
is a necessity to do so to restore fealty ties or to alter the lines of fealty.
Constitutions 
established by contemporary authoritarian and dictatorial regimes are of this 
kind, whatever trappings the regime's rulers or ruler may give them to make them 
seem as if they are something else. When Turkish or Pakistani generals, and 
Iranian ayatollahs dictate constitutions, this is what comes out. This is 
probably the most prevalent form of constitution-making in Black Africa today. 
Even in the Communist world, while a patina of symbolic acts to establish 
consensus covers the constitution-making process, it essentially follows this 
pattern.
In 
organic polities, the process of constitution-making is also an organic one, 
consisting of a series of acts negotiated among the established bodies that 
share in the governance of the polity, whether medieval estates, 
territorially-based groupings, or other mediating social and political 
institutions, which speak for the various segments of society represented in the 
center, reflect their interests, and can negotiate among themselves to resolve 
constitutional questions as they arise. Constitutional change in such polities 
is relatively infrequent since it only occurs when custom and tacit 
understandings are no longer sufficient to determine the rules of the game. 
Ordinary processes of law-making often serve as the mechanisms for establishing 
such constitutional acts but those processes are involved only after consensus 
has been reached through negotiation.
The 
means of consenting to such constitutions is informal or at best quasi-formal. 
In organic polities, whole constitutions are rarely written and are even more 
rarely replaced. Rather, constitution-making and constitutional change come in 
bits and pieces. The United Kingdom is perhaps the prime example of an organic 
polity with an organic constitution. Each step in the constitution-making 
process at least from Magna Carta to the present follows this pattern.
In 
polities founded by covenant or compact, the process of constitution-making 
involves a convention of the partners to the pact, or their representatives. 
Constitutional change is instituted through similar conventions or through 
referral of the issue to all partners to the polity, that is to say, all 
citizens, in a referendum. The reasons for this are obvious. As a pact among 
equals, or the political expression of such a pact, the constitution can only be 
changed through the consent of either all of the partners or a majority thereof 
if it has been so agreed. The result produced by such polities is what we 
commonly refer to as a written constitution, that is to say, a comprehensive 
document deliberately given the status of fundamental law, written, adopted, and 
preserved through extraordinary rather than ordinary legislative procedures.
The 
means of consenting to such constitutions, the way in which consent is given, 
and the kind of consent involved, are all formal. Constitutions as covenants or 
compacts or extensions thereof, can either be changed in their entirety or can 
involve frequent amendment, because issues of constitutional choice become part 
of the coin of the realm, as it were, and publics constituted as partnerships 
see themselves as empowered to participate in constitutional design in a 
relatively direct way. The American and Swiss models -- federal and state -- are 
perhaps the best examples of the constitution as covenant and the extension of 
covenant. In Switzerland and in the American states, the constitutional process 
has become an important way of building consensus and hence citizen 
participation in determining the basic policies and procedures of government, 
and in providing a popular check on representative institutions. Consequently, 
many of the issues that are dealt with on the level of constitutional choice, 
that is to say, through referenda, would not be considered major constitutional 
issues by an outside observer but are dealt with in a way that reaffirms the 
process itself. This, in turn, has become a political virtue in those polities. 
That is to say, a constitutional initiative or referendum reaffirms the power of 
citizens to shape the fundamental or organic laws of their polities.
Modern 
revolutions have tended to emphasize the reconstitution of the polity on the 
basis of a popular compact to replace either a hierarchical or an organic 
founding associated with an ancien regime. The extent to which such revolutions 
have succeeded is, in itself, an issue. In most cases it seems that at best they 
have been able to temper the earlier model through the substitution of this 
third form of constitution-making. Under such circumstances, constitutions may 
be extensions of revolutionary compacts but they do not become as fundamental in 
shaping the body politic as in cases where the polity itself is founded by 
compact.
France, 
whose revolution is the accepted model for overthrowing old regimes, is an 
excellent example of this phenomenon. Despite its great revolutions, France has 
continued to exist no matter what, having come into existence through a 
particular combination of conquest and organic development, which is its 
historical heritage. French constitutions have been changed with relative 
frequency since 1798 since comprehensive constitutional change in France really 
reflects regime change and does not address the existence of the body politic 
itself.
The 
Spanish situation is somewhat similar. There we have a state which sees itself 
as properly organic but in fact as much a product of conquest and pact as of 
anything else. A proper state is probably conceived to be organic on the part of 
most of Spain's population, including those groups that would like to secede 
from Spain because they want to form organic states of their own. However, since 
the Spanish state has had to reconstitute itself on a new basis, it has sought 
to establish its new constitution by balancing the conception of Spain as an 
organic state with the realities of the Spanish polity as a pact between the 
various nationalities and regions which constitute "the Spains." The 
Spanish constitution of 1978 essentially renegotiates the character of the 
Spanish state, which is what makes it so bold an experiment.
There 
is an element of this in the Canadian situation as well. Canada's 
English-speaking population has traditionally tended to view constitutions as 
products of organic development, even if written down, while its French-speaking 
population has emphasized the constitution as a compact between two peoples. The 
struggle between these two theories goes back to the mid-nineteenth century 
antecedents of the BNA Act and continues through the recent struggle over 
constitutional reform. It will become reemphasized as the courts and 
legislatures of Canada attempt to interpret the country's revised and patriated 
constitution.
In 
polities which are constituted through covenant or compact, the constitutions 
themselves often become the touchstones of their very existence as bodies 
politic. This was evident in the United States at the time of Watergate in the 
way that President Nixon's actions were perceived to have shaken the very 
fundaments of the American polity, far more so than even the Vietnam War. One 
could sense a palpable -- even audible -- sigh of relief when the presidency was 
successfully transferred from Nixon to Gerald Ford and Ford took the appropriate 
steps to reestablish the national consensus, thereby reassuring everyone that 
the republic was intact.
Constitutional 
change is not always a matter of explicit amendment to the constitutional 
document; it has a less formal side too, for which explicit procedures for 
consent are unnecessary. Such informal constitutional adaptation may be intended 
or not and perceived or not. The latter is possible if the substantive issue 
itself is so important that its constitutional implications are ignored, or 
because it occurs so gradually that there is no incentive to clarify intentions 
or perceptions.
For 
example, in the United States it is unlikely that in the stream of U.S. Supreme 
Court decisions designed to protect the civil rights of racial minorities, there 
was an intent to change the federal constitution to create conditions for 
massive, across-the-board federal court intervention into state affairs. The 
attempt to grapple with the substantive issues of individual rights in effect 
blinded those involved to the constitutional change that was occurring in the 
balance between the federal and state governments. Sometimes there are mixed 
intentions, for example in the history of U.S. Supreme Court grappling with the 
question of the incorporation of the federal Bill of Rights into state 
constitutional standards. Certain members of the Court were for incorporation; 
others were opposed. As a result there has never been full incorporation but a 
piecemeal extension of particular rights to achieve a kind of 
quasi-incorporation which did not go as far as some intended, but farther than 
others did. The more flexible the framing document is, the greater is the 
possibility for unintended and unperceived changes.
 
This 
leaves us with at least three questions to consider as we proceed:
1.      
How does a constitution serve as an instrument of social control given 
the character of the civil society it serves?
2.      
How is consensus achieved in constitution-making?
3.      
How do we effectively use constitutional choice as a device for 
self-government? 
Constitution-making 
and constitutional choice are vital aspects of democratic government; they are 
more than the arid preparation of constitutional documents. Rather, 
constitution-making involves the embodiment of the constitutional traditions of 
the body politic in appropriate binding rules of the game that properly reflect 
the polity model basis and socio-economic distribution of power. 
Constitutional 
choice involves utilizing appropriate models that recognize the importance of 
institutions in the lives of humans, the significance of history and culture in 
shaping those institutions and rendering particular institutions effective or 
ineffective, and identifying the empirical and behavioral dimensions of the 
constitutional process in each case. 
 
1. 
Vincent Ostrom, The Political Theory of a Compound Republic: Designing the 
American Experiment, 2nd ed. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1987). 
I am greatly indebted to Professor Ostrom for teaching me how to understand 
constitution-making and constitutional choice.
2. 
Alexander Hamilton, John Jay, and James Madison, The Federalist, No. 2. 
For the relationship and distinction between covenant and compact, see Daniel J. 
Elazar, "The Political Theory of Covenant: Biblical Origins and Modern 
Developments," Publius, Vol. 10, No. 4 (Fall 1980), pp. 3-30.
3. 
Vincent Ostrom, "Hobbes, Covenant and Constitution," Publius 10:4 
(Fall 1980) and Political Theory, op. cit.
4. 
David Ben-Gurion, "Laws or a Constitution" in Rebirth and Destiny 
of Israel, edited and translated from Hebrew under the supervision of 
Mordecai Nurock (New York: Philosophical Library, 1954), pp. 363-379.
5. 
Ivo Duchacek, Power Maps: Comparative Politics of Constitutions (Santa 
Barbara, Calif.: A.B.C.-Clio, 1973).
6. 
Cf. Norton Long, "Aristotle and the Study of Local Government"; Daniel 
J. Elazar and John Kincaid, Federal Democracy (forthcoming).
7. 
Cf. Antonio la Pergola, Director of the Center for Regional Studies, Rome, 
Personal Interview, 1974.
8. 
Cf. Cesare Enrique Diaz Lopez, "The State of the Autonomic Process in 
Spain," Publius, Vol. 11, Nos. 3-4 (Summer 1981), pp. 193-218.
9. 
Cf. Elazar, op. cit.