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The principle of intra-party democracy underlying the so-called constitutional crisis within the Labour party in Great Britain—a struggle between the party conference and the parliamentary party over the creation of defence policy—has for some time been the subject of widespread discussion in academic journals and the “responsible press.” This paper examines the difficulties within the organization of the United Farmers of Ontario when intra-party democracy resulted in a clash between the parliamentary and mass sections of the party, and attempts to relate the implications of this study to the general question of the distribution of power in parties of extra-parliamentary origin.The domination of the Legislative Assembly from 1919 to 1923 by an alliance of the United Farmers of Ontario and the Independent Labor party provided Ontario with its unique experience of “third-party” government. The suddenness of the intervention of these parties into the traditional order of Ontario's Conservative-Liberal politics was matched only by their equally rapid exit after less than four years of power. Standing as it did at the forefront of a wave of protesting third parties in the following two decades, the event is of considerable significance both for its contribution to a general understanding of the problems of third parties and for the opportunity it affords as a case study of farmer-labour co-operation. Although intra-party democracy was important for both members of the union, this paper deals with its effects on only one of the parties—the United Farmers.

T |SHE KOREAN WAR began on June 25, 1950. Three months later, Congress passed the Defense Production Act, approved by the President on September 8, 1950. On December 16, 1950, the President declared the existence of a national emergency. A year later, negotiation of a new industry-wide collective bargaining contract between the major steel companies and the United Steelworkers of America reached an impasse, and a strike was called effective December 31, 1951. Acting under the Defense Production Act of 1950 (as amended), the President referred the dispute on December 22, 1951, to the Wage Stabilization Board, and the union voluntarily deferred the strike which had previously been set. Ninety-nine days later, consequent to the refusal of the steel companies to accept the recommendations of the Wage Stabilization Board, the union called a strike for April 9, 1952. A few hours before the strike deadline, the President issued his Executive Order 10340, directing the secretary of commerce to take possession of the steel industry. The union immediately called off the contemplated strike and full-scale production of steel continued without further interruption until April 29, 1952. On the following day, Judge David Pine of the federal District Court for the District of Columbia ruled, in a suit brought by the steel companies to invalidate the seizure, that Executive Order 10340 was unconstitutional; and later that same day, April 30, the Court of Appeals voted in a five-four decision to stay the preliminary injunction ordered by the district court pending an attempt by both parties to have the Supreme Court review the case. That Court granted certiorari on May 3 and handed down its decision on June 2, 1952, affirming the lower court. The strike began immediately after the announcement of the Supreme Court's decision, and lasted almost two months. The Korean war also continued unabated; the elimination of steel production had obviously resulted in both a serious cut in defense and munitions production and widespread bottlenecks whose effect, in terms of the domestic economy, would be highly inflationary; the grave possibility of a full-scale war with the U.S.S.R. remained unchanged. This, in brief compass, is the outline of the circumstances surrounding the decision in what has been widely heralded as the greatest constitutional crisis of our generation. Any social conflict of these dimensions can obviously be dealt with from various points of view and many centers of interest. The limited

to the Reid-Morris Combination,"33 and went on to denounce in the strongest possible terms not only his handling of the constitutional crisis but the whole of his personal conduct as governor. All such protests, however, had about them an air of apoplectic impotence. The dissolution could have been given to either Bond or Morris and justified with equal plausibility: by giving it to Morris the Governor and his superiors in the Colonial Office made what amounted to a simple political choice. The bulk of the Newfoundland electorate could not be interested in constitutional niceties: to them what mattered far more was who had local patronage to dispense and that, the Colonial Office had decided, would be Morris's party, not Bond's. In every town and outport, applicants for government contracts or civil service appointments, or even poor relief, had thus to seek the favour of the People's Party candidate. On May 8 1909, the govemment of Sir Edward Morris was returned to office with a majority of sixteen in the new Assembly.

Fifty years ago, when the founders of this Society looked to the future of Roman studies, the general lines of development in Republican history must have seemed fairly clear. On the technical side Mommsen had opened up the main fields of systematic research, Eduard Meyer was at the height of his influence, and Beloch was testing new methods of historical survey, while Niese had arranged the evidence for Hellenistic politics. Historical scholarship could face a great access of material with confidence, as archaeology and epigraphy extended its scope, though this was less likely to affect Republican than Imperial history. At the same time the problems of historical interpretation had taken shape; for the events of the nineteenth century illustrated the play of power politics, which were relevant to the understanding of Roman imperialism. The ‘economic’ interpretation of history was coming into vogue, and this could lead into ‘social history’. If the influence of family connections and personal ambition was felt less urgently, it could be argued that a ‘scientific’ analysis of Roman politics should probe more deeply into the forces that broke out in the constitutional crisis of the Late Republic. We may admit at once that the main work in Republican history during our period has continued along these lines : we are still heavily in debt to the fundamental study of the older masters. The concept of ‘scientific’ history may have been modified, since it is a task of complicated inference to arrive at historical knowledge; yet the actual methods to which we have succeeded are well fitted for the systematic treatment of detailed evidence. Collingwood did less than justice to the school of Mommsen when he charged it with mastery over small-scale problems but weakness in dealing with large-scale ones. Only strict analysis and reconstruction of the evidence allowed the chief issues of Republican history to be defined critically, and subsequent research has refined on this procedure.

Constitutionalism, in Austria, is not a new slogan. It was a phrase to conjure with during the entire lifetime of Francis Joseph, though in practice the whole history of the country down to the revolution of 1918 was its virtual negation. Only in the latter days of the monarchy, when the scepter passed from the hands of Francis Joseph to the inexperienced young emperor Karl, was a modicum of popular expression allowed to supplant the personal autocracy of the sovereign. The old Austria passed out of existence in 1918 without the successful implantation of a régime of liberal legality in any of its parts.The young Austrian Republic, coming into existence in the hour of the Empire's dissolution, thus inherited a legacy of unconstitutional government, and only the solidity of socialist and clerical party organization, bred of the stress and strain of clashing conceptions of the social order, gave support to the government in the days when social revolution swept almost to the doors of Vienna. It was under such circumstances that Austria entered, in 1918, upon the way of constitutionalism and sought, through her provisional instruments of government, to avoid the autocratic excesses of the past and avert the impending perils of a proletarian dictatorship.In a series of revolutionary pronouncements and decisions of her provisional assembly, she discarded, under socialist leadership, the arbitrary régime attendant on the monarchy, and, establishing a unitary democratic republic with far-reaching local self-government as a stepping-stone toward union with Germany, inaugurated a régime of unquestioned parliamentary supremacy, strict ministerial responsibility, virtual executive impotence, and extensive socialization.

ANTONIO AMAR Y BORBON, Viceroy of Nueva Granada i(1803-1810), is chiefly remembered as an official ejected from office on July 20, 1810, by the people of Santafe de Bogota. At the time he was old, hard of hearing, unimpressive in person, and rather brusque as elderly generals are reputed to be. He distrusted undisciplined civilian gatherings. Understandably, he cuts a poor figure in Colombian historiography since severance of political ties between colony and mother country customarily leads to permanent deprecation of the overthrown officials. Amar was not a political leader by training. In view of the defense problems facing the empire, he was probably chosen for his office because of a creditable military career. Under the pressure of the grave imperial constitutional crisis initiated in 1808 by the French in Spain, the viceroy proved to be a vigorous discreet official who understood his mission and used intelligently the limited means at his disposal. The Quito rebellion of 1809 was the first calamity produced in the jurisdiction of the viceroyalty by the! imperial crisis. The nature of that rebellion and its impact on the viceroyalty of Nueva Granada was such that it exhausted the political resources of the viceregal government and brought on its collapse. This article proposes to relate the imperial crisis to the viceroyalty, state the motives and justifications of the Quito rebellion as reported from the scene, present the attitude of Granadians toward the rebellion, and describe the attempt of Amar to resolve the problems posed by the rebellion. Subversion, feared in Europe since 1789, had made little headway in Nueva Granada by 1808. Aroused by the spread of French revolutionary ideas in Europe, Spanish government officials responded promptly to signs of interest in the colonies. A number of investigations in the early 1790's brought notoriety to Antonio Narino, Francisco de Espejo, and others under the jurisdiction of the viceroyalty of Nueva Granada. The authorities established the fact of conspiracy among a very few and of discussion among intellectuals who were

The constitutional crisis of 1889 in Newfoundland offers an excellent example of what may occur when a governor, in the full belief that he is adhering to the strict observance of his constitutional position, yet manages to defy its limits, bring it into disrepute, and earn the opprobrium of nearly all concerned. That the Governor of Newfoundland did so, as the unsuspecting instrument of a political struggle, points up the dangers of appointing to high office men with little or no appreciation of the duties and responsibilities they are called upon to assume. The crisis of 1889 proves above all the importance that must be attached to the choice of men of good intelligence, even temper, and flexibility. When to insist on the exercise of his prerogatives and when to desist are questions that a governor can only solve by considering as far as possible the results of the choice he makes. A very difficult decision, admittedly, but one which will primarily depend on the governor's tact, influence, articulation, the vital features of his official personality. There is no need to stress the importance of the problem discussed below; the list of constitutional authorities who have studied similar questions is an impressive and well-known one.The Governor in question was Sir Terence O'Brien, a military man who had qualified as an engineer and surveyor in India, had for some years been Inspector General of Police in Mauritius, and, immediately before coming to Newfoundland in 1889, had served as Governor of Heligoland. His immediate concern in Newfoundland was, as befits a man with military experience, the fortification of St. John's against attack in the event of a global conflict which he saw as imminent; but this project was fated to suffer the indifference of a government that did not share his views. In November, 1889, the Governor's attention was abruptly diverted from his scheme of defence to a situation that appeared quite normal and might have remained so but for a combination of events that he grasped only imperfectly.

Governor General Ghulam Mohammed, by dissolving the Constituent Assembly and shaking up the Cabinet of Prime Minister Mohammed Ali, has again proved himself to be the strong man of Pakistan. The fundamental political and constitutional crisis which has gripped Pakistan during most of 1954 received its ultimate expression in October with the failure of parliamentary government on the national level and the rejection of the draft Constitution which had been painfully evolved over the last five years. An earlier manifestation of the same crisis was the May 30 imposition of Governor's Rule on the povertystricken, overcrowded Province of East Bengal two months after the Muslim League had been routed in the Provincial Assembly elections.1 It was hoped thereby to stem the growth of provincialism in both East and West Pakistan, to enable the Central Government to restore order and revitalize the economy of East Bengal, and to provide the Muslim League with a sufficient breathing spell for it to reassert itself and to rally support for the draft Constitution being hammered out in the Constituent Assembly.

ALTHOUGH the dynamics of American politics demand perpetual and creative alterations in the constitutional system, the building of the original complex of arrangements on the foundation provided by the framers was probably the most precarious undertaking in America's history. It was the task of Congress to turn the blueprint for a government into an operating reality, and all at one time. Any structural weakness might have brought down the entire edifice or, at least, would have forced some rebuilding at a later time under new stresses and strains. The establishment of the Supreme Court was peculiarly significant since, paradoxically, the Constitution deemed it as coordinate and co-equal with the Presidency and the Congress, and yet the Court was a creature of Congress in the sense that its detailed form and substance depended upon a statutory enactment. Had the framers spelled out in Article III the precise structure of a federal judicial system, prescribed the detailed nature of the Supreme Court's appellate jurisdiction, and explicitly authorized judicial review, much of the conflict which continues to this day might have been avoided. Instead, the Constitution left these important questions open to legislative discretion and the stage was set for frequent legislative-judicial altercations which at times have almost reached an irreparable constitutional crisis.

During the last four years before the outbreak of war in 1914 the people of England experienced an unprecedented combination of political strife and labor unrest. The struggle over the budget of 1909 had led to a constitutional crisis over the powers of the House of Lords in 1910–1911; suffragettes were resorting to obstructive and exasperating tactics to win the vote for women; the question of home rule almost resulted in civil war in North Ireland and brought what amounted to a threat of dereliction of duty by high military officers, who could not contemplate the use of force against the opponents of home rule; while the restlessness of labor brought a series of massive strikes in which the rank and file of workers often broke from the discipline of their leaders.

The origins of that strange amalgam of constitutional and religious issues which provoked England's civil war have not yet been fathomed. The painstaking researches of the historians of parliament have established that from early in Elizabeth's reign, the Commons assumed an increasingly Puritan complexion; from the 1621 Parliament until the last stormy session before the Personal Rule, the constitutional crisis came forward to meet and merge with the religious in the first of the three stirring resolutions voted by an expiring Commons in defiance of Mr. Speaker. Yet, the identification of sacred concerns with secular by the few hundred who sat in St. Stephen's was not the norm for the greater England beyond Westminster. Parliament had moved further and faster in the 1620's than had the country, the constitutional questions alone having been bruited about the countryside. The religious issue—the growing divergence in faith and practice within the Church—had not been generally perceived by a nation largely unaware of Laud and his adherents on the one hand and the ‘Preciser sort’ of Puritans on the other. During the Personal Rule, however, the religious issue became a matter of common knowledge, concern, rumour, and controversy. Under the impact of Laudianism, Puritanism grew more extremist. The inexorable destruction of the Elizabethan settlement, ground between an ever more rigid orthodoxy and an increasingly radical heterodoxy, forced the countryman to choose sides in matters religious. Once the identification of religious heterodoxy with political opposition was accomplished, the necessary ingredients for civil war were mixed, awaiting only the loosening of royal and episcopal authority in the Long Parliament in order to work their destructive ends.

The sudden collapse of Lord Aberdeen’s Government at the end of January 1855 precipitated a constitutional crisis in the middle of a great war. Aberdeen’s Liberal-Peelite coalition had lasted longer and been more effective during the two years of its existence than many contemporaries had expected. It had been a strong ministry in terms of personnel, containing four members who at one time or another were prime ministers and five who were foreign secretaries. Considering the Cabinet was made up of former political opponents the ministers had worked well together with the exception of the wayward Lord John Russell (1792–1878). He had antagonised his former Whig colleagues as much as his new Peelite ones by resigning when the government was challenged. He could not reconcile himself to the fact that as titular leader of by far the largest party in the coalition he was not the prime minister, although he had been promised the succession by the elderly and unambitious Aberdeen.

In Australia in the latter part of 1975 a very serious political crisis occurred which rapidly developed into a constitutional crisis. A political drama, with unprecedented constitutional elements, was enacted on our national stage. The two powerful political leaders, who with their respective parties and supporters became locked in a vital struggle, were the Prime Minister Edward Gough Whitlam, leader of the Australian Parliamentary Labor Party, and John Malcolm Fraser, leader of the Opposition coalition of the Liberal and National Country Parties — each motivated by his political position and objectives and acting politically. As Governor-General of Australia I occupied at that time the neutral position of representative of the Crown in Australia and repository under the Australian Constitution of reserve powers which it has vested in the Governor-General alone.

In 1297, at the height of a constitutional crisis, the English barons advanced the claim that nearly half their country's wealth derived from wool. Although in one sense an exaggeration, in another this statement is less than the truth for, although wool cannot have made up anything like half the gross national product, it contributed nearly all the country's export earnings. Yet while the wool trade was then the most important branch of English commerce it was not necessarily the oldest, for woollen cloth was sent abroad long before there is evidence of the export of raw wool. The medieval export trade may be represented, perhaps, as a cycle in which the earliest and latest periods were distinguished by manufactured woollen cloth, the volume in the last being vastly greater than in the first, while intermediate stages in the cycle saw the growth and the decline of the wool trade. During the first half of the eighth century gifts of cloaks were sent to English missionaries on the continent and, although this can hardly be described as commerce, Charlemagne's letter to Offa of Mercia later in the same century, complaining about English cloaks and requesting that they should be made as of old, suggests a trade of some standing. There is a possibility that English cloth went into the famous ‘Frisian cloaks’ which had wide currency at that time, and by the ninth and tenth centuries the fame of the English product had reached the Arab world.

There have been a number of constitutional episodes in Canada in the last 40 years that appeared to involve the discretionary role of the head of state, but on the whole they have been minor sources of temporary confusion and inconvenience — no more than that. In part this has been so because of what is probably a gradual change in Canadian political culture. In some cases the cause seems to have deep roots. Canadians have been conditioned to think that majority government is a natural consequence of democracy, and become uncomfortable when the electoral system is perverse enough to throw up minority governments. When the trauma of minority governments was combined with the almost-forgotten role of the head of state, the issue was seen in a particular light for a generation or so after the event. That episode was the constitutional crisis of 1926, and it is necessary to recall it here since it forms a backdrop to every consideration of the head of state role since.

The final withdrawal of James was followed by heart-searching throughout the nation, with anxious negotiations within doors and vehement discussion without. Few doubted that effective power must pass into William’s hands, but on what terms? The constitutional crisis forced men to examine the basic principles of their political beliefs. The Tory theory of divine right by inheritance left no room for a political vacuum. Either James was still king, or else he could be considered to have abdicated. In that case, his infant son was king, unless, as it suited many Tories to believe, he was really a changeling. If that was so, then James’s elder daughter Mary reigned jure divino. In all this there was room for William only as Regent or Consort, roles he was most unlikely to accept. The Whig contractual theory of the state avoided all these difficulties; and Defoe for one had no hesitation in interpreting the situation as a return to the state of nature which had existed before civil government had come into being.

Volume One.- I. The Police of Provisioning.- The state and subsistence, the police and the consumer.- The notion of police.- The structure of police.- Police rivalries, Paris versus France.- The police from below.- II. The Regulations and the Regulators.- The police view of the grain trade, monopoly, and the just price.- The rules of the trade.- The application of the rules.- The police of provisioning in the eighteenth century.- The radical departure.- III. The Origins of Liberty.- Grain liberalism and enlightenment.- Physiocracy, agromania, and the "economic years" (1750-70).- The liberty lobby.- The government prepares the reforms.- Silhouette (1759).- Bertin(1759-63).- Laverdy (1763-68).- Choiseul.- Why the government risked liberty.- The thesis of circumstances.- The thesis of conspiracy.- The government and the new political economy.- Political economy and the nation.- Political economy and the parlements.- The thesis of fiscality.- The pacte de famine.- The royal thesis.- IV. The Response to Liberalization: Theory and Practice.- Early criticism of the liberal system (1763-64).- The Parisian municipality.- Joly de Fleury.- The state-of-the-nation.- The idea of abundance.- The parlements and the liberal laws.- The storm after the calm (1764-70).- Women rioters.- Merchants beware!.- The forces of order and disorder collaborate.- Police anomie and anger.- V. Forcing Grain to be Free: The Government Holds the Line.- Laverdy and the people.- Laverdy and the local police.- Laverdy and the "grand" police.- The price rise.- Encouraging speculation.- Laverdy's liberalism.- Unexpected disgrace (1768).- VI. The Reforms and the Grain Trade.- Reform and dearth.- Exports.- The fruits of liberalization.- Domestic grain trade.- "Abuses".- Grain fever and new faces.- Recruitment.- Paris.- Meaux.- Other registries.- The sinister "companies".- VII. Paris.- Quarantine.- Paris and the hinterland.- Incipient panic.- A "critical" time (1768).- Wallposters and sedition.- Misery, crime, and charity.- Sartine seeks grain.- The Paris police and the liberal ministry.- The police and the bakers.- Crisis and subsistence innovation.- Helping bakers help themselves.- VIII. The Royal Trump.- The beginnings of the Paris grain fund (1750-60).- Malisset.- The "famine pact" contract (1765).- Leray de Chaumont and the guarantors,.- Corbeil.- The company "royalized" (1767).- Rumors and calumnies.- The quality of the king's grain and flour.- The company attacked from the inside and the outside.- Maynon d'Invau, Daure, and the end of the king's grain (1769).- Malisset's resilience.- The royal "visa".- Leprevostde Beaumont, hero.- Denouncing the famine pact (1768).- Conspiratorial mentality and political consciousness.- Leprevost: social critic and political theorist.- The liberals and the plot accusations.- The critique of royal victualing, 403..- Volume Two.- IX. The government, the parlements, and the battle Over liberty: I.- The Paris Parlement and the unfolding crisis (1767).- Rouen's violent turn-about (1767-68).- The letters patent of November 1768.- A seance de flagellation: the Assembly of General Police (November 1768).- Vox populi.- Louis XV and the Paris Parlement brawl (1769).- The meaning of parlementary opposition.- X. The government, the parlements, and the battle Over liberty: II.- The antiliberal parlements: brittle solidarities.- The case of Rouen.- The liberal parlements: riposte and counter of Tensive (1768-70).- The Parlement of Dauphine.- The Estates of Languedoc.- The Parlement of Languedoc.- The Parlement of Provence.- The rebuttal of the economists.- The ministry buoyed.- General economic crisis (1770).- XI. From Political Economy To Police: The Return to Apprehensive Paternalism.- Terray's liberalism.- Spring and summer riots (1770).- Eating grass and dying of hunger.- The "subsistence of Paris".- The royal arret of July 1770 bans exports.- The triumphant revenge of the Paris Parlement (August 1770).- Monopolists beware!.- Maupeou and the parlements: the constitutional crisis and the crisis over liberalization (1770-71).- The Brittany affair and liberalization.- Terray's grain law (December 1770).- Consumers versus producers.- Controlling the "general subsistence".- Savoir equals pouvoir.- XII. Policing the General Subsistence, 1771-1774.- The parlements and Terray's law (1771).- Enforcing the law: moderation and tolerance.- A nightmare of chaos.- The Midi's Flour War.- "The general and literal execution" of the law.- The laboureur as villain.- Laboureur opulence.- Illicit exports.- Problems in the south and southwest: Bordeaux.- The Parlement of Grenoble.- The Parlement of Aix.- The Parlement of Toulouse.- Antiphysiocracy.- Galiani's "bomb" (1770).- The "dangerous sect".- Galiani refuted.- The Bagarre.- Morellet versus Diderot.- Turgot's letters to Terray on the grain trade (1770).- XIII. The King's Grain and the Retreat from Liberalization.- The king's grain at the end of 1769.- Terray's regie: Doumerc and Sorin.- 1770: improvisations.- Pascaud.- The regie (1771-1774),.- Planning.- The regie's purchases.- The regie's public relations.- Terray's pledges.- Doumerc and Sorin as managers.- The regie's agents.- Sales and accounts.- Guys and Company.- Embastille .- Guys and the regie.- Doumerc-Sorin versus Malisset.- The reputation of the king's grain.- The famine pact persuasion.- Bethmann.- The Almanach royal.- A new king and a new ministry (1774).- Turgot's crusade against police and paternalism.- St.-Prest.- Turgot proclaims liberty.- September 1774.- Dismantling the regie.- The regie indicted.- Flour War.- Albert interrogates Doumerc.- The fate of Doumerc and Sorin.- Terray versus Turgot.- Conclusion.

Pakistan is no longer a member of the Commonwealth. Its state structure, however, is as much a legacy of the connection with the British Crown as it is a product of the clashing particularisms of its constituent units. Indeed, without the wanton use of the Commonwealth connection and the powers Dominion status bestowed upon the Governor-General — the head of state — Pakistan’s fledgling political process might not have crumbled quite as easily as it did. This is borne out by Pakistan’s very first constitutional crisis which marked a decisive shift in the institutional balance of power within the incipient state structure. In April 1953, when a Bengali Prime Minister enjoying the confidence of the Constituent Assembly was summarily dismissed by a Punjabi Governor-General there were no major ripples on the unstable sea of Pakistani politics. Yet on 24 October 1954 when a similar fate greeted the Bengali-dominated Constituent Assembly which had after some seven years of tortuous debate agreed on the principles of its future constitutional framework, the legality of the Governor-General’s action did not go unchallenged. The Sind High Court’s ruling on the Federation of Pakistan vs. Tamizuddin Khan case went against the Governor-General, but was overturned on technical grounds and precedents in British common law practice by the mainly Punjabi judges of the Supreme Court.

In March 1977 a general election in Fiji produced an unexpected result. The opposition party emerged with half the seats and as the largest party. There followed a constitutional crisis which centred on the action of the Governor-General in appointing a Prime Minister and subsequently dissolving the Parliament. The episode was important for the development of Fiji’s constitution and of the office of Governor-General. In addition, because the office of Governor-General is similarly constituted elsewhere, the episode in Fiji has a wider significance more possibly in the issues it raises than for the answers it offers.

In late July 1983 the government of Datuk Seri Mahathir Mohamad tabled in the Malaysian parliament a bill to amend the constitution. Among its 22 provisions were three curtailing the authority of the King (Yang di-Pertuan Agung) and Their Highnesses the State Rulers. The Barisan National (National Front), a coalition dominated by the United Malays National Organisation (UMNO), had no difficulty securing the necessary two-thirds majority. Although the public were not made aware of the issue at the time, it became a cause celebre because the Yang di-Pertuan Agung, backed by the rulers, withheld his assent.

The final struggle to bring family planning into the National Health Service led to parliamentary drama with a constitutional crisis being only narrowly averted. The decisive opportunity to make the provision of birth control a statutory duty came when legislation was sought to reorganise the whole NHS structure. Throughout, disagreement centred on whether contraception should be provided ‘free’.

Legitimacy in twentieth-century Europe was mythological but also practical, national but also local. This was especially true in much of German-occupied Europe during the 1940s, when the German (or Axis) occupations swept away or marginalised many of the national structures of government. Power became more local and so too did lives, as the citizens of Europe were brought into a much more intense relationship with the local officials upon whom they depended for protection, security and survival. This was certainly the case in Belgium, where the events of the war years reinforced the long-standing importance of the communal or municipal level of government in political and daily life. The military defeat in May 1940 and the subsequent German occupation of the country inaugurated a prolonged period of political and constitutional crisis in Belgium, characterised notably by the polarisation and rivalry that developed between the (legitimate) king Leopold III in Belgium and the (legitimate) Pierlot government, initially in France and subsequently in London. National government and many of the institutions of national political life ? notably parliament and the national press ? went into abeyance, and in their place local political life in its various forms came to the fore. The centrality of municipal government, but also of such local institutions as the Church and the trade unions, as well as the various Resistance groups, emphasised this localisation of Belgian life. Local political life also became a contested battleground upon which the various pretenders to power in both occupied and pre liberated Belgium old administrators, New Order officials, the Germans, agents of the London government and Resistance groups of left and right struggled to increase their influence and, in various ways, their legitimacy. This article examines one element of this process: the struggle of New Order and, increasingly, collaborationist municipal officials to establish their legitimacy in German-occupied Belgium.1

"Constitutional government," Glenn Schram affirms, "in the sense of government effectively limited by preestablished rules. . is something of immense value"; and he quotes Charles McIlwain's "constitutionalism ... is a legal limitation on government."1 But he shrinks from testing judicial "activism" by those limitations, stating, "Nor is the cause of constitutionalism helped by Berger, who comes very close to charging the United States Supreme Court with usurpation for not adhering to what ... he considers to have been the intent of the majority of the authors of the Fourteenth Amendment," thereby "detract[ing] from the legitimacy of the Court.'"2 If, however, the Court has assumed power withheld, constitutionalism can only be advanced by demonstrating the "usurpation." With Philip Kurland, I consider that "the most immediate constitutional crisis of our present time [is] the usurpation by the judiciary of general governmental powers on the pretext that its authority derives from the Fourteenth Amendment."3 That is the thesis of my Government by Judiciary: The Transformation of the Fourteenth Amendment. Schram' s reference to what Berger "considers to have been the intent of the majority" of the framers does scant justice to the proof, which even my critics acknowledge stands solidly. So Nathaniel Nathanson wrote that Alexander Bickel "conclusively demonstrated" that the framers understood that the amendment "would not require school desegregation," that Justice Harlan II "quite convincingly demonstrated" the same with respect to suffrage, and that "Berger' s independent research and analysis confirms and adds weight to these conclusions.'"4 One who fastidiously opens a critique with charges that an author misspells "the names of at least four authors""5 does himself little credit by representing as Berger "considers" what a noted British political scientist

THE SETTING: On 12 November 1975, the day following the dis missal of the Whitlam Government, I addressed a protest letter to Sir Garfield Barwick. I wrote to Barwick, rather than to Sir John Kerr, for two reasons. First, Barwick was then Chancellor of Macquarie University where I had been employed for three years as lecturer in American history. Second, I was particularly intrigued by Barwick's unique role in Australia's historic constitutional crisis. The letter was blunt. I called Kerr's action 'shocking' and 'ill-advised'. I asked Barwick for an explana tion of his position if, as reported, he had given the advice. I did not expect a response to the letter. Hence, I was very surprised when, at 5.15 pm on 19 November, the Registrar of the University rang me at home to ask if I would meet the Chief Justice of the High Court of Australia on the following day when he would be at the campus on routine business. The meeting was subsequently put off at Barwick's re quest until 4.45 pm on Friday 21 November. At a time when every journalist and political scholar in the country would have eagerly changed places with me, I arrived at the Vice-Chancellor's office for my meeting with Barwick. The Vice-Chancellor's secretary led me to a small conference room where Barwick sat alone behind a large desk with only a cup of tea in front of him. He wore a dark suit and a Macquarie University tie. We shook hands. The secretary offered me a cup of coffee and I took a seat in one of the padded chairs arranged in front of Barwick's desk. For the next 45 minutes I was alone with the Chief Justice. I took no notes but, after our conversation, I returned to my office and wrote down what had been said as closely as I could recall it. Some of Barwick's statements had stuck in my mind so clearly that I could quote them exactly. Otherwise, the general nature of the exchange went into my record. Portions of that record were subsequently published in David Marr's Barwick (Sydney: George Allen and Unwin, 1980), pp. 269-270.1 Following the release of Barwick's curious little book, Sir John Did His Duty (Wahroonga, Serendip Publications, 1983), I decided to publish a full account of the conversation.2

Professor Taylor begins his analysis of Canada's current constitutional crisis by discussing two long standing "existential" questions: why should Canada exist, and why should Quebec be part of Canada? The contradictory answers to these questions reflect contradictory understandings of the nature of rights, as reflected in the debate over the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Professor Taylor traces the roots of this debate in differing philosophical views of the nature of liberalism. He concludes by proposing a new kind of confederation in which these differing views could be accommodated.

O N JUNE 14, 1769, Governor Francis Bernard ordered the Massachusetts General Court to leave its traditional seat in Boston and to reassemble in Cambridge for the remainder of its session. When Lieutenant Governor Thomas Hutchinson, on March 8, 1770, summoned the Court to meet in Cambridge, he provoked a constitutional crisis in Massachusetts and instigated a controversy which lasted for more than two years.1 Hutchinson claimed that his royal instructions required him to remove the Court from Boston's turbulent influences. The Court, in turn, challenged the power of the crown to interfere in the provincial matter of calling, proroguing, and dissolving the assembly. It further questioned whether Hutchinson was actually bound by an explicit instruction and suspected him of harassing the Court out of whimsy. In the process of demanding the Court's return to

The Constitutional Crisis of 1909–10. Comparison with Crises of 1832, 1846, 1884–5, and 1886, 244. — Popular political education through the platform and the press, 245. — Liberal and Tory Press in 1909–10, 247. — Platform Propaganda in 1909, and in previous crises, 248. — Class bitterness in the Budget struggle, due in first place to action of the peers in attacking the Budget. Letters and speeches of peers, 253. — Unfair assessment of mansions of aristocracy for local rates, 257. — Peers' desire for protective duties, 258. — Propaganda of political leagues, 259. — Chamberlain's share in the struggle, 260. — Reasons for the Lords' rejection of the Budget, 262. — Chamberlain's appeal to the Lords to reject it. Contrast between his attitude in 1884 and in 1909, 264. — Methods of propaganda in constituencies and results in education of people, 266. — Agreement of Liberals and Tories on need of new expenditure. No opposition to old age pensions or Dreadnoughts, 268. — The taxation proposals, 269. — Motor car and petrol duties, 269. — Tax on urban undeveloped land and on unearned increment, 270. — Attitude of municipalities to these taxes, 272. — Tax on renewals of leases of building sites, 273. — Ground landlords of London and site values, 274. — Tax on mining royalties and way leaves, 275. — Tax on monopoly value of liquor licenses.