an essay by Miestrâ Schivâ - written before the last Chamber election, but still relevant in its conclusions
The Ministry of Information, on the new updated talossa.com pages, describes Talossa as a “semi-presidential” system. This, we are informed by our good friend Wikipedia, means a system in which executive power is shared between a directly-elected President and a Prime Minister responsible to the legislature. I want, in this article, to examine the peculiarities of Talossa's twin-headed executive, which, I feel, is one of the least-understood parts of our Republican constitution – and, potentially, one of its most productive.
The international comparison
A “semi-presidential” system has been used most famously in France's “Fifth Republic (1958 – present). After thirteen years of stagnant, do-nothing governments lasting less than a year on average in a fragmented legislature, the war hero Charles de Gaulle finally decided he'd had enough. He got himself elected to the figurehead presidency of the Fourth Republic and instantly set about bringing in a new system where it would no longer be a figurehead. He could have gone for the American-style system, where the executive would be entirely divorced from the legislature and put in the President's hands. Instead, he brought in a system where the President would play a vital role in governing the nation – but alongside the leader of a parliamentary majority. This would bring some vital stability to the system, but not be too much of a break from French constitutional traditions.
The defining feature of semi-presidential systems – as perhaps you have figured out by now – is the possibility of cohabitation, a situation where the President and the parliamentary majority are from different parties. This leads to a situation which can either be “an admirably display of political consensus building” or “total stagnation and permanent bickering”, depending on concrete circumstances. For an example of what the latter has meant in practice, read Talossan history of the late 1980s, where two or three governments were elected from the parties opposed to King Robert (this was when such a thing was still possible). Or even worse, Sri Lanka, where the Prez and the PM just about kicked off a civil war between them a couple of years back.
The interesting thing about semi-presidential system the world over is how flexible they can be. Some countries, like Finland, precisely define fields of responsibility between the two chief executives – for example, the President is in charge of foreign policy. Others, like France, have let this evolve by convention. A system that is sufficiently flexible can let itself change through circumstances. For example, it is said in France that the system tilts strongly in favour of the Prime Minister during cohabitation periods, and towards the President when a single party is in control.
This flexibility is why I and the other members of the Constitutional Convention decided to adopt a flexible, semi-presidential system. There are arguments for a parliamentary democracy and for a presidential system. We hoped that, in practice, the ideal balance for Talossan conditions would come about naturally. But Talossan history weighed very heavily on the precise “ground rules” we laid for how a dual executive would work itself out.
Building our own system
The history of the pre-revolutionary Kingdom was very similar to that of modern Egypt. On paper – a strong head of state is balanced by a strong Prime Minister. In practice – the head of state completely dominates through “informal” influence, and occasionally through total misuse of power. To a large degree, the President of the Republic would be stepping into the role left by the King of Talossa. This has influenced the range and scope of powers he was able to wield. One peculiarity is that in most semi-presidential or parliamentary republics the President can give pardons, and gets to appoint the Prime Minister. Both these powers were misused by King Robert I and are heavily circumscribed in the Republic. Pardons can only be given by approval in referendum, and the legislature directly elects the Prime Minister (as in Germany, which has had its own problems with the executive going nuts).
The question from here is – did we go too far? Some countries, like Austria and the Irish Republic, have semi-presidential constitutions. However, in practice they are plain parliamentary states – the convention has evolved that the president simply does not use their powers. The Irish President, for example, has never vetoed a bill. The only time the Austrian presidency ever made the news was when an ex-Nazi got elected to it. Some people might wonder whether the Talossan Republic does not fit under this category. Is not the Seneschál the undisputed leader of the Talossan government? To what extent is our Prüm Citaxhiên a genial figurehead, an elected constitutional monarch, like the Irish Uachtaráin or the German Bundespräsident?
Looking at the facts
So, what exactly is the President of the Republic entitled to do? By the Constitution of the Republic he is our “Head of State and Defender of the Constitution” (II.1.1). “Head of State” is something of a formal, figurehead description, but it has one very vital connotation in the Talossan context – the President “represents the Republic in matters of international law” (II.1.8(a)). Traditionally, the King of Talossa represented our nation to the world outside – in practice, being chief spokesman to the macronational media and other cultural industries (Wired magazine, Lonely Planet, art galleries etc etc.) This has not been something that has come up yet for the Republic. But as our marketing strategy begins to crack into gear, it certainly will. In addition, the President's power to appoint ambassadors (II.1.8(a)) makes him the head of our Diplomatic Corps, and thus a vital power in the field of relations with other “nation-like entities”.
Both the Seneschál and the President are members of the Government, the entity which exercises the executive power of the Republic (II.3.2). The President “chairs” meetings of the Government (II.3.10) and is authorised to break ties in the Government (II.3.11), while the Seneschál “determines the general course of Government policy as a whole” (II.3.5(a)). The President is therefore a faciliator of the functions of the Government, while the Seneschál sets the agenda. The President therefore acts as a “safety” for the Government in two ways. A coalition government, or one facing serious splits, might need a neutral mediator to put things back together again. On the other hand, a too enthusiastic and united government might decide to attempt to misuse its executive power – something prevented by the fact that Executive Orders go out in the name of the President (II.1.8(f)).
Of course, the President also acts as a “safety” for the legislature, in his function of performing the final check over new laws before they go out in public (II.3.30 et seq), and to be able to dissolve a fractious or non-performing legislature (II.1.9(b)). As for the other branches of Government – the judiciary and what “civil service” we have, namely the Secretary of State's office – these are directly appointed by the President himself, in most cases with legislative approval.
We might describe the Presidency of the Republic as a fifth branch of the Republic's government (if the fourth is the “civil service” represented by the Secretary of State). Two of the first four branches are appointed by the President – the other two are elected by the people, but the President has a role as “safety” in both roles (hence the term “Defender of the Constitution”). He is part of all executive or legislative decisions (or at least has the right to be), and can step in to fix either branch of government if it falls to bits or goes too far.
The constitutional monarchy of Great Britain traditionally has three roles - “to advise, to be consulted, and to warn”. Similarly, the Brazilian Emperor was said to be the “moderative” branch of government. “The moderative branch” could possibly be a good way to see the Presidency of the Talossan Republic:
s/he is the link between all the other branches of Government;
s/he plays a facilitating and oversight role in all of them;
s/he acts as a fusebreaker if any of the other branches of Government reaches a crisis;
s/he represents the Republic as a whole, both to itself and to the outside world.
For the executive and the legislature, the President acts as a “brake” to the “accelerator” role of the Seneschál and the legislative majority. S/he also acts as an “arms-length” supervisor and final problem fixer for the judicial and civil service branches. S/he is the glue that binds the separated powers of the Republican state together – and therefore is the ideal person to be the “face” that the Talossan Republic shows the world. As we grow and develop, this latter role will, I believe, become increasingly vital, and the Presidency will certainly become more important and prestigious – if not necessarily more powerful.
So where are we?
As noted above, it is said in France that the semi-presidential system turns to a parliamentary system under the weight of cohabitation. Thus it has proved in the Talossan Republic. Peculiarist President Vercáriâ has certainly not had enough weight in legislative or executive matters to get any positive planks enacted, and the parliamentary majority has maintained its cohesion – thus, it has generally run things unfettered. On the other hand, the President's power to delay legislation and executive orders has required careful thought and consideration on certain matters. And he has certainly played a role (albeit a small one) in representing Talossa to the outside world, at least as far as intermicronational discussion for a.
But before this, President Gruber didn't play a much more vital role in a government composed of members of his own party. He held certain portfolios in the government, but the initative was left with the Seneschál in most matters. When President Gruber did raise specific “platform questions”, the matter was generally let slide. Indeed, it can be said that the Seneschál and the parliamentary majority have in practice ruled in the Talossan Republic – with the President actually exercising a more determined (if negative) role in a period of cohabitation.
In many countries debating a parliamentary-republic system, direct election of the President has been opposed because this presupposes a political election and therefore a President who will have a political agenda and want to use it, turning the system semi-presidential in practice. The highly partisan Talossan presidential elections so far have seemed to disprove this.
Is, then, the Talossan Republic a parliamentary system with a few knobs on? Or a semi-presidential system whose Presidents have, to date, either not wanted, not had the chance to, or not known how to use their powers? Only a few more years under the current constitutional setup can truly sort that question out. Perhaps it's just that we haven't had a President yet who wanted to play a role setting policy in any area – or a real occasion for the “external representation” functions of the Presidency to be used. Until either of those happens, el Prüm Citaxhiên dàl Repúblicâ will probalby continue to function as 'n viac'htéir constituziunál, or an elective constitutional monarch – albeit a unusually active one.
