SOURCE: "Reputations: Harold Laski Today," in Political Quarterly, Vol. 67, No. 3, July-September, 1996, pp. 228-38.

[In the following essay, Newman offers a late twentieth-century analysis of Laski's ideas and works.]

Harold Laski (1893-1950) was perhaps the best-known socialist intellectual of his era. As a prolific writer, inspiring teacher, intimate friend of leading political figures and prominent member of the Labour Party National Executive, his influence was felt in the United States, India and mainland Europe as well as in Britain. However, he was always a controversial figure; having achieved notoriety as the bête noire of the right during the 1945 general election campaign, his reputation declined, and after his death his personal integrity was impugned and his thought attacked. It is probably now accepted that much of the vilification was a product of the Cold War and based on a misrepresentation of his views. Yet despite the partial rehabilitation of Laski as a public figure, many continue to question his status as a political thinker. He is generally seen rather as a brilliant teacher and 'public intellectual' whose contribution was necessarily ephemeral rather than enduring.

This is partly because Laski combined so many roles that he is a difficult figure to categorise, and it is certainly true that his frenetic activity diminished the overall coherence of his political thought. However, it is a mistake to treat Laski as if he ever aspired to be a 'political theorist' in the way that the term is now conventionally understood. Like many of the past masters he studied, he believed that theory must be combined with action, and that the thinker should draw on insights from any available field of knowledge. As he put it, 'political philosophy is, by its very nature, pragmatic. Its practitioners do not sit down to write a treatise as dispassionate and universal as an exposition to geometry. In a real sense what they attempt is autobiography, the reaction upon themselves of a special environment individually interpreted.'¹

Laski can therefore best be appreciated as a thinker if the normal twentieth-century divisions of labour—between theorists and empirical analysts, and between academics and activists—are set aside. However, there is a second, and related, charge levelled against Laski as a thinker: that his writings were inconsistent and contradictory. This cannot be denied. Not only did he evolve through several perspectives—pluralism, Fabianism and Marxism—but elements of each of these coexisted in the successive stages of his thought. Such contradictions are certainly tantalising but do not, in my view, diminish his importance. First, as the radical journalist and writer, H. N. Brailsford, recognised, Laski was attempting to reconcile liberalism with Marxism: 'His work is to attempt a synthesis of these two tendencies, which are shaping the world of today and tomorrow . . . He grasps both the poles of this contradiction that reads and inspires our lives, with equal integrity, and strives to reconcile them with an effort of intellectual sincerity that is itself a creative act.'²

Secondly, and far more importantly, his contradictions were 'constructive' in the sense that they highlighted real problems occluded in more conventional modes of thought. It is, after all, relatively easy to achieve consistency by making unrealistic assumptions about the world and then treating them as if they were valid. Both liberal and Marxist theorists often do this, and discussions between them are therefore 'dialogues of the deaf. Because Laski was able to enter both theoretical frameworks simultaneously he challenged liberals to explain how equality could be achieved within capitalism and Marxists to explain how democratic liberties could be reconciled with revolution. Such questions remain as relevant as ever.

This article seeks to demonstrate the importance of Laski's thought by focusing on one set of related issues which preoccupied him for most of his life, and which have considerable resonance today: the complex interrelationships between decentralisation and citizen activity on the one hand, and state power on the other. It begins with a brief summary of much current thinking, and then considers Laski's attitudes to the problems.

THE END OF STATE-CENTRED SOCIALISM

In recent years it has become a conventional wisdom on the left to argue that the Labour Party has traditionally been too 'state-centred' in its outlook and that it is now time to shift the balance towards a more federal conception of politics. It is claimed that, both in its theory and in its practice, the party has emphasised top-down bureaucratic power as the means of effecting change. Thus welfare measures and Keynesian full employment policies have been state-dominated. Benefits have been brought to people by the elites who control these organisations, but popular initiative has generally been discouraged or stifled. At the same time it is suggested that the Labour Party has uncritically accepted the institutions of the British state and its legitimising doctrines: in particular, the electoral system and the resulting two-party domination of politics in which the winner may control the state with less than 50 per cent of the popular vote. In addition, it has supported the absence of the constitutional limitations which operate in normal liberal democracies, namely a genuine separation of powers, entrenched rights for local government, a regional tier and a Bill of Rights. The overall conclusion is thus that subjects, rather than citizens, are governed by an 'elected dictatorship'.

After seventeen years of Conservative rule, it is scarcely surprising that so many now believe that it is time for the Labour Party to break free from its past association with state-centred theories and practices. Since the current Government has undermined the power of most bodies which might have challenged its dominance, and has invoked the doctrine of sovereignty to justify opposition to both the EU and regional decentralisation, the general inclination on the left is to argue that new structures both above and below the state are necessary. In part, this has been based on the supposition that such institutions, coupled with constitutional constraints on the power of central government, will encourage the kind of democratic activity which will ultimately give greater impetus to transformative movements. But it is also justified with the argument that the nation-state is, in any case, no longer able to provide the welfare and economic benefits which the Labour Party has required from it. It is therefore concluded that the time has now come to embrace functional and territorial decentralisation on the one hand and transnational and supranational organisations on the other. Such viewpoints are underpinned by new theories of federalism and of cosmopolitan and transnational democracy. But they also invoke ideas from the era before Labour's 'state-centrism' gained ascendancy, and Paul Hirst, in particular, has argued that Laski's early work provides important insights into new forms of 'associative democracy' which can replace an anachronistic bureaucratic state model.

I certainly agree that Laski's early pluralism was important and has much relevance for current thinking on the left. But it is also significant that he subsequently adopted a position which was quite different from that of his early pluralist theory and embraced the state-centred notion which is now under attack. In my view this later position also contains much that is important for the current situation and that left-wing federalists cannot afford to ignore. The next section outlines the themes in Laski's early pluralism and suggests that he retained pluralist values throughout his life. The following section outlines and explains his evolution towards a state-centred position. A concluding section suggests that the task now is to resolve the contradictions he highlighted by seeking a synthesis between federalist conceptions and effective public power.

LASKI AND PLURALISM

When Laski studied History at Oxford before the First World War, the dominant theory emphasised the moral superiority of the state and argued that it was 'sovereign' in the sense that it was the ultimate body which commands without being commanded. Laski could not possibly accept such ideas, for he was deeply involved in the suffragette movement, and was an active sympathiser with militant trade unionism. As an undergraduate he was therefore already deeply scathing towards the pretensions of the Liberal Government to either 'sovereignty' or morality. A year after graduation, while in North America (where he stayed from 1914 to 1920), be began to publish his alternative perspective.

Laski was not the originator of pluralism, but he pushed it to a more radical conclusion, and expressed the ideas more provocatively, than any other writer. What he did, in effect, was to demystify the state and dissolve the theory of sovereignty. What was the point, he asked, of claiming that the state was sovereign when its authority was often successfully and justifiably challenged? People felt, and felt rightly, more allegiance to other associations than they did to the state. The state was indeed just like any other association: it had no inherent moral superiority and there could be no presumption that those who challenged it were wrong. The position, as he described it, was one of 'contingent anarchy': in other words, the state had to win support by acting reasonably. Associations such as clubs, churches and trade unions gave vitality to social life and provided the channels through which individual personality was expressed. Associations were thus the life-breath of the community. But if people were—and should be—members of associations, it followed that they had a 'plurality' of allegiances. There was no reason to assume that allegiance to the state would supersede other loyalties, and the state should not demand this. Laski's model was thus one of decentralisation, based upon the principles of both territorial and functional federalism: that is, there should be thriving participation at local level, and in work-based organisations. Moreover, such arrangements should be underwritten by constitutional changes, which would remove the legal immunities of the state and protect the position of associations.

His initial preoccupation was with the role of the state in relation to its own citizens. But he was equally keen to dismantle state sovereignty in its external sense. If states had no moral pre-eminence over the rest of society in a domestic sense, why should they have any preeminence in international society? If they were granted an unlimited right to pursue their own interests internationally they would act in ways which were destructive of the rights of all others, ultimately (as in the First World War) leading to brutality, death and destruction. The nation-state itself must therefore be bound by the recognition of a moral duty to the world as a whole, which should be embodied in international law, and operated through international institutions. Moreover, Laski believed that there was a connection between the doctrine of sovereignty and the external actions of the state. If sovereignty was constantly proclaimed in relation to the state's rights over its subjects—if the state was seen as preeminent internally—it was more probable that it would assume that it had full rights internationally. Citizens were much less likely to acquiesce in unjustified external actions by their own state if its domestic sovereignty was divided.

Laski's phase of 'pure' pluralism was quite short-lived, and even during the First World War there were nuances which demonstrated shifts of position. Subsequently, he continued to describe his work as 'pluralist' for several years, but the changes were so significant that this was a misleading designation. Yet he certainly maintained his earlier goals and values. Thus, although A Grammar of Politics (1925) represented a major shift towards a more 'state-centred' view, he still adhered to a vision of participation and creativity at grass-roots level. Throughout the book he stressed the need to create a situation in which people could realise themselves through their own activity, and he emphasised the sanctity of conscience as vehemently as ever. He continued to maintain that resistance to the state was justified and that authority was 'federal'. The state could secure allegiance only by demonstrating that this was an outgrowth of other loyalties rather than a replacement of them. He also continued to advocate industrial and local devolution.

Even during the 1930s, when such themes tended to be buried as he became increasingly preoccupied with the dangers of fascism, it was still evident, not least in his critiques of Soviet dictatorship, that he remained deeply committed to active citizenship at all levels of society. Moreover, in some of his final writings he again highlighted his earlier pluralist themes. Thus, during his last visit to the USA in 1949, he argued:

.. . the stoutest hook we can put in Leviathan is the twofold one of effective decentralization, both by area and by function on the one hand, and the evocation, on the plane of politics, of the individual citizen's interest and initiative on the other . . .

I confess to a frank fear of what I used to call the 'monistic' state; the fashionable phrase of the moment is 'monolithic'. Its consequence is in a high degree evil.³

Nor was he simply criticising capitalist institutions, for he stressed the danger of 'bureaucratic deformation' in nationalised industry, and elaborated eight principles to maximise decentralisation and democratisation. In The Dilemma of our Times, published after his death, he reverted to the idea of industrial democracy, arguing that the current situation was equally unsatisfactory in both the American and the Soviet system:

Both leave the mass of workers instruments to be manipulated for ends in the definition of which they do not in any decisive way share. Both of them elevate the few at the price of leaving the many disciplined and insignificant because the routine they are told to follow evokes from them nothing of that initiative and spontaneity without whose evocation the quality of freedom in society is inevitably depressed.⁴

It was, he argued, vital not only to change the forms of ownership but to democratise them, and to decentralise power so that people could express themselves and attain genuine freedom and individuality through creative activity and involvement. Yet, as will be shown below, from the mid-1920s such notions were increasingly subordinated to a state-centred doctrine.

The international dimensions of Laski's early pluralist thinking were less affected by his subsequent political evolution than the domestic aspects. Indeed, it was in A Grammar of Politics that he distinguished most fully between the state and sovereignty and elaborated, in considerable detail, the powers which needed to be transferred to the international community if peace and justice were to be secured. In its international dimensions this book therefore remains a federalist text of considerable importance. He never subsequently deviated from the argument that the 'inescapable interdependence of nations makes it impossible for any one nation-state finally to decide any question in which other nation-states have a serious concern'; or that:

Just as we spent the nineteenth century in thinking nationally, and in completing the pattern of the institutions of national self-government, so, . . . we must spend the twentieth in learning to think in international terms, in building, as best we may, the organs of that international community every year of delay in whose coming brings us so much the nearer to disaster.⁵

In the years after the Second World War, Laski was less optimistic about the possibility of convincing the great powers that they should cede their policy-making role to an international authority or world government. Nor was he impressed by the record of the left, arguing, as he put it in a Fabian pamphlet in 1949, that no proof existed that socialists had 'been able to make their faith in the international solidarity of the working-class much more than a pious hope'. Nevertheless, he hoped that 'functional federalism' on a socialist model would gradually lead to a separation of the nation from the state and the establishment of a new supranational order.

There is therefore good reason for arguing that the early Laski foreshadowed many of the ideas of today's 'left federalists' and that he maintained such values until his death. Yet he abandoned pluralism as a theory and increasingly emphasised the importance of state power. Why was this?

LASKI AND STATE POWER

Much of Laski's early pluralism had been written as if there were a simple polarity between associations (positive) and the state (negative). However, by 1917-18, with the rise of industrial conflict and the Russian Revolution, he had already moved further to the left and placed class inequality at the centre of his analysis. This made a significant difference to his position for, from then on, he regarded himself as a socialist and viewed capitalism as a system incorporating inequality at every level. Hence-forth he believed that liberty was inseparable from equality and that it was therefore impossible to conceive of a free society unless the working classes shared in its benefits.⁶

In the short term, this led him to modify his pluralism rather than to abandon it. The sovereign state, he now argued, was in fact a concentration of capitalist power. If the working classes were able to achieve a greater degree of power at both local and national levels, this would dilute that concentration. The state would become federal—particularly in a functional sense—the more fully the working classes were empowered. This would come about in part through associational activity in trade unions and works councils, but in part too through the working classes transforming the role of the state and using it for purposes of redistribution. In this way the state could reduce its own concentration of power (essentially capitalist power) by empowering other social forces.

Such arguments have relevance for the current situation, in which the Government has progressively eroded the position of publicly accountable bodies while reinforcing the influence of private business in a plethora of quangos. However, Laski's modified pluralism rested on an unresolved ambiguity about the principal means of bringing about social change. Was it to be effected primarily by working-class associations (producer groups and trade unions), as Guild Socialists argued, or by winning power at state level, as Fabians argued? Three factors carried him towards a more Fabian-inspired conception.

First, he grew increasingly doubtful whether trade unions or producers' groups themselves could ever attain a sufficient conception of the 'public good' to justify entrusting them with overall power. Secondly, as he learned more about the actual experiences of revolution and counter-revolution, he placed an increasing emphasis upon the need to bring about peaceful change through reason and argument rather than through the direct action of workers' movements. Finally, he came to believe that it was impossible to redress social inequality without the purposeful use of effective power. A Grammar of Politics was his attempt to demonstrate the doctrinal and organisational features of a society that could provide a synthesis between self-activity and state power, and which could secure overall harmony.

It is impossible to summarise this tour de force here, but it is relevant to note the two main considerations in his new emphasis upon state power. First, because he now believed that the structure of inequality permeated all the institutions of society—for example, the civil service, the judiciary and legal profession, and the education system—he argued that only the exercise of state power would be effective in bringing about change. Secondly, he now saw the need for a party, armed with a doctrine and a programme, to take control of government and direct the process of reform. In comparison with his earlier work, his proposals for political and constitutional reform, and the roles he envisaged for associations and industrial councils, were quite limited. This was partly because he now saw class inequality as the fundamental cause of the other weaknesses in the system and believed that radical changes in the economic structure would ameliorate all the other problems. But it was also because a progressive Government would need a powerful state structure if its reforms were to be implemented effectively. His hope now was that a determined Labour Government would steer a process of change throughout society, and he opposed proportional representation because it might lead to weak coalitions which would undermine political leadership.

By 1925 Laski had therefore already taken several steps towards a state-centred doctrine. However, his evolution was not yet complete. It was hastened by both positive and negative factors. The first is best illustrated by his involvement in practical politics, as a member of the Committee on Ministers' Powers established by the Labour Government in October 1929 under Lord Donoughmore. This was designed to refute a sensationalist right-wing attack on contemporary government by Lord Chief Justice Hewart in his The New Despotism (1928). The essence of Hewart's argument was that the supremacy of the courts and Parliament was being undermined by the growth of discretionary power exercised by civil servants and ministers. Its underlying assumption was that freedom depended upon limited government. The terms of reference of the committee were to consider government powers by way of delegated legislation and judicial or quasi-judicial decision, and to report on the safeguards which were desirable or necessary to secure the constitutional sovereignty of Parliament and the supremacy of law. Laski took the task tremendously seriously and played a key role in drafting the report.

The committee was absolutely clear that delegated legislation was necessary and irreversible for a modern Government for, unless Parliament delegated law-making power, it 'would be unable to pass the kind and quantity of legislation which modern public opinion requires'. Laski and Ellen Wilkinson, the left-wing Labour MP, went further than the rest of the committee in their approval of delegated legislation. They agreed that, rather than being a necessary evil, delegated legislation ought to be widely extended in 'the conditions of the modern state, which not only has to undertake immense new social services, but which before long may be responsible for the greater part of the industrial and commercial activities of the country'.⁷ Furthermore, Laski added a dissenting note (supported by Ellen Wilkinson) which tried to limit judicial power over the interpretation of statutes. His aim was to increase the likelihood that the spirit behind government legislation would prevail over judges who, he believed, often applied their own conservative prejudices, particularly in judicial interpretations of the law relating to trade unions and social policy.

Neither Laski nor the committee as a whole believed in an uncontrolled state, and the report even argued that continental critics were justified in pointing out the limited protection for the British citizen against the executive. Nevertheless, Laski endorsed the committee's view that the establishment of effective executive power was a primary goal in the modern age, and went beyond it in the belief that government needed to be able to act quickly in order to introduce a major programme for social and economic change.

The second, and more negative, reason for his stronger advocacy of the powerful state stemmed from his increasing pessimism about the prospects for peaceful, constitutional change. This was a gradual shift which began with a growing conviction (influenced both by the 1926 General Strike and by a closer study of Marxism) that class conflict was a fundamental feature of capitalist society and that the ruling classes would use all their power to deny social justice. The appeal of Communism, he argued, could be countered only 'by the alteration of the present social order by concessions larger in scope and profundity than any ruling class has so far been willing to make by voluntary act'.⁸ Nevertheless, he still saw an alternative if the democratic left possessed a clear vision and strategy, and a willingness to use state power to effect change.

The abrupt collapse of the Labour Government in 1931, coupled with Ramsay MacDonald's defection to the premiership of a National Government, simultaneously reinforced his pessimism and his belief in a strong state. Labour's débâcle posed a clear question, formulated by Laski in a letter in 1931: 'Is policy to be made by the elected government, or by financial interests outside? If the latter, clearly Socialism cannot be attained constitutionally and the Bolsheviks are right.' Despite frequent misinterpretations of Laski's position, he was not saying that the Communists' position had been vindicated. On the contrary, he was arguing that MacDonald had implicitly endorsed their view, and that this had done great disservice to constitutionalism. He still hoped that peaceful, constitutional change remained possible. This, he believed, required on the part of the Labour Party a 'religious enthusiasm for its ends' and the ability 'to convince its opponents that nothing can turn it from its goal'.⁹ He also concluded that a further strengthening of the executive would be necessary, for example, by the next Labour Government introducing emergency powers to control financial speculation. In Democracy in Crisis (1933), written when he feared the general collapse of democracy and the threat of Fascism, he went still further in his advocacy of the strong state.

After the Second World War Laski was, in general, much less worried about the threat of violence or dictatorship in Britain; and the relative success of the postwar Labour Government in implementing its domestic programme gave him more confidence that capitalism might be transformed through peaceful, constitutional means. Moreover, as noted earlier, he also made explicit references to some of his earlier pluralist themes. Nevertheless, he still thought that 'great leadership' was necessary, and in his last lectures on the British Constitution—delivered six weeks before his death—he confirmed his belief in a Government with the authority to drive its programme through the House of Commons. For this reason he again rejected proportional representation on the grounds that it encouraged looseness of discipline, excessive compromise and a continuous threat to the stability of executive power. He was thus still advocating effective central power as a means of bringing about radical socioeconomic reform.

LESSONS FOR TODAY: PRINCIPLES, PRAGMATISM AND PUBLIC POWER

Throughout his life Laski saw decentralisation, individual activity, pluralism and internationalism as positive values. However, four considerations pushed him towards 'state-centrism': first, the belief that it was a moral imperative to transform capitalism so that liberty might become meaningful for all; secondly, that the use of state power was necessary if socioeconomic change was to be effected; thirdly, that a reforming party needed a doctrine, a programme and determination if it was to prevail over the privileged classes; and finally, that only radical changes could safeguard democracy and prevent violence or dictatorship. How valid do these arguments seem today?

The first proposition is surely as relevant as ever, for capitalist structures and assumptions permeate contemporary society, and inequality has been increasing in recent years. But is his emphasis on the state now justified? As noted earlier, many now argue that this line of thought is obsolescent. They suggest instead that the state is now an 'empty shell', and that power has shifted 'upwards' towards the EU or the global economy. This provides a basis for forms of left-wing federalism advocating functional and territorial decentralisation and the erosion of the nation-state through pressures from 'above' and 'below' . Of course, there has been a very significant shift in the international economy since Laski's day; but it would be a massive exaggeration to suggest that all states have been denuded of their power. Moreover, it is evident that the 'Keynesian' and redistributive powers which are being weakened at state level have not been transferred to the EU; nor is it easy to envisage any move in this direction. If the left remains intent on attempting to transform capitalism and reducing inequalities, it cannot therefore simply acquiesce in a reduction of state power in the hope that, at some stage, this will be beneficial to those who favour reform. This leads to Laski's third assumption: that it is necessary to have a determined reforming party, armed with a doctrine and a programme. Is this focus still relevant?

Certainly, parties of the left have often been unnecessarily bureaucratic and hierarchical, and 'new social movements' have made a major contribution on issues on which the Labour Party and other traditional parties have been complacent or conservative. Yet it is difficult to see how there can ever be any coordinated agency for change without a reforming party playing a major role. The important thing, surely, is that such a party is non-exclusive and open to external influence. Without doubt, Laski's emphasis on doctrine and determination appears as relevant as ever. Indeed, the modern party might take note of his warning, as early as 1927, that: 'If [the Labour Party] is merely to become the alternative to the Conservative party, with a philosophy that is as related to socialism as a jerry-built house to Westminster Abbey, it will not continue to attract those who still venture to dream of a new world built by high courage and arduous effort.'¹⁰

His fourth assumption—that only reform through state action could safeguard democracy—is more problematic and, in one respect, now seems dated. With the fragmentation of the labour movement, and the decline in support for socialism, the prospect of a violent class confrontation between a potentially revolutionary left and the privileged classes now appears quite unlikely. But it is less clear that the current situation is preferable. The inequality remains, but is compounded by a decline in solidarities, new forms of social exclusion, and a revival of the far right and racism in most liberal democratic states. All this is coupled with sporadic violence by the 'socially excluded'—normally in a criminal, rather than a revolutionary, direction. Thus the moral force behind Laski's arguments is as strong as ever, even if the kind of cataclysm he predicted now appears a remote possibility.

This is not to argue that Laski succeeded in reconciling his pluralist values with his subsequent emphasis on the need for a strong state, or that Labour's traditional 'statecentrism' was preferable to 'left federalism'. It is to suggest that Laski's general approach should be followed in all normative discussions about the location of power.

Laski's attitude to power was, in fact, highly pragmatic. His acceptance of a 'strong state' was unprincipled in the sense that it was simply based on a conviction that mis was the most likely way to secure the changes he believed to be necessary. However, on another level it was highly principled. For he was arguing that two fundamental goals were at stake: the maintenance of a peaceful and fundamentally democratic system of government, and the implementation of reforms which would benefit those suffering disadvantages in an unequal society. In other words, he was elevating content over form. It was far more important to safeguard a system of liberal democracy and to secure justified reforms than to remain faithful to particular constitutional conventions that may have outlived their usefulness. If this approach is adopted today, it implies a similarly pragmatic attitude to the various levels of power—local, regional, state and EU. None of these has an overriding value in itself: attitudes towards them should accordingly depend on an assessment of the feasibility of pursuing any particular goal successfully at any time on each of the levels. However, those who share Laski's goals—the pursuit of liberty and equality by democratic means—will also accept the conclusion that any solutions will always involve the use of public power, based on a clear doctrine and a resolute programme.

Laski left no blueprint as to how to resolve the tensions between local initiative on the one hand and the use of higher levels of power on the other. Indeed, his whole approach implies different solutions in different circumstances. The situation is inevitably contradictory; but, as John Strachey stated in a different context: 'Laski performed an immense service for us by making these contradictions conscious and articulate; for he gave us thereby at least one prerequisite for solving them.'

NOTES

¹ 'Machiavelli and the Present Time', in Harold Laski, The Dangers of Obedience, and Other Essays, London, Harper & Bros, 1930 (originally published in Quarterly Review, 1927).

² Introduction to Nationalism and the Future of Civilization, London, C. A. Watts, 1932, pp. 13-14.

³Trade Unions in the New Society, London, Allen & Unwin, 1950, p. 42.

⁴The Dilemma of our Times, London, Allen & Unwin, 1952, pp. 88-9.

⁵ 'Nationalism and the Future of Civilization', in Harold Laski, The Dangers of Being a Gentleman, London, Allen & Unwin, 1939, p. 194.

⁶ The major texts which indicate the change are 'The Problem of Administrative Areas', originally delivered as three lectures in early 1918 and published in The Foundations of Sovereignty (1921), and the introductory chapter of Authority in the Modern State (1919) written at about the same time.

⁷Report of the Committee on Ministerial Powers, Cmnd 4060, April 1932, p. 23; Annex VI, p. 137.

⁸Communism, London, Williams and Norgate, 1927, p. 240.

⁹The Crisis and the Constitution: 1931 and After, London, Hogarth Press, 1932, p. 55.

¹⁰ 'The British Parties in Conference', New Republic, 9 November 1927.