A Harvard educated lawyer called on me the other day to tap my brains on libertarian activism in the depressing conditions of present-day India. I advised him to draw up a Charter of Liberties in the manner of the English in 1215 AD and force our socialist rulers to sign it.
If the histories of civilizations is about “challenge and response,” then the Magna Carta of the English people represents a magnificent response on the part of a subject population to the challenge posed by a lawless and irresponsible monarch. It made Liberty king – and placed this monarch as well as his successors "under the Law." It was re-confirmed by many English kings throughout the Middle Ages, during which time it became popularly known as “The First Statute of the Realm.” The English still do not possess a written Constitution. Further, then as now, the King did not “make law.” Keeping these points in mind, let us note some of the key clauses of the Magna Carta:
- London and all the other towns and boroughs obtained the liberty to trade freely by land and sea, and to maintain their ancient liberties and customs. These liberties played a crucial role in the furtherance of England’s commercial culture and the development of a ‘body politic’ within feudal covers where local government was bourgeois. Independent urban local government is a corner-stone of the English system of government – and of western civilisation itself.
- Englishmen had the right to brew their own ale – and this explains the ubiquitous English “pub.” These pubs were where people met and talked and drank in an age before tea and coffee were known, and this “public culture” must have played an important role in the open and public nature of English politics.
- The barons retained the right to execute the terms of the Charter; a committee of twenty-five barons was to lead the entire realm into action against the king if he failed to keep his promises: thus, they had the right to revolt against an unjust ruler. William Hardel, Lord Mayor of London then, was on this committee of barons.
- Chapter 12 of the Charter declares: “No scutage or aid [taxes] shall be imposed in our kingdom except by the common council of the kingdom” – which became the rallying cry of democracy: “No taxation without representation.”
- Chapter 39 of the original Charter states: “No free man shall be taken or imprisoned or dispossessed or outlawed or banished, or in any way destroyed, nor will we go upon him, nor send upon him, except by the legal judgment of his peers or by the law of the land.” This is a powerful endorsement of what today we call “the rule of law” or “due process.” There were no “human rights” but there was the writ of habeas corpus.
- Chapter 39 of the charter mentions the term lex terrae, or “law of the land,” which can be taken to mean the common law, especially the land laws and the laws of succession. That is, Property existed before the law. It is because there is Property that there is the law.
Freedom to trade by land and sea; freedom to administer civic affairs without State interference; freedom from taxation without consent; freedom from unlawful arrest, detention, dispossession, and extra-judicial execution; freedom to get high and to produce and sell alcoholic beverages; and conservation of the ancient laws of Property – these will surely benefit every suffering Indian of today. However, given our times, when absolutism has crossed far greater heights while Liberty has dived to far greater lows, I propose a few additional clauses:
- Freedom in the choice of media of exchange. That is, an end to the fiat money monopoly; the end of “legal tender.” RBI paper notes can circulate – but we are free to refuse them. This will impose financial discipline on our The State. Inflationism will finally end. Capital will be accumulated - not consumed. Poor people will benefit greatly.
- The Inviolability of Private Property by any actions on the part of The State – either through Legislation or through its lawless agents.This will guarantee Liberty.
- Freedom from the National Debt: that is, an end to State borrowing. This will impose further restrictions on recklessness and irresponsibility in State spending, while also securing the prosperity of future generations.
I could add some more, but let me stop here.
What I told my visitor is that such a Charter of Liberties, if enthroned as the First Statute of the Realm, will achieve two immediate purposes: firstly, it will take The Market completely out of State purview. This will enable all of us – especially the poor – to survive. Second, it will allow us to administer our cities and towns without State interference, using our own, local resources.
My visitor pointed out that The State would still remain – and that, I said, is precisely what the English also allowed in 1215. They did not execute their King – as in the case of Charles I, or in the case of the French in 1789.
The advantage of this approach is that our The State will immediately have to “adjust its own conduct” to the new situation on the ground. Its personnel will have to change their own conception of their role in society. None of us will have to climb aboard their “pirate ship” to do that – “where angels fear to tread” etc.
Thus, I told my visitor, we will not make the mistake of the CONgress in 1947, who threw out their king only to replace him – and the Freedom that so many fought and died for flew out of the window.
The study of History is extremely useful for it allows us to search the past for examples worth emulating today.
The historic occasion on which the “irresponsible absolutist” King John was forced by public action to sign on the dotted line that Life, Liberty and Property would never be violated by arbitrary royal action is beautifully described in a passage from Jerome K Jerome’s classic Three Men in a Boat – the evergreen tale of a journey down a river. The signing of the Magna Carta took place in Runnymede, which lies on the river Thames between Staines and Windsor.
Jerome & Co. have just passed Staines and are proceeding to Windsor when the author sees Runnymede and this prompts him to reflect on that glorious day in 1215 when Englishmen won their Liberty. It must be mentioned that Jerome says he has written this “especially for inclusion in schools.” Since no school curriculum has ever contained this passage, I hope I am now doing something that would bring great joy to the spirit of Jerome, for he truly was a “jolly good fellow.” What follows is Jerome’s imaginary account of the greatest gherao in human history:
The sun had got more powerful by the time we had finished breakfast, and the wind had dropped, and it was as lovely a morning as one could desire. Little was in sight to remind us of the nineteenth century; and, as we looked out upon the river in the morning sunlight, we could almost fancy that the centuries between us and that ever-to-be-famous June morning of 1215 had been drawn aside, and that we, English yeoman’s sons in homespun cloth, with dirk [a dagger, quite like a kirpan] at belt, were waiting there to witness the writing of that stupendous page in history, the meaning whereof was to be translated to the common people some four hundred and odd years later by one, Oliver Cromwell, who had deeply studied it.
It is a fine summer morning – sunny, soft and still. But through the air there runs the thrill of coming stir. King John has slept at Duncroft Hall, and all the day before the little town of Staines has echoed to the clang of armed men, and the clatter of great horses over its rough stones, and the shouts of captains, and the grim oaths and surly jests of bearded bowmen, billmen, pikemen, and strange-speaking foreign spearmen.
Gay-cloaked companies of knights and squires have ridden in, all travel stained and dusty. And all the evening long in the timid towns – men’s doors have had to be quick opened to let in rough groups of soldiers, for whom there must be found both board and lodging, and the best of both, or woe betide the house and all within; for the sword is the judge and jury, plaintiff and executioner, in these tempestuous times, and pays for what it takes by sparing those from whom it takes it, if it pleases it to do so.
Round the camp-fire in the market-place gather still more of the Baron’s troops, and eat and drink deep, and bellow forth roistering drinking songs, and gamble and quarrel as the evening grows and deepens into night. The firelight sheds quaint shadows on their piled-up arms and on their uncouth forms. The children of the town steal around to watch them, wondering; and brawny country wenches, laughing, draw near to bandy ale-house jest and jibe with the swaggering troopers so unlike the village swains, who, now despised, stand apart behind, with vacant grins upon their broad, peering faces. And out from the fields around, glitter the faint lights of more distant camps, as here some great lord’s followers lie mustered, and there false John’s mercenaries crouching like wolves without the town.
And so, with sentinel in each dark street, and twinkling watch-fires on each height around, the night has worn away, and over the fair valley of old Thames has broken the morning of the great day that is to close so big with the fate of ages yet unborn.
Ever since grey dawn, in the lower of the two islands, just above where we are standing, there has been great clamour, and the sound of many workmen. The great pavilion brought there yester eve is being raised, and carpenters are busy nailing tiers of seats, while ‘prentices from London are there with many coloured stuffs and silks and cloth of gold and silver.
And now, lo! Down upon the road that winds along the river’s bank from Staines there comes towards us, laughing and talking together in deep guttural bass, half a score of stalwart halberdmen – Baron’s men, these – and halt at a hundred or so yards above us, on the other bank, and lean upon their arms, and wait.
And so, from hour to hour, march up along the road ever fresh groups and bands of armed men, their casques and breastplates flashing back along the long low lines of morning sunlight, until, as far as eye can reach, the way seems thick with glittering steel and prancing steeds. And shouting horsemen are galloping from group to group, and little banners are fluttering lazily in the warm breeze, and every now and then there is a deeper stir as the ranks make way on either side, and some great Baron on his war-horse, with his guard of squires around him, passes along to take his station at the head of his serfs and vassals.
And up the slope of Cooper’s Hill, just opposite, are gathered the wondering rustics and curious townsfolk, who have run from Staines, and none are quite sure what the bustle is about, but each one has a different version of the great event that they have come to see; and some say that much good to all the people will come from this day’s work; but the old men shake their heads, for they have heard such tales before.
And all along the river down to Staines, is dotted with small craft and boats and tiny coracles – which last are growing out of favour now, and are used only by the poorer folk. Over the rapids, where in the after years trim Bell Wier lock will stand, they have been forced or dragged by their sturdy rowers, and now are crowding up as near as they dare to the great covered barges, which lie in readiness to bear King John to where the fateful Charter waits his signing.
It is noon, and we and all the people have been waiting patient for many an hour, and the rumour has run round that slippery King John has again escaped from the Baron’s grasp, and has stolen away from Duncroft Hall with his mercenaries at his heels, and will soon be doing other work that signing charters for his people’s liberty.
Not so! This time the grip upon him has been one of iron, and he has slid and wriggled in vain. Far down the road a little cloud of dust has risen, and draws nearer and grows larger, and the pattering of many hoofs grow louder, and in and out between the scattered groups of drawn-up men, there pushes on its way a brilliant cavalcade of gay-dressed lords and knights. And front and rear, and either flank, there ride the yeomen of the Barons, and in the midst King John.
He rides to where the barges lie in readiness, and the great Barons step forth from their ranks to meet him. He greets them with a smile and a laugh, and pleasant honeyed words, as though it were some feast in his honour to which he had been invited. But as he rises to dismount, he casts one hurried glance from his own French mercenaries drawn up in the rear to the grim ranks of the Baron’s men that hem him in.
Is it too late? One fierce blow at the unsuspecting horseman at his side, one cry to his French troops, one desperate charge upon the unready lines before him, and these rebellious Barons might rue the day they dared to thwart his plans! A bolder hand might have turned the game even at this point. Had it been a Richard [the Lionheart] here! The cup of liberty might have been dashed from England’s lips, and the taste of freedom held back for a hundred years.
But the heart of King John sinks before the stern faces of the English fighting men, and the arm of King John drops back onto his rein, and he dismounts and takes his seat in the foremost barge. And the Barons follow in, with each mailed hand upon the sword-hilt, and the word is given to let go.
Slowly the heavy, bright-decked barges leave the shore of Runnymede. Slowly against the swift current they work their ponderous way, till, with a low grumble, they grate against the bank of the little island that from this day will bear the name of Magna Charta Island. And King John has stepped upon the shore, and we wait in breathless silence till a great shout cleaves the air and the great cornerstone in England’s temple of liberty has, now we know, been firmly laid.
I suggested to my visitor – a lawyer trained at an eminent school – that he and his comrades draw up a Charter of Liberties and circulate it far and wide. When a “tipping point” is reached and a mass of ordinary people are fired by the idea, then “just do it.”
He paused to ask whether I would like to come aboard his “platform” and engage in public politics. I responded with these lines from an old song:
The doer and the thinker,
No allowance for the other...
