It is the question republicans have learned to fear. "All right then," says the smiling royalist, "let's say you go ahead and abolish the monarchy. What would you put in its place?" Variations of that question have proved lethal for reformers. In Britain the republican cause has been held back for years by two words: President Thatcher. Or, put another way, President Hattersley. Tune in to any of the now regular phone-ins and TV debates on the monarchy and you'll soon hear a defender of the status quo winning over his audience by conjuring up a dread prospect of the future.  In Australia that trap proved fatal for the republican movement. Polls showed that more than 70% of Australians wanted to elect their own head of state. Yet the 1999 referendum proposing to remove the Queen as Oz's national figurehead failed because voters did not like the replacement on offer, a "politicians' president" chosen by the Canberra parliament.  That result left British reformers with a challenge, forcing them to realise that it was not enough simply to rail against the present order: they would have to explain how any future change would work.  The first move, as made clear both by David McKie and in today's editorial, is to address the crown prerogative. Many lawyers, scholars and activists now agree that "the crown" underpins and explains many if not most of the excesses and distortions of our current governmental set-up. But what would reform of such a nebulous, shadowy concept entail? What would abolition of the crown mean?  At first glance, such a drastic move might seem just too vast - like whipping out the ground from underneath our feet. Everything would have to change - from our land law, which technically makes every freeholder the mere owner of an interest in the land of the monarch, to our courts, which currently present every case as The Crown or Regina vs. Joe Bloggs.  In fact, it would not be that complicated. Legally, the notional entity of the crown could simply be replaced by "the state" or, where it's more honest, "the government" or even, perhaps in criminal court cases, by "the people." Each one of these would be abstract entities, admittedly, but they would at least be less opaque than the legal fiction that is "the crown". As Geoffrey Robertson QC explains it, the crown is merely "an artefact". To replace it with the people and their parliament is a simple manoeuvre.  The more fundamental matter is the crown as a constitutional, rather than legal, entity: what would we do with the prerogative?  This is actually two questions rolled into one. First, there are the residual royal powers, which can be exercised by the monarch herself: to appoint a prime minister and refuse a request for a dissolution of parliament. These look merely theoretical, until one imagines Britain caught in a Florida-style electoral deadlock. In the event of a hung parliament, who under our current system would choose whether to give the nod to Tony Blair or William Hague? Answer: the Queen.  The fate for these two royal prerogatives is fairly straightforward. We could simply keep them in the hands of the newly democratic head of state - however that person was chosen (of which more later). Or we could make at least one of those powers redundant. The right to refuse a dissolution exists only because our parliamentary terms are currently not fixed. With set terms, of four or five years, there would be no question of early elections. Polling day would be known years in advance - with no need to give the power over dissolution to anyone. Such a reform would have the added benefit of bringing fairness to our electoral contests: at present, the prime minister's right to name polling day is tantamount to a running race in which one of the contestants gets to fire the starting gun.    <B> Crown prerogative</B><BR>  More complex is the crown prerogative itself. As David McKie writes on page 19, that notion is used to exercise all kinds of executive power - from making war to dispensing largesse and patronage. What would we do with these powers, currently exercised not by the Queen but by the prime minister?  The answer is abolition. The flaw of the last constitutional settlement - in the 17th century - was that it did not abolish the absolute powers of the monarch, but merely tied them up in purple string and handed them, in effect, to the prime minister. The absolute powers themselves remained; only the person wielding them changed. So the solution now would not be to keep crown prerogative in the hands of the PM, with only a change of name. On the contrary, the reformers' case is that the prerogative itself should be taken apart.  What that would mean in practice is diffusion. Some of today's crown powers would stay in the hands of the executive but others would be spread about. The power to make war and sign treaties might go to the UK parliament in Westminster. The power of patronage, to fill the benches of the second chamber, could move to the electorate, via direct election of new members. The vast battery of powers that makes our executive the mightiest in the western world could all be spread elsewhere: more   to the parliaments in Edinburgh, Belfast and Cardiff, more to mayors in London and to any other big city that wants them. The crown prerogative would simply be dismantled - its goodies spread around the country, no longer hoarded at the centre. The result would be a change in the very way Britain is governed. No longer the old monarchical model, in which power flows from the top down - but a more democratic shape, in which power is diffuse and flows from the bottom up.  So much for the royal and crown prerogatives. With those powers either aboliished or transferred, what's left in the space marked head of state? Is there even a job left to fill?  The palace doubt it. They believe that the vague, mysterious association of Crown and Queen is essential to her role as head of state. They insist that no head of state could ever function separate from the ancient edifice of prerogative. In other words, Britain could not conceivably have a head of state other than a monarch.  But look closer. Here is how palace officials privately define the job. To them, a head of state must act as the focus of the nation, leading the nation in mourning or celebration - serving as the public expression of collective emotions. Cattily, some might doubt the royals' track record in this particular field. More seriously, they might wonder if this is a task only those of royal blood could perform.  Second, say the Windsor circle, a head of state should recognise public achievement: visiting hospitals, handing out awards. True but, once again, is this a role that could only be performed by a single, genetically ordained family? Third, a national figurehead should contribute to the collective welfare - leading voluntary work or promoting charity. There's no doubt today's royals do that - but so do elected heads of state the world over.  In fact, it is only the last aspect of the palace's job description that touches on a role perhaps the royals alone can perform: to act as a rock of continuity, an anchor during periods of intense change. It's true that royalty can claim a lineage and a past that others cannot. But even that is a mixed blessing: for the rock symbolises not just stability but paralysis, a society whose hierarchies and aristocracy remain in place for centuries - permanently excluding everyone else from ever reaching the nation's symbolic pinnacle.    <B> The people's choice</B><BR>  So, despite the palace's insistence to the contrary, a head of state does not always have to be chosen by birth. They can be chosen by people. How might Britain do it? Most republicans agree the question will not realistically, and probably ought not, arise until the present Queen dies. She has won wide admiration after a half-century of service and will doubtless close out her reign the same way. But what then? There are countless options. Perhaps the simplest would be to combine the role of head of state with that of head of government, so that when the nation chooses a prime minister at election time it would also pick the person to host foreign dignitaries and state banquets. That would be simple, but perhaps unsatisfactory - for we would lose out on the extra role of constitutional longstop a head of state can play.  We could opt for direct election, just like the Irish. Enter the critics threatening the nightmare of Presidents Hattersley or Thatcher - though if that truly is a nightmare, the electorate is hardly likely to vote for it. Besides, one could easily write the rules to prevent any past politician seeking the job. When one looks at the success of Mary Robinson or Mary McAleese in Dublin, direct election looks quite appealing.  For those who suspect a directly-elected president with a national mandate would be too strong a rival for the rest of our politicians - chiefly the prime minister - to tolerate, then indirect election is the obvious alternative. At present MPs, who we vote for, choose the Speaker - and that person could easily double as head of state, even taking on the weighty task of picking which leader should form a government from a hung parliament. Some would say that would give the Speaker too much power, especially if Britain were to adopt proportional representation. But that power already exists -resting in the hands of a hereditary monarch nobody chooses and nobody can remove.  There are plenty of variations: including activist Anthony Barnett's notion that a "royal family" should be chosen by random lot, like jury service, once every three years. Reformers argue that Britons can do it however they like - just so long as, for the first time ever, they choose their own head of state.  The benefits, they say, will be subtle, but real. For Britons will do more than choose the person who "interprets the nation to itself". By asserting themselves, rather than the crown, as the governing force in British life, they will become the owners of their own country - insisting that it is their land, not the crown's, that it is their government, not Her Majesty's, and that nothing is beyond their reach. Britons will be owners, not tenants, of their country; citizens, not subjects. We will at last be able to declare that there is only one sovereign in our land - and it is ourselves. <B>20 things only a monarch can do</B><B> 1</B>Own all unmarked mute swans on open water. <B> 2</B> Hold up other traffic on the railways while the royal train passes.  <B> 3</B> Get the full and unabridged minutes of all Cabinet minutes - unlike Cabinet ministers who must make do with a summary.    <B> 4</B> Receive reports of all Royal commissions ahead of those who commissioned them, on vellum.   <B> 5</B> Declare holidays: an extra bank holiday in 2002 to mark the golden jubilee four- day celebration weekend.   <B> 6</B> Appoint all magistrates in Liverpool, Manchester and Lancashire. The Queen is known as Duke of Lancashire when in the Duchy of Lancaster.   <B> 7</B> Require the national flag to be flown on 16 royal birthdays anniversaries, from 8am until sunset.   <B> 8</B> Appoint a privy council. All senior politicians become members, undergoing a ceremony in which they kneel on a bible, take the royal hand and walk backwards out of the room. The privy council meets where the monarch happens to be (Balmoral, during the fuel crisis).   <B> 9</B> Get advice from QCs, free of charge.    <B> 10</B> Accept more orders and decorations than anyone else: the present Queen has 85 decorations from 68 countries.   <B> 11</B> Extend patronage: the present Queen is patron of 600 societies, organisations and events (816 over the reign).   <B> 12</B> Command regiments: every regiment of the British army owes its loyalty to a member of the royal family. The present Queen commands 46.   <B> 13</B> Receive a daily report of parliamentary proceedings from the vice chamberlain of the household: the report must reach the palace by dinner and is ready by no one else. The vice chamberlain, an MP, is held hostage during the state opening of parliament to ensure the monarch's safe return.   <B> 14 </B> Issue special ivory carriage passes to members of the royal household and chosen ministers, allowing them to take a short cut through St James park.   <B> 15 </B> Hold position of lord high admiral of the navy, which the   present queen has held since 1964. (The Duke of Edinburgh is also admiral of the fleet in three navies: other admirals of the British navy are the King of Sweden and Don Juan of Borbon and Battenberg, the count of Barcelona).   <B> 16</B> Command oaths of loyalty: sworn by all MPs, lords, three of the four armed services, the judiciary, ordained priests of the Church of England, newly naturalised citizens.   <B> 17</B> Drive without a driving licence, because not covered by the Road Traffic Act.   <B> 18</B> Take as treasure trove all coin, bullion, gold and silver found buried for which no owners can be traced.   <B> 19</B> Award royal warrants to around 800 businesses, including seven champagne houses.   <B> 20</B> Avoid the criminal law: the monarch is not subject to it or to everyday regulations governing things like how long royal staff work.  <B>Julian Glover</B>  <B>Related stories - news</B><BR>  <BR>  <B>Related stories - comment</B><BR><BR>  <BR>  <BR>  <BR>  <B>Related stories - background</B><BR><BR>  <BR>  <BR>
