KEY POINTS:
As Gordon Brown prepares to stamp his mark on Britain, he has been publicly mulling the idea of an all-party convention that would lead to a formal, written constitution.
It's a bold political step that he believes would do nothing less than, "change the way we govern".
Launching his bid for the Labour leadership, he said he wanted "constitutional reform that strengthens the accountability of all who hold power; that is clear about the rights and responsibilities of being a citizen in Britain today; that defends the union; that is vigilant about ensuring hard-won liberties".
Brown insiders have since told journalists he's serious about bolstering the power of Parliament and safeguarding race relations, jury trials, and the right to education and free healthcare.
If implemented, his plans have profound implications for New Zealand.
Constitutions are in essence the rules and rights that dictate the way a country is governed, and while the word is little used in this country, we do have one. It's just very different from most countries, which have a single, written document. The most famous is America's, with its famous opening line: "We the People".
What is little known is that New Zealand and Britain are two of only three democracies in the world that don't have a single, written constitution. The other is Israel.
Instead, New Zealand's constitution, like Britain's, is made up of a jumble of laws, treaties and conventions ranging from the Magna Carta in 1215 to the Supreme Court Act of 2003.
Constitutional expert Matthew Palmer has identified 80 separate pieces of constitutional law in our jumble box, six of them British acts of Parliament. As recently as 1986, the British Parliament had the power to pass law for New Zealand, if requested by our Parliament.
But the ties between Britain and New Zealand have been dissolving since World War II. Britain joined the EU, we opted for MMP and our own Supreme Court, among other examples. Brown's new constitution would be yet another step apart.
While that allows us to find our place as a South Pacific nation, it does reveal a weakness in our constitutional set-up.
Whereas Britain already has the House of Lords and Israel has a Supreme Court with the muscle to invalidate laws it sees as unconstitutional, New Zealand has no such constraints on the use and abuse of power.
For all that MMP and political expediency protects citizens by forcing governing parties to negotiate before they pass laws, our politicians remain among the most powerful in the world. They have no superior law constraining their efforts in the House.
The Institute for Public Policy in Britain has warned that its Parliament can deprive citizens of centuries-old rights "by the same means as an alteration of the speed limit" - that is, a 51 per cent vote.
If you think that would never happen, consider that post-9/11 British police can now hold suspects for 28 days without charge.
Yet New Zealand's protections are even flimsier. As perhaps New Zealand's greatest legal mind, Lord Cooke of Thorndon, has said, our human rights legislation "is regarded internationally as one of the weakest".
We have been casual in the extreme about our rules and rights through much of our life as a nation. We take for granted the laws and rights inherited from Britain - from jury trials and a free press to an independent speaker in the House. As Brown is showing, we no longer have that luxury. We can't keep saying "she'll be right".
Globalisation, the war on terror, the growing impact of international law, the rise of China and extreme religious hostility all are good reasons for countries like New Zealand to guard our most treasured Maori and Pakeha traditions.
That is not to say we should regard the world with fear or be wary of immigration, multiculturalism and trade. It is to say that we as Kiwis have ways of living and governing that we should entrench against the waves of change ahead.
So as Brown acts, so should we. A slow, well-considered move to a new constitution has many appeals.
Sure, it would open a Pandora's box of issues - republicanism, the flag, Maori sovereignty, the three-year parliamentary term and, most of all, the Treaty of Waitangi. There is risk. But there are also rewards.
We could opt for a large constitution - extending to guarantees of free health and education. Or we could keep it to a few rules and values we can all agree on.
One major advantage is that we could use a constitutional debate to confront and reframe race relations. Alongside our prized British parliamentary and human rights traditions, we could entrench aspects of Maori tikanga - for example, kaitiakitanga, or guardianship of the land - to build a truly bi-cultural document.
By including the treaty, we can change its status from a backward-looking document dealing with grievances to a forward-looking foundation stone in a new consensus on government.
We could establish what it means, legally at least, for Maori to be tangata whenua; we could give Pakeha recognition as an indigenous people; and we could spell out our welcome to other, newer New Zealanders.
On top of entrenching rights, a new constitution could renew national unity. It could create a legal turangawaewae, or place to stand, where all New Zealanders feel at home.
* Tim Watkin is a freelance journalist and former Herald feature writer.
