With that in mind, I told Fox that the hereditary principle is indeed a dubious way to fill jobs, but that even if the prince were eccentric or barking mad, the world would be safe when he becomes Charles III, even if he only makes it because he's his mother's son. However, I cautioned, it made one hell of a difference to the world that George W., with more than a few psychological question marks of his own, had become George II just because he was the fruit of his father's loins. After all, no rational person would believe that the spoiled legacy brat who deserted from the Air National Guard and sank business after business would ever have succeeded in politics without strong dynastic backing.

AN 18TH-CENTURY ANTIQUE—In fact, when the putative Charles III shook hands with George II of the Bush dynasty, he was meeting someone who has pretty much all the powers of Charles's ancestor, the Hanoverian George III. An equestrian statue of King George was erected in 1770 by the colonists of New York, grateful for the repeal of the Stamp Act, and was toppled in ingratitude by the same people after a public reading of the newly written Declaration of Independence, just six years later.

Essentially unchanged since then, the American political system has escaped the reforms of the British and other democracies. While the powers of the European monarchs have become more and more diluted with each passing year until the kings and queens have all the significance of a team mascot for their nations, the presidential office has retained all those quasi-monarchical powers of centuries past.

As a Hanoverian monarch subject to election every four years, the American president appoints civil servants, ambassadors, and the whole Cabinet, on the same basis as the patronage system of eighteenth-century England. The Cabinet members he chooses need not have any independent political standing whatsoever. Indeed, as we saw with the heads of the Homeland Security and FEMA, not much in the way of professional standing is required either.

Having such an intensely political personage as the head of state confuses issues. The American media and even the political classes show far more deference to the president of the United States than their British counterparts do to the queen of England and her numerous offspring. In fact, most people in the UK tend to ignore the monarchy except as a continuing royal reality show. I have heard Americans say, "I must support my president," but never heard anyone in Britain say, "I must support my prime minister."

When the U.S. separated from Britain, the institution of prime minister was in its infancy, and so it was not too surprising that the rebellious colonists overlooked the office in their Constitution, not least since they saw the prime minister of their day, Lord North, as a tool of the king.

Indeed the title of prime minister itself was not formally adopted until 1905, even in Britain. However, as the office of prime minister has developed in Britain and other places, it has become clear that it is no bad thing for the chief executive to come from the ranks of legislators—and to be accountable to them. The roles of head of state and chief executive are separate. But with its political system frozen in 1789, the United States missed out on this idea.

It is not only a question of much needed political experience. We have to ask, how far would George W. Bush's political career have advanced if he had to stand up for a Capitol Hill version of "Prime Minister's Question Time" and actually explain and defend his policies on the hoof against unscripted questions? On the other hand, looking at the docility of so many of the U.S. legislators one may wonder whether they could come up with any killer questions on the spur of the moment without a team of aides whispering in their ears.

IMPORTANCE OF OPPOSITION—The offenses for which Libby was indicted suggest that in one major respect, the American political system is not only not reforming, but is actually devolving. To score petty domestic political points against an individual who had crossed them, high-ranking officials in the White House were quite prepared to compromise secret agents and national security, putting possibly scores of lives at risk. For the Bush team, opposition is always disloyal, and the law is no protection for that opposition.

If a democracy is to function and survive, the major protagonists within it must, in the end, believe in the concept of a "loyal opposition." It does not take too much examination of the world's politics to see that in many countries this is a complete oxymoron, and of course, there were times in American history, from the Federalist period onwards, when it did not operate too smoothly as a concept. The current White House has clearly abandoned the quaint idea entirely.

This is only the latest manifestation of the idea. Many conservatives, for example, never accepted that Clinton was really president. The mere accident of election did not persuade them that someone with his views could legitimately hold the office. Similarly, when it came to George W. Bush's assumption of office, the technical detail that he may not have actually won the election was for them no conceptual barrier at all to his taking the oath.

In their own idiosyncratic way, many Democratic legislators have also shown signs of abandoning the concept of a loyal opposition. They have emphasized the loyalty at the expense of the opposition. Being excluded from power does not make you an opposition: opposing the incumbents does. Though Harry Reid's marshaling of a serious look at the road to the Iraq War was a heartening sign, and the resistance to John Bolton's nomination as U.N. Ambassador was as well, these examples stand out because of their rarity.