It is increasingly fashionable in Britain both to loathe the government of the US and to love the constitutional system that produced it. As our own national self-disgust increases - as is understandable in a country with a tainted monarchy, an over-mighty executive and a castrated legislature - it is tempting to look enviously across the Atlantic.

If you watch the midterm election results tonight the temptation may increase. It is easy to be seduced by the sweep and vigor of American politics. Already Britain is starting to borrow some ideas: we have the start of both a half-cock form of federalism; we are experimenting with elected mayors. It is almost assumed that a reformed House of Lords should be called the Senate.

Only yesterday the Telegraph offered a kind word about the idea of a supreme court that could overrule the monarchy. I have no wish to defend what we have: British politics is palpably dysfunctional. But proximity to the American system is a good cure for admiration.

We all know about the flaws in the process of electing a president, and in the voting system generally. Consider this, too: today the Americans are choosing an entirely fresh House of Representatives. Despite substantial boundary changes, the new house will - barring any surprises - be almost identical to the old one, because the existing politicians have largely abolished the concept of the unsafe seat. In some states, the fix is arranged to suit one party; in others it is a bipartisan conspiracy against the electorate. But all round, the gerrymander is alive, well and almost universal.

The entire state of California, with 53 members of the house, has just one contest in which the outcome is not considered a foregone conclusion. About a quarter of the competitive house races nationwide (i.e. four of them) are in just one state, Iowa, that opted out of the general trickery. The Senate is only quasi-democratic, anyway: a vote in underpopulated Wyoming is worth about 70 times as much as a Californian vote. (The half-million residents of Washington DC have no say at all but, hey, they're mostly black.) Members of both bodies, though less troubled by the whips than MPs, are instead dependent on the goodwill of local special interest groups which will fund their re-election. The Burkean concept of an independent representative is equally moribund in both capitals.

The US, though, also has state legislatures which, in some ways, have more power than the British government, since so many federal constraints are weaker than those imposed by Brussels. In principle, this is an attractive example of subsidiarity. In practice, these bodies operate with a minimum of democratic scrutiny: 1,900 journalists are accredited to Congress in Washington; barely 500 newspaper reporters cover the 99 state legislative chambers (every state, bar Nebraska, has two). What little investigation has taken place suggests pervasive corruption. And nothing you see tonight will provide a true flavor of the campaign itself, conducted largely through negative TV commercials of a formulaic and revolting kind. If, as expected, less than half the electorate vote today, it will be unsurprising. They have been told endlessly that their politicians are liars and rogues.

The federal system, while inhibiting electing dictatorship, makes inaction the norm and turf wars endemic: the shambolic sniper investigation - involving 17 different investigative forces - and the ongoing contest to prosecute and execute the suspects being just especially crass and obvious examples.

The original US constitution, and its associated bill of rights, are enlightened, effective and even beautiful 18th-century documents. But they are not divine, which does not stop them being treated in the way American fundamentalists regard the Bible. It makes this observer, for one, thank heaven for an unwritten constitution, which was designed to be flexible, instead of just being bent by unscrupulous governments. If the constitution was divinely inspired, God might have made it a little clearer whether he really meant everyone in the country to be armed to the teeth.

Finally, we are left with the most telling indictment of all: George Bush. Forget for a moment the trickery, ratified by the supreme court, that got him elected. Britain has also had governments that came second in the popular vote (Churchill, 1951; Wilson, 1974). But the parliamentary system forced them to govern consensually. Bush has been able to use executive authority to operate the most rightwing government since the 1920s.

And, say what you like about the House of Commons, it actually has a record of producing highly competent leaders: the inadequate and fraudulent get weeded out. With his inadequate grasp of detail, Bush would have been found out as a parliamentary undersecretary in one session of Welsh question time. Let's reform British politics, please, but don't give us anything like this.

© Guardian Newspapers Limited 2002

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