Introduction
The idea that there are deeply rooted assumptions and practices in any community that sustain the foundations for a shared life has been characterised, and elaborated, as an imaginary (
Taylor 2004). It has obvious implications for many aspects of social relations. The purpose of this essay is to explore its implications for the systems of government of the world and for the constitutions that provide a framework for them.
I will suggest that an imaginary, understood in ways that I will explain, has relevance for constitutional design and helps to explain the operation of constitutions in practice. By extension, it offers insight into a range of related, often challenging, issues including making and implementing new constitutions, intra-state peace-building, the constitutional accommodation of pluralism, regional integration, and transnational understanding of the kind that is needed for effective international relations. To offer some diverse practical examples, imaginaries may be relevant factors in moving towards constitutional settlements in Libya or South Sudan, understanding the distinctive multi-party cabinet formation in Indonesia (
Nugraha & Satrio 2022),
1 implementing the inaugural treaty between Indigenous peoples and the Australian State of Victoria (
Statewide Treaty 2025), and crafting any new structural relationship between the United Kingdom and the European Union. The possibility of imaginaries also has a role to play in the academic discipline of comparative constitutional law.
Assumptions of the kind captured by the idea of an imaginary have been relevant in systems of government over time. The focus of this essay, however, is the potential of imaginaries to assist understanding of the most recent period, during which there have been contradictory trends in the form and operation of systems of government across the world, and in the discourses associated with them. These developments have culminated, over the last decade, in the complex phenomenon of democratic decay and the apparent collapse of an established world order (
Daly 2019;
World Economic Forum 2026). Recourse to the idea of an imaginary may assist understanding of these developments as well.
One such trend is characterised by universalism. In the decades that followed the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the old cold war, a large new cohort of states appeared to be in transition towards forms of democracy with liberal features, famously attracting characterisation as ‘the end of history’ (
Fukuyama 1989). As part of this process, more than two-thirds of the 193 member states of the United Nations made new constitutions, and others substantially revised existing ones (
Saunders 2025a). This global wave of constitution-making was predicated on assumptions about shared values and goals and the ready transferability of constitutional forms, norms, and practices. The universalism that this implied was further reinforced by rapid growth in the breadth and depth of international law, by economic globalisation, and by continuing experimentation with more closely integrated forms of regionalism. The trend was facilitated by two other factors. One was the almost instant accessibility of comparative constitutional data through the information technology that also developed during this time.
2 The other was the adaptation of international development assistance to support new constitutions with external advice, sometimes in parallel with peace-building or the promotion of transitional justice (
Saunders et al. 2024).
As the decades wore on, however, both the picture of the inexorable spread of liberal democracy and the assumptions on which it rests were challenged. The reasons are complex, but, or so I suggest, they include failure to acknowledge and understand the influence of existing imaginaries and the significance of the absence of new imaginaries to underpin new constitutional arrangements. In any event, transition in many new democracies was halting and fragile. In some, new constitutions were overthrown, wholly or in part, while in others no agreement proved possible at all.
3 Latent, and all too often active, intrastate conflict remained rife, notwithstanding peacemaking efforts (
Petrini 2025). International legal norms, including human rights norms, were imperfectly realised in practice (
de Burca 2021: 14–17). Regional integration was shown to have limits, and experienced push-back. Ultimately, in what is emerging as a coup de grâce for the expectations generated by this period, traditional constitutional forms came under stress in some of the most established liberal democracies that hitherto had been portrayed as aspirations for others.
These essentially practical developments were reflected in the academic literature in ways that reveal similar contradictions. From the 1990s, there was a dramatic expansion in interest and involvement in the scholarly discipline of comparative constitutional law (
Malagodi 2025). As the discourse developed, answers to perennial methodological questions about the balance between universalism and difference tended to favour the former, encouraged by apparent global convergence around core constitutional options (
Frankenberg 2010). Universalism was further encouraged by the development of new quantitative research methods using the now readily available texts of the constitutions of the world to draw conclusions about global trends (
Khosla 2022).
4 A new field of global constitutionalism emerged, without very clear contours but favouring progressive internationalisation (
Law & Versteeg 2011).
The academic discourse was never unidirectional, however, and over time this pendulum also swung. Overgeneralised theoretical claims and superficial quantitative conclusions were seen to be vulnerable when inconsistent with constitutional realities on the ground (
Khosla 2022). As the discipline became more genuinely global, in the sense of embracing a wider range of constitutional experience, a new line of inquiry focussed on the constitutional arrangements of the so-called Global South (
Samararatne 2022). This was novel, insofar as it sought to understand the very wide range of very diverse states in the ‘majority world’ in their own right and for what they might offer the global constitutional commons, rather than as pale reflections of their established Northern counterparts (
Samararatne 2022). The broadening scope of the discipline in turn called for new methodologies, including a better understanding of the constitutional relevance of culture (
Kenny 2023). In the face of geopolitical upheavals, it encouraged new lines of thought about how constitutional arrangements might better reflect the expectations of the communities they are designed to serve, in the interests of the effectiveness and legitimacy of government (
Socher et al. 2026).
As a scholar and occasional practitioner of comparative constitutional law on a global scale, over these decades I frequently came across instinctive assumptions and ingrained practices in constitutional contexts for which there was no explanatory framework apart from vague allusions to culture, but which seemed to me to have a bearing on some of these contradictions in practice and theory and the problems to which they give rise. My interest in the possibilities of an imaginary grew from these roots.
In the remainder of this essay, I examine the constitutional potential of an imaginary in three parts.
In the first, I explore the idea of a ‘social imaginary’, including its properties and the manner in which an imaginary might be formed and changed. While there is now a burgeoning literature on the subject in social theory, I rely here largely on the work of the Canadian philosopher Charles Taylor, which points, perhaps inadvertently, to the relevance of imaginaries for comparative constitutional understanding (
Taylor 2004).
In the second part of the essay, I consider more closely how the idea of an imaginary might have a bearing on constitutional law, in theory and practice. It is necessary here to examine both the implications of a social imaginary for constitutional systems and the possibility of a discrete ‘constitutional imaginary’. To illustrate the relevance of imaginaries for constitutional purposes, this part seeks to show that an imaginary may affect both the concept of a constitution and constitutional design.
The final substantive part of the essay deals with the application of the idea of an imaginary in diverse constitutional contexts, with particular reference to making and implementing a new constitution. A short conclusion acknowledges and responds to some of the risks that may be perceived in taking imaginaries into account for constitutional purposes.
Social imaginaries
The idea of a social imaginary emerged in France in the post-war decades and has evolved since through an extensive literature, drawing on the idea in a variety of ways (
Adams & Smith 2019: xxvi–xxix). Charles Taylor’s treatment of the subject around the turn of the century, which has been described as a ‘landmark’, is particularly relevant for present purposes (
Adams & Smith 2019: xxviii). His account of ‘modern social imaginaries’ has at least implicit constitutional dimensions (
Taylor 2004). It also acknowledges, albeit without exploring, the likelihood of plural imaginaries, with consequential implications for comparative constitutional law (
Adams 2019: 37).
In a formulation that captures the idea of a social imaginary well, and which I adopt, Taylor explains it as encompassing ‘the ways people imagine their social existence, how they fit together with others, how things go on between them and their fellows, the expectations that are normally met, and the deeper normative notions and images that underlie these expectations’ (
Taylor 2004: 23). On this account, a social imaginary is ‘that common understanding that makes possible common practices and a widely shared sense of legitimacy’ (
Taylor 2004: 23). The whole is founded upon an underpinning moral order. The relationship between common understandings and practice is reflexive, in the sense that, while the understanding shapes a practice and makes it possible, ‘it is the practice that largely carries the understanding’ (
Taylor 2004: 25).
Taylor offers voting in a general election to choose a government as a practical illustration of these abstractions. At least where the ‘modern’ social imaginary applies, the individual act of voting carries with it an understanding that makes sense of the practice. It is performed in common with a very large number of others; it will result in a collective decision that is binding for a finite period; it is a requirement for legitimate government. The manner in which such an election occurs must meet shared normative expectations in order to be accepted as ‘free’ and ‘fair’. Each voter understands implicitly the range and limits of acceptable behaviour before, during, and after an election is held (
Taylor 2004: 24–5).
Some key features of a social imaginary emerge from this brief account. An imaginary is shared by a group, at some level of generality. The group may comprise the people of a nation or a state, but may also be defined in other ways.
5 An imaginary is factual, in the sense of being constitutive of lived reality (see also
Taylor 2019). An imaginary is broad, with an indefinite and undefinable reach, consistent with offering a ‘wider grasp of our whole predicament: how we stand to each other, how we got to where we are, how we relate to other groups …’ (
Taylor 2004: 25). Importantly, an imaginary is all-pervasive, making it hard for those who share it to imagine, much less countenance, other understandings of social existence.
Insights into how a social imaginary might be formed, evolve, and change can be gleaned from Taylor’s extensive analysis of the Western imaginary. On his account, this imaginary comprises a range of social understandings, grounded in a particular moral order, that now are accepted as underpinning liberal democracy. These include the primacy of the individual; the horizontal rather than vertical relationship of individuals to each other, at least in principle; the constitution of society through common action rather than, for example, divine will or traditional law; the relevance of popular consent for the legitimacy of government, typically secured through representation; and limitations on government secured through law, including, usually, a written constitution, also attributable to consent.
Taylor’s interpretation of the complex conditions from which these understandings emerged and in which they evolved suggests the following additional characteristics of the Western social imaginary that seem likely also to apply to imaginaries elsewhere.
First, imaginaries have deep roots and evolution typically is slow. In the case of the Western imaginary, Taylor traces its foundations to a new ‘moral order’ drawing on natural law theories of the 17th century, which was followed by a ‘long march’ to the contemporary phase of modernity (
Taylor 2004: 3–22). Even as all this began, there was no clear break, as earlier ideas, of which that of an ‘ancient’ English constitution is an example (
Pocock 2009), and existing institutions, including representative assemblies, were adapted to new purposes.
Secondly, imaginaries are shaped by local experience, generated internally within the group or operating as an influence from outside. Thus, in relation to Europe, Taylor identifies reaction against the wars of religion as a catalyst for the long evolution of the modern imaginary, which subsequently was reinforced by interconnected developments in the broad fields of economic exchange, the public sphere, and democratic self-rule. In a similar vein, as Taylor explains it, differences in local realities also help to explain variations within the more generalised Western imaginary. So, for example, long familiarity with the roles of representative assemblies and state constitutional charters in the American colonies smoothed the path to new ideas about popular sovereignty after independence. By contrast in France, in the absence of comparable existing practices on which to draw, forms of popular protest became enduring features of the imaginary after the revolution, and a shared understanding of representative government took almost a century to be achieved (
Taylor 2004: 29).
Third, it follows from Western experience that a social imaginary is susceptible to change, including radical change. This may take place in different ways, ranging from alteration of the underlying moral order to which practice responds over time, to changes in practical conditions prompting shifts in an underpinning moral order (
Adams 2019: 27). However it occurs, it implicates both practice and a shared understanding that informs practice over time. The evolutionary quality of a social imaginary also means that it does not necessarily apply to all aspects of social life and all members of the society simultaneously. New practices and new understandings of old practices, including in relation to governance, may take longer to be internalised by ordinary people, living their everyday lives (
Taylor 2004: 30).
Consideration of the nature of a social imaginary suggested by Taylor’s account of its development in Western states offers insights into the possibilities of social imaginaries on a more global canvas. It may be assumed that there are many such imaginaries, involving disparate communities (
Smith 2019: 84–5).
6 To examine the relevance of imaginaries to constitutions, this essay focusses on imaginaries that are broadly shared across a state, while acknowledging the risks of underestimating both diversity and the possibilities of ‘counter-imaginaries’ in doing so (
Taylor 2019: xii). It should also be acknowledged, in this regard, that not all communities relate to the state in the same way as is assumed in the West. Some communities formally within states have other, primary, allegiances; pluralism is an acknowledged reality in countries across the world; and minority communities within states, including Indigenous communities, may have significantly distinct imaginaries from the majority of the people (
Gover 2020).
Conceptualised for present purposes as bounded by states, communities differ from each other in the forces that potentially shape social imaginaries, including history, geography, culture, current realities, and the underlying moral order itself. Consider, for example, the range and possible impact of such forces over time in Japan, Sri Lanka, Kenya, Guatemala, and the Solomon Islands, to choose only a few cases at random. It can be expected their respective social imaginaries will differ too, not only from those associated with states in the Western tradition, but also from each other.
Even so, social imaginaries of communities outside the Western context are likely to have some properties in common. In each case, earlier social imaginaries, comprising both understandings and practices, grounded in a moral order, and responsive to local conditions, will have preceded the current imaginary and, potentially, have contributed to it in some measure. In most cases, perspectives and practices associated with the social imaginary as it evolved in the West will subsequently have been superimposed, involuntarily or voluntarily. Often, this will initially have occurred through colonisation and, sometimes, multiple episodes of colonisation. Alternatively or in addition, in some cases exposure to the practices and moral order of the modern social imaginary will have occurred through Western hegemony, prompting communities to adopt ostensibly Western practices (but not necessarily the Western imaginary) in order to emulate Western economic success or to avoid colonisation. In all cases, in any event, the Western imaginary is likely to have had an impact through internationalisation and globalisation, in myriad ways, including scholarship, economic activity, and political practice (
Dann et al. 2020).
Interrogating these strands to understand the actual social imaginaries in any state is a complex task; more complex, even, than understanding the Western imaginary itself.
Imaginaries in constitutional context
One question that arises in considering the implications of the idea of an imaginary for the constitutional systems of the world is whether it is useful to seek to isolate a discrete conception of a constitutional imaginary, as opposed to treating constitutional dimensions of an imaginary as a part, albeit an important part, of the more general social conception.
Interest in the potential of the idea of a discrete constitutional imaginary is consistent with other current themes in comparative constitutional practice and scholarship. The claim that individual constitutions might have a distinct constitutional identity is one, sparked originally by consideration of the limits of European integration, but shown since to have broader appeal (
Jacobsohn 2011;
Maes 2024). Constitutional identity, in turn, links with another contemporary theme that also manifests in theory and practice: the possibility that the ‘basic structure’ of a constitution limits the scope of an express power to amend (
Roznai 2017). In a different, but also related, vein, the challenges of developing a truly global approach to comparative constitutional law that embraces the layered diversity of polities in the Global South echo the challenges of understanding imaginaries outside the developed West (
Dann et al. 2020). Inquiries into the existence and nature of a constitutional imaginary overlap with others, into political imaginaries (
Blokker 2019), the role of ideology in constitutional comparison (
Barber 2024) and the function of imagination in anchoring the legitimacy and effectiveness of written constitutions (
Loughlin 2015).
It is also possible to see how the idea of an imaginary along the lines developed by Taylor can be adapted to the specific contexts of a constitutional imaginary. A constitutional imaginary might readily be characterised as a common understanding, drawing on a broadly shared moral order, that makes possible common constitutional practices and a widely shared sense of legitimacy.
7 There is room for variations on this theme, conveying broadly the same idea (Blokker
2019: 114, Priban
2023: 21). Komarek, for example, uses constitutional imaginaries to refer to ‘sets of ideas and beliefs that help to motivate and at the same time justify the practice of government and collective self-rule’ (
Komarek 2020: 7).
There are several contexts in which the possibilities of a discrete constitutional imaginary have been canvassed in productive ways. One arose from the felt need to develop new constitutional imaginaries in connection with the progressive integration of the European Union. A second was prompted by speculation about possible causes of the rise of populism and deepening political polarisation in developed democracies. Both, by definition, are located in the Global North, where versions of the Western imaginary hold sway. The relevance of an imaginary in each is examined more closely below.
There is now a considerable body of work exploring the idea of a constitutional imaginary in relation to the European Union and its member states (
Canihac 2020;
Komarek 2020;
Priban 2023). The relevance of imaginaries in this context can readily be understood. The evolution of a new and ambitious form of regional integration with at least some constitutional characteristics demanded a new imaginary of a constitutional kind. The Union established a supranational level of government exercising extensive public power overriding that of national and subnational levels of government and relied for its acceptance on novel sources of legitimacy. Measures to deepen integration by, for example, the introduction of qualified majority voting, increased the legitimacy challenge further (
Komarek 2020: 16).
In these circumstances, there was a need for new ideas and beliefs of a constitutional kind to infuse and so strengthen new institutions and practices. Considerable intellectual energy was directed to this cause (
Komarek 2022). While the Union has since endured and become an established feature of the life of its member states, with aspirants in the wings, resistance to deeper integration and the withdrawal of the United Kingdom in 2020 suggest that development of the requisite understandings was only partially successful.
8 If the evolution of the European Union is viewed through the lens of the idea of an imaginary, one way of understanding these outcomes is to see an emergent European imaginary as in competition with the established social imaginaries of member states, all of which had entrenched assumptions about legitimate government and which, ultimately, proved dominant.
A second context in which the idea of a specifically constitutional imaginary has been explored stems from rising tides of populism and political polarisation in forms that might suggest a fracturing of any common understanding of the principles and practices of constitutional democracy (
Blokker 2019). Blokker speculated that, when this occurs, the problem may lie in part in ‘competing constitutional imaginaries’ (
Blokker 2019: 111). Competing constitutional imaginaries can be expected in conditions of deep pluralism or in the context of change, in beliefs or practices, that have been embraced by segments of the community but not yet the whole. Polarisation within hitherto relatively homogenous communities of the kind considered by Blokker may be a different phenomenon again, attributable to facets of globalisation or the impact of social media, amongst other possible factors. Whether and when these implicate either a social or a constitutional imaginary requires more careful examination of particular cases. The idea of an imaginary nevertheless emerges in this context as a possible tool to better understand this significant and escalating problem.
There are risks in isolating a discrete idea of a constitutional imaginary, however, which I am concerned to avoid for present purposes.
Most obviously there may be a temptation, in considering a constitutional imaginary in isolation, to overemphasise the perspectives of groups of key constitutional actors, commentators, or scholars, at cost to consideration of the significance of popular understandings (
Canihac 2020: 6). Arguably, a lag between elite and popular understandings of new practices affected the evolution of the European Union (
Komarek 2020: 18), and popular attitudes and beliefs clearly are factors in analysing political polarisation (
Blokker 2019). Whatever the system of government, and by definition in democracies, popular understandings of the meaning and legitimacy of public practice, however generalised, must surely contribute to any constitutional imaginary.
An exclusive focus on the constitutional character of an imaginary may be misleading in another way as well. Written constitutions in their modern form originated as a practice grounded in the Western imaginary (
Taylor 2004: 156). In that tradition, a written constitution has come to be understood as fundamental law, overriding all past, present, and future law, drawing its legitimacy in some way from the authority of the people, which is signified through distinctive processes by which it is made and changed. Where this understanding of a constitution holds, it is informed by a particular imaginary. In Blokker’s terms, it ‘allows people to identify themselves as the authors of their own foundational rules, to perceive the sources of constitutional authority, and to understand themselves as subjects of constitutional government’ (
Blokker 2019: 120). For those who share this imaginary, a constitution is likely to be the exclusive source of fundamental law.
This understanding of a constitution is not necessarily universal, however, despite the prevalence of written constitutions around the world. Not all societies regard providing themselves with a written constitution as an act of internal self-determination, as opposed to, for example, a requirement for statehood that is expected or demanded by others (
Dziedzic 2024: 176–7). In some societies, rules, principles, and practices regarded as fundamental lie outside a written constitution and may have an ambiguous relationship with it (
Dziedzic 2024: 179–82). Not all societies accept that laws they regard as constitutive can be changed by a new constitution, however it is made (
Langton & Corn 2023). In any of these situations, or the many variations on them, a written constitution will, at best, play a lesser role in a constitutional imaginary, the primary focus of which lies elsewhere.
The alternative to isolating a discrete constitutional imaginary is to focus on the constitutional dimensions of the broader social imaginary. Some of these are implicit in the idea of a social imaginary itself. If, as Taylor argues, a social imaginary encompasses ‘the ways people imagine their social existence … and the deeper normative notions and images that underlie these expectations’ (
Taylor 2004: 23), it must extend to governance, whatever the system and however large the community.
Taylor’s example of the imaginary associated with the act of voting in a stable democratic society makes the point. It is further reinforced by, for example, his account of the evolution of consent as a condition for legitimacy and by the adaptation of existing representative bodies to serve the needs of new understandings (
Taylor 2004: 87, 113). Outside the Western context, the details change, but the observation that a social imaginary has broadly constitutional dimensions remains pertinent. Thus the roles of Elders in Australian Indigenous communities and the manner in which these roles are expected to be performed is integral to the social imaginaries of those communities as well as relevant to their governance and law (
Langton & Corn 2023).
Even where a social imaginary does not obviously evoke governance, as in these examples, it may prove to be relevant to it. This will be the case where, for example, a social imaginary encompasses assumptions about modes of negotiation and consultation, or gift-giving and reciprocity, or harmonious coexistence, which apply in everyday life but are expected to be reflected in governance as well. Many other examples of the tangential constitutional relevance of an imaginary might be given. One is suggested by a decision of the High Court of Australia, holding that deprivation of ‘native title’ attracted the requirement in Section 51 (xxxi) of the Constitution for ‘just terms’ by way of compensation and setting up a future need to calculate what this might involve (
Commonwealth v Yunupingu 2025). The calculation must surely be affected by what can be regarded as an aspect of an imaginary, described by one judge in the case as follows:
native title has a cultural, spiritual or metaphysical aspect that has no analogue in European law. It is a connection with land where the land ‘owns’ the people, and the people are responsible for the land. It is a two-way connectedness the law has tried to capture by speaking of spiritual connection. The people of the clan, particular land and everything that exists on and in it, are organic parts of one indissoluble whole (
Commonwealth v Yunupingu (2025), 142, Gordon J).
These considerations suggest that treating a constitutional imaginary as an integral part of a broader social imaginary, rather than as an isolated phenomenon, is better suited to understanding constitutional arrangements on a global scale. Whichever approach is taken, however, and whatever terminology used, an imaginary may affect constitutional arrangements, written or unwritten, in multiple ways. Depending on the context, imaginaries may be relevant to the status and significance of a written constitution, constitutional design and relations between institutions, the meaning and interpretation of constitutional norms, and the operation and effectiveness of constitutional arrangements in practice.
Constitutional applications of the idea of an imaginary
Earlier in this essay I suggested that comparative constitutional law encounters contradictions when treated as a discipline with genuinely global reach. These contradictions are the products of tension between the trends towards universalism that have been encouraged by globalisation on the one hand, and the continuing manifestations of conceptual and practical differences in the constitutional systems of the states of the world on the other. The idea of an imaginary offers one source of insight into these contradictions and some of the problems for theory and practice to which they give rise. If this is right, the potential application of the idea of an imaginary may require consideration in many constitutional contexts. These can range, for example, from the management of internal pluralism to negotiation of international agreements to testing the scope of comparative constitutional theories.
This part explores the application of the idea of an imaginary in the practical context of making a new constitution. The context is significant. A lot is at stake on making a new constitution, in terms of the current and future peace and security of the communities involved. And, globally, constitution-making has been a surprisingly frequent occurrence. As noted in the introduction, over the last thirty years there has been an explosion of new constitution-making, much of it with a view to democratisation (
Saunders 2025a). What has been described as a ‘wave’ has now slowed (
Elster 1995: 368), and the forces that caused it have been overtaken by new geopolitical dynamics, but initiatives to make new constitutions continue, as events in early 2026 in, for example, Kazakhstan, Armenia, Colombia, and Thailand show (
International IDEA 2026). Significantly for present purposes, the effective outcomes of constitution-making over this period have been mixed (
Saunders 2025a). While some new constitutional arrangements now are relatively stable, most have taken longer than anticipated to stabilise, some have regressed in terms of liberal democratic expectations, and some have been abrogated altogether. Consideration of the possible relevance of imaginaries in these contexts would not have been a magic wand, but it may have been instructive in some cases.
Application of the idea of an imaginary in relation to significant constitutional change is challenging. While any imaginary is subject to change, the very nature of an imaginary suggests that the pace of change is likely to be gradual and that change may take time to be accepted by the society at large. By contrast, constitutional change is relatively sudden, often prompted by sharp shocks that may include revolution, invasion, and regime transition. How constitutional change affects an imaginary, and how quickly an imaginary adjusts, will be determined by a range of contextual factors, including awareness of the need to cater for an imaginary at all. On any view, however, for at least a time, two different imaginaries are likely to be in play: the one in place before the change occurred and the one needed to provide a common understanding that underpins and infuses the new constitutional arrangements, providing a shared sense of legitimacy (paraphrasing
Taylor 2004: 23, 25). There is much still to be learnt about the impact on imaginaries of events that trigger constitutional change, and the process by which imaginaries themselves change.
An imaginary is potentially relevant at three points in making a new constitution: in decisions about the constitution-making process, in designing the constitution, and in implementing the constitution over time.
I start with process (see generally
Saunders et al. 2024). If a constitution is to be accepted as fundamental law, a prevailing imaginary may be relevant to the process by which it is made, to underpin the legitimacy of the new arrangements and to support transition to them. Such an imaginary is likely to have been shaped by history, including past practice, but may also have deeper roots, in assumptions about the nature of the community and the sources of authority in it.
There is a question about how this has been affected by the globalisation of constitution-making. Over the past thirty years, the need for inclusion and public involvement in constitution-making processes has become widely accepted (
Saunders et al. 2024: 57). Originally predicated on the Western imaginary, this widespread practice is now sometimes claimed as a global norm (
Bockenforde 2022: 161–2). Where constitution-making responds to conflict or accompanies transition from authoritarianism, inclusion and participation also have additional practical advantages, which may contribute to legitimation of the process.
9Even so, a localised imaginary may require consideration in designing a constitution-making process, including the form that inclusion and public involvement take. Any number of possible examples can be suggested, both specific and more general. An imaginary may affect a decision whether to maintain legal continuity with the old constitution or to accept or require a revolutionary break (
Sultany 2017: 130–8). In the former case the process will be prescribed; in the latter it will be at large as a matter of law but shaped by expectations and feasibility. Depending on local understandings, it may be acceptable or expected for a new constitution to be made by an existing legislature; in other cases a specifically elected constituent assembly may be required (
Colon-Rios 2025). In some communities, legitimation may be enhanced by adapting traditional gatherings to the needs of constitution-making: the use of a Loya Jirga in the final stages of constitution-making in Afghanistan in 2003–4 is a possible example (
International Crisis Group 2003). In some contexts, a referendum may be considered an essential component of a constitution-making process, with Switzerland an obvious case in point (
Aubert 1978). In others it may be at best a convenient option, to be used if conditions are right. Even the mode of public participation may be influenced by an imaginary that assumes community engagement in particular ways.
10Secondly, imaginaries may be relevant to the design of a constitution in substance.
Most obviously, imaginaries may have a bearing on institutional choice, if particular institutions have become sufficiently entrenched over time. Retention of a monarchy, at least as a symbol of the state is an example, as cases ranging from Japan to Malaysia to Bhutan suggest. The choice between presidential and parliamentary systems or between review of the constitutional validity of legislation by generalist or specialised courts are other examples that may reflect deep-seated assumptions about the manner of the exercise of public power. If the United Kingdom now were to embark on making a written constitution, for example (an exercise that also would be challenged by what might be described as an imaginary), it is almost unthinkable that it would abandon parliamentary government. And while South Africa chose to establish a specialist constitutional court in its transition from apartheid in 1994–6, in a departure from previous practice, the expansion of the jurisdiction of that court over time suggests the challenges of moving from the assumptions of diffuse judicial review (
Supreme Court of Appeal no date). Nor are the institutional choices on which an imaginary may have a bearing necessarily confined to those commonly associated with liberal democracy. In some states, the relevance of the constitution may be enhanced by including institutions regarded as traditional. The Malvatumauri National Council of Chiefs in Vanuatu is one of many examples that might be given (
Kernot & Sakita 2008).
More complex than the bare choice of institutions is the potential of imaginaries to affect understanding of particular choices. Thailand illustrates the point in relation to a monarchy, where it has been argued that the constitutional phrase ‘democracy with the King as Head of State’ is understood to refer to a ‘unique system distinct from a constitutional monarchy’ (
Merieau 2022: 249). Assumptions about what a separation of powers requires in terms of the role of courts vis-à-vis the executive and the legislature varies between constitutional traditions in ways that reflect long-established historical understandings. Federalism is another telling example. Imaginaries shaped by history or theories of the state and sovereignty may have a role to play in determining whether or not federation is an acceptable option for a state making a new constitution. And federalism itself may be understood in different ways that are deeply embedded. By way of example, the peace talks in Myanmar before the 2021 military coup, were complicated by radically different understandings of Burman and other ethnic groups about the nature of the agreement between them at the point of decolonisation in 1947. This led in turn to different assumptions about whether Myanmar was working towards a ‘holding together’ or ‘coming together’ federation, with implications for federal design.
11One final point about constitutional design concerns the potential of an imaginary to furnish ways to enhance the legitimacy and acceptability of a written constitution. The preamble is an obvious vehicle for this purpose: consider, for example, the opening passages in the Constitution of Papua New Guinea, which, no doubt embellishing any existing imaginaries, draws on ancestors, customs, and traditional wisdoms of ‘ancient, free and independent peoples’, to sustain the newly independent, united, state (
Constitution of Papua New Guinea 1975). But the substantive provisions of a constitution may be understood as serving the purpose of legitimation as well. Where religion is a significant force amongst the peoples of a state, it is likely to be referenced in the constitution in symbolic or even substantive terms, notwithstanding pressures to maintain a separation between religion and the state (
International IDEA 2014). Similarly, where custom is an important source of law, with foundations in traditions and practices outside the constitution, there may be a question about how, if at all, the constitution should deal with it. The Constitution of Tuvalu provides one of many examples that might be given, identifying and enshrining the ‘guiding principles of Tuvalu’, including ‘agreement, courtesy, and the search for consensus, in accordance with traditional Tuvaluan procedures, rather than alien ideas of confrontation and divisiveness’ (
Constitution of Tuvalu 2023: Section 5).
The final stage to consider is the implementation of a new constitution. The significance of the implementation phase for the effective operation of a new constitution has become obvious with the benefit of hindsight. The history of recent decades also demonstrates that implementation can be challenging and may take a considerable period of time. In part, the difficulties of implementation are attributable to the practicalities of change. In part also, however, they may be attributable to the stickiness of existing imaginaries, affecting the pace and manner of transition to new understandings, first by the key actors, but ultimately by the public at large.
At least some of the challenges for implementation that potentially are presented by existing imaginaries can be anticipated well before a constitution is finalised, through the processes followed and the decisions made in the course of constitutional design. Process can enhance understanding and a sense of ownership of the constitution, with implications for legitimacy. Design can minimise (or expand) the challenges presented by imaginaries through decisions about the ambit of change. Where change is substantial, design may be able to factor transition to a new imaginary into the broader constitutional plan. Both points are developed further below.
The issue of the ambit of change presents a familiar dilemma. In making any new constitution, a question arises of how radically to depart from existing arrangements associated with a past that by definition is being repudiated, as opposed to retaining at least some institutions and practices on the assumption that they can be adapted to the new constitutional regime. Radical change may require a radically changed imaginary, with its associated difficulties. The shift from a unitary to a federal system in Nepal, is only one example of extensive change that is slow to take root for reasons that may well implicate existing imaginaries (
Devkota 2023). On the other hand, adaptation of existing arrangements relies on the evolution of existing imaginaries and may not shift understandings and, therefore, practices sufficiently to suit the purposes of change. It might be instructive to examine the South African decision to retain a combined position of head of state and head of government in a parliamentary system from this perspective (
Constitution of the Republic of South Africa 1996: chapter 5). On either approach to the magnitude of change there is value in taking imaginaries into account.
India offers a less familiar but also instructive example of an attempt to use constitutional design to factor into the constitutional plan a need for a new constitutional imaginary to evolve. Madhav Khosla has argued that the framers of the Indian Constitution were conscious that the populace at large was unprepared for democracy and deliberately crafted a new constitution to ‘provide for a form of government where behaviour had common meaning’, designed to develop citizens from subjects (
Khosla 2020: 25).
12 Techniques to that end included the codification of practices in a long and detailed constitution, the centralisation of public power to facilitate change, and the use of representation to break down communalism and develop individual identity (
Saunders 2020: 433). With hindsight, this attempt to anticipate the challenges of democratic transition may have been only partly successful. This does not necessarily militate against the endeavour, but speaks to the magnitude of what was involved.
So far, this account of the potential relevance of imaginaries at successive phases of making a new constitution assumes a process led by local actors who can take prevailing imaginaries into account and may instinctively do so. In making this claim, I do not overlook the host of potential complications presented by conditions of pluralism, or where imaginaries are contested, or when local actors misrepresent the meaning and significance of local traditions. On any view, however, taking account of an imaginary, whether to try to counter it or to benefit from it, becomes more complicated when, as now usually is the case, external actors are involved in constitution-making in some way (
Saunders et al. 2024).
Most of the constitution-making projects in the post-cold war period took place in states in the Global South. Most of these projects attracted various forms of ‘external support’ from a plethora of sources, including donor states, international agencies, and governmental and non-governmental organisations, variously devoted to enhancing the quality and spread of constitutional democracy, the rule of law, and related purposes (
Lerner 2025). External support can bring not only resources and logistical assistance, but also practical experience with constitution-making elsewhere and comparative understanding of current constitutional options and design. In conditions of tension and conflict, it may offer useful neutrality. It can lead to international acceptance of the outcomes, with benefits in terms of aid and other forms of global recognition. Typically however, as outsiders, external actors lack knowledge of the imaginaries of the communities for whom constitutions are being made. Insofar as they seek to disseminate principles and practices seen as global standards or ‘best practice’, they may downplay the significance of local imaginaries or ignore their potential altogether.
Towards the end of this period, there were signs of unease about the manner and proper limits of the involvement of external actors in a constitution-making process, including the extent to which leverage should be used to press a point home.
13 Causes for some concern included the extent and growing professionalisation of external support, push-back from some constitution-making states, and a growing record of disappointing outcomes (
Saunders et al. 2024).
The issues at stake in overreach of external support typically were framed in terms of sovereignty, placing emphasis on the need for ‘national ownership and leadership’ as a guiding principle for external involvement (
Secretary-General of the United Nations 2020). This phrase is ambiguous, however, even in its own terms. It can be understood to refer either to the need for decisions to be made locally, rather than by external actors, or to the need for an inclusive constitution-making process involving broad consultation and representation, along lines that have been developed through global use. I have argued elsewhere that, even where the two understandings seem to be in tension, local decision-making and responsibility are critical, in the interests of the longer-term effectiveness of the new arrangements (
Saunders 2025b). If anything, reflections on the imaginary reinforce this view. They also add another possibility: that an imaginary itself may indicate what ‘national ownership’ looks like. In some cases what it shows may not accord, fully or at all, with the expectations of external partners.
The purpose of dwelling on constitution-making at length in this section was to demonstrate one applied usage of the idea of an imaginary, as a path to better understanding when and how it might be considered in constitutional contexts. It is appropriate to acknowledge here, however, the many challenges of grasping any particular imaginary, certainly as an outsider but potentially also for insiders. I note in passing another current line of inquiry that may be productive for these purposes, into the potential of combining the perspectives of insiders and outsiders to more accurately understand cultural beliefs and behaviour in an age of globalisation (
Samararatne 2024). By way of conclusion to this section, I also suggest that, even if features of a particular imaginary are elusive, acknowledging the possibility of the existence of an imaginary may be a positive step towards resolving some apparently intractable comparative problems.
Conclusions
The purpose of this essay has been to explore whether the idea of an imaginary assists in understanding the constitutional systems of the world and, if so, how it might contribute to resolving some of the practical and theoretical problems presented by tensions between universalism and diversity in an increasingly interdependent world. I am persuaded that the idea of an imaginary, or something like it, is a reality in all communities, with relevance for governance, whether specifically designated as constitutional or not. On this assumption, the idea of an imaginary may often have a useful a role to play in constitutional contexts, if engaged with due caution. I have sought to demonstrate its possibilities in relation to constitution-making, with which I have some familiarity, but it has potential in other contexts as well.
There may be objections in principle to engaging with imaginaries in a constitutional context. It might be claimed as a path to enabling authoritarianism, by legitimising the erosion of constitutional values that are conducive to human well-being. It might be seen to reinforce theories about a clash of civilisations (
Huntington 2011). Such concerns would be serious if substantiated, but require interrogation in each case. Constitutional values may differ in ways that suit the needs of communities. Even broadly shared constitutional aspirations may be underpinned by different imaginaries (
Socher et al. 2026). Imaginaries are not static, even if claimed as civilisational; they have been shaped and continue to be shaped by the power of the migration of ideas in conditions of global interdependence.
In any event, objection to imaginaries in principle would miss the point of the present project. Inquiring into the idea of an imaginary does not require evaluation of particular imaginaries (which would raise methodological problems of its own). Rather, it is an exercise in better understanding. If imaginaries are ‘real’ in the world view of those between whom they are shared, ignoring them will achieve nothing, while understanding that imaginaries exist, or may exist, can help shape constructive action.
Nevertheless, caution is needed in recourse to the idea of an imaginary for other reasons. An imaginary is only one of many factors that potentially affect the form and operation of constitutional systems. As one element in an integrated and complex whole, the role of an imaginary should not be overstated. In any event, the substance and limits of any imaginary are indeterminate. Claims for the significance of a particular imaginary may misrepresent, inadvertently or deliberately, what it involves and the extent to which it is shared. Drawing on the idea of an imaginary becomes more complex still in diverse societies, or where relatively rapid social or political change is underway.
The idea of the constitutional implications of an imaginary is easiest to understand in relatively homogenous, stable communities, subject to no more than the ordinary vicissitudes of life. There is an obvious question about what has happened or is happening to the idea of an imaginary in a world with significant population flows, both voluntary and involuntary; virtual communities facilitated by the spread of social media; widespread disinformation and misinformation; accelerating environmental degradation; and worrying signs of the breakdown of political trust.
While I have no answers, I make some tentative observations. Much of the world still lives in communities that are readily compatible with the idea of social and constitutional imaginaries. And even in the face of mammoth disruption through displacement, immigration, polarisation, and other factors, humans continue to live in physical communities, with forms of a shared public life. There must be imaginaries in these circumstances as well, even if they are more shallow, less durable, less inclusive, or characterised by mistrust.
In these conditions, it may be that the idea of an imaginary can be put to additional uses. It may be used, for example, to assist in diagnosing tensions in communities, to facilitate assimilation, or to provide more effectively for pluralism. It may also have application on a global scale, to foster mutual understanding as a basis for a more effective and inclusive global order of the kind the world urgently needs.