Seventy years ago there appeared in Britain a series of newspaper articles, which in the autumn of the year were published in book form. To this book the author, perhaps drawing on his earlier career as a journalist, gave a headline-catching title: The New Despotism. In the Richter scale of world events this publication was not, as even the most introverted lawyer would have to acknowledge, the most memorable event of 1929. But on the more specialised Richter scale which measures movements in the landscape of constitutional and administrative law, and standards of judicial conduct, a noticeable tremor was registered. For the author of The New Despotism was Lord Hewart of Bury, who held office as Lord Chief Justice of England, and the book was a coruscating attack on what he pejoratively called the bureaucracy, the great departments of state, whom Hewart accused of acquiring and exercising legislative and administrative powers in a manner which circumvented Parliament, excluded judicial control through the ordinary courts and undermined the rule of law.

Constitutional adjudication is as old as democratic constitutionalism. But for a long period of time, the United States of America remained alone in subjecting democratic decision-making to judicial review. While constitutions had become widely accepted already in the 19th century, it took almost two hundred years until constitutional adjudication has gained world-wide recognition. In the 19th century, only Switzerland entrusted its Supreme Court with competencies in the field of constitutional law, yet, not including review of federal legislation. All other attempts to introduce constitutional adjudication failed. This is also true for Germany where the constitution of 1849 had provided for judicial review in an ample manner. But the constitution adopted by the revolutionary Paulskirchen Assembly did not enter into force because the monarchs refused their consent after the revolution had been put down.

A discussion of the role of courts in Israel today demands some introductory remarks. The Supreme Court and the President of the Supreme Court enjoy great acclaim and respect within Israel and abroad, but have recently come under attack from a variety of sources. These attacks are often confused, and many of them are clearly motivated by narrow partisan interests and an inherent objection to the rule of law and judicial review. But these motives do not necessarily weaken the dangers which the attacks pose to the legitimacy of the courts in general, and the Supreme Court in particular, in Israel's public life. The fact that in some sectors extremely harsh criticism of the court is seen to be an electoral boost, testifies to the serious and dangerous nature of the threat. This situation creates a dilemma for those who want a strong and independent judiciary, believing it is essential for freedom and democracy, but who also believe that, during the last two decades, the courts have transgressed limits they should respect. The dilemma becomes especially acute when the political echo sounds out in one's criticism, and when one is part of the group that believes that the legal and the judicial systems have made some contribution to the prevalence of these hyperbolic and dangerous attacks, as I am.

In a recent paper, I argue that the “new constitutionalism” — the transformation in the relations between courts and representative institutions that has swept the world and that is now sweeping Israel too — can best be understood as one of those “changes of everything so that everything would remain the same”. The promotion of courts and the demotion of legislatures through the judicial enforcement of “rigid” Charters and Bills of Rights has “legalized politics,” changing its nature as well as its locus. Contrary to those who regard this as an essentially democratic development, I argue that it is, to paraphrase Reuben Hasson, a weapon in the hands of democracy's enemies. I argue that the new constitutionalism was intended to operate and does operate as an antidote to democracy, that it was meant to preserve the oligarchy of private property from the mortal danger posed by representative institutions elected by people without property, the original Greek “demos” from whence the term.

Over-burdening of the prison system and serious reservations as to the usefulness of the prison sentence as a means of reducing crimes rates have led penologists and policymakers to seek ways to broaden the repertoire of criminal punishments available to the courts. In the search for effective and affordable sentencing policies, there has been increasing interest in the development and elaboration of intermediate sanctions as part of a menu of sentencing choices that match the severity of punishment to the seriousness of the crime.

This trend is clearly reflected in the development of the penal system in Israel. In elaborating alternatives to imprisonment, an integrated model, incorporating welfare and rehabilitation considerations, has emerged. Nevertheless, Israeli judges have remarkably few sentencing alternatives at their disposal, and the penal sanctions available to them can be counted on the fingers of one hand, namely, imprisonment, suspended prison sentence, probation, community service, and the fine.