IT’S there in black and white on Wikipedia, the people’s own virtual encyclopaedia: ‘Democracy is defined as a form of government in which power is held by people under a free electoral system’ – in effect, ‘popular government’.

Central to the concept of representative democracy are competitive elections that are fair both substantively and procedurally, affording freedom of political expression, freedom of speech and freedom of the press so that citizens are informed and able to vote in their personal interests.

Last week we witnessed the ups and downs of democracy, as we know it, spelled out in newspaper headlines in the same week: ‘New Chief Minister promises a States for the people’, followed the next day by ‘Democracy turns sour for Sark’.

When I first began taking an interest in local politics, I was confused by the respective roles of Deputies and Senators in the States.

One wise local historian explained it thus: ‘In effect, there is little day-to-day difference in the Chamber, but a Senator has an Island-wide mandate, while a Deputy, like a Constable, has a special relationship with the electors of the parish who put him there. So you could say the Senators are the senior members of the Assembly.’

All very well and, when along came ministerial government, we saw the embodiment of this in the majority appointment of Senators to ministerial posts.

Leaving aside the ridiculous spectacle during the last round of elections of wannabe Senators exposing their political naivety by standing first for the senior post before submitting themselves all over again for back-door entry as Deputies, the subsequent appointment of Deputies to high-profile, time-consuming cabinet positions, has me worrying seriously about the effects on their democratic representation.

Don’t get me wrong. I am sure that the individuals will give their portfolios all the time and attention they can muster, but barely weeks ago these same appointees were stressing at parochial hustings that the affairs of their respective parishes and the constituents therein were paramount.

Of course issues won’t necessarily be incompatible, and the old hands will assure us that an accommodation will be reached, but the pressure on a minister with Deputy, even Constable responsibilities will be enormous, particularly in an Island with no dedicated parliamentary civil service, and where there is a historical reluctance for Members to give up their day jobs.

I am privileged to know some of the individuals in the frame and respect their integrity, so in the name of democracy, I am looking for my reservations to be proved wrong.

So how do we recognise the workings of democracy, vis-à-vis the voice of the people? Elections? Well yes, we’ve just had those, though the people’s voice was not a factor in deciding those who move and shake on their behalf at the top table.

Petitions? Don’t talk to the anti-GST lobby about how seriously those are taken. Referendums? We’ve got one of those in the bag, too. Big publicity over a time-shifting issue of little consequence. Opinion polls? Don’t put too many eggs in the overwhelming desire by shoppers – not, I hasten to add, myself – for more UK supermarkets. Nevertheless, no one could actually say our democratic voices are at risk.

Meanwhile, casting an eye across the sea to Sark, it’s hard not to interpret the shenanigans surrounding their election as an insult to democracy. But, rather than it going sour, it has actually stood up remarkably well to an unprecedented onslaught by scheming manipulation under the guise of introducing modern democratic government to the island.

What we’ve seen is little less than an attempt to replace feudalism with dictatorship, employing such transparent methods as a partial press and threats of economic ruin. So what happens when the piper refuses to play the tune of the impresario – a dose of collective punishment reminiscent of the worst days of medieval feudal Europe. An unacceptable price, this sort of democracy.

We may have been spared receiving asylum seekers from ‘The People’s Republic of Greater Brecqhou’ across the bay, but as a community, we must be prepared to offer support to possible economic migrants and the dispossessed.

Without playing with words, ‘popular government’, that is ‘of and for the people’, should remain distinct from a government seeking popularity.

At the risk of presenting an idealistic truism, an administration thrives when it takes its populace with it, but ‘beauty contest’ politics frequently stand in the way of good government.

In a TV interview before last week’s election, one of Sark’s long-serving retiring Conseillers addressed the value of the ‘undemocratic’ notion of selection, over popular election. As a concept, the majority of us would no doubt instinctively opt for the latter.

However, her contention was that if there are difficult decisions to be taken, selected representatives will take them regardless of the opprobrium they may attract, whereas in an executive made up of elected members, namely those who have to depend on public support for re-election, the over-riding temptation is to duck those hard, unpopular, decisions for fear of being voted out next time. So, arguably, government is diluted to the detriment of the community.

None of us can second guess the motivating factors which influenced our Chief Minister when selecting his team. Nonetheless, however chosen, whether in Jersey or Sark, once in place, the people now have the democratic right to endorse, reflect or reject.

Spare a thought for the good parish Constable or Deputy who, three years down the road, falls from office in the next electoral test, not because he has neglected his parish, but as the casualty of some wrangle on his ministerial patch which has indeed turned democracy sour.