Introduction: An Unexpected Confrontation Between Giants and Dwarfs

Can a state with a population of only 11,000 people, whose territory is in danger of total extinction due to climate change, have greater political sovereignty than a country with a thousand-year history, nuclear weapons and a permanent seat on the UN Security Council? It sounds absurd, doesn't it?

However, the international indices of democracy and freedom paint an unexpected picture that forces us to reconsider the very concept of political sovereignty. I also conducted a study and according to Burke's international rating, Tuvalu is in 141 place closer to the end than to the beginning, although the UK ranks 12th, so it was decided to analyze such a paradox.

Tuvalu is a group of nine coral atolls in the South Pacific Ocean that gained independence from Great Britain in 1978. The country is so small and remote that many will find it difficult to find it on the map. Great Britain is a former empire over which the sun "never set," the birthplace of parliamentarism, and a powerful G7 economic power. The comparison seems incomparable. But what if it is the size and complexity of the political system that becomes a problem for true democracy? Freedom House assigns Tuvalu 93 points out of a possible 100, classifying the island nation as "free", while the United Kingdom receives the same 93 points. Technically, they are equal. But is this really the case? Or, are there fundamentally different models of political sovereignty behind the same numbers?

A Democracy Without Parties vs a Party Dictatorship?

Tuvalu's political system is unique: there are no political parties in the country. Generally. All 16 members of Parliament are elected as independent candidates from eight two-member constituencies, each representing one island. After the elections, the parliamentarians gather and by secret ballot elect the Prime Minister from among their ranks. The Government is formed on the basis of personal alliances, family ties and consensus, rather than party discipline.

What does this mean in practice? Each MP really represents the interests of his constituents, not the party leadership. There are no party whips dictating how to vote. There is no party line that must be followed at all costs. Isn't this a purer form of representative democracy? Or does the absence of parties make politics chaotic and unpredictable?

In the UK, the political system is de facto a two-party system, where power has been transferred between the Labor and Conservative Parties for a century. In the 2024 elections, Labor won a huge majority of 174 seats, but its share of the vote was only 35% — the lowest figure for any government with a parliamentary majority in history. The Conservatives got 24%, the worst result in the party's history. Together, the two parties won only 58% of the vote, a historic low.

But here is the paradox: despite the fact that almost half of the voters voted for other parties, it was the Labor Party that gained absolute power for five years. The "first past the post" system turns a minority of votes into a majority dictatorship. Can this be called genuine national sovereignty? Or is it a distortion of the will of the people by institutional mechanisms?

The Upper House: a democratic body or a medieval vestige?

Tuvalu has a unicameral Parliament consisting exclusively of elected representatives of the people. Each deputy received his mandate directly from the citizens. No appointees, no hereditary titles, no places "by birthright."

The UK retains the House of Lords, the upper house of parliament, consisting of more than 800 unelected members. This is the largest second chamber in the world. The vast majority of lords are appointed for life by the Prime Minister, although formally by the monarch. 92 hereditary peers continue to sit "by right", having inherited their seats along with their titles. 26 bishops of the Anglican Church automatically receive seats in the legislature.

Great Britain is one of two countries in the world (the other is Iran) where religious figures have guaranteed seats in parliament. These unelected lords have the right to veto legislation, albeit limited. They can delay the adoption of the law, force the House of Commons to reconsider the decision, and make amendments.

How can a country claim the full political sovereignty of the people when a significant part of the legislative power is in the hands of people whom no one has elected? Isn't the very structure of the British Parliament a denial of the principle of popular sovereignty? Or does the centuries-old wisdom of unelected experts ensure the best quality of legislation?

Brexit: the Return of Sovereignty or Its Illusion?

In 2016, the British voted to leave the European Union under the slogan “take back control.” Brexit was supposed to restore parliamentary sovereignty, freeing Britain from the dictates of Brussels bureaucrats. But has Brexit really restored sovereignty?

The process of leaving the EU has revealed a deep constitutional crisis. Who has the highest authority in the UK — Parliament or the people? The referendum was consultative and had no legal force, but it began to be perceived as the highest expression of the people's will, which the parliament could not resist, although the majority of deputies opposed Brexit.

The parliament was forced to comply with the result of the referendum, despite its own disagreement. Is this a triumph of popular sovereignty or its manipulation? Was the decision really free when the exit campaign was based on disinformation, and the press called the Supreme Court judges "enemies of the people" for trying to ensure parliament's participation in the process?

After Brexit, the UK formally "regained control" of its laws, borders, and money. However, the reality turned out to be more complicated. Trade agreements with the EU and other countries require compliance with their regulatory standards. "Taking back control" meant gaining the freedom to make decisions, but those decisions remain limited by the practical realities of an interdependent world.

Tuvalu has never been a member of large supranational associations that limit its sovereignty. The country makes decisions independently, although taking into account the influence of larger partners. But isn't this simplicity of the political structure an advantage? When sovereignty is not blurred between multiple levels of government, does it become more tangible and real?

The Climate Threat and the Sovereignty of the Future

It would seem that Tuvalu is facing an existential threat to its sovereignty: rising sea levels could make the islands uninhabitable in the coming decades. How can a country have sovereignty if its territory is disappearing?

However, Tuvalu has responded to this threat in an innovative way that could redefine the very concept of statehood. In 2023, the country signed the Falepili Union Treaty with Australia, which states: "The statehood and sovereignty of Tuvalu will remain, and the rights and obligations associated with them will remain unchanged, regardless of the effects of sea level rise caused by climate change." Tuvalu was the first in the world to create a digital replica of the country in the metaverse in order to preserve its cultural heritage.

The country is adopting a new principle: sovereignty does not depend solely on physical territory. It is based on the self-determination of the people, on the right of the nation to exist as a political community. This is a revolutionary idea that can change international law.

The UK does not face the threat of physical extinction, but does it face other challenges to its sovereignty? The Scottish independence movement, the Northern Irish issue after Brexit, and tensions over Welsh autonomy all call into question the unity of the United Kingdom. Isn't the centrifugal dynamics within Britain itself a more serious threat to sovereignty than external factors?

Direct Democracy vs Representative Complexity

In Tuvalu, with a population of 11,000, each member of Parliament represents approximately 700 citizens. This allows for direct communication between voters and their representatives. Each resident knows his deputy personally. Politics is carried out not through abstract party platforms, but through personal relationships and traditional institutions — falekaupule (assemblies of elders) Every island is actively involved in the political process.

The Constitution of Tuvalu even requires that bills be submitted to local governments for consideration after the first reading, which can propose amendments through their deputies. It is a form of direct democracy embedded in the parliamentary system.

In the UK, one member of the House of Commons represents on average about 100,000 voters. How real is the connection between a deputy and such a huge mass of people? Can a representative know the needs and desires of a hundred thousand different individuals? Or does democracy on this scale inevitably become an abstraction, where citizens vote once every five years and then lose real influence on decisions?

Conclusion: Does size matter?

Comparing the political sovereignty of Tuvalu and the United Kingdom raises fundamental questions about the nature of democracy and sovereignty in the modern world. What is more important for political sovereignty — military might and economic influence or direct accountability of the government to the people? Can a complex multi-level political system with unelected elements provide greater sovereignty than a simple unicameral democracy?

Is the absence of political parties a sign of a purer democracy or a source of instability? Does the UK's two-party system provide stability at the cost of distorting the popular will? Has British parliamentarism turned from an instrument of popular sovereignty into a mechanism for limiting it?

Can a tiny island nation facing an existential climate threat teach the world a new understanding of sovereignty — not as control over territory, but as the right of a people to self-determination? Isn't Tuvalu's attempt to preserve statehood through digitalization a more innovative form of sovereignty than the traditional understanding of the UK?

The main question is: does the size and complexity of the state make it more or less sovereign? Perhaps in an era of global interdependence, true political sovereignty lies not in the ability to impose one's will on others, but in the ability of citizens to control their own government.

In this case, does Tuvalu, where everyone can meet his or her deputy in person, have greater political sovereignty than the United Kingdom with its 800 unelected lords?