Recent events in British politics have stretched the capacity of our constitutional norms to their limits. But what have they collectively taught us? They highlight worrying weaknesses – but also some less-discussed strengths.

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Two key features lie at the heart of the British constitution. One is the centrality of parliament; the other is that key aspects depend on politics, not law. Sadly, the weaknesses in such a system have now been demonstrated – by an officeholder who rejects convention and seeks to push powers to their legal limit. Suddenly, a previously stable system has shown itself to be fragile.

The biggest shock to the system was clearly Boris Johnson’s decision to ask the Queen to prorogue parliament – a request seemingly made without prior agreement by the cabinet, and which was greeted with outrage by opposition parties and protests from some quarters of the public.

The prorogation undoubtedly broke with constitutional precedent. Despite Jacob Rees-Mogg’s protestations that it was “routine” – at five weeks this is the longest prorogation in 90 years. The Commons was previously heading for a conference recess, but MPs were set to vote on cancelling that, and seemed likely to succeed. Johnson’s move deliberately deprived them of that opportunity, as well as the right to scrutinise his government – hence demonstrating a major loophole. While MPs have a decisive role in dissolving parliament for a general election, or adjourning for a recess, prorogation lies purely in the executive’s hands. This power must now be removed from the executive and handed to parliament, in line with the power to dissolve or to adjourn.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest ‘Despite Jacob Rees-Mogg’s protestations that the prorogation was ‘routine’, at five weeks it is the longest prorogation in 90 years.’ Photograph: Daniel Leal-Olivas/AFP/Getty Images

Other executive powers have also been brought into question this week. The Benn bill, passed against the prime minister’s wishes, to require him to request an article 50 extension if no Brexit deal is agreed, was subject to various threats. One was that it might be denied royal assent – through ministers advising the Queen not to sign it into law, despite having passed through both chambers of parliament. This would be extreme action indeed, and might well have failed. But even raising such a suggestion introduces confusion, and (like prorogation) risks bringing the monarch into controversy.

Another claim was that the bill might fall prey to “Queen’s consent” (a different and more unusual procedure than royal assent), allowing ministers to block it at an earlier stage. Such procedures are essentially ancient relics, usually of limited practical effect – but in far from “normal” times, with a government intent on blocking the will of parliament, their existence becomes problematic.

Parliament’s own more routine procedures have also been shown as wanting in key respects. The House of Commons’ standing orders give the government very significant control over allocation of parliamentary time. For example, while opposition parties are guaranteed a number of days on which they can choose the topic for debate, ministers decide when those days are given – allowing them to block awkward matters from the agenda. More generally, time in the House of Commons is by default largely controlled by the government. Hence the need for MPs’ repeated attempts to “seize control of the agenda” over Brexit – as, most recently, with the tabling of the Benn bill this week.

Usually, government control of the agenda is largely unproblematic. But under a minority government it becomes highly questionable whether ministers, rather than a parliamentary majority, should decide what gets discussed. In countries such as Germany, parliamentary time is instead proportionately shared between different groups. In fragmented political times with the potential for minority governments to become more frequent, revision of the rules appears an urgent priority – to avoid the kind of unseemly procedural arguments witnessed over Brexit.

Alongside all of these problems, however, this week also demonstrated one part of the constitution working exactly as it should. The Fixed-term Parliaments Act (FTPA) 2011 had been accused of toothlessness after Theresa May called an election three years early in 2017. This may have fooled Johnson into believing the age-old power by which the prime minister could decide general election dates essentially still existed – hence his attempt to bump his opponents into a “people v parliament” election. But having put down an FTPA motion for an early election he simply demonstrated how the act actually gives MPs real power. They defeated his proposal, and look set to do so again next week.

The sustainability of executive powers to prorogue, or to recommend assent to bills, depends on a political framework where long-held conventions about not abusing such power are respected. The inevitable consequence of all the strains placed on our constitution by the arrival of a prime minister prepared to flout such limits seems to be that, in due course, we will need to write down more of our rules in law. That doesn’t mean a move to a written constitution – for now, at least. But it does mean creating more statute law – like the Fixed-term Parliaments Act – to constrain the government’s remaining prerogative powers.

• Meg Russell is professor of British and comparative politics, and director of the constitution unit at UCL. She is currently a senior fellow with The UK in a Changing Europe