Modern Americans can recite the three branches so easily that the arrangement feels almost natural: legislature, executive, judiciary. School diagrams reinforce the impression. Three boxes sit beside one another, arrows show checks and balances, and the structure appears to have arrived fully formed in 1787. Historically, however, the three-branch model was neither obvious nor inevitable. It emerged from a much longer argument about how political power should be divided, balanced, and restrained.

The deeper history matters because older writers were often solving a different problem. Some divided government by social class rather than by function. Some distinguished lawmaking from law enforcement but gave no independent place to courts. Others treated monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy as competing constitutional forms that could be mixed together. The familiar American trio grew out of these older experiments, but it did not simply copy any one of them.

Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln IV explains. He is author of Gods, Judges, and Presidents (Bloomsbury Academic, 2026)

Portrait of Montesquieu. Source: Public domain, Musée de l'Histoire de France (Versailles), available here.

From mixed government to divided power

One major ancient tradition asked who should rule. Polybius, writing about Rome in the second century BCE, famously described a mixed constitution in which consuls, Senate, and people each possessed powers that could check the others. The point was not that Rome had a legislative branch, an executive branch, and a judicial branch in the modern sense. Polybius was interested in the combination of monarchical, aristocratic, and democratic elements.

That distinction is important. Mixed government distributes political standing among social or constitutional forces. Separation of powers distributes kinds of governmental activity. The two ideas can overlap, and later constitutional thinkers often used both, but they are not identical. The Roman example helped keep alive the idea that liberty might depend on institutions capable of resisting one another. It did not yet produce the three boxes familiar from a modern civics textbook.

The same caution applies to Greek philosophy. Plato divided the soul into reason, spirit, and appetite and built an account of the city around differentiated human capacities. Aristotle catalogued offices and constitutional forms with extraordinary precision. These works supplied later thinkers with languages for order and balance, but they were not preliminary drafts of the United States Constitution. Ancient materials mattered because they preserved questions that later writers would ask again under different conditions.

 

Locke did not give us the modern trio

By the seventeenth century, European political thought increasingly focused on functions of government. John Locke's Second Treatise is especially revealing because his categories are close to the later separation of powers but not the same. Locke gave pride of place to legislative power, distinguished it from executive power, and also identified a federative power concerned with war, peace, alliances, and relations outside the commonwealth.

A modern reader may be tempted to convert Locke automatically into legislature, executive, judiciary. That move would erase the historical difference. Courts did not yet occupy the conceptual position they would later acquire in American constitutionalism. Locke's scheme shows that once political writers began separating functions, several arrangements remained possible. There was no law of political nature requiring exactly three modern branches.

 

Montesquieu changes the vocabulary

Montesquieu's Spirit of the Laws, published in 1748, supplied the vocabulary that would become especially important to Anglo-American constitutional thought. In his famous discussion of the English constitution, Montesquieu distinguished legislative power, executive power concerning matters dependent on the law of nations, and executive power concerning matters dependent on civil law. The last category included judging and punishment and became associated with judicial power.

Montesquieu's achievement was not simply to invent three labels. He tied institutional differentiation to liberty. If the power to make law, execute law, and judge disputes were concentrated in the same hands, political freedom was endangered. Yet Montesquieu's own account was more complicated than the clean diagram later generations often drew from it. He wrote about social orders, monarchy, intermediary bodies, and institutional relations as well as functional separation.

The power of his formulation lay partly in translation. It could travel. Eighteenth-century readers could take a complex account of English political liberty and turn it into a more portable principle: different forms of public power should not be allowed to collapse into one another.

 

Philadelphia turns a theory into offices

The American Constitution gave that principle unusually visible textual form. Article I vests legislative powers in Congress. Article II vests executive power in a President. Article III vests judicial power in federal courts. The sequence encourages the familiar tripartite reading, but the Constitution immediately complicates it. The President participates in legislation through the veto. The Senate shares in appointments and treaties. Congress creates lower federal courts and controls much of their jurisdiction. The branches are distinct, but they are not sealed compartments.

The Federalist therefore defended both separation and connection. Madison warned against accumulation of legislative, executive, and judicial powers in the same hands, while also arguing that constitutional liberty did not require complete isolation. The practical problem was to create institutions with enough independence to resist encroachment and enough interdependence to govern.

This is one reason the phrase checks and balances can be misleading when treated as a synonym for separation of powers. A check is a relationship. A power is a function. The American system does both. It identifies characteristic kinds of authority and then deliberately gives institutions limited ways to interfere with one another.

 

Why the three became common sense

Once the Constitution endured, the American arrangement acquired the authority of familiarity. Political practice, judicial doctrine, textbooks, court cases, and civic education all reinforced the three-part map. Later constitutions around the world borrowed, modified, or rejected elements of it. Administrative government then made the map harder to draw, because agencies can make rules, execute statutes, and adjudicate disputes within the same institutional setting.

That modern complication helps us see the historical achievement more clearly. The three branches were never merely a count of government offices. They expressed a judgment that different forms of authority possess different dangers and different claims to legitimacy. Legislatures deliberate and represent. Executives act, administer, and take responsibility. Courts decide disputes through legal judgment and reasoned explanation. Real institutions overlap, but the distinctions still shape what citizens expect from them.

The long history therefore changes the question. Instead of asking why every government naturally comes in threes, we should ask why so many political traditions have found it useful to distinguish kinds of authority and why the eighteenth-century Anglo-American world crystallized those distinctions in this particular form. The answer runs through ancient mixed government, early modern functional division, Montesquieu's theory of liberty, and the American experiment. What looks inevitable from a schoolroom diagram was in fact the product of centuries of argument.

 

Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln IV is author of Gods, Judges, and Presidents.

 

 

References and Further Reading

Polybius, Histories, Book VI, especially 11-18, on the Roman mixed constitution.

John Locke, Second Treatise of Government, chs. XI-XII, on legislative, executive, and federative power.

Montesquieu, The Spirit of the Laws, Book XI, ch. 6, on the English constitution and separated powers.

The Constitution of the United States, arts. I-III.

The Federalist Nos. 47-51 (James Madison), on separation of powers, checks, and institutional dependence.

Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln IV, Gods, Judges, and Presidents: Trifunctional Archetypes in American Law and Government (Bloomsbury Academic, 2026).

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Frustrated by the C grade he had received on a paper for a political science class, a University of Texas, Austin, student set out to change the Constitution. Here, Blaine Kaltman explains how Gregory Watson led the fight to ratify the 27th Amendment.

The United States’ Twenty-seventh Amendment. This is from the hand-written copy of the proposed Bill of Rights from 1789.

In the wake of ICE riots and controversial comments delivered by Billie Eilish and other celebrities, it is important to remember that policy in the United States is perpetuated through legislation. Congress writes the laws that dictate the nation’s future. Working to create, enact, or change such laws is almost always the most productive way to ensure lasting change. Much more productive than performative activism or violent confrontation.  

And yet Congress is failing in its most basic task. Case in point, for decades, members of Congress have been promising comprehensive immigration reform but have never delivered. Which is why many Americans question the wisdom of paying our Congressional representatives such high salaries. Especially when it is up to the members of Congress themselves to decide what that salary shall be; a power authorized by Article I, Section 6 of the U.S. Constitution.

Currently the average salary for members of the House and Senate is $174,000, but should they want to raise their salary, all they have to do is vote to do so. The good news is, at least they would not be eligible to receive that pay increase until after the next election cycle. In other words, they can vote to raise their salary, but they won’t get that raise unless their constituents reelect them. That clever check on our arguably overpaid, certainly unproductive Congress was an amendment to the Constitution drafted by James Madison. It reads: No law, varying the compensation for the services of the Senators and Representatives, shall take effect, until an election of representatives shall have intervened. On September 25, 1789, Congress approved this amendment and sent it along with the other amendments Madison had written to the states for ratification. Ten of the amendments were quickly ratified, the ones we refer to today as the Bill of Rights. But the amendment dealing with Congressional salaries languished in limbo until a college student decided to effect real and permanent change. He set about doing this, not by marching in the streets, damaging property, or profanely criticizing law-enforcement officers, but through an understanding of the Constitution and the hard work of letter writing.

Enter Gregory Watson, a 19-year-old college sophomore who in 1982 wrote a paper about Congressional salaries for a Political Science course he was taking at the University of Texas, Austin. In his paper Watson argued that the amendment Madison had proposed so long ago, intended to make members of Congress think twice before voting themselves a raise, was still "live" and could be ratified. He got a grade of C. But his paper wasn’t graded by the teacher, it was graded by the teacher’s assistant. Watson appealed the grade to the teacher who agreed with the teaching assistant and thus the grade stood. Apparently, the professor teaching the course thought that Watson’s contention that an amendment submitted to the states in 1789 could still be ratified was absurd. Watson disagreed. To prove his point and for the betterment of the country, he started a letter writing campaign to state legislatures asking them to ratify Madison’s Congressional Salaries Amendment. He used what he wrote in his paper as ammunition including a 1939 Supreme Court case, Coleman v Miller, in which the Court ruled it was up to Congress to determine if an amendment with no time limit for ratification was still viable.

It was. After much letter writing, lobbying, and even some states having to check historical records to determine if they had ratified the amendment 200 years earlier, in May 1992, Michigan became the 38th State to ratify the 27th Amendment, making it a part of our Constitution.  Which is why should members of Congress choose to increase their salary, they must answer to the voting public before they receive a raise.

In 2017 The University of Texas changed the grade on Watson’s paper to a clearly deserved A.  That same year protests in Washington, DC on Inauguration Day resulted in property damage and 214 felony riot indictments. No positive change came from that incident, or the many we have seen follow. Certainly not when compared to what Watson peacefully accomplished by literally changing the Supreme Law of the land. The Founding Fathers understood that the pen is often mightier than the sword. While they included the right to petition in the First Amendment, it was the words that were debated—without violence—and eventually agreed upon and written down which ensures that the right to petition will remain a pillar of American society in perpetuity. 

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, in his 1967 speech, “The Other America” famously said, “A riot is the language of the unheard.” But in America, as Gregory Watson demonstrated, we all have the opportunity to be heard and, moreover, to profoundly influence our collective future. Indeed, a disgruntled college student successfully added an amendment to the Constitution.  Which is far more significant than wearing a button at an awards ceremony or, worse, risking lives and damaging property. 

What differentiates those who criticize America from those who actually do something to improve its condition is how they exercise that vital right of petition guaranteed by the First Amendment. Done productively, and effectively, every American citizen can make impactful change.

 

Blaine’s new book is Perfecting the U.S. Constitution: 27 and Counting, The Amendments that Shaped America’s Future (Amazon US | Amazon UK).

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