It’s been said that when history repeats itself, what was first played out as tragedy is usually reenacted as farce.

Those Bermudians who follow the Island’s periodic debates on electoral reform can vouch for the authenticity of this observation.

The most ardent defenders of the current constitutional status quo tend to be heirs to a legacy of reform which should have been an ongoing process in Bermuda — not one which effectively went into hibernation in 1968, with only very minor modifications since then.

But the dynamism and passion which animated one generation has been replaced by the self-same reactionary inertia their political forebears’ campaigned against.

Why? Because those most likely to benefit from maintaining the existing constitutional system are the least likely to want to restructure and reform it.

Intransigent, inflexible and dogmatic, their arguments for maintaining what is arguably the very worst latter day manifestation of the British colonial system in Bermuda, amount to little more than a collection of particularly fatuous slogans, which have been sledge-hammered into place.

The British two-party system, a second-hand suit which has never fit us particularly well, was foisted on the Island by London in the 1960s.

And Bermuda’s unsatisfactory experience with a political structure built around permanent conflict between its Parliamentary parties is far from unique.

In all too many bi- or multiracial Commonwealth jurisdictions employing the Westminster political system, voting patterns have tended to stratify along tribal, rather than socio-economic, lines.

The inevitable result is a public debate which emphasises supposedly systemic and irreconcilable sectarian friction, and conflict, while downplaying areas of common interest and potential collaboration.

With parties locked in endless cycles of mutual disdain and recrimination, engaging in non-stop electioneering, and never-ending barrages of sometimes recklessly inflammatory partisan political propaganda, the results cannot help but be both destabilising, and disruptive, to the broader communities.

The failure of any Bermudian political party in recent years to aggressively pursue the idea of forging a coalition administration to contend with an economic crisis of unprecedented length, and severity, is particularly instructive.

It underscores the fact too many politicians remain entirely more fixated on the winner-take-all features of the Westminster system, the monopoly of power they enjoy after an election victory, rather than their responsibilities to the electorate.

Frankly, there’s scarcely enough talent on either side of the Parliamentary aisle to put together a credible Cabinet, so the ongoing bickering, skirmishing and intriguing intended to secure electoral advantage is only about as constructive as watching two bald men fight over a comb.

Since Bermuda’s parties will not voluntarily go the coalition route, it is perhaps worth considering a recent variation on the Westminster system which enshrines a permanent power-sharing arrangement in a once-hopelessly polarised community.

A murderous low-level civil war waged for 30 years between Northern Ireland’s Protestant and Catholic communities was ended by the creation of a consensus-style political system under the terms of the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, the historic peace accord brokered by former US Senator George Mitchell.

The former Westminster-style Northern Ireland assembly, suspended in 1972 when Britain imposed direct rule on the province, was permanently dissolved. Reviving it would simply have re-entrenched Protestant majority rule at the expense of minority Catholic interests, and provided an echo chamber for partisan grievances, rather than a political mechanism for resolving them.

If the armistice was to prove lasting, there could be no return to the two-party system which exacerbated the sectarian divide by giving exclusive control of power, and the spoils of office, to one community. Instead an inclusive solution was sought.

The Northern Ireland peace accord created what amounts to a mandatory coalition. Political parties still exist, but Cabinet positions and responsibilities are apportioned between them in direct proportion to their share of the popular vote at elections.

What are still broadly classed as Unionist, Republican and cross-cultural interests are all represented at the executive level, and members of the government are constitutionally required to work together towards common legislative — and community — ends rather than pursue hostile, and mutually exclusive, agendas.

Four hundred years of sectarian animosity have not gone away in the intervening years. But the guns which fell silent in 1998 have only been heard rarely since then.

There were immediate financial benefits to this solution, as well as civic ones.

Investment poured into Northern Ireland, and Belfast — a literal war-zone just 15 years ago — was recently voted not only one of the ten most liveable cities in Britain, but also that country’s most optimistic community.

There is, of course, an orders-of-magnitude difference between Northern Ireland’s fratricidal community divide and the Bermudian experience.

Nevertheless, Good Friday is a holiday when Bermudians traditionally come together to celebrate their commonalities. There would be something both poetic, and practical, about looking to a political system introduced on that day as a constitutional model for settling our differences.