God Save Us
Despite having been born and raised in the UK, I still find the country of my birth rather baffling. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, how often is anyone called on to comprehensively explain their country? Unluckily for me, it’s been part of my job for over two years, as three times a week, I stand before groups of German students and try to explain British culture. The problem I face often is that it’s difficult to separate what is inherently, and specifically British, from what are general truths about nations and cultures.
The challenge I face is to identify what British culture is. Once you get past the stereotypes, the cups of tea, the neat lawns, fish and chips, you’re suddenly faced with the intangibles. Take the concept of British fair play. Whether it exists or not is debatable, but there are enough British people who accept it as truth, which means it requires some sense of explanation. Usually, the queue is the most common example of British fairness, exhibiting the importance the British place on turn-taking, and their ability to wait patiently for someone else.
The best example of this was the queue that formed to see the late Queen Elizabeth II lying in state. At times it stretched for ten miles and saw mourners waiting over twenty-four hours in order to solemnly file past the coffin and pay their last respects. When I showed this queue to my class, and then footage of various British commentators discussing how forming an orderly queue was possibly the most British response to the death of the head of state, a lone hand rose at the back of the room. “If Britain believes in fairness so much, how come they even have a monarch? Isn’t that kind of unfair? Why even have a king?”. It’s an astute observation, one that’s certainly worth thinking about.
It does seem somewhat ridiculous that certain sections of British society profess their belief in British fair play, and at the same time restrict the position of head of state to a tiny pool of one very wealthy family. A fair counter argument might be that it’s the epitome of fairness, given that beyond the royal family, no one else in the country can become the monarch. It’s fair, because everyone beyond the Windsors is unfairly disqualified from the position. Obviously, this takes some philosophical leaps, but I can almost see the point, as distant as it might seem. Yet it feels vague, inadequate even, what the British might describe as “a fudge”, or a decision that is intentionally obscure, but which allows everyone to keep on keeping on, without the need to investigate the concept at a deeper level. This is also a very British approach, it’s essentially the basis of our constitution, but it doesn’t fully explain why Britain still has a monarchy.
An argument for keeping the monarch might be their important function as Head of State. We have a parliament that’s sovereign, and a Sovereign that acts as a gilded rubber stamp. The monarch retains powers, Royal Assent, which can be withheld, preventing the passing of laws voted on by parliament, but that only happens on advice from the government. What would happen should the monarch refuse? We don’t actually know, as it hasn’t happened in the modern era. One of the other important roles of the monarch is to appoint the Prime Minister. Again, they could technically refuse to do so, but that hasn’t happened since 1834. Other than cutting ribbons to open new supermarkets, and handing out knighthoods, the actual official functions of the monarch don’t seem enough of a reason to keep them around.
When I want to understand why we still have a monarch, I generally defer to those who are willing to make the argument for keeping them. One such person would be TV presenter, and professional man-child, Piers Morgan. During a recent debate over the monarchy on his show, he said that the Royal Family “provide us with something unique. When King Charles gets crowned at the coronation...the whole world will watch, and they will see our country at its best, doing what very few places can do: the pomp, the pageantry, the military procession, and it’s something to make us all proud”. This then, distilled into its purest form, is the strongest argument for keeping the monarchy. It’s a shiny toy that no one else has, apparently. Its function isn’t to lead, or even to guide, but to turn up to give British people those good vibes they so sorely need.
If you think this sounds a little hairbrained, you might be right. It’s an awful argument, the same one that hoarders might use to avoid throwing out their towering piles of newspapers. We keep the monarchy as a safety blanket, a comforter that reminds the British of their nation’s former glory, when Britannia ruled the waves, and far away countries fell to red-coated soldiers and imperial control. It makes Britain feel special, and Britain needs it. Without it, Britain would have to reckon with itself, wrestle a little with its complex and deeply damaging history of empire, and consider what being a modern nation might actually mean.
These are hard questions of course, but questions that many nations have had to face, usually in their darkest moments. The problem of British history though, is that since roughly 1688, Britain has been on the winning side. Often, it was victory for Britain that forced other nations to reconsider who they were. The irony, of course, is that in Britain’s greatest moment of victory, 1945, things began to fall apart. Bankrupted by the war effort, Britain could no longer hold its empire together, and bit by bit, the former colonies gained independence. This constant “success” is the reason Britain finds itself crowning another king this weekend, why change a winning system? It wasn’t the monarch's fault we became irrelevant. Perhaps if we keep this last vestige of imperial glory going, we might just claw ourselves back to importance.
The monarchy exists because its true function helps Britain both remember and forget. It acts as a bulwark against national self-reflection, moreover, it stays in place because we lack any idea of what to do afterwards. We have a king because we lack the imagination, or rather the state lacks the imagination, to do anything other than keep the rickety institution in place. It costs more than just taxes, it costs Britain its chance to move forward towards an admittedly uncertain future. It’s a distraction from reality, which is why millions in tax money is being pumped into celebrating it, even though public services across the land are at, and possibly beyond, the point of breaking. It’s something pretty to look at, to put on front pages, a way to celebrate Britain without really celebrating Britain. It’s a vacuum, an absence, a tarnished institution that’s well past its best. Sure, God save the King, but who is actually prepared to save the rest of us?
