The relationship between the constitutional monarch and the elected politician is a strange one – part bowing and scraping deference, part strange intimacy. Tony Blair said she was the only person she spoke to freely, knowing she wouldn’t leak, and the Queen herself once described her role as “a kind of sponge”, soaking up trust. But, he added, it occasionally involved offering governments a different view: “maybe they hadn’t seen it from that angle.” She was a mistress of soft power, knowing when to project full royal majesty and when to play the gentle grandmother, and a unique diplomatic resource. At times he could make Britain’s case to a foreign head of state better than any elected politician. (Contrast with Emmanuel Macron’s acrimonious relationship with Liz Truss and the genuine warmth of the French president’s tribute to the queen.) She has never been partisan, yet she has been the core of the body politic, and her relationships with successive prime ministers help telling a story of what Britain has become. In February 1952, a nation finding its feet in a post-war world had a 25-year-old Queen still finding hers. She leaned heavily at first on the advice of Winston Churchill, half a century her senior. after she retired in 1955, she wrote to him that no other prime minister could ever “hold the place” of her first. Her second in command, Sir Anthony Eden, would meanwhile lead the country into national humiliation. The Queen with Sir Anthony Eden, Harold Macmillan, Sir Alec Douglas-Home and Harold Wilson. Photo: Getty, PA The failed invasion of Egypt, now known as the Suez Crisis, was a harsh lesson in wartime state power and the decline of Britain’s influence in former colonies. Under Harold Macmillan, who became Prime Minister in 1957 and with whom he developed a close relationship, he oversaw the unraveling of the empire and the establishment of the Commonwealth. But it was its first Labor prime minister, Harold Wilson, who brought the “wind of change” – Macmillan’s phrase, coined to signal the end of Britain’s resistance to independence movements – home. Wilson’s background was more humble than that of his predecessor Sir Alec Douglas-Home, yet he enjoyed a relaxed relationship with the Queen. It was the age of the space race, the “white heat” of technology and personal liberation: homosexuality was decriminalized, abortion was legalized and a swinging 60s culture risked making the royals look rigid. In 1969, the Queen duly allowed television cameras into Windsor Castle for an intimate documentary showing the human side of the family. The era of mystery and distance was ending. In 1970, Ted Heath succeeded Wilson, amid eerily familiar circumstances: industrial unrest, skyrocketing inflation, an oil price shock, and energy shortages. The Queen wanted to acknowledge these difficulties in her 1973 Christmas message, but Heath vetoed it. Does the new king have more leeway this year? The Queen with Ted Heath, James Callaghan, Margaret Thatcher and John Major. Composite: Bettmann; Getty; PA Wilson’s short-lived return in 1974 gave way in 1976 to James Callaghan, Prime Minister both at the height of the Queen’s Silver Jubilee and at the low of the Winter of Discontent, but reportedly still a favorite of hers. In 1979, however, came a milestone: its first female prime minister, Margaret Thatcher. Despite much speculation about the two women’s personal differences – Thatcher apparently did not enjoy walking the moors at Balmoral – the real tension was over politics. Thatcher’s reluctance to increase sanctions against apartheid-era South Africa angered Commonwealth leaders and the Queen reportedly sided with the latter. The fall of Thatcher in 1990 saw fiercer political infighting over Europe under John Major and a sterling crisis that culminated in the Black Wednesday crash. But the Queen appreciated the Major’s support during her own “annus horribilis” in 1992, with Prince Charles’ marriage falling apart and some questioning whether the monarchy could survive. Five years later, the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, hastily brought these questions back to life. A new prime minister, Tony Blair, skilfully captured the mood of grief for the “people’s princess”, but the Queen seemed too distant and relations between No 10 and the Palace deteriorated. The Queen with Tony Blair, Gordon Brown, David Cameron and Theresa May. Composite: Getty; PA Rumors spread that the Queen was unhappy with New Labour’s plans to ban foxhunting and reform the House of Lords. Things didn’t get much easier after Gordon Brown succeeded Blair in 2007, although the Queen took a keen interest in the banking crisis, asking pointed questions about failures in economic forecasting during her visit to the London School of Economics. It was the constitutional upheaval under David Cameron, however, that really tested the relationship between monarch and state. Things got off to a good start, with a visit to Ireland in 2011 in which the Queen candidly acknowledged the suffering under British rule. He playfully took part in a James Bond skit at the following year’s Olympic opening ceremony, suggesting a monarch and country at ease with themselves. Two years later, however, came the Scottish independence referendum, after which Cameron was heard to say how she was “spinning with pleasure” at the result – a serious breach of neutrality policy. Worse, before the Brexit referendum, an unnamed minister told the Sun he supported leaving. By 2016, when Theresa May succeeded Cameron, the country was bitterly divided. Seeking to carve out a new post-Brexit role for Britain in the world, May has relied heavily on royal soft power. The then Duke and Duchess of Cambridge led a charm offensive in European capitals and the Queen’s presence helped smooth a rocky 2019 state visit by Donald Trump, who craved her approval. However, when Boris Johnson was ousted that summer by a politically faltering May, something snapped. Trying to push through his Brexit deal, Johnson involved the Queen in a prorogation of parliament that was later ruled illegal. She grieved alone in a socially distanced pew at her beloved husband’s funeral the day after Johnson’s aides had thrown a wild party to mark the collapse of the lockdown. The Queen’s conscientious willingness to suffer the privations of a pandemic alongside her people contrasted painfully with what now passed for political leadership. However, the monarchy has had its own problems in this period, from the public shaming of Prince Andrew to allegations of royal racism in the wake of Prince Harry’s rift with the family. The Cambridges’ ill-advised spring tour of the Caribbean, meanwhile, has sparked demands for reparations for slavery, anger over the Windrush immigration scandal (which erupted under May’s watch) and debate over Jamaica’s democracy. Suddenly, history seemed to catch up with a monarchy that had long surpassed it. The dying queen’s last public act was to kiss the hand of Liz Truss, sealing a final tactical transfer of political power. The cycle is unbroken. the line continues under a new prime minister and king. But who knows where it will lead in seven decades?
