All of them are from outside the Commonwealth and the vast majority from democracies. Many of the people who send them, especially Americans, see the rejection of the monarchy as an important part of their identity. One friend, an old-fashioned leftist from Vermont, was typical: “Even I, a staunch Republican, admire how Elizabeth handled her anachronistic role. My condolences.” Americans tend to admire the woman who wore the crown rather than the crown itself, just as one might admire the Dalai Lama without being a Buddhist. However, the more you think about it, the harder it is to separate the employee from the office. If Elizabeth Windsor had had the baby brother she prayed for as a girl, she would no doubt have lived a perfect life in the country house. The virtues that people admired in her – tact, dignity and above all duty – were admirable precisely because they were the virtues of a head of state. Republicans might retort that being head of state in a constitutional monarchy is hardly a demanding job. The role has been filled in Britain by, among others, two foreigners, a rake and a madman. Only one British monarch – the late Queen’s uncle – was deemed not to meet the minimum standards required. However, this is to miss the point. A constitutional monarchy does not exist to aggrandize the ruler. we leave that to people’s democracies. No, a constitutional monarchy exists to legitimize government, to elevate and refine the basic functions of the state, and ultimately to prevent the possibility of civil war. Yes, civil war. Forty-three percent of Americans, according to YouGov, expect such an outcome within the next decade. Before you dismiss this finding, consider why civil wars happen. They usually start, not because people disagree about what policies their country should adopt, but because they disagree about who has the right to issue the orders. While ethnic, religious or doctrinal differences may provide the combustible material, the match is almost always struck when someone questions the authority of the supposed government. Now ask yourself if such a scenario is impossible in the US. For at least 20 years, there has been a growing tendency for both parties to see elections as contingent, immediately going to court if they lose. After the 2020 election, the law’s habit turned into something altogether more sinister. In defeat, Donald Trump cajoled various state authorities into declaring a different result and later incited a mob to march on Capitol Hill in an attempt to stop the vote being certified. Let’s say, in 2024, Trump runs again and loses again. Does anyone seriously imagine that he would take kindly to the verdict of the ballot box? Of course not. Once again, he would hound, threaten and intimidate in an attempt to get a different electorate. But while in 2020 patriotic Republican officials stood by their constitutional oaths, many of those officials have since been ousted by Trumpians who were elected precisely by denying that election result. It is no longer inconceivable that some state administrations, alleging fraud, may appoint their own electoral body representatives. It is possible to imagine two opposing electoral colleges choosing two opposing presidents, and the 50 states split on which to recognize. Yes, this result may still be improbable. But it is no longer unthinkable. Here, on the contrary, such a situation simply could not happen. We have an arbitrator whose authority is respected by all sides. Whoever the King recognized would be the head of His Majesty’s Government. This is the constitutional monarch: a military commander who is not a general, a head of state who is not a politician, a focus of national loyalty that is above ideology and beyond faction. Don’t get me wrong: I love the United States with an intensity that I sometimes find embarrassing. I respect the US Constitution in a way that only a few Ron Paul literalists still do. However, at this distance of time, we can certainly admit one thing. The American Revolution, however happy its consequences, was built on what turned out to be a lie. In Great Britain, as in the Thirteen Colonies, the 1760s gave birth to a curious conspiracy theory that the Hanoverians were trying to subvert the powers of Parliament and rule as medieval despots. How people ever came to believe this about dim, dull, dignified George III is a mystery. In any case, it turned out to be complete nonsense. Democracy continued to advance in Britain as it did in North America. Far from descending into autocracy, we remained, in fact, a crowned republic. Indeed, by the time of the American Revolution, we already had nearly a century of parliamentary supremacy. Since 1689, parliamentarians had determined who should be head of state. They did so when they set the terms of succession for William and Mary, and have continued to do so ever since – most recently in 2013, when the 15 Kingdoms decided, democratically, to change the rules so that eldest daughters inherit the throne before younger ones sons. None of the craziness associated with the crown – golden coaches, state inaugurations, military reviews – undermines our democracy. About four-fifths of us currently support the monarchy. But if that majority were to change and voters preferred a democracy, no one doubts that their wishes would prevail. This is the beautiful contradiction inherent in a constitutional monarchy. The monarch is sovereign, but serves at our pleasure. The late Roger Scruton expressed the paradox eloquently when he likened the magic of monarchy to the enchanting light from the top of a Christmas tree, which the British well remembered having climbed and placed there themselves. In the United States, where there is no such allure, there is a growing prospect of political violence. Not so in Canada, which is distinguished from its southern neighbor largely by the fact of its monarchy. There the parliamentary system is undisputed and political disagreements remain civil. And not by chance. To become a Canadian citizen, you have to swear an oath of allegiance to the monarch, and the accompanying literature explains why in language that neatly makes the case for having a monarch above politics: “In Canada, we declare our allegiance to a person who represents all Canadians, not to a document like a constitution, a banner like a flag, or a geopolitical entity like a country. In our constitutional monarchy, these elements are encompassed by the Ruler (Queen or King). It is an extremely simple but powerful principle: Canada is personified by the Sovereign, as the Sovereign is personified by Canada.” Canada and the United States are, of course, nations that are extremely close to us, as well as to each other. Both are old and successful democracies. Consider, however, some of the countries with a less developed tradition of constitutional government. Here are the states I can think of that abolished their monarchies during the queen’s 70-year reign: Afghanistan, Burundi, Egypt, Ethiopia, Greece, Iraq, Iran, Laos, Libya, Nepal, Rwanda, Tunisia, Vietnam, Yemen. From this list, I believe that only Greece can be said to have achieved change. In everything else, there were times when the common people yearned for a neutral arbiter who was neither a politician nor a general. CS Lewis, as so often, put it beautifully: “Where men are forbidden to honor a king, they honor millionaires, athletes, or movie stars. even famous prostitutes or gangsters. For the spiritual nature, as well as the physical nature, will be served. Deny him food and he will swallow poison.’ It is striking to see how many of the most liberal, peaceful, contented and egalitarian countries in the world turn out to be constitutional monarchies: Australia, Canada, Denmark, Holland, New Zealand, Norway. Even more striking is how many of these states share the same monarch: King Charles III, Kenneth MacAlpin’s 34th great-grandson, Brian Boru’s 33rd-great-grandson, and Alfred the Great’s 33rd-great-grandson – and, according to some genealogists, his 41st-great-grandson Prophet Muhammad. Not a bad record, that said. God save the king.
