But countries where the Queen has served as head of state for the past seven decades should be careful what they wish for. The widespread distrust of ceremonial presidents in European democracies highlights the remarkable and enduring virtues of our system of constitutional monarchy.
In Europe, elected heads of state are drivers and targets of social division rather than unifying forces. Emphasis is placed on their political beliefs and occupations, rather than on the personal virtues that are desirable in the face of a country. As such, these elected presidents tend to add fuel to the fire of political polarization even when they are merely performing their limited constitutional functions.
The run-up to the Czech general election last fall was marred by warnings that controversial president Milos Zeman would rig post-election negotiations in favor of his preferred candidate. After the election, when Zeman fell seriously ill, political opponents in the Czech establishment immediately attempted to oust him on medical grounds.
Now opposition leader Andrej Babiš – the most divisive figure in Czech politics, who is currently on trial in Prague for allegedly aiding and abetting EU subsidy fraud – is seen as the favorite to take Zeman’s place after early presidential elections of next year. Therefore, the Czech Republic may end up electing a suspected criminal as its new head of state.
The division of elected presidents also appears across the border in Slovakia. The country’s current pro-Western president Zuzana Čaputová is loved by liberals but hated by many rural conservatives who are skeptical of the EU, NATO and the West.
Leaders of Slovakia’s largest opposition party expressed that hatred at a rally last year, when they led supporters in chants calling Tsaputova an “American whore.” Apart from an egregious lack of respect for the face of the nation, the offensive language also betrayed Slovaks’ overtly political perceptions of their presidency – a sense that heads of state have individual agendas and cannot be trusted to always, unconditionally, be in side of the public, especially in the rare cases where they are called upon to make constitutionally questionable decisions.
By keeping the highest office in the land outside the democratic sphere, Britain’s constitutional monarchy leaves the head of state at the mercy of such sordid and divisive politicking. And at the same time, constitutional monarchy does a much better job of defining the limits of power than the codified democratic systems used in Europe.
In Hungary, a country where the head of state is elected by parliament, the current president is Katalin Novák, a former vice-president of strongman Prime Minister Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz party. Instead of exceeding – and therefore curtailing – Orbán’s considerable personal power, Novák now acts merely as his top diplomat and ceremonial functionary.
The opposite problem afflicts neighboring Serbia, where President Aleksandar Vucic has amassed enormous power over the past five years, turning the country’s nominally parliamentary system into an essentially presidential one. Endless attempts to form a new government after Serbian elections in April are seen as an attempt by Vucic to balance the wide range of parliamentary interests that support his personal hold on power.
Constitutional monarchy and the strict limits imposed on it by centuries of tradition protect Britain from the dangers of such too weak or too powerful presidents. In doing so, it arguably leaves Britain less vulnerable to the dangers of creeping authoritarianism than any other comparable state.
The unelected monarch is a focal point around which otherwise divided Britons can still rally. The outpouring of gratitude to our late queen from across the political spectrum is a phenomenon unimaginable after the death of any European president. By providing the anti-democratic heart for our political system, the monarchy protects and preserves our respect for democracy. It is a precious heritage for which now, more than ever, we are justly thankful.
