Jimmy Jazz plays through rattling speakers in my car as I wait for the lights to change. To my left, an overweight man has erected Union Jacks on a public patch of grass outside The Three Stags pub. His high-visibility jacket is tight around his midriff, but his jeans slip down from around his waist as he crouches down, and soon the display starts to feel too intimate. A monarch’s face is in full sight as well to commemorate Queen Elizabeth’s Platinum Jubilee. Two large flags tilt in opposite directions at an angle with one other speared upright in the middle (this one shows the Queen’s face). By the time I can drive on, in the words of Patrick Stewart in Extras, “I’ve seen everything.” I should look away, but I don’t, because I do not recall ever seeing a sight like this in my life. Union Jacks. Flaunted patriotism. Open praise for the monarch. In Merseyside? Much to this republican’s distaste, the flags would hang around for many weeks, threadbare and wind-pruned, to be replenished again everywhere about the town on the day of the Queen’s death and then again on the coronation of Our Sovereign Lord Charles III of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of His other Realms and Territories, King, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, and Sovereign of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.
As Salman Rushdie correctly said, speaking at PEN, “in England, to be religious is to be a flake,” but this sets a very low ceiling for people who believe King Charles III is the product of the Lord’s mysterious ways. To me, it has always been a mystery why the public continues to buy into it. Literally. The conversation has always involved money: Should one’s taxes pay for a funeral costing over £160 million and a coronation £100 million? Inevitably, at some point, the pro-royalist speaks of tourist revenue. I have my doubts about this benefit, but let us suppose that the Windsor Cult does draw in hordes of paying crowds, enough to cover these misspends and the rest. Does that excuse the royals’ corrupt behavior? After their long years of service devoted to this country, should taxpayers be obliged to pay for the multiple foreign affairs of a prince who served as British Trade Envoy, making questionable friends and plenty of enemies along the way? It is, at best, weird that the current monarch was given £2.6 million in suitcases, duffle bags, and carrier bags from a senior Qatari politician, but according to a Clarence House spokesperson it was “passed immediately to one of the prince’s charities” where it was then counted, so we can rest easy. The others do a good job distracting us from the rot.
Although I care deeply about their seedy meetings in Clarence House, Epstein Island, Pizza Express, or wherever else, I care more about state-supported hereditary leadership. Perhaps the two are not so separate. Now, I know there is support and admiration for a constitutional monarchy from the likes of Douglas Murray, Stephen Fry, and Jordan Peterson, to name a few. For example, Fry argues that it is a good thing for a prime minister to meet weekly with the monarch over tea. However, I think he is incorrect to imply that the most democratic countries are just so because they have a constitutional monarchy; this theory seems to confuse cause and effect. But let’s explore the case of internationalism and state visits. In 2015, the narcissist and “mafia boss” Xi Jinping left China to visit the United Kingdom and our country’s monarch, where he was greeted with a gold chariot and a red carpet. He met Queen Elizabeth II—a woman who was not voted in but rather was believed to have the divine right to rule. I remember hearing that this was supposed to be a proud moment for Britain, but to my mind this did not showcase democracy (“the worst form of government—except for all the others that have been tried” according to Winston Churchill). Rather, this showcase displayed nepotism. Britain’s Queen was given the job because she was the product of a long line of nepotist mammals involved in nepotist spats and invasions. From the country’s creation to its current state (by way of a 1688 evolution), the monarchy has had to adapt, not enough for some of us. Alas, our much-fawned-upon queen died, announced to the world by Huw Edwards of all people, and on that moment her son was promoted.
Correct me if I am wrong here, but it has long been my firmly held opinion that the characteristics of a successful candidate—be the job be for a tradesman, office worker, or politician—should not be decided before the job is advertised (“equality of outcome”). This is something many conservatives, including Jordan Peterson, also agree with in working life but openly flaunt their exception to this rule when it comes to a king or queen. Too little is asked of this religious authority of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (and other realms and territories). Should they not be held to the same standards as any law-abiding person? Should they not have to justify their position?
As individuals, the Royal Family have in recent years proven their partiality and arrogance.1 It is clear that King Charles III is something of a thin-skinned and easily rattled and aggravated man. I do not expect him to read this article. I suspect he has more bags of money and time than he knows what to do with. But I do expect weak arguments to get weaker, and I do expect sycophants (e.g., Piers Morgan) to feel more embarrassed to say stupid things in support of the monarchy. I expect the police not to have arrested republican protesters for what they thought and said during the coronation. In fact, it was worse than this; the police wrongly assumed a potential motivation, a thoughtcrime, and arrested charity workers wearing emblems of the Metropolitan Police. Yet some British people still look upon these ceremonies with a nostalgic fondness.
When I think of these monarchs, I also think of the police and civilians who supported them—the people who stood in line, the people who slept rough to watch, the people who traveled far to join in, who put up bunting, who sat inside on a clear, warm day to sing along with their televisions on coronation weekend. I think of a high-visibility beer-belly, two reddened cheeks, and a bended knee dirtied by soil under the waving flag of a grinning crown whom no one will ever know.
Note
1. This character trait is typical but not limited to the 2020s. William III decorated his palace with pictures of himself rendered as Alexander the Great and Hercules (in the end though, he was defeated by a mole)—you can’t choose your family.
Jimmy Jazz plays through rattling speakers in my car as I wait for the lights to change. To my left, an overweight man has erected Union Jacks on a public patch of grass outside The Three Stags pub. His high-visibility jacket is tight around his midriff, but his jeans slip down from around his waist …