King Charles the Third. As soon as one monarch dies, the next one takes the vacant place. It's a transition that for many is necessary and comforting, because it perpetuates the myth of the monarchy: kings and queens die, but the institution is eternal. That's exactly what's worrying.
At times like these, the advocates of the republic waver. "We are saddened by the news of the Queen's death and offer our condolences to the royal family," tweeted the Republic group. "There is time to debate the future of the monarchy. Now we must respect the family's personal loss and allow them and others to mourn the loss of their mother, grandmother and great-grandmother in peace."
I agree with the general sentiment. I also think that even now we should maintain a critical attitude. The problem is that while we give space to the family, the monarchy does not stand still. A new king has already been installed.
A constitutional monarch necessarily plays multiple roles. Queen Elizabeth was an individual human being and her death is painful for her family and friends, just as the death of any beloved mother, grandmother, sister or aunt would be difficult for those closest to them. To sympathize with their grief is human; to be personally vindictive or to celebrate her death is abhorrent.
The monarch is also a national symbol, and the woman who was on the British throne for 70 years occupies a place deeply etched in the public consciousness. The mood of the public should also be respected here.
And yet that mood is not unequivocal. At first glance, people are largely supportive of the monarchy, sincerely sorry for the Queen, but they are less condescending and humble than most of the media and Westminster itself would like. They are more ready than ever to question the institution of the monarchy.
And indeed, we need an analysis of what Elizabeth symbolized and signified, instead of her uncritical elevation into myth. The central point of the ongoing eulogies is that she was the epitome of continuity and constancy in an age of turbulence and change. That he was a figure who helped society transition from the age of empire to the post-Brexit era, from a country where the BBC was the only national broadcaster to the modern world of social media, from a time of unquestioned respect to a period when every authority seems to have been brought into question, and little remains sacred.
Many other nations have agreed within themselves on similar kinds of turnarounds, some better, some worse than Britain, and many no longer need a hereditary head of state. In all our eulogies, the monarch asserts himself as a figure above ordinary problems, far removed from the cynicism and lies of politics, while providing the nation with a moral core it otherwise lacks. "In times when nothing is permanent / when everything gets worse or weirder / one good thing is always there: / she hasn't changed," Philip Larkin wrote of the Queen for her jubilee in 1977.
It is not difficult to see the appeal of such a role, especially considering the low respect of citizens for politics and politicians. But politics is the means by which people participate in the process of governance; to insist on the need for the hereditary monarch to stand above that process, to embody the continuity and moral principles of the nation, means to limit the process of democratic changes as such.
A monarchy may be thought to be above politics, but its very presence is a deeply political statement; it is a statement about the degree to which the people and the democratic process can be trusted, as well as why it would be better for the nation to be represented by someone who was born into a suitable family, rather than someone elected by the citizens.
All this leads to the third role of the monarch, who is also a representative of the institution of the monarchy. Britain has a constitutional, not an absolutist, monarchy. Over the decades, that institution was increasingly deprived of its powers, but that does not mean that Elizabeth did not interfere in politics.
There is a royal prerogative that describes the affairs of the monarch, but also allows the executive to bypass parliamentary control. By using royal prerogatives, the government can "engage armed forces, make and break international treaties, and bestow honors." These powers have become smaller and more transparent in recent years, but they still exist. No matter how much the monarchy is constitutional, no matter how much as an institution it is a part of democratic processes, it is still a hereditary function which as such inevitably hinders democracy.
As important as it is to respect the personal grief of the royal family and the public's attitude towards the monarchy, the wider questions about the function of the monarch cannot and should not simply be pushed aside. In fact, precisely at the moment of transition, such questions become particularly pertinent.
Part of the problem is that in recent days the conversation has been caught between, on the one hand, infantile hatred and unacceptable contempt (such as the statement of the American professor who wished the Queen to cry in her worst agony), and on the other, a kind of excessive servility - for example, when Clive Myrey tells us on the BBC, before the official announcement of the Queen's death, that Liz Truss's solution to the energy crisis "now pales in comparison" to the "gravity" of the crisis facing the monarchy (he later clarified those comments).
Respect, etiquette and questioning can go together. We can understand tragic personal circumstances and the depth of society's symbolic attachment to the monarchy, and at the same time be open to examining the deepest traditions, beliefs and myths. It is not an expression of anti-Britishness. There are many ways to wish the best for this country.
(The Guardian; Peščanik.net; translation: M. Jovanović)
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