Among humankind’s many bad ideas, the monarchy was hardly the worst. And it was certainly one of the most inevitable.
We humans have an inherent inclination to place our confidence in a dominant strongman, a chief, shaman, pharaoh, czar, rajah, emperor or king or, sometimes, queen. Hierarchy comes more naturally to us than egalitarianism.
In fact, democracy has always been the rare exception. The ancient Greek city-states dabbled in democracy, but they confined it to homegrown, property-owning men. Women, slaves and foreigners were out of luck.
Our own democracy — again, a historical rarity — emerged in rebellion to Britain’s ancient monarchy, and our founders went to some effort to ditch the trappings of the royal throne. They declared all men as created equal and refused to bestow titles on each other. Again, women, slaves and indentured servants were out of luck, but it was a start.
Inequality in our nation continues to grow, but we continue to give lip service, at least, to the notion that all citizens are equal. And when a charismatic American leader seems to crave too much power, a judge may put him in his place by reminding him that he is not a king. In fact, that’s what Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson did for Donald Trump a couple of years ago, noting in a ruling that “presidents are not kings.”
Our baffling American fascination with the British monarchy is at odds with what we profess to believe about how societies should work. So it’s worth remembering that the British aristocracy consists of people who are no better and no worse than the rest of us. The difference among us is lineage.
Your Excellency? Your Highness? No, they’re just people.
And the history of monarchy is as flawed as many of the people who occupied the throne. Monarchy is associated with inbreeding, skulduggery, beheadings, colonialism, scandal, racism, pomposity and, especially in recent years, obscenely extravagant wealth.
Now that the widely admired Queen Elizabeth II is dead, and the less-appealing Charles has assumed the throne, maybe our fascination with the monarchy — on both sides of the pond — will begin to fade, along with other not-so-great ideas. The world is probably better off without it.
But I could be wrong. And, at the least, it might be worth distinguishing Queen Elizabeth from the historical defects of the monarchy itself.
I happened to be talking about this with the renowned American poet Albert Goldbarth, who is no friend of privilege, royalty, extravagance or putting on airs. Still, he noted the capacity of the monarchy — or of this particular queen, at least — to serve as a relatively benign focal point around which an otherwise deeply divided nation could rally in “friendly adoration.”
He’s right. After all, Queen Elizabeth appears to have been a decent, dignified, self-effacing woman who did her best to serve with unwavering grace in a job she never asked for. And getting up and going to work every day for 70 years is something to be admired. I don’t know how hard queens work, but they’re never off the clock. In her long reign, Queen Elizabeth had a lot to cope with. She did her duty as she saw it, to the best of her ability.
Hers was the sort of devotion that builds and nourishes a nation’s internal structure, that creates a narrative built around common values that most citizens accept and which transcend party lines.
Our own nation could benefit from the sort of cohesive national narrative that Queen Elizabeth provided for Britain. In the past we’ve managed to unite against threats such as World War II or the Cold War. In fact, democracy itself used to provide the focal point around which Republicans and Democrats could rally. Unfortunately, even that narrative is in trouble.
On balance, Queen Elizabeth was good for Britain. As she takes her leave, Goldbarth leaves us with this fond American farewell:
We’re closed for biz.
Our dear Queen Liz
Went flat today.
She’s lost her fizz.
Is this a cause for mourning?
‘Tis.
