The monarchy has made Britain great
The Queen’s Platinum Jubilee has been a triumph, a demonstration of unity, loyalty and thanks for a woman who has, for 70 years, embodied public service. The country has changed in that time, the Royal family along with it. But Elizabeth II has remained committed to values inherited from her father, offering us a link to the past and a moral foundation upon which to build a better future.
The Jubilee is chiefly a celebration of an individual, but it is also worth considering the benefits of the institution of monarchy itself. Britain’s constitutional settlement dates in large part from 1688, when James II, a continental-style absolutist, was booted off the throne and replaced by William and Mary. It was a coup d’état; the British called it a Glorious Revolution, later insisting that it hadn’t been revolutionary at all. James was a dangerous innovator, argued Edmund Burke, the father of modern conservatism, and the coup simply reactivated ancient liberties that the monarchs were, by custom and divine mandate, required to uphold.
Radicals – republican, later socialist – proclaimed that only a totally egalitarian state could serve the people’s welfare, but history showed it was the other way around. In the 1790s, the French beheaded their king, wrote a democratic constitution – and almost immediately suspended it. Attempts to build utopia overnight invariably end in the guillotine.
America, of course, created a brilliantly successful republic, but it was modelled to a significant degree on our own constitution. Meanwhile in Britain, some monarchs chafed against their limits, but power inexorably – most importantly, peacefully – continued to tilt in favour of Parliament. In fact the less actual power the kings and queens enjoyed, the higher their prestige rose, much to the annoyance of the Left. Victoria’s 1897 Diamond Jubilee was heralded by poor as well as rich, her great age (78) and the peace of the realm being taken as evidence of the genius of Britain. Beatrice Webb, the socialist reformer, sniffly described the scene in her diary as “all classes drunk with sightseeing and hysterical loyalty”.
Elizabeth II has demonstrated that, in fact, the monarchs do possess a power: an unactivated power, one that a partisan, career-politician president would hastily trigger – and divide us – but which the Queen handles judiciously. She uses the authority of her office to carry out and promote public duty. And, refreshingly, she simply gets on with things – no grumbling, no complaint.
When the country celebrated her Silver Jubilee, in 1977, the cynics predicted a washout: what was the relevance of royalty in an age of strikes and national decline, they asked? In the end, one republican rally, on Blackheath, attracted just five people and was cancelled. Millions turned out to celebrate the Queen, with such passion that it surprised even her: I had “no idea”, she told a lady in waiting, that the people valued her so much.
Her appeal then, as now, was continuity, mixed with a gift for innovation. On the technological front, it was the Duke of Edinburgh who recognised that the institution had to switch from a mystical one to something more tangible, and it had to let the TV cameras in to do it. In 1897, Victoria proved herself to be cutting edge by launching her jubilee, rather nervously, with a telegraph. In 2022, the Queen takes tea with a digitally-created Paddington Bear, demonstrating her wonderful sense of humour.
Within 10 years of her coronation much of the empire was gone, culminating in the humiliation of Suez. While many Britons struggled to adjust, the Queen threw herself enthusiastically into the establishment of the Commonwealth, a partnership of equals with the independent states that would be so successful that countries have applied to join that were never in the empire.
Her trip to Ireland in 2011, the first visit by a reigning monarch since 1911, likewise symbolised a turning point in a troubled relationship, and offered a moment of reconciliation. Her confession of an annus horriblis in 1992, following the fire at Windsor Castle, was an expression of loss and vulnerability that drew tremendous sympathy; her words after the death of Diana captured the grief of a nation that was beginning to wear its heart on its sleeve.
She has often sensed the mood of the nation and put it across better than any elected official. In 2005, after the
July 7 bombings, she told the killers that: “they will not change our way of life. Atrocities such as these simply reinforce our sense of community, our humanity, our trust in the rule of law.”
At the height of Covid, when many were locked down and frightened, she reassured us that “we shall meet again”. Echoing a favourite song from the war reminded us that we’ve been through harder times than these, just as the flypast of Second World War aircraft during the Jubilee showcased the heroism that got us through our darkest, and finest hour. The Queen is a living testament to the greatest generation.
In a sense, the Jubilee has fulfilled that pledge to meet again, with millions pouring down The Mall, or in every small village, a crowd gathering to light a beacon. The economy might be unhealthy, Russia on the warpath and the future uncertain, but the Queen has gifted to us stability and example – and it is impossible to think of any elected prime minister of the last few decades, for all their abilities, being able to do the same. Her Majesty has not only kept the monarchy going, she has reinvigorated it – and convinced a modern democracy of its ongoing relevance.