Editor’s Note: James Hanvey, S.J., a British Jesuit, is the previous master of Campion Hall in Oxford and a native of Northern Ireland.
It seemed as if some type of stability might finally arrive. The British government had been in a terminal state since Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s “partygate.” The Downing Street “Covid jollies” stood in contrast to the dignified but lonely presence of Queen Elizabeth II on the funeral of her husband, Prince Philip, in St. George’s Chapel in April 2021. She symbolized the situation of so many who had lost a loved one in the course of the pandemic but had complied with the federal government’s rules on large gatherings and social distancing. For several long, hot summer months, the country was held hostage by the interminable Conservative Party leadership election. Crises looked as if it would multiply while the federal government went into paralysis waiting for the consequence: the Ukrainian war, the sudden and crippling rise in energy costs, inflation, stagnation, strikes, the National Health Service buckling under pressure.
In all of this, the queen continued the reassuring customary rhythms of her 12 months and made her regular summer progress through Scotland to her holiday retreat at Balmoral Castle in Aberdeenshire.
On Saturday, Sept. 3, Liz Truss was elected as the brand new leader of the Conservative Party. On Tuesday, she met with the queen at Balmoral, who asked her to form a recent government. The unwritten British structure continued its seamless operation and, through the monarch, the peaceful transfer of power was over again effected. The queen’s first prime minister was Winston Churchill; Liz Truss was her fifteenth.
Forty-eight hours later the queen was dead.
On Friday, the period of national mourning began. At Westminster Abbey, the traditional shrine of St. Edward the Confessor and final resting place of 17 monarchs, a single bell tolled 96 times; one for every year of her life. On this moment of great loss, crowds gathered at Balmoral, Windsor Castle and Buckingham Palace, laying flowers with messages of affection, gratitude and deep respect. As queen and person, Elizabeth II was the main focus of national identity and unity; she was a lot part of individuals’s lives.
Because the depth of the general public mourning now reveals, the queen herself was substance and never illusion. She was all the time the queen, never a star.
The queen had visited every a part of her realm and was patron of over 600 charities in the UK alone. She lived and served through World War II and oversaw Britain’s relatively peaceful transition from an exhausted imperial power to change into one among the many nations of the world. She was the top of the 54 countries of the Commonwealth, and it’s estimated that she had met over three million people during her long and energetic life. The queen was the reassuring center of the nation because it endured domestic and international crises from terrorist bombings, foreign wars and pandemics, in addition to celebrations and commemorations. By any standard, Elizabeth II was a remarkable woman, a world figure, who inspired respect and affection amongst all her peoples, even those that would object to monarchies. Even so, perhaps only now, as we start to see her life in whole, we also see something more.
In 1867, Walter Bagehot, wrote his influential book The English Structure. Bagehot was involved in probing the actual workings of power within the unwritten British structure. He considers it under two features: “the dignified,” or largely symbolic function, and “the efficient” function (the manager and legislative powers), or “how things were done.” The monarchy, he argues, is of incalculable value to a government. It serves to bring a “mystique,” investing the “efficient” exercises of power with a dignity and stability that reassures bizarre people, commanding their trust and obedience even through the conventional turmoil of party politics.
Bagehot was a shrewd and pragmatic, if somewhat elitist, observer of the political scene of his day, and his book has been significant in shaping the expectations of monarchy. Definitely, all Her Majesty’s governments understood the national value of a respected queen and the international advantages of a royal ambassador. It is mostly recognized that throughout her long reign, Queen Elizabeth never put a constitutional foot mistaken. Even so, I feel she unconsciously exposes a flaw in Bagehot’s evaluation.
In a media-hungry age, if the queen’s role had only been that of ceremonial spectacles and popular crowd-pleasing events, it might quickly have been exposed as an illusion—an entertaining Sunday evening diversion like “Downton Abbey.” Indeed, on many occasions the press and glossy fashion magazines have done their best to show it into such a production. They never succeeded. Because the depth of the general public mourning now reveals, the queen herself was substance and never illusion. She was all the time the queen, never a star.
The important thing, so often missed by the media but intuitively grasped by her people, was that for her, monarchy was not about privilege; it was about vocation.
The important thing, so often missed by the media but intuitively grasped by her people, was that for her, monarchy was not about privilege; it was about vocation. It was not something she had chosen; it had been asked of her, and, along with her whole life, she assented. In that gracious “yes,” regardless of the challenges, criticisms and vicissitudes, personal in addition to political, the queen showed us methods to convert privilege, whatever its form, into service.
In a time when democracy itself is precarious and a lot political discourse is seen as vacuous, self-serving rhetoric, we’d like embodied substance, words tested by deeds and marked by the constancy of a dedicated life. When we’ve change into accustomed to distrusting the offices of presidency and the incessant claims and counterclaims of “fake news,” Bagehot’s “efficient” organs of the state can themselves appear to be the very products of manipulation and illusion.
Within the lifetime of Queen Elizabeth II, nevertheless, we start to see a wierd paradox: Her stability and authenticity present us with the capability of monarchy to rescue democracy. Not through theater or spectacle but by character and deep personal faith. With a monarch who can show methods to convert privilege to service, authoritarian populism faces a constitutional in addition to personal obstacle. A chief minister could be strong, but he or she cannot rise to be an authoritarian leader; the crown protects people against such volatile hegemonies. It’s the queen who, beyond the petty party struggles, became the touchstone of what’s real and of lasting value and the measure of public service.
Within the lifetime of Queen Elizabeth II, nevertheless, we start to see a wierd paradox: Her stability and authenticity present us with the capability of monarchy to rescue democracy.
Probably the most sacred element within the liturgy of coronation is the anointing. It’s a deeply private and intimate moment that’s hidden from view. The Holy Spirit is invoked. While the anointing recalls the Old Testament anointing of Israel’s kings, it also recalls the anointing of Christ. In the traditional rite this moment has a sacramental force. In it the monarchy ceases to be a ceremonial role only; it becomes a sacred office. To those in her close circle, the queen on several occasions spoke of how significant her anointing was for her. She was overcome with an awesome peace; it was a sacramental moment that never left her. It was also received by her in deep faith—a faith that she was not embarrassed to profess.
We are able to speak calmly and, perhaps, skeptically in regards to the grace of office. In Queen Elizabeth, we saw that grace working. Like all grace, it worked through nature. We saw it working through 70 years in her own generous nature and gifts; we saw it fulfilled in her fidelity to her vows as queen and lived in a lifetime of duty, sacrifice and repair. Through her, we are able to glimpse how grace may go through the conventions of public office and tradition that allowed the queen to be each a logo and an individual, an individual of deep humanity, warmth and humor.
Whether within the service of the nations of the UK or the Commonwealth, there was also a quiet diplomacy—a ministry—of reconciliation. There are a lot of moments when that grace was in evidence but none more so than her visit to the Republic of Ireland in May 2011. In her presence and gestures there was healing and reconciliation of a still painfully alive history between the 2 nations and between the North and the South. As with so a lot of her subjects and residents of the Republic, it was a private in addition to political history, something she acknowledged in her speech at Dublin Castle. “Indeed, a lot of this visit reminds us of the complexity of our history, its many layers and traditions,” she said, “but in addition the importance of forbearance and conciliation. Of with the ability to bow to the past but not be sure by it.”
We are able to speak calmly and, perhaps, skeptically in regards to the grace of office. In Queen Elizabeth, we saw that grace working.
With consummate delicacy, and fully aware of the unstable power of symbols, the queen planted recent seeds of reconciliation that proceed to bear fruit. Such sensitivity doesn’t come from constitutional forms; it comes from a deep, personal grasp of what is required humanly in addition to politically; for in Ireland, history is all the time personal. It was a moment when memory could begin to heal. This surely is the instance of patience and self-transcendence that realizes the total grace of office.
The queen is dead. Long live the king! Although mourning has barely begun, a recent reign has commenced. King Charles III, following the instance of his mother and grandfather, George VI, may yet introduce us to a facet of monarchy that seems to have completely escaped Bagehot: the prophetic role of the sovereign. In fact, prophecy is a present or charism and will not be routinely conferred with the crown. We regularly consider it as a dramatic gesture or intervention, but prophecy is about transformation moderately than information and it may also take other forms. There may be definitely something prophetic within the faithful dedication to duty and repair that manifests the most effective values of public office, especially when there are such a lot of counterexamples.
In an older sense, such dedication can speak of a sacred covenant between power—monarchical or democratic—and the people. It will not be dramatic but a relentless true note and, as such, it may act as a quiet prophetic presence capable of renew and proper the political order when crucial. In his mother, Charles III can have recognized this and can have learned from her the wisdom of such understatement and example. We are able to see it, too, present in all our communities: those whose faithful, dedicated service upholds our lives and preserves our humanity.
The queen is dead. Long live the king! The shout goes out, but her memory and her legacy doesn’t fade.
The indisputable fact that the crown is above the calculating pragmatism of party politics allows it to have an extended, deeper and more comprehensive view of individuals’s needs and the enduring good that societies must construct. The virtual absence of any reflection on the ecological crisis in the course of the campaign for Tory leadership was astonishing. It was an example of the pragmatic myopia that politics is prey to. Yet long before take care of the environment was either fashionable or urgent, Prince Charles was speaking about it. In practical projects and support for rural and concrete communities, he has shown how we are able to live in a greater way with the earth, our common home. This is only one example of many where the brand new king has already shown his capability for foresight and a capability to translate vision into effective motion for the common good. Already he has made a difference to so many lives, especially the young, through the unsung work of his charitable network, the Prince’s Trust.
All of those efforts require the type of vision and commitment over a few years that political parties, even those in government for a very long time, can rarely achieve. The work of the common good takes time and dedication that could be lost within the distracting ephemera of up to date life. Within the queen and now in her son, King Charles, we are able to see that this “dignified” dimension of presidency can, in reality, recognize and remind us of the dignity of each member of the nation—something that “the efficient” dimension can speak of but may forget in practice. The quiet prophetic work of monarchy has the capability to call us to be our greatest selves as members of our communities and our nations.
The queen is dead. Long live the king! The shout goes out, but her memory and her legacy doesn’t fade. It stays not only for example but an issue to all who benefit from the privileges of birth, wealth, intellect and power. Can you exchange your privilege into the grace of service? Noblesse oblige—something democracies cannot afford to forget. For that reason, the queen’s life has been a present, and her memory will remain a blessing.