On 6 May, while Charles Philip Arthur George Mountbatten-Windsor Saxe-Coburg-Gotha is getting fitted with the world’s most expensive hat, what are good republicans supposed to do?
During past royal bunfights, folks who thought there may be something questionable about spending millions celebrating the last vestiges of feudalism may have decided it was best to keep their heads down, go for a long walk and pretend it wasn’t happening.
After all, it’s not easy to point out an institution is years past its sell-by-date when you’re constantly being told that everybody else loves the mouldy bits and the rancid smell is just one of the venerable traditions that make our country great.
This conflation of flag and crown, the insistence that patriotism must involve love for the monarchy, is a shield the royals have hidden behind for decades. It’s why they changed their surname during a war and it’s why everyone else’s national anthem is a cheerful celebration of nationhood while ours is a dreary homage to one supposedly gracious, noble and potentially victorious person.
Should republicans stay quiet?
People tempted to raise an anti-monarchist voice during Queen Elizabeth’s Jubilee may have been discouraged by the avalanche of council-hung bunting that accompanied the relentless portrayal of the country’s richest woman as a selfless servant of the people. Then, during the compulsory mourning after Her Maj died, suggesting that a grown-up country might consider electing their next head of state would have risked the wrath of the grief police who insisted on everything from schools to foodbanks being forced to close.
But this time it feels different.
Daily Express headline writers might be aroused by the idea of a nation summoned to swear allegiance to the king, but for most folks it’s a decided turn-off. If pantomime-style audience participation is required at the Abbey, wouldn’t a better chant be “He’s behind you!” whenever the baddie, played by Prince Andrew, appears?
A stroll along your local high street might have the Cromwellian in you wincing at window displays of tatty coronation ceramics featuring the profile of the world’s most famous Charlie. But, with the spectre of bankruptcy lurking behind every shopfront, it’s entirely understandable that retailers are desperately slapping on the red, white and blue and using the sovereign’s mug to sell, well erm, mugs.
And, as you decide you’d rather commemorate the occasion by buying a Big Issue, its cheering to know that just about every third person passing by would also like to send the monarchy packing and if that passer-by happens to be young or a person of colour, they are even more likely to offer to help them with their suitcases.
With just a few days to go, the official map of coronation events lists a mere 520 street parties which hardly suggests a nation unable to contain its excitement. Perhaps some of the get-togethers have been disqualified for not appearing subservient enough, a friend submitted details of their “citizens not subjects” tea party but it seems to have been omitted.
Should republicans protest?
So, if opponents of a hereditary monarchy don’t have to stay quiet anymore, should they get noisy? Republicans with a capital R are planning a loud demonstration during the coronation procession. Given that our brand-new deputy prime minister has told police to use the “full range of their powers” to crack down on any disruption and simply holding a blank placard in the vague vicinity of the king or wondering out-loud who elected him has seen barristers and Christians detained, this could be a bold move.
You can bag yourself one of Republic.org’s snazzy orange, Not My King, T-shirts from their website or find badges on Etsy. Mind you, if you’re considering wearing either, remember that in the home secretary’s brave new world, just looking like you might join a protest has been enough for people to be ‘proactively arrested’. (EDITORIAL NOTE: We have been asked to state that nothing about the government’s recent clamp down on public dissent is in any way reminiscent of pre-fascist Germany.)
The enthronement of the Queen’s least unpopular son might just usher in a time when republicans have less to fear from the flag-waving crowd. But, even if the market for souvenir tea-towels is on the wane, it may not yet be time to start building a guillotine outside Buck House. Many folks who would call themselves republicans if they were ever asked are less about storming the Palace and more about politely asking the tenants to leave.
Should republicans care?
Republican sentiment may be emboldened, but perhaps more worrying for the crown estate is the number of Brits whose feeling towards the institution can best be summed up as “Meh!”. A close friend of mine reacts to any mention of royal comings and goings with a loud cry of “Nobody cares!” and according to YouGov, 16% of people can’t even be bothered to voice an opinion about the monarchy’s future, while over three-quarters of younger folks said they had absolutely no interest in the Windsors or their continual, family feuds.
Ironically, disdain for our unelected leaders rarely burns as fiercely as the fire stoked by the vile actions of some of those who have been voted into office. However, anger tends to build when certain numbers are exposed. Realising that the ‘ruler’ of a country where nearly every third child lives in poverty is estimated to be worth £1.8bn is enough to make you wonder if we’ve got our priorities right. Then there’s the fact that the King deprived the NHS and other public services of millions of pounds when he avoided inheritance tax after his mother’s death. This loophole only applies to monarchs, so it was a happy coincidence that the Queen chose to leave all her private estate to Charles, neglecting other royals and employing the same money saving trick that her mother did.
Should republicans go to the pub?
Apologists for their vast wealth and the way they got it, tend to trot out the line about the royals being value for money. We are told they are a boon for tourism, as if every country that has dumped its monarchy and opened their now empty palaces as museums see no more than a handful of visitors from one year to the next. This argument is as transparent as it is childish, just ask the hard pressed staff at the Versailles ticket-office struggling to cope with 15 million annual visitors, exactly ten times more than Windsor Castle.
Unlike the last time a royal event stopped the country in its tracks, the day of the coronation will not see a total shutdown. So while the shiny new king gets used to balancing almost 3000 diamonds on his head and the rest of us try to work out why we are footing a bill of at least £100mn, republicans can choose something other than a long walk to mark the day. There’s football to watch and Lidl is open. We can join the protests or even listen to a few oldies by the now royally blacklisted Proclaimers. I might go to the pub and offer every republican in there a drink, but I’m worried that, this time, I won’t be able to afford it.
