Time To Reign
WHAT WOULD MY YOUNGER SELF have said to the person he had become on Saturday night as the Coronation unfolded? Would he have upbraided the old man seated in front of the television, watching another old man being crowned king? Certainly, he would have reminded him of the day long ago, in the Student Union of Otago University, just days before Prince Charles was due to visit Dunedin, during a debate on the monarchy, when someone (it might have been Michael Laws) shouted “Long live the King!”, and Chris Trotter leapt to his feet and shouted “Long live Oliver Cromwell!” How did that radical young republican turn into a sentimental old monarchist?
A large part of the answer to that question is bound up with the fact that the event recalled was so long ago. Because, at the heart of the monarchical principle lies the brutal reality of time. The span of a human life and all of the experiences that are crammed into it is what a reign is all about. It is not what a presidential term is all about.
The difference between a reign and a term is of no small importance. In a constitutional monarchy such as ours the identity of the head of state is known years in advance. A king or queen accedes to the throne immediately upon the death of their predecessor. Barring some awful catastrophe, the next monarch will already be a known quantity and the succession will be seamless.
The contrast between a royal accession and a presidential election could hardly be starker. Inevitably, the elected head of state will be the product of political choices. Either, he or she will be nominated and confirmed by Parliament – as our Governors-General are now – or, the head of state will be the product of a vote. In the latter case, a number approaching half of the electorate (more if there are multiple contenders) cannot help feeling bitterly disappointed that their candidate failed to attract the requisite support.
If the republic is a healthy one, the losers of the presidential contest will look forward to the next opportunity to assert their will. If it is not, then the losers may refuse to concede defeat – throwing the legitimacy of the head of state into doubt. Presidential terms are, therefore, necessarily short – four to five years – if only to keep the losing sides’ spirits up. Any longer and the president’s opponents might be tempted to shorten his or her term … by other means.
With these potential problems in mind, some republics limit their heads of state to a single term. Providing the president’s role is largely ceremonial, as in the Republic of Ireland, such limitations are generally accepted without objection. In those republics where a president exercises executive power, however, as in the USA and France, the incumbent is generally given the opportunity to win a second term.
Time is, therefore, as important to the constitution of republican leadership as it is to the subject’s experience of monarchy. In a republic, time becomes the ally of those who see the orderly rotation of political elites – and their chosen leaders – as vital to the health of the state. Republicans regard political permanence as tantamount to tyranny. From their perspective, power is best served up in relatively short chunks of time.
As we New Zealanders say: “Three years is too short for a good government, and too long for a bad one.”
Everything changes, however, when the head of state is not only ceremonial, but hereditary. Historically-speaking, republics are generally a people’s political response to a sovereign who has ruled them badly. Oliver Cromwell famously “cut off the King’s head with the crown on it” because Charles Stuart had plunged Britain into a bloody civil war. King Louis XVI lost his head because the French people were no longer willing to starve while Versailles glittered. Once a monarchy has been tamed by its people, however, it becomes an invaluable instrument for isolating the role of head of state from the vicissitudes of politics.
More than that, a constitutional hereditary monarchy, being the enterprise of a single family, mirrors the experiences of the people over whom it reigns. My father was the subject of three kings and a queen. But, for most of my life, I have been the subject of just one monarch, Queen Elizabeth II. As such, I grew up contemporaneously with the sovereign’s children. Like them, I married and began a family. Like them I got older and, hopefully, wiser.
All the ups and downs of the Windsors have been tolerated by their subjects because they, too, have had their ups and downs. Charles is not the only man who married the wrong woman. Harry is not the only grandson to give his grandmother grief. Certainly, the Windsors’ wealth is immeasurably greater than all but a handful of their subjects, but that has never appeared to bother the vast majority of those who, for 70 years, referred to Elizabeth Windsor simply as “The Queen”. Monarchs are supposed to live in palaces and ride in golden carriages – that’s what it means to be “royal”. In all the life transitions that truly matter, however, their subjects saw the Windsors as people remarkably like themselves.
Crucial to this identification is the very strong sense that their subjects know them. People of my generation recall the Queen’s “royal visits”. We remember Charles and Diana and baby William playing with a Buzzy Bee on the lawn of Government House. We all felt the shock of Diana’s tragic death. Younger Kiwis watched the marriage of William and Kate and counted off their offspring. All of us have watched Charles grow older and older, and wondered how he endured his seemingly endless apprenticeship.
No elected president can possibly provide a nation with that sort of story, for that length of time. Nor can an elected head of state offer a backstory stretching back centuries, or an historical drama peopled with such a compelling cast of characters.
That’s why the older Chris Trotter could be found seated in front of the television on Saturday night, watching a man he had always known finally coming into his inheritance. Oliver Cromwell had no option but to behead Charles I. I am glad his revolution, and the French, and the Russian, drove home the lesson that, ultimately, kings and emperors, like presidents, are only entitled to rule with the consent of the governed.
“I come not to be served, but to serve”, said Charles Windsor.
And I said: “God save the King!”
My goodness you are full of surprises Chris. Great blog.
I like having a monarchy, now I understand it’s nowadays purpose. England enjoys it better than NZ, but it’s still ours too. I wouldn’t wish their “birthright” on anyone. Though, in my spiritual comprehension, they each chose their roles.
Long live The King!
Echo that Gus. I think you have covered the whole set-up very well Chris. I hope your good sense prevails.
What utter poppycock Bob!
Pretty nuts frankly.
We will thank goodness become a republic. We the people will decide who that will be. I personally think it must not be an ex politician but someone with real mana who everyone can trust.
Now the late Paul Reeves is someone that would have fitted that criteria.
it is time politicians got off the gravy train and stopped moving on to become ambassadors, being the head of numerous government enquiries etc. Frankly no politician should be there longer than 3 terms, if they haven’t achieved what they went into achieve – apart from being a career politician – then there times is well and truly up.
I always appreciate your insights and wisdom Chris.
Thank you.
I concur Chris, you have expressed very well why we look with affection as well as respect to this person, this couple, who we see are worthy of a continuing respect and affection and offer reasonable stability with it. It is not simple to maintain that; Princess Diana did not have the training that would provide resilience against predatory populism from the media and the curious adoring fandom drawn to celebrity.
Hey Chris, we all grow up eventually! LOL
Good commentary though, thanks.
Andrew
Your ignorant pomposity is exceeded only by your unawareness of it.
So, in conclusion.
You didn’t become older and wiser with age. You morphed into a young and immature Michael Laws.
Touche! Scott. Ya got me!
I wish it would stop raining already
Thank you Chris. Yes to all of that.
One thing you didn’t touch on was the religious significance of the monarch’s role, the servant of God and of the people. Above us all the ultimate king; the ceremony reminded me of that.
The least profitable thing for New Zealand to be tied to is Britian. If we invested in Britian the AUKAS invests in Britian then we will never be able to expand New Zealand.
Interesting comment. When I became an MP, I forecast in my maiden speech that New Zealand would ultimately become a Republic. I thought it might occur within a generation, that is around about now. How wrong I was.
My generation seem to mostly support the current arrangements. The next generation, much less so. It is not just a question of youthful rebellion, it reflects that for the upcoming generation the idea of a British monarch seems far removed from contemporary New Zealand..
I remain a republican, but a much milder version than I was 30 years ago. So yes, I watched the Coronation. I must say I was a little disappointed in how little the ceremony reflected contemporary times and also the almost complete absence of reference to the other realms, including New Zealand.
Penny Mordant had the best understanding of how to be relevant. A simple but beautiful dress that evoked the past but looked to the future. Charles could have done the same, but missed the opportunity to do so.
As for New Zealand’s constitutional future. We might get a written constitution for 2040. At least we could get a more comprehensive statement of the rules of our government than is contained in the 1986 Constitution Act.
When will we have a referendum on being a republic? One wth the relatively modest change of the Governor General becoming the President. I suspect we won’t have such a referendum until 2050, another full generation away. I do detect a slow change toward being a republic. In the 1990’s, the support was around 25%. Today probably in the low 30’s. It is a generational thing, so understandably the rate of change is relatively slow. It is unlikely to be above 50% until another generation passes. It would take that sort of level before any government would commit to a referendum. Even then, when it comes to actually voting, the electorate may pause, just as happened in Scotland.
It would be difficult to start a dynasty in NZ. Perhaps we should stick with the one we’ve got.
Sad Chris, very sad. Preferring heredity to merit. Preferring heredity to the people’s choice. I’m not buying.
I think that that it might have been Paul Gourley, the self-styled Governor and President of the OUSA in 1982, who declaimed ‘God save the Queen’, those many years ago, Chris.
You could be right, Gregory, it’s the sort of sentiment “The Governor” would have expressed. But, it was a debate, and Michael Laws was the best debater Otago had at that time – so my money stays on Mr Laws.
Like Chris I couldn’t stand the Monarchy as a young man. But for me, who better to be head of state?A choice between a self-serving politician or somebody born into a sense of duty to their subjects and trained a lifetime for the role.
100% agree with you Chris. What single politician could say they have served the public for so long and so diligently? And even more so, his mother before him. Also for all the talk of the cost of the RF, it costs about $2 per person in the UK but then there is 4Billion punds in trade and tourism riding on the back of their presence to say nothing of the large sums the RF give back to the crown to offset the sovereign grant.
I am sure there is the odd person who would make a good figure head but in this world we live in, the choice would become corrupted as it has now in a small way. For example, I am not commenting on Cindy Kiro’s mana, experience or commitment but it didnt escape anyone that the Govt was falling over itself to appoint a Maori to the position of GG, to say nothing of the patently unsuitable Goff and Mallard off to plumb ambassadorial roles.
I’m totally with CT on this. Also as someone says “Give me the child and I will show you the man”. Duty and service are ingrained in them from about the age of 4 onwards and they are not profligate for the most part (Andrew was always a Tosser). Prince Anne was caught wearing a 40 year old coat on her outing the other month and Kate largely wears upmarket high street fashion and is caught repeatedly rewearing items just like ordinary people do.
I lived in the UK for 14 years and I had the opportunity to see the good within the RF and whilst they are an anachronism by todays standards, we could do a lot worst. Name one politician in the current bunch that you think would be suitable to be NZ’s Head of State? See, you cant and if we ask you that question in ten years time, chances are you still cant.
Fantail. Ditto, lived and worked mainly in central London, where everybody belongs, and where, until the advent of Meghan M and a couple of faux Nigerian princesses, diversity was part of ordinary everyday life, and not weaponised the way that it is now in New Zealand. We are fortunate in being part of something historically much bigger than ourselves, and without it, are likely to become even more parochial, and intellectually and culturally isolated, and more narrow minded and intolerant than we are. The Arts Council’s amazingly dishonest portrayal of William Shakespeare should serve as a warning shot to hang onto what was a Great Britain, as a ballast against the barbarians at the gates.
I looked at the pumpkin carriages and over the top show and thought, what a great send off for Dame Edna Everage this would be. Just needed Gladioluss. Madge was in the pumpkin next to Charles.
I’m wondering how we all regard the role assigned to royals at birth? It is highly privileged’, but it is also the least individually free of anybody. You don’t get to choose your own path, to walk away (Harry has tried). Nothing in my mind could be a more extreme form of incarceration, born to a life sentence. Monarchy is an unjustified and cruel imposition to those born into it, and they have my deepest sympathy.