Perhaps only King Charles III understood that his May 6 coronation in London was one of the few opportunities in a century to reposition the concept of monarchy in the global spectrum of competing social systems.
Indeed, the “competition between competing social systems” is between systems that have come to be defined as tending toward (or predominantly) long term and spiritually or ethically based on the one hand, and predominantly short term, materialistic, and transactional on the other.
It is too soon to determine to what degree King Charles succeeded in framing the debate, other than by the symbolic example of tradition in the coronation ceremony. Or whether a predominantly reactive global audience, currently traumatized by the threat of economic dislocation, is even aware of the option of debate.
Absent a worldwide debate, or revival of interest, on the role of monarchical systems, the Crown the Windsor dynasty wears could rapidly become the unique remaining major exemplar of a form of governance and social organization no longer understood. That could well presage the siege and probable end for the time being of defined monarchical systems as temporal republics move to define the concept of democracy in their own images.
King Farouk I, that notably unsuccessful ruler of Egypt who failed to change with his people, made the comment after his overthrow on July 26, 1952, that by the end of the 20th century, there would only be five royal houses left in business: those of Clubs, Diamonds, Hearts, Spades, and Windsor. He was wrong; some 60 states and territories remained under monarchical systems by 2023, but the overwhelming House of Windsor, which reigned lightly in various forms over many of those 60 lands, dominated the landscape and thinking about the viability of constitutional monarchical governance.
King Charles, even as Prince of Wales before he acceded to the Crown with the death of Queen Elizabeth II on Sept. 6, 2022, had outlined his perceived need to “modernize” the British monarchy, to “slim it down” to avoid the appearance of waste, to focus the image of the system, and to make it more relevant to a younger age group. But there is little evidence that he took a broad and analytical approach to what his concept of the “modern” monarchy should entail or what it would mean outside the shores of the British Isles.
In many senses, King Charles’ coronation was a triumph. It showed that the British public was overwhelmingly content with the peaceful transfer of the Crown after seven decades under Queen Elizabeth. All was well and good, and King Charles was at pains to ensure that the four major nations of the United Kingdom—England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland—were faithfully represented in the religious symbolism of the event. So, too, were the dominions—Canada, Australia, and New Zealand—that have the Windsor Crown represent them in a way that is legally separate from the Crown of the United Kingdom. And the other realms that recognize the sovereign of the United Kingdom as head of state were also represented.
The coronation also paid tribute to the “old empire” now transformed into the Commonwealth, over which Queen Elizabeth II presided and ensured that, on her death, King Charles would similarly preside.
But was it enough? And while the religious and mystical parts of the coronation ceremonies were comfortable for most of those under the Crown, were they understood by their constituents in their symbolism?
Have the 56 Commonwealth member countries (monarchies and republics), representing almost a third of the world’s population, forgotten their shared approaches to governance and values? Or have they become imbued in the shorter-term transactionalism that has become the hallmark of modern society, particularly as it is espoused by the materialism of republicanism?
The fundamental of the debate is that no two republics are alike, any more than any two monarchies are alike. There is merely a tendency toward long-term spiritual or ethical values among monarchies and only a tendency toward short-term materialism and transactionalism on the part of republics. Some republics, indeed, have exhibited underlying ethical principles that have made them durable for centuries, such as the U.S. basis of reverence for its Constitution, Bill of Rights, and Declaration of Independence. That made the United States, in some senses (as clearly intended by the framers of independence of the original 13 colonies), a “crowned republic,” where the crown had become abstracted and symbolized by the Constitution.
But that was only durable as long as the Constitution held a mystical reverence for its population.
Other modern examples of electorally-based republics, such as those of Asia and Africa, which emerged from foreign domination, could not easily return to their traditional, monarchical governments. Under colonial occupation, their constituent societies—each previously governed by monarchies—had amalgamated under new geographic boundaries. They now had to take on new, multinational personae, and republicanism was essentially an easier option.
Italy attempted, when it reunified, to impose one ancient monarchy on all Italians under the Risorgimento of the 19th century, bringing to prominence the House of Savoy, ending some of the other regional monarchies and, therefore, sidelining some of the societies and regions represented by their deposed crowns. Italy’s newly-unified monarchy did not consolidate as well as it could have because it was eclipsed by fascist rule and then saw the United States effectively preclude a return of the Savoy monarchy after World War II.
As a result, Italy has had 69 governments since 1945, each with an average life of 1.11 years, hardly reflective of a mandate or social contract with the population.
On the other hand, Malaysia, in February 1963, on independence after British colonial domination, structured itself as a federation of regional monarchies, each of which elected a rotating national monarch. And this system has succeeded and retained its position within the Commonwealth that King Charles leads.
To an extent, these only serve as examples because the real debate is about how societies can frame social contracts between governed and governors. That is a matter separately understood in each society. But what is fundamental to all humanity is that there is a need for the short-term gratification of survival needs—food, shelter, material satisfaction—and long-term needs for identity, values, and nobility that give the perpetuation of the species a sense of purpose.
All societies, secular or religious, understand some variation of the phrase from the Christian Bible, which says that “Man shall not live by bread alone.” In other words, to make a society whole, it must have more than material satisfaction.
Even the society described in the fictional novel, “1984,” by George Orwell (Eric Arthur Blair) required that Big Brother, the supposed leader of the republic, give a sense of purpose to the disenfranchised populace.
King Charles, through his various comments before acceding to the Throne, recognized this. Still, even today recognizes also that he and the Crown are themselves prisoners of a political system that has attempted, particularly since King George III (reigned 1760–1820), to render the Crown mute and valueless, ceding not only all power but all prestige to politicians. Even so, by representing values (rather than just value), the Crown has come to embody deep historical identity and characteristics that have enabled the society to weather the vicissitudes of short-term storms.
King Charles recognizes that the Crown has to restore a greater sense of these values to society, something that does not take away the day-to-day authority of government but adds a dimension that settles virtues (a commitment to moral goodness)—and particularly the ancient virtù (courage, skill, wisdom, and confidence: sprezzatura in old Italian parlance)—on society. And the tool with which it achieves this prestige centers around confidence in intrinsic identity, of a type that must transcend “the visible spectrum” exemplified by mere material possessions, wealth, or ethnicity and, in a sense, expressed by the nobility that cannot be tarnished by greed or selfishness.
It would be easy to allow the debate to begin—and end—in abstract dialectics. But in the end, it is about what makes people feel satisfied over the longer term. The 20th century’s great achievements ensured that most people in the world could satisfy, at least to some degree, a craving for material possessions. But it also showed that the delivery of such material demands continued to leave societies unsatisfied; indeed, great divisions appeared by the early 21st century among those most materially sated societies.
That sense of material satiation and overall dissatisfaction can occur in monarchical or republican states. Still, the difference is that societies that have a sense of nobility and purpose tend to fare better. The United States, a “crowned republic” in the sense that its Constitution’s popularity conveyed a sense of nobility and purpose, fared well because it did more than merely provide the “bread” its populace needed.
Joydeep Mukherji in 2015 penned a monograph for Moody’s financial rating service titled “Are Monarchies More Creditworthy Than Other Types of Sovereigns?” in which he looked at the issue of “sovereign debt” issued by governments. At that time, monarchies still accounted for some 40 percent of the sovereign debt rated by Standard & Poor’s Ratings Services. He noted: “The average long-term foreign currency rating on the 39 monarchies that we rate is A-, which is slightly higher than the average sovereign rating for all 129 sovereigns that we rate, which is around BBB to BBB-. Among the rated monarchies, constitutional monarchies have a slightly higher average rating of A+, compared with A- for absolute monarchies.” The bottom line was that monarchies delivered confidence, wealth, and economic stability more readily, on average, than republics.
King Charles’ accession, crowning, anointing, and enthronement, by the very ceremony of its fact, brought the United Kingdom into a new strategic era and certainly added economically to it by the reality of increased prestige. The Commonwealth states, and particularly the three dominions of Australia, New Zealand, and Canada, all saw a high degree of social identification with the new Carolean era, even though their respective political leaders exhibited a high degree of republicanism and a sense of rivalry with (or envy of) the prestige of a crown above politics.
The reality is that King Charles appears unaware as to how he can raise or impose a sense of the new reign on these dominions with their own political frameworks. Achieving a new social contract in his separate capacity as King of Canada, King of Australia, and King of New Zealand will be the hallmark of his success or failure.
But that cannot happen without debate, not just on the historic merits or faults of one particular crown’s line, but on the concept of the sense of nobility and grandeur a society wishes to embrace. King Charles ensured that a sense of tradition and religious and cultural mysticism accompanied the coronation while introducing modern elements to awaken the interest of younger people.
However, the debate has not begun. Populations become distracted with “urgent” pressures preventing “important”—vital—issues of longer-term survival and meaning from being considered.
