If the past decade has an overarching lesson, it is that, in politics, culture and society, emotion is often more powerful than reason. The coronation on May 6 of King Charles III and Camilla, Queen Consort, will not resolve the daunting array of problems facing the citizens of the United Kingdom. But — if only for a weekend — it will make a great many of them feel much better.
The ceremony in Westminster Abbey — the site of royal coronations since the 11th century — will be a ritual that, for a modern Group of Seven democracy, is almost unbelievably antiquated and full of flummery. It will involve three separate chairs for the king alone; two maces; four swords; extraordinarily elaborate robes and a “shroud tunic” symbolizing purity before God; three crowns; and the anointment of the monarch by the Archbishop of Canterbury with holy oil (a part of the ceremony still considered too sacred to be televised).
The sheer irrationality of all this in the 21st century is not lost on the British, who are busily griping about the pomp, cost and personal antics of the royal family. Only days before the coronation, the grievances of the king’s younger son, Prince Harry, and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, still fill the headlines (after much debate, Harry is attending, but his wife is not). Opinion polls suggest that overall public support for the monarchy is declining — though it still exceeds 50 percent. There are threats of disruption by social justice activists of the coronation procession.
In all this, however, it is important to remember that, to adapt F. Scott Fitzgerald’s famous dictum, nations are perfectly capable of holding two opposing ideas in their collective minds at the same time. The blockbuster success of “The Crown” has merely globalized the centuries-old British tradition of satirizing and relishing the soap opera of the royal family. In 1953, when Charles’s mother, Queen Elizabeth II, was crowned, there was much grumbling about the cost.
Much more striking, however, is the sheer resilience of the monarchy and its capacity to dodge extinction. It survived the abdication crisis of 1936, when Edward VIII renounced the crown so he could marry a divorced woman. It survived the trauma of the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, in 1997. And it shows every sign of surviving the death in September of the queen, the nation’s longest-serving monarch, who, after 70 years on the throne, had become a deeply beloved figure.
IT WAS THOUGHT by some that becoming king at age 73 would present Charles with potentially insuperable challenges. In fact, the opposite has proved to be the case (at least so far). The frustrated, prickly middle-aged prince has morphed into a twinkly grandfather of the nation who is strikingly popular with the public.
Why so? First, because the king is a monarch whose preoccupations and priorities fit the age in which he is to be crowned. His early-adopter passion for the environment and for measures to address climate change was prophetic. Founded in 1976, his youth charity, the Prince’s Trust, has helped more than 1 million young people. For decades, he has been a champion of housing that suits human beings rather than architectural theorists. And, while the Conservative government wages its crude right-wing culture wars, he has been spending time with refugees and signaling his support for an unflinching assessment of the royal family’s historical links with transatlantic slave trade.
Second: Consider the bleak landscape facing most Britons. Blotting out the sun is the undoubted failure of Brexit. Research by the London School of Economics has shown that Britain’s secession from the European Union added nearly 6 billion pounds (about $7.5 billion) to Britons’ food bills in 2020 and 2021.
The International Monetary Fund forecasts that Britain is also set to be one of only two G-7 economies to shrink this year. Inflation is stuck in double digits, and the Bank of England has warned the public to get used to being “worse off.”
Public services are buckling under the strain of underfunding and staff shortages and afflicted by a rolling series of strikes. To cap it all, trust in the political class is in the gutter. During 2022, Britain had no fewer than three prime ministers and four chancellors of the exchequer. When voters most needed serious politicians, Westminster was the scene of scandal and tragicomic farce.
At such a moment, the monarchy acts as an emotional support institution. Its very antiquity is its appeal; its rootedness in the past is the whole point. In an age of pulverizing volatility and low national self-esteem, the coronation will embody a mystical sense of continuity and a spirit of permanence upon which the British are more dependent than they might care to admit.
The sight of the gilded coach drawn by horses through the center of London will give them permission to feel good about themselves and believe, somehow, in the greatness of their country. And, for one brief shining moment, as the rest of the world watches this extraordinary spectacle on their screens, it will all be true.
About the author: Matthew d’Ancona is editor at large at the New European and a columnist at the London Evening Standard.
