After the party, some reflection is needed. Charles III’s coronation was impressive. Presumably, many in the skeptic community were thrilled by Lionel Richie’s tunes, and the pageantry and elegance of the event. But a fundamental question ought to remain in the mind of skeptics: in a 21st Century Western nation, is monarchy justified?
Monarchies have long been associated with irrational thinking. Regal selections have often been left to the dictum of prophets and ordeals. If the Bible story is to be believed, David became king because Samuel – a man claiming to speak for God – chose him in that capacity after hearing God’s instructions. Sometimes, corruption has made its way through the process. Herodotus tells the amusing story of how Darius became the Persian king. There were six candidates, and they decided that the person whose horse neighed first at sunrise would become king. Darius secretly instructed a slave to rub his hands on a mare’s genitals, and then place the hands near the nostril of Darius’ horse. The horse was naturally excited, it neighed, and the rest is history.
Throughout the ancient world, kings were sacred. They were often attributed with supernatural powers. Pharaohs were thought to become the god Osiris when they died. Roman religion was big on emperor worship. By the Middle Ages, kings were not explicitly worshipped, but they were still believed to hold magical powers, such as the royal touch: kings could allegedly cure diseases merely by touching people, not unlike Jesus and other miracle workers.
It is not surprising that monarchies are imbedded with religious concepts: their very power relies not on rational political deliberation, but rather, appeals to mysterious supernatural forces. As modernity and the disenchantment of the world took hold in Western societies as a result of the Enlightenment, monarchies began to disappear. In the modern Western world, some monarchies have managed to survive only to the extent that they have preemptively diminished their own powers. Louis XVI’s head rolled because he stubbornly refused to compromise his absolutism.
In contrast, the British monarchy is still around, largely because royals — or more likely, their advisors – realised that a dilution of monarchial power in a parliamentary system could keep revolutionary fervour in check. As long as they are merely ceremonial figures, people in modern societies are more willing to accept monarchs. The late Queen Elizabeth understood this concept, and gracefully remained apolitical. There are doubts about whether King Charles will be as wise. After all, this is the man who wrote the infamous “black spider memos,” using his influence to lobby politicians into favouring his pet agendas.
But even devoid of absolutist powers, monarchies ultimately rely on an irrational principle that skeptics ought to challenge. That is the heredity principle. A society maximises its efficiency and justice by allotting roles on the basis of merits and capacities. The accident of having been born in a particular family cannot be a relevant criterion. Unlike elected officials, kings are not hired for their job via a contract; their birth status determines their role and privilege. We would find it laughable if David Beckham’s son were designated as Manchester United’s star midfielder, solely on the grounds of his father’s glorious antics at Old Trafford. We appreciate the senior Beckham’s amazing feats, but if the lad wants a place in the Premier League, he must earn it with his own merits. Why should it be any different with heads of State?
Admittedly, not every position in society can be contractual. Parents naturally rule over their children. Some monarchists have made the case that a king acts very much as a father, and therefore, needs no contract. This was the argument put forth by 17th Century philosopher Robert Filmer in Patriarcha, a classic defense of royal absolutism. Such arguments may hold some water if applied to tribal chieftains or petty kings, as their domains may resemble family structures. But the intimate world of family decisions is no match for the complexities of modern industrialised nations.
Monarchies may have some advantages. They provide a sense of national unity. But often, this delves into jingoism. To the extent that they are founded on blind allegiance and little deliberation, love of king ultimately resembles religious zealotry, and very few good things can ever come out of that.
Monarchies may also provide political stability. But that stability is similar to imperial peace: conflict is diminished, but ultimately at the expense of fairness and freedom.
It is debatable whether monarchies – and especially the British monarchy – contribute to a nation’s public revenue via tourism. But even if they did, skeptics ought to aim for higher principles. The sale of indulgences also contributed to public revenue, and thanks to that business scheme, we have the marvellous Saint Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Nevertheless, we are justifiably repulsed by Johann Tetzel’s infamous slogan, “As soon as the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from purgatory springs.” In the same manner, perhaps royal symbols help a nation make a buck. But in the long term, wealth production is sustained by efficiency and rationality. This implies that contract must prevail over status, and positions must be allotted on the basis of merit, not birthright. If we seek to apply these meritocratic principles throughout society, what is stopping us from applying them to the very top position a nation can allot?
