Patrick O'Flynn

The sorry state of republicanism

Britain's constitutional monarchy seems well-adapted to the demands of this age of division

The sorry state of republicanism
A anti-royalist protester in Edinburgh (Credit: Getty images)
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As republican protestors seek to disrupt the handing on of the title of head of state from one royal to another, we should appreciate that it is an obsolete system in the modern world. Not the monarchy, of course: it only takes one look at the mass outpouring of grief for the late Queen and the goodwill towards the new King displayed by all mainstream political leaders to realise that is in rude health. But republicanism.

Imagine for a moment that a new British republic is about to be born. The presidential election has reached its final round of voting. Jeremy Corbyn and Nigel Farage have been edged out in previous rounds, leaving a straight head-to-head between Sadiq Khan and Boris Johnson.

The winner will, for the next five years, embody the British nation state, speaking for all of us at important moments in our shared national story and in return being shown the utmost respect when he turns up to open a new school or preside over a grand ceremonial occasion.

Should he emerge triumphant, then president Johnson – and what a ring that has to it – will in due course cut the ribbon on Everton FC's new stadium. Up on Merseyside, he confidently expects rapturous applause and no rancour whatever to greet him. Would-be president Khan has, for his part, claimed that in no way will he seek to tread politically on the toes of Prime Minister Liz Truss, though he has noted while on the campaign trail: 'If elected, I too will have a democratic mandate.'

Thus would the gates of hell open to greet an inaugural British president. Should a right-of-centre contender get elected then the tantrums of some of those on the left would run at many times the pitch they exhibited towards Johnson when he was prime minister. Sacred national occasions, such as Remembrance Sunday, would face disruption or boycotting on account of the presence of a Johnson or a Farage at their apex. We would have nobody at all who could represent the whole nation.

The 'not my president' meme that spread like wildfire in US student and other leftish circles after Donald Trump’s election would be repeated here. If the British liberal-left was by and large unwilling to give losers’ consent after the Brexit referendum, why would anybody think it would do so for an elected president with an ideology not to its liking?

And perhaps the right would behave in similar militant fashion were a Khan or a Corbyn to win. After all, it was a right-wing mob that stormed Capitol Hill to try and prevent the inauguration of the relatively inoffensive centrist Joe Biden as president in place of the demagogue Trump.

If you think America is an exception – even more politically polarised and divided along culture war lines than is the UK – then look across the Channel at the other great republic that infuses our national consciousness; France.

There, establishment opinion has only just exhaled a collective sigh of relief at narrowly avoiding the election of an 'unacceptable' president in the shape of Marine Le Pen. Emmanuel Macron’s re-election was hardly widely welcomed, but he has managed to be just about acceptable to nearly everyone by dint of sharing a rightist agenda on matters to do with culture and integration while not actually being of the right. She could easily win next time. As could a hard-line leftist figure.

Across the western world, the trend towards people – especially on the educated centre-left – predominantly interacting with and tolerating only those who share their broad political outlook has come close to rendering the idea of a politically partial head of state an anachronism. And there is no sign at all of the great polarisation going into reverse.

By contrast, the British system of constitutional monarchy seems well-adapted to the demands of this age of division. In King Charles, the lefties in our midst at least have a head of state they can suspect holds views compatible with their own on a range of issues, from combating climate change to accepting huge numbers of asylum-seekers of doubtful provenance.

Those of us who take a more socially conservative stance can, on the other hand, be reassured that the heritage and traditions we so greatly value are not being junked. We can console ourselves that Charles has promised to keep a lid on his pinko opinions now he has taken the throne.

And all sides are free to treat whoever is the prime minister of the day as just another scurvy politician, to be derided and condemned for whatever policy she or he has committed to that gets our goat.

Might a happy time soon descend during which partisan political activists prove generally capable of respecting and treating with good grace those of an opposite ideological persuasion? If so, then the case for going through the immense dislocation needed to install a republic, headed by a politically partial president, might just about become serviceable. But right now, in our modern landscape of social media pile-ons, cancel culture and jurors who refuse to convict those who have carried out criminal damage in pursuit of a cause they agree with, it is a total non-starter. God Save The King.

Written byPatrick O'Flynn

Patrick O’Flynn is a former MEP and political editor of the Daily Express

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