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January 16th, 2017

Insight

The Survivor

Mark Steyn

By Mark Steyn

Published Sept. 13, 2015

 The Survivor Happy and glorious: Her Majesty the Queen, as snapped by Mark's daughter when they happened to run into her (so to speak) at a Diamond Jubilee event in Scotland

On Wednesday the Queen became the longest reigning monarch in the history of her various realms, pipping her great-great-grandmother Victoria. To mark the occasion, the Royal Air Force droned two British subjects, Reyaad Khan and Ruhul Amin, in Syria for plotting to assassinate Her Majesty at the VJ Day ceremony.

Monarchy is the natural order of things - which is why, as Ben Franklin grasped, the tricky bit about a republic is keeping it. Franklin didn't live to see how that panned out. He died in 1790, a year after the first inauguration, back when John Adams was proposing that George Washington be addressed as "Your Most Benign Highness." Instead, America gave a word to the world — the now-standard designation for a non-monarchical head of state: "President."

Over time the word has been remorselessly corrupted. Many presidencies are monarchical in all but name — Putin is known to his subjects as "Tsar," and Mubarak was "Pharaoh" — and some are even hereditary — the Kims in North Korea, the Assads in Syria. Even then, though, an actual monarchy has certain advantages, as the ructions of the Arab Spring have demonstrated. On the southern shore of the Mediterranean, the King of Morocco survived, while the presidents-for-life of Tunisia, Libya and Egypt all fell. Syria and Yemen imploded, while Jordan and the Gulf monarchies have held, so far.

For those citizens looking for a lighter touch from their rulers, there are Europe's non-executive presidents — the heads of state of Austria, Germany, Portugal, Italy that nobody beyond the borders can name but that seem to suit post-imperial powers in search of a quiet life: A republic is the phase that comes after dreams of national greatness have flown and the world stage has been abandoned to others. Indeed, as the suicidal response to the Continent's current invasion of "refugees" might suggest, the republic is a mere interlude before total civilizational collapse.

King Farouk's famous line was that in the end there would be only five monarchs left - the Kings of Hearts, Clubs, Spades and Diamonds, and the King of England. It's not quite down to that, but the House of Windsor's share of the market is certainly dominant. The Queen's various realms, from Canada to Tuvalu, Belize to Australia, outnumber all the remaining Continental monarchies put together. That level of survival would not have seemed such a sure thing upon Princess Elizabeth's birth in 1926, in the wake of the tumbling thrones of the Romanovs, Habsburgs and Osmans.

There have been moments in the last 63 years when one might have wished for a little more imagination from the Queen. But in an undeferential and unmonarchical age she has played a difficult hand very shrewdly. The picture at top right was taken by my beloved daughter during the Diamond Jubilee year. My little girl has met many celebrities, from Macaulay Culkin all the way to Lindsey Graham (at the local fair last month), but she thought the Queen was very "cool" in the way she didn't feel the need to work the room. What I liked that day was the way she didn't bother with the 40-car motorcade - just a vehicle in front of a couple of coppers, and one behind with another copper and a lady-in-waiting, all of whom would take a bullet for her, which I cannot reliably say of those Secret Service guys cavorting with their Cartagena hookers. At any rate, my daughter got within a foot of the Queen, which she'll never do with Obama or Hillary when they're conveyed by their motorcades to a simulacrum of a visit to an ice-cream parlor on Martha's Vineyard and the surrounding streets are closed and vacuumed of all non-credentialed persons. The citizen-executive has become, as Adams proposed, His Mostly Benign Highness: a distant, all-powerful sovereign — but kindly, and generous with his food stamps, if merciless with his IRS audits.

Monarchy is not to everyone's taste, of course, least of all the pundit class in Fleet Street. But it's interesting to note that their main objection to the Royal Family these days is not that they are an affront to the masses in a democratic age, but that they're way too popular. This is republicanism as class marker: Apparently, the only argument against an anachronistic, out-of-touch hereditary family ruling by divine right is that they appeal to the basest instincts of the proletariat. I remember, years ago, being told by a Hampstead intellectual that the problem with the Queen was that she was too middle class. Today, for Britain's elites, monarchy is simply too, too common. For most of the rest of us, by comparison with all the alternatives, Elizabeth II has been for 63 years about the least worst person to have to live under.

I have met the Queen a couple of times over the years - once in her frosty northern dominion, once in the imperial metropolis - so I've no idea what goes on in her head. But in this Diamond Jubilee column for the Speccie Down Under I channeled Franz Joseph to suggest her approach to the job:

The trick to monarchy is not queening it. In The Radetzky March, Joseph Roth's great novel of the Habsburg twilight, the Emperor Franz Joseph has it down to a tee:

'At times he feigned ignorance and was delighted when someone gave him a longwinded explanation about things he knew thoroughly... He was delighted at their vanity in proving to themselves that they were smarter than he ...for it does not behoove an emperor to be as smart as his advisers.'

At dinner in Melbourne and Sydney, as in Toronto and Montreal, I have sat next to clever, dazzling politicians — the coming men of the coming republic — mimicking Her Majesty's absurd voice and mocking her dreary stolidity. 'If people smirked behind his back, he pretended not to know about it,' wrote Roth of Franz Joseph. 'It does not behoove an emperor to compete with wags and sophisticates.' And a year or three later the coming men have come and gone, and there's the Queen, opening a hospital, touring a school.

Franz Joseph died in 1916, and his empire shortly thereafter. To Elizabeth II it has fallen to preside over a six-decade imperial sunset. Nobody wants to dwell on the only other Diamond Jubilee, back in 1897, when 46,000 troops from every corner of the Queen-Empress's dominions marched down the Mall led by Field Marshal Lord Roberts on the same steed that had carried him from Kabul to Kandahar in the Second Afghan War.

One hundred and fifteen Junes later, for the jubilee of Victoria's great-great-granddaughter, there are no Bengal Lancers, Cypriot mounted zapitehs or dayak headhunters from Borneo, and, although British, Canadian and Australian troops are still on the road from Kabul to Kandahar, nobody's very keen to bring up Afghanistan. The Queen will make do with a jubilee pop parade featuring Sir Cliff Richard, Sir Paul McCartney, Dame Shirley Bassey and (leading the Commonwealth caterwaulers) Dame-to-be Kylie Minogue. In lieu of baggy-pantalooned hausas from the Gold Coast, there will be the tightly-trousered Sir Tom Jones from the rhinestone lounges of Vegas; in place of the white kepis of the British Guiana Police, the ceremonial hairweave of Sir Elton John. It is not difficult to see the Royal house's two jubilees as bracketing a grim, remorseless, century-long decline.

And yet, and yet... the horseshoes along the Mall echo still. In the 2012 Heritage Foundation rankings of global economic freedom, eight of the top ten nations are current or former realms of the Crown, including the top four: Hong Kong, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand. So are about half of the 20 economies with the highest GDP per capita, and for large countries with populations over 20 million the top three is an Anglosphere sweep: Australia, Canada, the United States. Three-sevenths of the G7 are nations of British descent, and so are two-fifths of the permanent members of the UN Security Council. Of course, no record is unblemished, and in the fringes and fag-ends of empire lurk Gaza, Pakistan and Zimbabwe.

Nevertheless, from South Africa to India, today the key regional powers in almost every corner of the globe are British-derived — and, even among the lesser players, as a general rule you're better off for having been exposed to British rule than not: Why is Haiti Haiti and Barbados Barbados? Whatever part of the map you find yourself in, the surest guide to comparative rankings is which territories have been under the British Crown and which haven't.

The Queen could say all this, in one almighty blow-out Christmas message to remember, but it's not her style.

Is the monarchy anything to do with the unrivaled record of the Britannic inheritance? Working for the Free French in London during the war, Simone Weil found herself pondering why, among the European powers, only England had maintained 'a centuries-old tradition of liberty'. She was struck by the paradox of the Westminster system — that ultimate power is vested in one who cannot wield it in any practical sense. Endowing the sovereignty of the nation in an absentee monarch — as Australia does — is an even more exquisite refinement of the Weil theory: vesting power in its literal rather than merely political absence.

What Malcolm Turnbull objects to most — she doesn't live here! — is what I find most appealing. A minimalist monarchy is perhaps the most benign form of government one could devise — except that no hyper-rationalist would ever 'devise' such a thing at all.

And in the end the Queen gets something basic that most of her ministers, in their pursuit of modish fictions, don't. A couple of months back, someone sent me a photograph taken at an IPA event in Melbourne: yours truly with Tony Abbott, leader of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition in Canberra, and Daniel Hannan, leader of the far lonelier opposition to Eutopian fantasies in the European parliament. (I thought of releasing the photo with the headline 'Abbott Announces Surprise Reshuffle', but didn't want to jinx the next election.)

Dan Hannan was very taken by the painting we were standing in front of: the work of H. Septimus Power, it showed the men of the 6th Division of the Second Australian Imperial Force marching off to war in 1940. Understandably for a chap whose day job involves sitting in a legislature with members of the True Finns Party and the Bulgarian Attack Party, Dan is wont to wax rhapsodic about the Commonwealth and can occasionally sound as if he's one gin sling from putting on his sola topee and singing 'The Road to Mandalay'.

But he's not wrong. Technically, he, I and Mr Abbott are respectively subjects of Her Britannic Majesty, Her Canadian Majesty and Her Australian Majesty, who are, according to the constitutionalists, three entirely separate 'legal personalities'. But, after all these years, all the chipping away, they're not that separate. Abbott, Hannan and I are not foreign to each other, not in the way that Dan's fellow Euro-MPs from, say, the Slovak National Party are foreign to their Hungarian 'colleagues'. (Not so long ago, the Slovak party leader urged, 'Let's all get in tanks and go and flatten Budapest.')

Australians, Canadians and Britons are different but not foreign. Maybe one day we will be, and the world will be poorer for it. But for now, despite all the chipping away, something endures, and so our octogenarian sovereign carries on, waving a white-gloved hand at young befuddled subjects who've never known any other monarch and couldn't reliably explain the point of her.

As Joseph Roth wrote of the aged emperor, 'He allowed people their errors, and he believed less in the permanence of the world than did the wags who told jokes about him in his vast empire.' One day we will miss the Queen, and mourn the impermanence of the virtues she embodied. Vivat Regina.

Of course, the trickiest bit for any royal house is surviving an unsuitable heir. So on this historic day let me repeat: Vivat Regina. Long live the Queen.

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Mark Steyn is an international bestselling author, a Top 41 recording artist, and a leading Canadian human rights activist. His latest book is "The Undocumented Mark Steyn: Don't Say You Weren't Warned". (Buy it at a 32% discount by clicking here or order in KINDLE edition at a 50% discount by clicking here. Sales help fund JWR)

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