The End of an Era: Examining the Uncertain Future of a Dis-United Kingdom
The day after HM Queen Elizabeth II died, I found myself in an Anglican church in Rome. A monochromatic photo of the late monarch was displayed on the church’s exterior which piqued my interest. Despite not being Anglican, nor religious for that matter, and certainly not a monarchist, I decided to enter the church. I was greeted by a Canadian vicar who pointed me towards a book of condolence and a number of votive candles that had been laid out. Knowing that all I could possibly bring myself to write would be tantamount to pro-republican vandalism, perhaps even desecration given the religious and quasi-funerary setting, and that lighting a candle while imbued with such an anti-monarchical and anti-clerical spirit would likely constitute blasphemy of the highest order, I decided to sit down on the pews and engage in quiet contemplation instead.
This contemplation brought about mixed emotions. I could not truthfully say that I was mourning the Queen’s death, as I was not overtaken with sorrow, at least not more than would be the case with anyone else with whom I did not share a strong attachment. I did acknowledge the importance of her death, however: I recognised that unlike any other death, it likely had a profound impact on billions of lives, and that there would probably never be another death like it in my lifetime. And yet, as I accepted her passing, I discerned a far more important death that loomed on the horizon, that of British culture and the British state.
See, Britain, or at least, the United Kingdom, is a relatively modern invention. Though the Kingdoms of Scotland and England (and by extension Wales) had been ruled by the same monarch since 1603, the Kingdoms were only officially united in 1707, with Ireland not being brought into the fold until 1801. Even then, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland that we know today only dates as far back as 1922 when the Irish Free State won its independence. The only constant throughout this time has been the Crown. Even the Anglican religion which the British monarch heads is not the official religion of Scotland where the presbyterian Church of Scotland is dominant. This is all to say, the end of the monarchy would effectively strip the British state of any meaning, and although the death of Queen Elizabeth II doesn’t necessarily signal the death of the monarchy, it strips it of a kind of continuity that has acted as the monarchy’s lifeblood and at times direly needed life-support as the institution has had to grapple with the changing attitudes of the modern British public.
I have often heard otherwise liberal-minded folk say something along the lines of “I’m not a monarchist, but Queen Elizabeth really brings this country together” or “I don’t support the monarchy in principle, but I think the Queen has done such a good job at heading the country that it would be foolish to get rid of it.” And just as often these people would follow-up their statements with an important caveat: “I really don’t like Prince Charles, however” or “I just don’t see him being a good King”. In bygone times, long before Queen Elizabeth II’s accession to the throne, the succession of the crown was an expected thing and the institution of the monarchy was an indisputable and permanent fixture (save for a certain Cromwellian insurrection). Now, however, the monarchy exists only as a function of its popularity and perceived success, making the Queen’s passing and the accession of the much less popular Charles III a time for renewed scrutiny of the monarchy and a potential catalyst for Republican reform. Of course, King Charles has now reigned for little over half a year without any major hiccoughs – with the exception of the occasional heckle and protest, and even two separate egging incidents.
Although his popularity is underwhelming, especially when compared to that of his late mother, it is unlikely that Britons will forcibly oust King Charles – after all he is far more popular than any British politician, the most popular at the end of 2022 being Boris Johnson who is liked by just 35% of Britons. Instead, if Charles fails to inspire the same unity and loyalty to the Crown as his mother did, support for the monarchy will simply fizzle out. While the monarchy might continue to exist in name, its unifying effect on the country will continue to diminish as younger less-monarchist-inclined generations make up larger percentages of the population. This would further chip away at the stability of the union which has already been significantly weakened by Brexit, and which looks set to suffer from growing political infighting between Westminster and the increasingly devolved national parliaments – at least, if the DUP’s reluctance to accept the Windsor Framework, the Scottish Gender Recognition Row and the SNP leadership contest are anything to go by.
Of course, many might still argue that some form of British state can survive the collapse of the monarchy, or at least its increasing irrelevance and decreasing esteem. In fact, they might argue that the monarchy is already completely irrelevant in keeping the union together, that since the Acts of Union, Britons have collectively cultivated a unique and unifying British culture that exists independent of the crown. But is this really true? What makes Britain British, if it isn’t the monarchy or its imperial legacy? Is it a certain Christian identity whose principal Anglican form in Britain is entirely reliant on the monarchy which leads it, and which becomes all the more irrelevant to modern Britain as the share of non-practicing, irreligious and non-Christian Britons grows? Is it tea and crumpets, or any other ultimately trivial culinary concoction often imported from Britain's former empire, and usually indicative of a certain region or class rather than of the country as a whole? Is it, perhaps, a certain demeanour or character of the British people – a stiff upper lip, a penchant for groaning and an inability to sincerely apologise or really convey any positive human emotion at all which we like to play off as some warped form of politeness and great Churchillian stoicism? Is it the English language, a language that has forcibly supplanted the native Celtic languages of Scotland, Wales and Ireland, and is present virtually all across the globe? Granted, this is a rather cynical view of British culture, but the truth is that cultures often rely on a set of shared history and traditions, and when it comes to British culture as opposed to English, Scottish, Welsh or Irish cultures in their own right, most of our shared history and traditions are defined by the monarchy that united us and the empire which that monarchy used to lead.
In fact, most Britons don’t even identify as British first. They either prioritise their individual national identities or put it on equal footing with their British identity. In Scotland, for example, a 2020 study by Opinium found that 57% of Scots identify as “more Scottish than British”. This same study found that 40% of Welsh people identify as “more Welsh than British,” compared with only 28% feeling “more British than Welsh” despite Wales being subject to English rule since the 13th century. A more recent study found that in Northern Ireland, there is an almost equal three-way split between people who identify as “Irish”, “Northern Irish” and “British,” with British identity on the decline. Truthfully, the only bastion of British identity is in London with British Identity being most espoused by immigrants and their descendents who are less likely to have long-standing and deep-rooted connections to any individual constituent country of the UK and thus are unsurprisingly in a unique position to adopt a more generalised “British” culture. In fact, a quick google image search of British culture reveals a smorgasbord of distinctly London-based cultural artefacts like red telephone boxes, black London taxi cabs, double decker buses, various London landmarks, and of course, the Queen and her guards.
This then begs the question: as independence movements grow and national identities and attitudes to the monarchy shift, will the end of the second Elizabethan age signal the eventual collapse of the British state and force an abandonment or redefinition of British culture?
Perhaps. Of course, it is unlikely to play out so simply. Attitudes towards the monarchy are but one component of the union’s stability, likely overshadowed by Brexit, natural resource distribution, economic inequality and a whole host of other issues driving a wedge between England and the rest of the UK. But the monarchy’s growing irrelevance and the increasing dissatisfaction or even simply apathy towards it should provoke serious reflection on what it means to be British, reflection which would have to concede that British identity is far less substantive than what it appears to be.
Personally, while I think the collapse of both the monarchy and union, at least in their current form, are inevitable, these developments are not necessarily something that we should fear or regret. Instead, we must look upon these developments with a sense of optimism. We must either accept the disestablishment of the union and endeavour to promote local cultures and cooperative bonds between the new nations, or craft an entirely new conception of British identity divorced from the vestiges of religion or monarchy. And that’s all to say, I spent a long time in that Anglican church.