The Crown’s debut on US television in November 2016 was no coincidence. America had just elected a new president – crude, unstable, lawless, with a long history of sexual assault, fraud, and cheating. There was no impulse he didn’t indulge, no atrocity he didn’t commit, no tradition he wasn’t eager to trash.
I also found myself watching the life of a completely different head of state: a young woman in her twenties who was suddenly elevated to great responsibility and duties, surrounded by protocol, and disciplined. The new president barely made it through the day without provocation, insult, threat, or lies. Elizabeth Windsor was tasked with a role in her twenties that would require her to say or do nothing that could be misunderstood, controversial, or even humanly possible for the rest of her life.
Despite the incredible difficulty, almost every member of her family, including her husband, has failed to do so. We know of King III Charles’ many different opinions on various subjects, some quite commendable, others quite shameful. We know of Diana’s struggles with mental health; Philip’s reactionary outbursts; Harry’s trauma; Andrew’s debauchery; Margaret’s pains. We still don’t know anything like this about the Queen because whatever else her life was about, it wasn’t about her.
It’s hard to explain my grief, partly because it’s so rare to find someone who isn’t constantly imposing their limitations. Narcissism is everywhere. We’re expected to express every emotion we feel. Being open, transparent, and authentic – are our values. The idea that we have to prioritize and serve others above our own needs and feelings seems archaic. Elizabeth is just one example of keeping it alive.
Even in death, it is hard not to admire the many things – restraint, duty, dignity, silence, perseverance – that the Queen represented and which are now vanishing from the world. She was at the center of an idea of Englishness that helped define culture for the better, even if she remained an enigmatic, unlabeled sphinx throughout her life. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, flashy, or inspirational. She said nothing surprising. She was simply the Queen. She came. She carried on. She was there. She always will be.
Other royals have come and gone, but the same has remained. And what has happened in Britain – from the end of the Empire to Brexit – has remained the same. This is an almost inhuman success and requires discipline beyond that of most fans. A year ago, in 1992: a son, Andrew, divorced; his daughter-in-law Sarah Ferguson was caught naked in tabloid newspapers; his daughter Anne divorced; another son’s famous failed marriage to Charles dominated headlines, and his house burned down. Here’s how Their Majesties “carried on”:
It was not a year that I will look back on with any fondness, as was made clear by the words of one of my more sympathetic reporters: “This has been an ‘Annus Horribilis.'”
It was one icon, but not an idol. An idol requires the live expression of virtues, personality, and style. Diana was an idol – combining the allure of Hollywood with the vulnerability and defiance of a unique persona. And of course, Diana was much more beloved by her mother-in-law than in her own time; like a rock star, she was emotionally connected to ordinary people; but ultimately had to face the long-term consequences of exposure and fragmentation under the killing spotlight.
Elizabeth never aspired to be a part of the glitz and glamour of royalty. She didn’t follow in the footsteps of her predecessors by playing up to the traditional idea of popularity. She wasn’t known for her fiery wit like Queen Anne or her obsessive socializing like Margaret. The British public could have easily turned her into one of their campy divas. But she wasn’t. Elizabeth had a type of honesty that was unmatched and unrivaled.
You can put forward any strong arguments against a hereditary monarchy – but the purpose of a monarchy is definitely not to be the fruit of an argument. It is not an institution of the Enlightenment by any means. It is a primitive institution covertly inserted into a democratic system. It has nothing to do with merit or logic, and with authority and mystery – it is simply unable to safely satisfy two deep human needs in our modern world.
Crown, better alternatives to keep away these needs. None has expressed it better than CS Lewis: “In places where it is forbidden to honor a king, they instead honor millionaires, athletes, or movie stars; even infamous courtesans or gangsters. For just as the body’s nature must be served, so too must the soul’s nature be served; if you reject the food, you will eat poison.”
A crown is a symbol that represents something from the past, something that can’t be logically defended but is emotionally striking: the concept of a nation, something that gives meaning and happiness to its members. No matter how bad the economy is, how horrible the Prime Minister is, or how ugly the rhetoric is, the ruler always represents the nation. A living, breathing, mortal human being.
It’s hard to measure the importance of a deeply divided and ideologically charged world where people have started to see their enemies as enemies. But it’s important to remember that figures like Boris Johnson or Margaret Thatcher never represented or were expected to represent the entire nation, and what matters during times of violent polarization is that something is unifying. It’s important that, when the country is shut down during an outbreak, the queen follows the rules and can reference the phrase “we’ll meet again” that suddenly evokes days gone by. Even when Hitler’s bombs were falling from the sky, he and the Royal Family stayed in London during the Blitz.
Every Englishman has a memory like this. It is part of the consciousness of every family, touched our lives’ stories, and represented continuity and stability through decades of great change and upheaval. No American could ever experience such ease, such humanity, such patriotism in their own lives, let alone across centuries. Growing up studying the Normans, the Plantagenets, and the Tudors, they were not just the products of a distant past but deeply intertwined with the monarchy’s longevity and the nation’s survival as an enduring sovereign state – something no other European country can claim.