Yes. I think **Futile Gesture ** is pointing out that Elizabeth II does not carry the title Queen of England. Rather she is Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Queen of Australia etc.
The Queen gives effect to all legislation by giving the royal assent. She also has an important constitutional role to play when she has to decide whom to choose to commission a new government after each general election. Normally this isn’t difficult since she will ask the leader of the party that has a majority in the House of Commons to form a government. However, in the event of a hung parliament where it may be necessary to form a coalition government, it is the Queen’s role to assess the situation and choose the party leader who is most likely to be able to command the support of the House.
The monarch’s role in Australia is pretty much symbolic, with all of her duties being carried out by her vice-regal representative the Governor-General. It’s worth noting though that the monarch is a formal part of the Commonwealth Parliament according to the Australian Constitution, the first section of which states:
The legislative power of the Commonwealth shall be vested in a Federal Parliament, which shall consist of the Queen, a Senate, and a House of Representatives, and which is hereinafter called “The Parliament”, or “The Parliament of the Commonwealth”.
I am an advocate of constitutional monarchy. (Although the local flavor here is not to my taste.)
While the monarch gets some public money, he also performs some public roles and accepts control by the public.
Ideally, he is the personification of the state, government and culture. King Hussain of Jordan was an exceptional representative of his people on the world stage. He is the custodian of certain cultural relics, the crown jewels, the royal palace, certain wildlands, depending on which country we are talking about. Ideally he leads his people in non-political ways such as charity and example.
In times of political upheaval, he serves as a stabilizing influence (as during the Nazi occupation).
While a monarchy is an odd and old-fashioned form of government, not all old-fashioned and old things are without merit. Some are old because they have withstood the test of time.
Let me say I’m not a monarchist in the sense that I think it’s a system that other countries should adopt; but, for those democratic countries (such as mine) that already have a monarchy, I think there are reasons to keep it that aren’t necessarily outweighed by the reasons to give it up.
Why “although”? Seems to me that the Saudi monarchy isn’t a very constitutional one. Isn’t Saudi Arabia one of the few absolute (more or less) monarchies left?
Oddly, our local King is not as absolute as I would want to be if we changed places. They have backed down on a number of (unimportant) issues. Further the King operates under Sharia law which serves as our local constitution.
I believe in the Gulf you have rule by a king or (more commonly) emir whose clan rules with the consent of a number of clan and familial groups who have to more or less approve. In extreme cases an emir can get the boot, as happened in Qatar a decade ago. There are politics of a sort, but certainly not as we know them, and the pace is glacial.
The modern Saudi monarchy system is less than 100 years old; it seems common throughout the world that monarchs like to give the impression that many of the traditions and customs surrounding them date back centuries (engendering authority through an appeal to cultural memory), when in fact a lot of them have been cobbled together or invented out of whole cloth fairly recently. One good example seems to be the British coronation rites, which no one seemed to know how to do when Victoria eventually died. What we see now connected to royal processions isn’t even a century old and is half for tourism.
Bad example. The fact that almost no one around in 1901-2 could themselves remember what had been done in 1837 meant that an enormous amount of antiquarian research was carried out to discover exactly how coronations had been organised in the past. That is why most of the standard scholarly editions of the records relating to English coronations date from that period. Those records, some of which are very detailed, told them pretty much everything they needed to know.
This is one reason of why many historians now feel that the Cannadine ‘invention of tradition’ thesis, especially in its more popularised forms, has been rather overstated; some of Cannadine’s examples should more properly be classed as antiquarian revivals.
I think it’s a good example:
I’m not picking on Britain, by the by, we do the same thing here sometimes. Betsy Ross was an unknown throughout Abraham Lincoln’s whole life; I doubt he’d ever heard of her. And just try telling the average American how recent the Pledge of Allegience is…! :rolleyes:
But those are just further bad examples.
As if royal ceremonies had never existed in the ‘context of international competition’. For centuries ceremony had been used as a form of diplomatic oneupmanship. It is now something of a cliche in the vast academic literature on courtly display that European rulers down the ages have used ceremony as much to impress rival courts as their own subjects.
Music was regularly commissioned for royal occasions long before the early twentieth century. This was no more an innovation in Elgar’s day than it had been in those of Purcell or Handel. Nor did the clergy begin ‘to dress up as they had not before’; they re-introduced the wearing of copes as part of the much wider and self-conscious revival of older styles of liturgical dress.
That actually tells us more about changing fashions in the style of memoir-writing than it does about the scale of royal preparations. Behind-the-scenes detail becomes more common generally, whether or not it happens to be about royal events.
And yet…
The thing is that there are good examples of traditions invented by the British monarchy in the twentieth century, most of which Cannadine spotted and some of which the article you linked does discuss. But then I was very careful to say that his thesis was ‘rather overstated’, ‘especially in its more popularised forms’. This is not an either/or issue. Some royal ceremonies were invented and some were not. Nor should ‘invention’ be assumed to be a simple, obvious concept. It exists in degrees. It is also a matter of interpretation, both at the time and now. Those interpretations can be contested, again both then and now. And the British coronation ceremony is still the worst example of all, as every expert agrees that it is the obvious case of a royal ceremony much of which is indeed genuinely ancient.
I say this as someone who thinks that the ‘invention of tradition’ approach has been one of the most fruitful of all historiographical developments since the publication of the Hobsbawm and Ranger volume twenty-two years ago. The highly fluid nature of historical memory and of oral tradition is something I’ve argued around here more times than I care to remember. The irony is that Cannadine’s essay, the best-known piece from that collection and the one that has seeped through into some parts of the popular consciousness, is also the most problematic. Other historians, most notably William Kuhn, have challenged it. What Cannadine most underestimated was the extent to which, for all their inventiveness, royal impresarios such as Lord Esher (a.k.a. Reginald Brett) were drawing on a highly developed antiquarian tradition which meant that, more often than not, they were reviving, reinvigorating or reimagining genuine traditions.