“I’m about to get upset, from watching my TV”
(Frank Zappa/She Drew the Gun, Trouble Every Day, 1966/2019)
The UK is supposed to be good at spectacle, particularly when it involves the royal family. Saturday’s coronation will certainly be a spectacle. Two of the arguments made for this particular spectacle are that it will unite the four nations of an increasingly disunited kingdom, and that it will demonstrate that unity to the outside world. I can see how important this aim might be, not just for King Charles but for the political establishment as a whole, at a time when the UK has cast itself adrift from Europe, when increasing numbers of Scots are seeking independence, and when a united Irish Republic is looking more possible.
Coronations centre on the monarch being crowned, and the Crown is at the centre of the British monarchy - so much so, that the monarchy is often referred to as ‘The Crown’, not least in the title of a recent Netflix TV drama. It is easy to downplay the importance of what Tom Nairn has called “the Crown mythology” in uniting the four nations of the UK. Writing in the 2011 forward to his book The Enchanted Glass, Nairn suggested that even back then, with this unity under threat, “the monarchy has become stressed to the limit: each new lapse or misfortune is accompanied by exaggerated flag-waving or over-rehearsed adulation.”
The coronation ceremony will be rooted in obscure tradition. But there will be innovation as well. It will include a gospel choir. Some of the bishops will be women. Although it will remain an Anglican service, representatives of other Christian denominations and other faiths will participate. And, alongside English, the Welsh, Scots Gaelic and Irish languages will be heard for the first time. Palace functionaries, realising the poor optics of having driven Meghan into exile, have clearly taken on board the diversionary potential of promoting ‘diversity and inclusion’.
The pledge of allegiance
One of the innovations will be the encouragement of what the Church of England calls “a chorus of millions” to swear a pledge of allegiance to the new King.
We are asked to create “a great cry around the nation and around the world’, saying out loud in unison to our TV sets:
”I swear that I will pay true allegiance to Your Majesty, and to your heirs and successors according to law. So help me God’”
And then, after a fanfare:
“God save King Charles. Long live King Charles. May the King live forever.”
This is both bizarre and sinister. We are meant to swear loyalty to a monarch who we think may never die. No matter what crimes he may commit in the future, or however much our views about monarchy may change, we will have promised never to remove him. And we are also supposed to be loyal to his successors, including Andrew - the unapologetic associate of convicted child sex offender Jeffrey Epstein who is, despite having been stripped of many of his titles, still number eight in the line of succession, eight rungs above Anne, his older, not criminally suspect, but female sibling.
I am reminded that the monarch is also the head of the Church of England. At a Church of England school, I was expected to be ‘confirmed’ at age 13. When I explained that I was not sure whether or not I had sufficient faith to be confirmed, I was told this didn’t matter, it’s just a form of words that you don’t have to agree with. I guess that is what will be said about the oath of allegiance - don’t fuss, it’s just a form of words that you repeat, you don’t have to believe them.
I’ve had enough of pledges that mean nothing, and words that tell lies. Words have consequences. The words of the pledge of allegiance would confirm me as the subject of a monarch, not as the citizen I would prefer to be.
I had been intending to watch the coronation ceremony on TV. Not as a closet royalist, but to make sense of the puzzlement I felt as a child at the time of the previous coronation in 1953 . So many unresolved questions. Why had I been encouraged to assemble a golden coach from cardboard cut-outs and display it on the sideboard? Why were my parents in such a hurry to order this new-fangled box, a TV set? Why were so many relatives and neighbours crammed into the living room to peer at blurred images on a tiny screen? Why did my father take a photo of an image on that screen? And why was I given a coronation mug - a present, I was told, from the Queen herself?
When I learnt of the pledge of allegiance, I knew there was no way I could say this pledge to the TV. And I realised that something had snapped. I’d had enough. I could no longer bear to watch any of it.
The Coronation Big Lunch
What about Sunday’s ‘Coronation Big Lunch’, that is supposed to bring communities together throughout the kingdom? My neighbourhood’s event will revolve around a hog roast. Typically monarchical, I suppose, but not something that is inclusive of vegans like myself. Nor, I imagine, of many others who respect animals. And certainly not inclusive of the pig.