Queen Elizabeth II seemed to understand instinctively that the monarchy represented something greater than the individual occupying the throne. Her reign was characterised by duty, restraint, continuity and a deeply held Christian faith. She rarely felt the need to explain herself. Her example was her message. Charles is a different personality. He has spent much of his life expressing opinions, championing causes and seeking to influence the direction of society. These qualities may be admirable in a campaigning Prince of Wales, but I wonder whether they are equally appropriate in a reigning monarch.
Defender of the Faith – or Defender of Faiths?
The question of Christianity particularly troubles me. For more than a thousand years, Christianity has helped shape British civilisation, influencing our laws, customs, charitable institutions and understanding of moral responsibility. In 1994, Charles expressed a preference for being regarded as a defender of faith rather than exclusively Defender of the Faith. He later clarified that he could retain the traditional title while protecting the freedom of other religions. His coronation oath remained Christian, and he continues to be Supreme Governor of the Church of England. Nevertheless, I wonder whether his broader approach signals a change in the monarchy’s spiritual emphasis.
There is an important distinction between respecting other faiths and treating all religious traditions as interchangeable. Religious freedom is essential, but it should not require us to diminish our own inheritance. To be fair, Elizabeth II also believed that the established Church had a responsibility to protect the freedom of other religions. She made this clear in a speech at Lambeth Palace in 2012. The difference, as I perceive it, is one of emphasis. Elizabeth appeared to approach religious tolerance from the secure foundation of her own Christian convictions. Charles seems more inclined to emphasise religious diversity itself. Perhaps this distinction is more apparent than real, but it leaves me uneasy. I would rather see a monarch who is confidently Christian while extending friendship, respect and protection to people of every faith and none.
Where Are the Christian Leaders?
My concerns extend beyond the monarchy to the Church itself. When I look for clear Christian leadership among the bishops, I am frequently disappointed. Too often, senior church figures seem more comfortable adopting the language of contemporary social movements than explaining the distinctive teachings of Christianity. The Church must certainly engage with modern society. Christianity has always addressed poverty, injustice, compassion and human dignity. But there is a difference between applying Christian principles to contemporary problems and allowing prevailing fashions to determine those principles.
The much-used word ‘woke’ describes, at least in one of its meanings, an institutional tendency to place approved opinions above independent thought. I find myself sympathetic to J. K. Rowling in the controversy surrounding biological sex and gender identity. Her insistence that biological sex matters, particularly in relation to women’s rights, has brought fierce criticism. At the same time, transgender people deserve dignity and protection from discrimination. Surely it should be possible to discuss such questions without treating disagreement as a moral offence. What troubles me is the shrinking space in which reasonable people can express differing opinions. A church that loses confidence in its own teachings risks becoming little more than a reflection of contemporary society. I fear that the monarchy could face a similar danger.
Lessons from Earlier Monarchs
These reflections led me to consider earlier kings whose reigns were overshadowed by personal difficulties. George III, who reigned from 1760 until 1820, suffered recurring episodes of severe mental illness. By 1811, his condition had deteriorated so seriously that his son became Prince Regent. His illness was once attributed to porphyria, although more recent researchers have questioned that explanation, with some suggesting bipolar disorder. His difficulties were memorably portrayed in The Madness of King George.
Charles II, known as the Merry Monarch, was altogether different. Intelligent, witty and politically resourceful, he understood the importance of navigating the religious and political divisions of his time, even if his private life was hardly a model of conventional morality. Henry VI suffered a prolonged mental collapse in 1453 and became unable to govern effectively. His troubled reign contributed to the instability surrounding the Wars of the Roses. These examples remind us that the monarchy has survived rulers with serious personal limitations and political difficulties. Charles III faces a different challenge. My concern is not about his mental capacity but about his judgement, priorities and interpretation of the monarchy’s responsibilities.
What Will William Inherit?
I wonder what sort of monarchy Prince William will eventually inherit. Elizabeth II provided continuity through seventy years of extraordinary change. Her strength lay partly in her willingness to remain above the arguments of the day. She represented stability in a world that seemed increasingly unstable. Charles, by contrast, appears more anxious to engage with the changing world and demonstrate that the monarchy is relevant to it. But relevance is not necessarily the same as leadership. The monarchy’s special value lies in representing something enduring: duty, service, continuity and a connection with the nation’s history. If these qualities become obscured by the desire to accommodate every contemporary expectation, William may inherit a formidable task.
Perhaps Charles will ultimately be judged more favourably than I presently expect. His emphasis on religious coexistence may be regarded as a necessary response to a changing society rather than a departure from tradition. I remain unconvinced, although I recognise that he and his mother shared more common ground on religious freedom than is sometimes acknowledged. My central concern is that Charles may be changing the balance between preserving the monarchy’s identity and adapting it to modern expectations.
Elizabeth II seemed to believe that the monarchy served the nation best by remaining firmly rooted in its traditions. Charles appears to believe that its survival depends upon demonstrating its relevance to a changing society. These approaches need not be incompatible, but the balance between them is crucial. A person can welcome others without forgetting who he is. Surely a nation can do the same.
The monarchy has survived for centuries because it has provided a thread of continuity through the changing circumstances of British life. My question is whether Charles III is strengthening that thread or, with the best of intentions, allowing it to unravel. And if it does unravel, will William be able to weave it together again?
