Get ready for King Charles, the monarch who
speaks his mind
Simon
Jenkins
He has described as ‘appalling’ the Tories’ plans to
deport asylum seekers to Rwanda. Don’t expect him to change
Mon 13 Jun
2022 18.03 BST
The government’s decision to deport asylum
seekers to Rwanda faces more serious opposition than from the Prince of Wales.
It has come from international lawyers, Amnesty International, civil service
unions, the weight of liberal opinion and now the court of appeal. Even so, for
the prince to reportedly declare the prime minister’s policy on migration to be
“appalling” is unusual. Is it significant?
The answer is no. A mountain of constitutional
pomposity envelops Britain’s monarchy, as if stepping an inch out of line
presages a republican coup. Prince Charles is not the monarch and even if he
were, he would have no power over policy. He may generate a headline or two
when an aide or friend breaks confidence in anonymous collusion with a
newspaper. In the Rwanda case, widespread support for the prince is due to the
fact that many people happen to agree with him. But anyway – so what?
Heirs to the throne have no duty other than to
stay alive. The thesis put forward by the constitutional historian Vernon
Bogdanor that they “must never say or do anything that would embarrass” the
monarch is mere public relations. It has long been breached, notably by the
heirs to Queen Victoria and to virtually every one of the Georges, not least
the future Edward VIII during the Great Depression. Prince Charles has long
voiced opinions on matters as diverse as architecture, medicine and the
environment. He has strong views and mostly steers them clear of partisan
politics, except perhaps for his reputed (private) enthusiasm for the Social
Democratic party in the 1980s. Somehow monarchy retains its dignity, even amid
the harmless, B-movie “thank you” of this month’s jubilee celebrations.
Which leaves open how the prince as king means
to interpret the full range of Bagehot’s constitutional duties imposed on the
monarch, to “counsel, encourage and warn”. He has adamantly asserted that as
monarch he will be detached from politics. In appointing ministers, summoning
parliaments and signing bills, he must do so robotically, without substance or
discretion. Should the monarch refuse on principle to sign a bill, as in Mike
Bartlett’s 2014 drama King Charles III, he knows he would have to abdicate.
Meanwhile he can hardly hope to keep his views on current affairs entirely to
himself, running the occasional risk of a broken confidence.
Perhaps as king, Charles might risk a new
deal. There are rumours that he hopes to reduce the scale of the disparate
royal family and its establishment. The flummery of monarchy as a military
costume drama is outdated, as is the extent of its private London estate.
Outdated, too, is the rejection of retirement, now customary for monarchies
across Europe.
In return for a long-overdue modernisation,
Charles might choose to play a more active role in “counselling, encouraging
and warning”. He has long contributed to the cultural and intellectual life of
the nation. Given a new informality and a reduced profile, he could reasonably
trespass on to some of the issues now upheaving the nation that he clearly
holds dear. He would have no power of decision and no influence beyond that of
debate. I am sure monarchy would survive the shock.
Simon Jenkins is a Guardian columnist
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