Facing our multiple realities

'September 8th 2022. 96-year-old woman dies. Wife, mother, grandmother'. A simple obituary note, but the symbolism attached to this death, this person, is as significant as is possible to have in a modern society.

Scanning Hansard reports from Parliament, we are invited to believe that the late Queen, that most dutiful of monarchs, justifies a special entry in the history books, the 'devoted servant of her People' who, with gentle smile and gracious ways, is emblazoned on our collective memories. Elizabeth II as a rock on which modern Britain was built, an icon of what Britain stands for. Others said she reigned not only over us, but alongside us, sharing in our hopes and fears, our joy and pain, our good times and bad. In his contribution, Tony Blair portrays her as matriarch of this nation.

Growing up in a household devoted to the monarchy, I know too well that such sentiments are not confined to politicians or public figures, but run deep throughout the land. It is as fascinating as it is real: emotion, affection, identification, gratitude. Does this rest upon an archetype? Do many seek the enchantment or magic provided by such a figure? Or, is it the product of learned, and much-reinforced, socialisation? The flow of tributes and convergence of press, media, in public and private bodies, tend to add to the imagery of one nation, united in grief, sworn to respect. I have encountered some, usually indifferent to matters royal, even experience guilt at not having the feelings they are meant to have. 

Whatever one's response, or non-response, to the news of 8 September 2022, and in the days thereafter, let it not be forgotten that there is no one nation, nor a single vision of events.

Interpellation is, according to philosopher Louis Althusser, a powerful social mechanism which 'call us' and offers a particular identity, as the 'good, loyal subjects' in this case. How interesting that not a single politician averred to contrary views. The assumption of a shared mood was pervasive, with even Mental Health Trusts acting in a command mode, top-down, opening condolence books, pausing public events, AGM's, even issuing bereavement advice. Interpellation is not artificial and, for countless people, is completely natural. Like hushed BBC commentaries, those devoted to what the late Queen represents, feel reverence and express quiet respect, added to which is 'reflection', another term that figures large in the discourse of mourning. In the poetry of Simon Armitage, in 'Queenhood', 'it is law and lore, the dream life and the documentary, a truthful fantasy'.   

Indifference. By virtue of its nature, social indifference is hard to research, made up of the stuff that shows no interest, enjoys what it enjoys and invites no extras. It is easy to categorise certain social attitudes as a problem, signifying an absence of concern, much as apathy was once seen as sinful, and later, was re-defined as a deficit state, 'without feeling'. However, those indifferent to one matter (e.g. the late Queen) have no shortage of passions and other concerns to be getting on with: shopping, having a drink, being with loved ones, sport, writing poetry, walking, anything. A person indifferent, say, to the funeral, may be far from indifferent to the inconvenience caused by the suspension of normal life. Others, indifferent maybe, might have joined in the events, not so much for royalty but from a sense of occasion, patriotism, or projected grief. Surveys suggest, however, that indifference – rather than a rise in republican support – is chiefly responsible for downturns in the popularity of the royal family. In short, for those indifferent, the obituary note makes perfect sense: A 96-year-old woman dies. End of.    

No commentary is neutral, and my colours are of a republican hue. But I do not idealise republicanism. Presidents often adopt the garb, symbols and extravagance of Royal power, although there are good examples of modest presidencies as well instances of reduced royal families. At this point in time, however, republicans feel a threatened minority, silenced at work and unable to protest with any confidence on UK streets. If royalty survives by 'being noticed over and over', in the words of social psychologist Michael Billig, republicans suffer the reverse and are demoralised in the face of an avalanche of tributes and universal coverage.

There is also fury, magnified by the repression of alternative views, a fury with which I identify: royalty as grotesque in their privilege, symbol not of sustaining values but of extreme inequality, enjoying exemption from laws and common principles, and deeply devoted, not so much to 'their People', but to the continuation of their entitlement. Was the funeral the most fitting farewell to selfless Majesty? Or the closing expression of unelected, establishment power which meant that NHS appointment were lost, food banks closed, education halted, whilst world statespeople polluted the skies to gather in a banquet? During the days of mourning, a patient described gnawing worries about affording a school uniform, including 'extras' like football boots, whilst one King-in-waiting moves to a third (or more?), 'no frills' house in Windsor, and who spends tens of thousands, each year, just on the schooling of his children.

Whatever one's response, or non-response, to the news of 8 September 2022, and in the days thereafter, let it not be forgotten that there is no one nation, nor a single vision of events. Time to face a multiple reality.