The right time is now

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For monarchists, there is, apparently, never a ‘right’ time to talk about the question of monarchy vs republic. Whilst one monarch reigns for 70 years, it is an issue which can be deferred until she dies; when she dies, such a debate would be disrespectful; and when a new monarch is crowned, it is disloyal and unpatriotic to raise the issue. That takes us back to the start point where there is an unchallengeable reigning incumbent albeit without the 70 years of reigning, even if he has been busy cutting ribbons and opening things. And so the issue goes largely undebated and life carries on. Few boats are rocked.

Those who support the idea that the head of state should be a hereditary position argue that it gives us a degree of stability under the late queen and the current king that we would not have with an elected president. They often posit the choice between the late queen and a recent political villain of choice – Trump, say, or Blair. Reducing the choice to named individuals might make it easier to opt for the monarch of the day, but it’s a verbal sleight of hand. There are other potential presidents. Presidency can be executive or ceremonial; assuming them to be the same thing is a deliberate attempt at deception. It is more realistic to suggest that the choice could be between a hereditary monarch and a president such as Michael Higgins of Ireland. And there are also other royals. It is by accident of birth that we now have King Charles rather than King Andrew. Whilst a choice between two billionaires such as Charles and Trump might lead many to prefer Charles, I strongly suspect that were the choice to be between Andrew and Michael Higgins, supporters of hereditary appointments might rapidly find themselves in a minority. But choosing between the two options on the basis of which individuals might end up in the job is, in any event, a poor argument for one system over the other. Even if it’s the best argument that the monarchists have. Especially if it’s the best argument that the monarchists have.

It's true, of course, that in a republic we could end up with the ‘wrong’ person in the job. It’s also true that in a monarchy we could end up with the ‘wrong’ person in the job. But in the first case, there is a mechanism for removal at a subsequent election whilst in the second, there is not. We potentially have to wait 70 years (although not for the current incumbent, obviously, despite the call as part of the crowning ceremony that he should live forever). Elections can get it ‘wrong’ - democracy allows us to make bad choices as well as good ones. But whether a choice is good or bad is in the eye or mind of the beholder; it’s not an absolute. Surprisingly, not everyone agrees that Johnson was a disaster, for example. And it is, at least, our choice in a way that hereditary succession is not.

“Not my King” has become a popular slogan of late, and in the sense that none of us chose him, it’s true. We are, though, his subjects, whether we like it or not. As the Archbishop of the established church in England made clear in the ceremony on Saturday, he consecrated Charles as “King over the peoples, whom the Lord your God has given you to rule and govern”. And whilst the Church holds sway only in England, the people given to Charles by god, according to the archbish, include those in Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland as well as sundry other remnants of conquest. The idea that we are ‘given’ to a monarch as subjects to be ruled over is a fiction, of course. But it’s a fiction which goes to the very heart of the English constitution. The authority of parliament and the government stems from the crown not from the people; it stems from the fiction that they rule in the name of and on behalf of the Protestant Christian god; and it's a fiction of which last Saturday’s events rather forcefully reminded us.

It’s often argued that, for practical purposes on a day to day basis, ditching the monarch for an elected and purely ceremonial president would make little difference to most of us. If it were possible to make such a simple single change, that would be true. But from an establishment perspective – and there is little difference between the Tories and Labour on this issue – a debate on converting the UK to a republic is a very large can of worms. Challenging the fiction at the centre of the constitution challenges a great deal more which is taken for granted. It isn’t just about who fills the role of head of state and how he or she is chosen – it’s about the relationship between the people and power, and about on whose behalf actions are taken. It’s actually a very big deal – and a long overdue change.

Splashing the cash

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From a republican perspective, the results of a poll showing that 54% of people in Wales would vote to keep the monarchy whilst 23% would vote for a republic is not at all a bad starting point on an issue which is barely discussed publicly and in relation to which the media and the main political parties relentlessly promote the status quo. And, interestingly, it’s far from clear that even all those who support the continuation of the monarchy are over-impressed by the cost to the public purse, with just over half saying that the monarchy should pay for the coronation out of their own resources. That said, it’s probably the case that attitudes to Saturday’s events probably reflect attitudes to the institution, and that the overall level of enthusiasm is rather less than the BBC and media would have us believe.

There have been some wild claims as to just how much of a boost the UK economy will get as a result of the jamboree, with the palace repeating claims that the benefit could be up to £1.25 billion. That looks a bit like a politician’s statistic to me (92.8% of which, like the figure of 92.8% itself, are made up on the spot to support whatever argument is being advanced at the time). It’s certainly true that a lot of tourists like to visit royal sites and palaces – whether that number would rise or fall if the occupants were cleared out and the whole of the building made available for public view is an open question. Royal history without the royals might turn out to be a surprisingly lucrative proposition.

One rather more specific claim has been that pubs will gain from a £120 million spending splurge over the weekend. The basis of that claim is uncertain to say the least – the workings haven’t been reported – but, for the sake of argument, let’s suppose that it’s true. The question, then, is ‘is that a boost to the economy overall?’, and the answer to that depends on where the money is coming from. If people are smashing open their piggy banks, or pulling the money from under the mattress or wherever else they’ve been hiding it, then the expenditure will indeed boost the economy overall. If, on the other hand, they’re merely spending money which might otherwise have been spent in the supermarket or on other leisure activities, then the ‘boost’ to one sector of the economy is matched by a hit to one or another different sector. In a time when people are struggling with the cost of living, the second scenario seems rather more likely than the first.

It has been reported that the cost of staging the event to the public purse will be around £100 million. Again, I haven’t seen the workings, but am prepared to accept the figure for the sake of argument. The same question arises – where does this money come from? Given that the government keep telling us that the cupboard is bare, it won’t be coming from Rishi Sunak’s piggy bank, or from under his mattress (although the tax authorities might usefully take a peek anyway to see what might be there and where it came from). And in the absence of any announcement of cuts elsewhere, it isn’t obviously going to impact other spending. In terms of the government’s overall spending, it’s a tiny drop in the ocean, but the likelihood is that it is effectively going to increase, marginally, the current year’s deficit. And that highlights one of the key differences between government spending and household spending – the government can, and almost invariably does, spend money which it hasn’t actually got. The result is that spending £100 million of extra government money on a coronation provides a real boost to the overall economy in a way which transferring £120 million of private money from supermarkets to pubs does not.

That doesn’t mean that I’m advocating spending £100 million on a pointless and archaic ceremony; I can think of plenty of better ways of spending that money. I’m more interested in the general lesson here, which is that government spending which increases the budget deficit boosts the economy; and its corollary, which is that ‘austerity’ (cutting government spending to reduce the deficit/debt) dampens the economy. That doesn’t mean that governments can or should run ever bigger deficits (there are other mechanisms, such as a lack of resources and a consequent increase in inflation which impose constraints on that, although despite all the posturing by politicians about percentages of GDP the simple truth is that no-one knows with any certainty where the limits lie). It simply means that when growth is weak, deficit-funded government expenditure can boost it, and that the time to reduce deficits is when growth is strong. There’s nothing new about that, it's something which has been known and understood for many decades. The tragedy is that we have a government which, for largely ideological reasons (and to protect the interests of the wealthiest, which may well amount to the same thing) tries to pretend that the opposite is true, and a main opposition party which is so keen to prove its fiscal responsibility that it’s even keener on taking action likely to dampen rather than promote growth.

Trend-setting

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In his farewell speech to Barbados, Charlie Windsor said that “the creation of this republic offers a new beginning”. He’s right, of course. We can only hope that the idea catches on – there are a few monarchical states a lot closer to home that could do with just such a new beginning.

Keeping it a secret

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On Monday, the Western Mail published an English version of an article previously written for Barn by Professor Richard Wyn Jones, in which he called for Plaid Cymru to embrace republicanism in the light of the debacle over the renaming on the Second Severn Crossing. 

One of the points that he made was that “Plaid Cymru may not be a republican party but it is a party of republicans”.  In my own experience, that’s entirely true; Plaid’s members are overwhelmingly of a republican bent.  It’s not unanimous though; there are some who, for various reasons other than short term pragmatism support the continuation of the current monarchy, and a few who want the restoration of a Welsh monarchy.  Prof. Jones’ basic point, though, is sound.  Despite the lack of complete unanimity on the question, the logic of seeking independence under a system which continues to locate sovereignty, even symbolically, in the capital of another country has always escaped me.

And a second point which he makes, which is that “…it’s more than likely that most of the Welsh electorate (mistakenly) think that this [republicanism] is already the party’s stance” is also probably true, although I’m not completely convinced that many electors (other than those already persuaded one way or the other about republicanism) have given enough thought to the question for me to be as certain about this second point.

Let’s accept, however, that both points are valid, the question that obviously arises is ‘why be so shy on the issue?’  I can think of two apparently good reasons, and they are reasons which led me over many years to be equally shy on the issue; the question now is whether, as Prof. Jones suggests, the time has come to be less shy. 

The first reason is that whilst Plaid’s membership may be, by and large, instinctively republican, the same is not true for those electors who support the party in elections, let alone for the wider electorate as a whole.  And given that retaining the English monarch as head of state has not significantly restricted the independence of countries such as Canada, why conflate the two issues of independence and republicanism?  It’s easy to dismiss the replacement of the monarch by an elected head of state as an unnecessary complication of an argument for autonomy, when it is the autonomy which matters more. 

And the second reason is the way in which the UK establishment and media have managed to attach the word ‘republican’ so firmly to Sinn Féin and the IRA.  It gives the word a connotation which I can easily understand any constitutional party wanting to avoid.  Whether independentistas should allow words to be defined for them in such a fashion is an interesting question in itself; but it’s easier to debate than to change. 

Prof. Jones sees the bridge renaming fiasco as being a catalyst which could enable a committed party of independentistas to challenge what is, as he identifies, a clear attempt by the state to promote a particular view of the world, and to present a clear alternative.  I agree with the need to present a clear alternative vision, and with the reign of the current monarch inevitably drawing towards a conclusion, I suspect that support for republicanism is likely to grow across the UK, not just in Wales.  The time to make the case for the current monarch to be the last is now, not after the next one has been installed.  It would be a curious situation were the argument for republicanism to make greater progress outside the independence movement than inside it. 

I wonder, though, and not for the first time, whether the problem is not that Plaid, as a movement of independentistas, is failing to adopt republicanism as a clear and stated goal, but that it isn’t really a party of independentistas; because if it isn’t, then the expectation is wholly unrealistic.  It’s a point which has struck me more than once listening to people talking about the name of a bridge – much of the criticism has been on the lack of consultation over the naming, rather than over the role of the person selected as a basis for the new name.  It has often sounded as though people are trying to make a point without actually making it.  Reinforcing the idea that people might be secret republicans who are afraid to come out and say it is probably the worst of all worlds.

Leanne has been a naughty girl...

Tweet … or so the WesternMail would have us believe.  And they’re not alone; Leanne’s political opponents (and possibly even some in her own party) seem to have been quick to heap on the opprobrium.  For my part, I’m having some difficulty working out what exactly is the heinous sin which she is supposed to have committed.

It surely has to be more than the mere fact of her holding republican views.  After all, there are many republicans in all parties, even if many of them are afraid to admit it.  It’s a much more mainstream viewpoint that any reader of the press would imagine.

‘Avowed republican meets with other republicans’ doesn’t strike me as being a particularly shocking thing to have done.

‘Politician attends meeting at which other attendees hold some rather different viewpoints to her own’ also doesn’t strike me as a particularly serious crime.  And if it were, there wouldn’t be many politicians left.  There have been many occasions over the years when I have inwardly cringed at some of the things said in meetings I've attended - and I do not think for one moment that that makes me untypical.

Perhaps it’s the oath of allegiance to republicanism which she took.  The Western Mail described it as bizarre – I can only assume that they’ve edited out the most egregious parts of it, because nothing in the words quote struck me as being particularly bizarre.  It's not even as if she took the oath with one trouser leg rolled up and a dagger held to the chest.  Now that would be bizarre, although I understand that many middle-aged males might consider it entirely normal.  What is normal and what is bizarre all depends on perspective.

The timing and provenance of the story is actually odder than the oath itself, as Gareth Hughes points out. At heart, it seems to be little more than an attempt to avoid debating substance and resort to smear by association.  It’s a sad reflection on what politics has become.

Sticking to her guns

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The decision by Plaid’s new leader, Leanne Wood, not to attend the Jubilee service led to a fairly sustained correspondence in the letters pages of the Western Mail in the period since it was announced.  Some of the letters have been from the usual suspects (does ‘Monarchy Wales’ actually have more than one member?), as one might expect.  Supporters of the status quo talk about the ‘hard work’ and ‘service’ provided by the current monarch over many years, whilst others talk of ‘disrespect’ to a visitor to Wales (without, apparently, realising the irony of the description of 'our' monarch as a ‘visitor’).

That there are plenty in Wales who feel an attachment to both the institution and the current incumbent is surely no surprise to anyone.  But one of the things that has struck me repeatedly every time the issue comes up is the conflation of republicanism and nationalism in the minds of many.  It’s a connection which does not stand up to analysis. 

Many members of the Labour Party are republicans (although a number prefer not to admit it), and, whisper it quietly, there are plenty of Tories who would struggle to convince anyone that they honestly believe that the head of state should be a hereditary position.  I’m sure that there are some Lib Dems, too, who support the idea of a republic, although how many and which ones probably depends, like so many of their policies, on who’s listening and whether there’s an ‘r’ in the month.

The point is that nationalists in Wales certainly have no monopoly on republican thinking.

Views within Plaid and the wider national movement vary, as they do for the other parties.  Leaving aside any whose deep and sincere convictions stem, like those of so many politicians in the UK parties, from the findings of the latest focus group, there are three main strands of opinion amongst Wales’ nationalists.

• There are a minority who actually support the continuation of the UK monarchy for Wales after independence - and not just for reasons of political convenience.  The number is not large, but Oscar’s discovery of his undying love for the queen was never an entirely unique phenomenon.
• There’s another minority, probably even smaller, who believe that we should trace the descendants of Llywelyn Fawr and restore the House of Gwynedd to its Welsh throne.
• And then there’s the overwhelming majority who are natural and instinctive republicans, and who would still be so even if they were not nationalists.

That’s a personal assessment, of course; but it’s based on decades of involvement and knowledge of the national movement, and I’m convinced that it’s a fair assessment.  So why all the fuss when Plaid’s new leader actually says what most of her party’s members believe?

The main point worth noting is that whilst the members might actually support the republican viewpoint, they don’t usually say so – and although there is a clear majority of republicans within Plaid, the party has never got around to formally adopting a republican policy. 

For some that’s simply a way of avoiding debate on an issue which is not likely to be a vote-winner.  But for most, it’s more about an assessment of political priorities.  Gaining independence - or, in the interim, significant real powers for the National Assembly - is seen as a higher priority that trying to strip away the vestigial powers of the monarchy.  If the monarchy’s influence is more symbolic than real, why pick a symbolic battle, when the real one needs to be fought?

This year, though, things changed.  Plaid’s members overwhelmingly elected a leader who has, for many years, made her own republican viewpoint crystal clear.  And whilst some might see the issue as a symbolic one which can be left for another time, Leanne does not; she sees it as a more immediate issue.  No-one in Plaid can have been in any doubt about Leanne’s stance when they voted for her – and they should not expect her to change her stance now.

I’m no longer close enough to know for certain what goes on, but I can imagine the siren voices suggesting to Leanne that, as leader, she should tone down her comments, and modify her stance.  Personally, I think that would be a mistake.  If there’s one thing that Plaid should learn from recent experience it is that fudge and expediency end up looking like shiftiness and dishonesty.

Having nailed her colours so firmly to the mast over so many years, expecting her to change tack now is not only realistic, it would be a mistake on a grand scale.  For any politician who strongly holds a principled view, being willing to express it forcibly and honestly, even in the teeth of disagreement, is invariably going to be more effective than trying to pretend to believe something else.

And who knows; having a mainstream politician expressing republican views may even make more people think about the issue – and maybe even change their views.

Fanfares and vol-au-vents

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I attended my first ever Plaid Cymru annual conference in 1971, at Porthcawl.  The event was exciting, if more than a little disorganised.  I met many people who have influenced my politics for the first time at the event, including Dr Phil - who needed to borrow my comb as he rushed past on the way from the street to the podium where he was due to speak.  That was in the days when he had hair – not that any comb ever made any difference to the appearance of his hair!

One of the others whom I met for the first time was Harri Webb.  Nationalist, socialist, republican – and, of course, poet.  I was not the only nationalist in the class of ’71 who found him an inspiring figure, even if much of what he said was not exactly to the taste of the party establishment of the day.

He was one of those characters who were larger than life.  Indeed, he was large in more ways than one – ferrying him home to Aberpennar after a ‘Poems and Pints’ evening in Dinas Powys a few years later was when I discovered that the seat belts on an Austin 1100 had never been designed with the not insubstantial girth of someone like Harri in mind.

He wasn’t what anyone would ever have called a ‘moderate’ by any means; his talk, like that of others in that era, was of revolution rather than evolution.  He was one of those who provided a hard edge to nationalist thinking, but he was never destined to play much of a practical part in building a movement.

Some of the excitement died in 1979 – indeed, many of the class of ’71 departed in the lean years which followed. Those of us who did not sought instead to build an effective, organised party which could engage more positively with electoral politics.  Much time and energy within Plaid over the years was expended on that task in one way or another, and the result of the efforts of many people over many years has been to create a much more effective political arm for the national movement than ever existed previously.

The aim, though, was never to lose that passion which Harri displayed, albeit sometimes to excess.  It was, rather, to combine idealism with pragmatism in order to be able to better present the message, not change it.  We wanted to be effective, yet remain a democratic party, owned and controlled by the members; to complement rather than replace what had gone before.  In seeking to professionalise that party’s activities, it was never any part of my objectives to use ‘professional’ in its tighter meaning, and to put the control of party largely into the hands of the ‘professional’ politicians.

Yet somehow that is largely what has happened.  Yesterday’s opening of the Assembly stirred more than a few memories, and there are some interesting comparisons which struck me.

The class of ’71 regularly railed at the way in which the Government could afford military bands but could not afford to meet more down-to-earth needs.  The class of ’11 watches the military bands performing outside the Senedd.

The class of ’71 campaigned against low-flying jets disrupting the peace of Wales.  The class of ’11 admires them flying past the Senedd.

The class of ’71 ridiculed and scorned the ruritanian anachronisms of heraldry, fanfares and pomp.  The class of ’11 watches in awe as the Herald of Wales leads the monarch out of the Senedd, and listens to a new fanfare especially commissioned for the event.

I could go on.  Harri wrote a poem called “Merlin’s Prophecy 1969”, which reads:

One day, when Wales is free and prosperous

And dull, they’ll all be wishing they were us.

We’re a long way off prosperity (other than in the relative sense so clumsily referred to by Peter Hain a few years ago); and we’re not exactly free yet; but nationalist politics has become a great deal duller since then.  It’s not quite as it was foreseen.  But then, somehow, I don’t think that many in the class of ’71 ever expected that the road to independence would be paved with fanfares and vol-au-vents either.  Unless, of course, we’ve somehow taken a wrong turning somewhere along the way.

Battenberg and symbolism

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I’ve met very few politicians over the years who are either able or willing to defend and justify the principle of an hereditary head of state.  For sure, there are plenty who will defend the institution on more pragmatic grounds – “it works” or “the people are happy with it” being far and away the most common; but that isn’t the same as supporting the underlying principle.

It would be a mistake to underestimate the power of those arguments – particularly the first one, especially for those of us who are happy to argue in other contexts that “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it”.  However, that isn’t the same as saying that anyone would actually propose heredity as the method of choosing the head of state if presented with a blank sheet of paper.

Republicanism isn’t limited to the ranks of nationalists in Wales, although one might think that from reading some reports in recent days.  Nor is it a particularly ‘Welsh’ issue.  In my experience, many, many members of the Labour Party are also natural republicans; and – whisper this quietly - there are more than a few Tories who take a similar view, although they’re the most reluctant to come out and say so.

I wouldn't be at all surprised to discover that at least some of those who have chosen to attack the four Plaid AMs who want nothing to do with the royal opening of the Assembly are themselves closet republicans; they have simply chosen to adopt what they assume to be a populist position for a bit of point-scoring.  It’s all part of the game, I suppose.

At one level, one can argue that much of what the monarch does is more about symbolism than about practical issues; as long as the Queen never actually refuses to sign into law an Act passed by a parliament at any level, then real power lies with the elected bodies, no matter what the constitution says.  And the exercise of that real power to bring about change is what practical politics is about.

The symbolism is powerful, though.  The royal opening – which even some 'nationalists' pushed for in the early days of the Assembly because they saw it as conferring status and legitimacy on the institution – actually symbolises that power devolved is power retained.  Such powers as the Assembly possesses are by consent of the monarch-in-parliament.  In that sense, it is a symbol not of the power and status of the Assembly, but of the fact that that power and status is only on loan.

The oath of allegiance that AMs have to take is another symbol.  It’s something that they all have to do to take their seats, but I’m certain that the ranks of those who take it with a complete lack of sincerity are not limited to the Plaid AMs.  The idea of swearing loyalty to the head of state (and heirs), rather than to the people represented, is an anachronism from days long gone and should be abolished, and the sooner the better.  (The same applies to the UK Parliament – this isn’t a nationalist issue).

Failing to attend today’s event is another form of symbolism.  It will achieve little, but I’m sure that the four AMs fully realise that.  It symbolises the fact that the AMs concerned see their first loyalty as being to the people they represent, and not to someone who only occupies her position by dint of heredity.

So, I support the Plaid 4 in the symbolic stance they have taken against the royal symbolism.  My only real problem with it is that it draws attention to the fact that only four AMs are prepared to take such a stance.