To Celebrate the Monarchy? Or Not?
“Who pays the Queen?” my eight-year-old asked aloud as we passed Windsor Castle on our way to Legoland. We knew full well Queen Elizabeth II was recuperating from the jubilee festivities inside the castle we could only catch a glimpse of on our way to the Lego clad theme park, a little further than a stone’s throw away from the only sovereign to have reigned for 70 years.
“Well love, you do. Or at least one day you will,” I replied. Each year, the Queen is given a single payment from the government. The Sovereign Grant. Last year, it was £85.9m. It’s a lot. But it also covers quite a bit, including the upkeep of several occupied royal palaces and official duties carried out by other members of the royal family. This money is paid to the royal family from the Royal Collection Trust and it’s funded by taxpayers. In 2018, the monarchy cost taxpayers in the UK £67m.
So yes my lovely British boy, you will one day pay for the monarchy, as I do now.
Over the jubilee weekend, 12 million people tuned in to watch the Platinum Party on the Saturday. Millions love the monarchy, but I’m pretty sure, and I’ll explain why I say “pretty sure” a bit later, I just can’t celebrate with the same adoration and excitement.
She (They) Cost A Lot
You see, there are 1.5 million UK households who will struggle to pay for food and energy prices in the next year. I’ve talked to many of them, both for journalistic and personal reasons. We are looking like we’ll head into a recession the second half of this year. And yet, just the cost of the jubilee cost the UK people trying to stay afloat.
Rishi Sunak set aside £28m, to fund the jubilee event in last year’s budget. The Department of Education spent £12m to publish a book for primary school children in the UK – a book to remind them of her reign. Several private donors and organizations donated hundreds of thousands to the four-day celebration.
Money is there to help our country, but £28m plus was diverted to a celebration that lasted 96 hours.
A four-day celebration where millions were allocated to celebrate a woman who has never worried about her next meal, the amount of hot water she used in her morning shower, or how to fuel her car for work.
I’m no economist. I know there is something about spending money to make money. But even in desperate times? Really?
But you can’t ignore the obvious other side of the argument that the royal family also bring in a lot of money. In 2018 (I’m sure there are more recent numbers, but I’m not going to hunt them down and can’t imagine they have changed drastically), the royals contributed £595m through tourism, merchandise and arts. In the past five years, they added £2.8billion to UK economy.
Their poshness and fame bring in money. So perhaps they are worth their cost? Money people, show yourselves and let me know!
Racism and Colonialism
A four-day celebration of her reign over the last 70 years. One that was marred by colonialism and racism. Nadine White wrote a brilliant opinion piece highlighting the racism that has tainted the monarch’s reign. Slavery, torture, and trafficking happened in colonized countries all over the world on the Queen’s watch. Racism was blatantly seen in the Windrush scandal and is currently apparent as we (they) plan to figure out a way to keep refugees and asylum seekers out of the country. Nadine communicates her thoughts too eloquently, so I won’t repeat them here, just read hers.
Power By Birth
The monarchy gets its money and its power simply through birth. The royal family don’t earn it by working their way up from the streets of London. They don’t learn it in university. They are simply slipped into royal robes at birth. Another one of my sons asked if he could ever become king. Normally, I’d tell him he could be anything he wanted to be, but no baby, you will never be king.
Feels unfair. Like it defies democracy, choice, representation.
Nationalism
Then there is the nationalism the monarchy evokes. I still don’t know what to make about nationalism. I was listening to BBC Radio 4 on our way home from Legoland and the programme discussed nationalism, its goods and bads. One person said nationalism is often described like alcohol – fine in moderation but can easily get out of hand. But she then argued nationalism is more like smoking cigarettes – even small amounts of tobacco erode the body and the more you have, the worse the effects.
I grew up in America, the land of the patriotic. Nationalism was, and is, rife. We even fold the flag as if it were a god in cloth flesh. But as I have read and listened to accounts of how nationalism has caused significant harm, I’m not convinced it’s healthy. It unifies a people group, but should that happen around race and nationality? Is that what we should gather around and celebrate? Or does it actually just produce “othering” and prejudice?
And Even Still
Despite all of the reasons not to support the monarchy, I still watched the celebration of the Queen with fascination. I even teared up as photos took us through the journey she has walked. All she has seen and experienced. There is no doubt her commitment to her country is commendable.
But I also just love the fame of it all. I may pretend I don’t care about celebrity, but I do. Enthralled with William and Kate. Curious about Harry and Meghan. Find pleasure in seeing their kids galivanting along with them to royal events. I am that person who wonders about how I can just “knock into” them riding the tube around London. As if.
So you see. I want to not like them. But there is something inside of me, maybe it’s the American, that still loves it all a bit.