This article by the rightwing religious christian fanatic who name is Simon Jenkins
(u can put any religion here, it is alway interesting how religious groups on see other religions people as fanatics, even tho they both think the same thing, tho they do wear different clothes i give them that)
Until religious people confess that they are religious how can they ever see a world of peace.
Simon Jenkins
The prince has the right to voice his opinions, but he has no role, no clout and no one has to listen to him
'Prime ministers’ meetings with a King Charles might get tricky, but these people are grownups.'
'I have no doubt that prime ministers’ meetings with a King Charles might have tricky moments, but these people are grownups.' Illustration: Ellie Foreman-Peck
Thursday 5 February 2015 07.00 GMT
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Whenever an American asks me how Britons can tolerate being “subjects” of a hereditary head of state, I give an unsatisfactory reply. I say we are not subjects, and anyway it doesn’t really matter: other things are more important.
America’s obsession with British royalty took another turn this week with a book by the Time magazine journalist Catherine Mayer. In the published extracts she depicts Buckingham Palace and Clarence House as being at war, with feuding courtiers, dejected aides and dark constitutional menace should Charles III ascend the throne. Mayer even conjures up images of a constitutional coup.
This is rubbish. The book is in reality mildly sympathetic to the Prince of Wales, if not to Prince Philip. The truth is that since the royals sorted out their emotional woes a decade ago, gossip has gone hungry. The Queen, a sprightly 88, continues as ever. Charles seems happier in his skin than for a long time. Prince Andrew has his troubles, but new heirs keep appearing. The monarchy is as popular as ever, with a steady 70% to 75% of the population in favour of its continuance.
The truth is that since the royals sorted out their emotional woes a decade ago, gossip has gone hungry
I have a slim volume on the future of the monarchy that was published by the pressure group Charter88 in 1994, the aftermath of the Queen’s annus horribilis. It contains mostly leftwing worthies asserting that monarchy’s game is up: to David Marquand it was “a self-evident proposition … that the existing network of understandings, rituals and myths is now in crisis”; and Jack Straw called for an end to the “royal prerogative” of war, 10 years before himself declaring war on Iraq without any apparent permit from the Queen. The most prescient essay was from the Sunday Telegraph’s Charles Moore, who said the whole crisis would soon blow over. He was right.
What critics find scary about Prince Charles is his strength of opinion. He is portrayed as rising in the morning aching with “frightful worries” over climate change, organic vegetables, youth employment, GM foods, urban renewal, modern architecture and fracking. He obsesses over anything sustainable and renewable. He bores for Britain on natural and animal conservation. He remains loyal to the wilder shores of his enthusiasm, to holistic medicine and peace on earth. A one-time champion of the Social Democrat party has gone green fundamentalist. He loves passing causes.
The Prince of Wales, in other words, is Guardian-lite – which should surely be a source of comfort to his critics on the left. But is not his power irresponsible and unaccountable, they ask. They invert Voltaire, agreeing with what the prince says but denying him the right to say it.
What is this right denied? The famous “black spider” letters to ministers, which the Guardian justly thought should be in the public domain, are mere letters. They can be torn up – and, I suspect, were. The prince may dislike a plan for the Chelsea barracks, but that was no reason for the council to refuse it. Nor did it: the plan was withdrawn by the ubiquitous Qataris.
The prince is a celebrity. Hereditary celebrity, and its opinion, is no more or less legitimate than that of a pop star, a sportsman, a novelist or Russell Brand, on all of whom the media dance attendance. Celebrity has influence only insofar as it commands public support. The rest is noise.
The prince has no influence on policy or decision in comparison, for instance, with that of an “unaccountable” newspaper or with the true movers and shakers, the lobbyists who now terrorise whole provinces of the coalition government. A princely concern for a green belt orchid counts for nothing against the massed ranks of the National Farmers’ Union or the Home Builders Federation. A concern for arms sales to the Gulf is lost amid the big guns of British Aerospace. The prince gives funds to no political party. He wields no divisions, just a few biscuit factories.
Suppose, the critics retort, the prince were monarch. The answer is that he is not monarch. If he were, constitutional protocols would come into play. Even the monarch has no power, whatever hung-parliament games the constitutionalists devise. Parliament is sovereign. I have no doubt that prime ministers’ meetings with a King Charles might have some tricky moments, but these people are grownups. It is all a charade, and the prime minister can always discuss the weather.
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‘The Prince of Wales is not a monarch. Miserable as it may be for him, he has no role and no power.’ Photograph: Leon Neal/PA
As for what happens if the king declines to read the King’s speech or sign a parliamentary bill, that was well handled in Mike Bartlett’s play Charles III, which closes this week in the West End. An agonised Tim Piggott-Smith, as Charles, refuses on “a matter of conscience” to sign a bill curbing press freedom (winning the play excellent reviews). “I will not sign,” he tells both the prime minister and the leader of the opposition. His hand will not do the deed. The problem is theirs to solve. They solve it, correctly, by making him abdicate, with a bit of help from Prince William’s wife, Kate. The play is constitutionally impeccable.
The British have long toppled monarchs who overstep the mark: Charles I lost his head and Edward VIII his throne. In 1997 the monarchy’s popularity briefly wobbled over its handling of Diana’s death, but it recovered.
No new country would go for heredity as the human embodiment of the state, but it does have its advantages: the succession is clear. The unreason of heredity means that constitutions have rendered it harmless and boring. Not for nothing is it favoured in Scandinavia, home to the world’s model polities.
The Prince of Wales is not a monarch. Miserable as it may be for him, he has no role and no power. As merely the king-in-waiting he is a constitutional nonentity. I am sure if he joined the National Front or even the Socialist Workers party, life would be more exciting. But he has not.
In her annus horribilis speech, the Queen agreed that “no institution – City, monarchy, whatever – should expect to be free from the scrutiny of those who give it their loyalty”. But that scrutiny should acknowledge the realities of power. The monarchy has none.
Instead, the concerns long aired by the Prince of Wales are widely shared and much debated. It cannot be bad that prominent people, as Mayer puts it, “care too much, rather than care too little”. Were that caring to be truly monarchical it might indeed be wrong. But the minute it was wrong, monarchy would be dead.
