Why we need the Queen

What's unusual is the role the monarchy plays as part of the national brand.

 

The Queen, we are told, is more popular than ever. And why shouldn't she be?  Thanks to her longevity (and her father's premature death) there's an extra holiday next week.  And cake.  The streets are festooned with bunting.  There are spectacular spectaculars for us all to enjoy: river pageants, horse-drawn carriages, a concert featuring Jools Holland, Gary Barlow and even Shirley Bassey, who has been around for almost as long as the Queen has.  Which is to say, forever.
 
In such an atmosphere of innocent merriment, it seems churlish to point out that awarding great privileges and pseudo-medieval deference to members of an otherwise undistinguished Anglo-German family ill befits a nation that wants to see itself as democratic, meritocratic and modern.   When pressed, many people can trot out what sound like good arguments for the monarchy.  It's said that it guarantees stability, that it provides a unifying symbol above party politics or that the Queen and other royals do a "good job", turning out to cut ribbons, launch ships and wave at cheering crowds.   
 
No one seriously pretends that were the country to be invented from scratch it would be as a monarchy.  It's often claimed that other countries envy us our hereditary rulers, our inhabited palaces and occasional jubilee glitter.  But if that were really true, the French, Germans and Americans would be clamouring to introduce or restore monarchs of their own.  Fairly obviously, they're not.  There was actually a referendum in Brazil around fifteen years ago on restoring the monarchy; the proposition attracted very little support.
 
On the other hand, recent history suggests that a well-established monarchy has to be quite spectacularly stupid or unlucky to get itself abolished.  Japan's emperor Hirohito managed to survive presiding over a genocidal military dictatorship, losing a major war, mass starvation and having his country nuked by the Americans.  Queen Elizabeth II's crises have been on a lesser scale.  Her worst moment came in 1997 when some tabloids thought she was a little slow coming down from Balmoral to acknowledge the crowd's grief at the death of Princess Diana.  Prince Charles has been more divisive and controversial.  What his critics tend to forget, however, is that when he talks nonsense about architecture or alternative medicine he makes himself more, not less, popular.
 
What is most striking about the British monarchy is not that it exists, but the extent to which the country has come to be defined by it.  British royalism feels different to what is found in places like Denmark or the Netherlands.  It is bound up with how the country feels about itself and how it presents itself to the world.   Republicans in Britain can find themselves in a situation similar to that of atheists in the USA, being widely seen as eccentric or obsessive, or even as downright disloyal.
 
This is a relatively recent phenomenon.  After all, Britain was the first major country in Europe to depose and execute its king, and ended the 17th century with one of the most limited monarchies around.  The Hanoverian kings were all, to varying extents, objects of suspicion, indifference, pity or contempt.  The Times began its obituary of George IV in 1830 with the observation that "there never was an individual less regretted by his fellow creatures than this deceased king."  Even Victoria experienced periods of enormous unpopularity and had to contend with republican movements far more serious than anything seen during the present queen's reign.  
 
But whatever the unpopularity of individual monarchs, it was during this period that the monarchy became an expression of national distinctiveness.  I would single out some key events.  In the 18th century, it was the limited nature of the British monarchy, in contrast to the absolutist regimes of continental Europe, that seemed worth celebrating, rather than the monarchy as such.  Then came the French Revolution.  As France went from absolute monarchy to violent republicanism and then military dictatorship under Napoleon, Britain's "stable" constitutional monarchy became a point of differentiation as well as pride.  The events of the Civil War were by that stage a long way in the past, and the Whig myth of harmonious constitutional progress had become well established.
 
To that, the Victorian age added empire.  The 1897 Diamond Jubilee was first and foremost a vast imperial pageant.  I suspect that for imperialists, 19th century British expansionism seemed a little less aggressive and self-interested when it was being carried out in the name of a little old lady.  What Victoria didn't do - hated, in fact - was pomp.  The glittering processions and magnigicently choreographed ceremonial which we think of as being typically British and intrinsic to our monarchy was largely a 20th century invention, set to music by Elgar.
 
By the time the present queen came to the throne, the collapse of other major monarchies and the use of the royal family as a rallying-point in two world wars had cemented the institution's position in national life.  Ironically, the end of empire may have strengthened the monarchy, and not only because of the Queen's desire to play a world role as Head of the Commonwealth.  
 
Put simply, the monarchy is what Britain has left - along, perhaps, with a couple of nuclear warheads and a seat on the UN Security Council - now that the empire has gone and economic pre-eminence is a distant memory.  Having a monarchy helps the British differentiate themselves from the Americans (as not having a monarchy once helped the Americans differentiate themselves from the British) and from the French.  Hence the unshakeable belief that our monarchy is somehow bigger, better and grander than any other in the world.  Hence, too, the fervent conviction that it is a great national asset, attracting business and tourists to these shores and exciting envy in foreign hearts.  
 
At times like these, when Britain's place in the world seems more uncertain than ever, celebrating the Queen is, first and foremost, a way of telling ourselves that we are still special.
 
A Queen Elizabeth II portrait is displayed during a photocall at Asprey. Photo: Getty Images
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I am special and I am worthless: inside the mind of a narcissist

There's been a lot of discussion about narcissists this week. But what does the term actually mean?

Since the rise of Donald Trump, the term “narcissistic” has been cropping up with great regularity in certain sections of the media, including the pages of this journal. I wouldn’t want to comment about an individual I’ve never met, but I thought it would be interesting to look at the troubling psychological health problem of narcissistic personality disorder (NPD).

People with NPD (which is estimated to affect about 1 per cent of the population) have a characteristic set of personality traits. First, they have a deeply held sense of specialness and entitlement. Male NPD sufferers frequently present as highly egotistical, with an unshakeable sense of their superiority and importance; female sufferers commonly present as eternal victims on whom the world repeatedly inflicts terrible injustices. In both cases, the affected person believes he or she is deserving of privileged treatment, and expects it as a right from those around them.

Second, NPD sufferers have little or no capacity for empathy, and usually relate to other people as objects (as opposed to thinking, feeling beings) whose sole function is to meet the narcissist’s need for special treatment and admiration – known as “supply”. In order to recruit supply, NPD sufferers become highly skilled at manipulating people’s perceptions of them, acting out what is called a “false self” – the glittering high achiever, the indefatigable do-gooder, the pitiable victim.

The third characteristic is termed “splitting”, where the world is experienced in terms of two rigid categories – either Good or Bad – with no areas of grey. As long as others are meeting the narcissist’s need for supply, they are Good, and they find themselves idealised and showered with reciprocal positive affirmation – a process called “love-bombing”. However, if someone criticises or questions the narcissist’s false self, that person becomes Bad, and is subjected to implacable hostility.

It is not known for certain what triggers the disorder. There is likely to be a genetic component, but in many cases early life experiences are the primary cause. Narcissism is a natural phase of child development (as the parents of many teenagers will testify) and its persistence as adult NPD frequently reflects chronic trauma during childhood. Paradoxically for a condition that often manifests as apparent egotism, all NPD sufferers have virtually non-existent self-esteem. This may arise from ongoing emotional neglect on the part of parents or caregivers, or from sustained psychological or sexual abuse.

The common factor is a failure in the development of a healthy sense of self-worth. It is likely that narcissism becomes entrenched as a defence against the deep-seated shame associated with these experiences of being unworthy and valueless.

When surrounded by supply, the NPD sufferer can anaesthetise this horrible sense of shame with the waves of positive regard washing over them. Equally, when another person destabilises that supply (by criticising or questioning the narcissist’s false self) this is highly threatening, and the NPD sufferer will go to practically any lengths to prevent a destabiliser adversely influencing other people’s perceptions of the narcissist.

One of the many tragic aspects of NPD is the invariable lack of insight. A narcissist’s experience of the world is essentially: “I am special; some people love me for this, and are Good; some people hate me for it, and are Bad.” If people with NPD do present to health services, it is usually because of the negative impacts Bad people are having on their life, rather than because they are able to recognise that they have a psychological health problem.

Far more commonly, health professionals end up helping those who have had the misfortune to enter into a supply relationship with an NPD sufferer. Narcissism is one of the most frequent factors in intimate partner and child abuse, as well as workplace bullying. The narcissist depends on the positive affirmation of others to neutralise their own sense of unworthiness. They use others to shore themselves up, and lash out at those who threaten this precarious balance. And they leave a trail of damaged people in their wake. 

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times