About King Charles I and King Charles III

Hello, Peter Mansbridge & Company? Let's review Constitution 101, shall we?

In the very long history of the British monarchy, the only constant is change.

Change has occasionally been swift and violent, as when King Charles I was beheaded in 1649. Far more often, however, the change is slow and quiet.

So it’s understandable that if you aren’t familiar with the history of the Crown (the institution, not the TV show) and know little about the workings of modern British government, you may misunderstand a few things. In particular, you may think — not unreasonably — that someone blessed with the magnificent title of “king” must be powerful.

Kings make decisions. They issue decrees. They throw you in the Tower of London or clap you in irons and ship you to some godforsaken place like Australia.

Kings don’t take orders. They give them.

In fact, the outward form of British government seems almost designed to support that misunderstanding. Formally, the British government is all about the king. It’s “His Majesty’s this” and “His Majesty’s that.” The chief executives of the government are merely the king’s ministers. They only “advise” the king. It is the king who acts on that advice. And laws only become laws when the king signs them.

To all outward appearances, King Charles III — “by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of His other Realms and Territories, King, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith” — is top dog. The final word. The anointed king.

It’s all very Game of Thrones.

But remember when the first King Charles had his head removed? Those who did the removing represented Parliament, to which the original King Charles was disinclined to defer. At a stroke — sorry — Parliament established that monarchs really must be a little more respectful. Three-and-a-half centuries have passed since that bloody execution, and while nothing so dramatic happened since, there was a long, slow, gradual shift of power from the monarch to Parliament.

And in 2025? All the trappings of the king calling the shots are only theatre.

King Charles III lives in grand palaces and estates, he is surrounded by magnificent pageantry, and all Britons are his subjects. But he’s not in charge. He does what elected officials tell him to do. The king may still have a word in private with those officials, of course. As Walter Bagehot famously put it in the 19th century, the monarch has the right to be consulted, to encourage, and to warn. But if those elected officials smile and nod and say “nonetheless,” that’s the end of it. The last word goes to the elected officials. Formally, the king is “advised” by his government, then the king decides; in reality, the king is given orders which he carries out. Because that’s his job.

Forget Game of Thrones. Think faithful public servant.

In fact, the king is not even permitted to speak his mind in public about political subjects, so in a very real sense he is less free and empowered than the people who are formally his subjects.

And every word of the foregoing is true in the many other countries — Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and eleven others — whose constitutions were created in the British mould and of which King Charles III is head of state.

When it comes to Canadian politics, the elected government of Canada tells King Charles what it would like him to say or do. And he does it. Beyond that? On political matters, he is not allowed to say or do anything. Even if he is boiling inside and wants to shout a political statement from the rooftops, he is not permitted.

Parliament is in charge. The rest is theatre.

King Charles III, faithful public servant.

Now, I can forgive Americans for not knowing these basic constitutional realities in Britain, Canada, Australia, and the other Commonwealth Realms (as countries where Charles is head of state are called.) The theatre and the political reality are completely at odds. And Americans are not, shall we say, famous as a people eager to learn about foreign ways.

But here I must make this personal. And a little more negative.

In addition to being Canadian, I am a lifelong monarchist. A fervent monarchist. A ridiculous monarchist, you might say. A portrait of Queen Elizabeth glowers over me as I type these words, and while I am not a man generally inclined to violence I will compel myself to repeatedly punch anyone who badmouths the blessed memory of Her Majesty.

And as a lifelong, ridiculous Canadian monarchist, I can say with some confidence that if all of His Majesty’s Canadian subjects who understand the very simple constitutional facts I have described were brought together to form a hockey team, we would struggle to fill the roster.

That ignorance is, I think, much less forgivable. This is Canada’s constitution and head of state we’re talking about.

Which brings me to Peter Mansbridge & Company.

Peter Mansbridge and then-Canadian prime minister Justin Trudeau.

If you’re Canadian, I don’t need to introduce Mansbridge. For those who aren’t, I’ll explain that Mansbridge was the host of the flagship of the CBC’s evening news program for what seemed like most of the 20th century and a chunk of the 21st. Mansbridge’s mien is calm and dignified. His voice is deep and resonant. (If you are American, imagine Walter Cronkite, but better looking and more mellifluous, with a career spanning from Theodore Roosevelt to Barack Obama.)

I adore Peter Mansbridge. If Canadian journalism had royalty, we Canadian journalists would refer to him as “His Majesty.” I certainly hadn’t intended to write anything critical of the man. Ever.

But then came the Victoria Day weekend. (Today is Victoria Day, for you non-Canucks.)

As all good Canadians know, Victoria Day is a holiday in May that is older than the country itself. It is traditionally celebrated with beer, fireworks, shivering in a tent (for the sake of Canadians, Queen Victoria should have been born in June) and driving home early because the weather is shit.

While driving home early yesterday, I listened to a podcast hosted by Peter Mansbridge. The guests were Chantal Hébert and Rob Russo.

These are three of the most experienced journalists in Canada. I’m pretty sure they all interviewed R.B. Bennett early in their careers. Mansbridge may have childhood memories of shaking Mackenzie Bowell’s hand.

On the podcast, they got to talking about this coming May 27th.

As Canadian politics obsessives will know, that’s the day when King Charles will personally read the speech from the throne to open Parliament.

The “throne speech” is, of course, another relic of the Britain’s long Parliamentary history, a bit of theatre in which the reigning King or Queen lays out the priorities of “his” or “her” government. But this being Canada, and the monarch generally residing on the other side of the ocean, the throne speech is read by the monarch’s resident Canadian representative, the Governor General, except on very rare occasions. Queen Elizabeth delivered the speech herself in 1957 and 1977.

So it has been almost half a century since a Canadian monarch delivered the throne speech. As King Charles will do on May 27th.

At this point, I should not have to say the obvious but I will: The monarch does not write the throne speech because, for all the theatre about this being a statement of the monarch’s wishes for the monarch’s government, the monarch’s got nothing to do with it. It’s a statement of the elected government’s priorities. The elected government writes it. The real power on display is that of the prime minister, not the king. The king simply reads out loud what he is told to read out loud.

All clear? Let’s move along.

Naturally, for a lifelong, ridiculous Canadian monarchist such as your correspondent, the prospect of the king personally delivering the throne speech in the Canadian Parliament is the stuff of giddy daydreams. You probably think that’s silly. Which is fine. I would never expect others to share my unusual enthusiasms. But I’ve gotta be me: I’m going to spend the day wearing a CIIIR tie, heckling republicans, and humming “God Save the King.”

Of course I was intrigued to hear what three of Canada’s most experienced journalists had to say about what is, at a minimum, an unusual constitutional moment.

Some of it was unremarkable. Chantal Hébert started by noting she was there when Queen Elizabeth opened Parliament in 1977. (I would have won that bet.) But she’s a republican and she made her feelings known — “I maybe will not rush to Parliament Hill for this one” — in fair fashion. Vive la différence.

Then came Rob Russo.

First he noted, I think rightly, that part of the reason why Mark Carney invited the king to deliver the speech is to cock a snook at Donald Trump.

Canadians will not need to be reminded that this winter, when the, um, individual who is now president of the United States was issuing a steady stream of insults and threats against our country, the prime minister of the United Kingdom, Keir Starmer, visited the White House and engaged in an oily display of sycophancy. It culminated with the prime minister handing Trump — damn it, I guess I have to use his name — a “personal invitation”from King Charles III for a second formal state visit, including a banquet at Buckingham Palace. Starmer was then asked about Trump’s threats against Canada and he ducked and dodged the question without ever losing his obsequious smile. Or saying a word in support of a country which sent generations of soldiers to fight and die for his.

Canadians were pissed off. We’re still pissed off. Yes, Starmer was in a brutal spot and a little oily sycophancy was called for to salvage Britain’s vaunted “special relationship" with the United States. But the total absence of support for Canada? Yeah, we’re pissed off. And we’re still waiting for Starmer to demonstrate that Canada means something more to Britain than Upper Volta. (Suggestion for the UK High Commissioner: Tell him to attend an Oilers playoff game. For an illustration of how a real pro does it, see below.)

At the time, many Canadians grumbled about King Charles.

Where was he? Why hadn’t our king spoken up in support of Canadian sovereignty? And how in hell could our king invite the witless thug who is threatening Canada’s very existence to a formal state visit where he will be feted and celebrated as a very fine fellow?

If you’ve read this far, you know the correct answer to those questions.

Charles did not invite Trump for a formal state visit. Keir Starmer did. Charles did what he always does — his constitutional duty.

As for Charles not speaking up for Canada, it’s simply wrong to point the finger at him for his silence. Charles can only speak up for Canada if told to speak up for Canada by his elected government. Canadians angry at his silence should have been angry with the then-Canadian prime minister, Justin Trudeau.

But now I was listening to a podcast with three of the top journalists in Canada. Journalists who have been around the block a few dozen times. They would set the record straight. Yes?

After noting why Mark Carney invited the king to read the throne speech, Rob Russo went on to say that he’s not a monarchist but if we have to have a monarchy the king should at least do his job.

In his words:

We should remind his royal highness from time to time as well that he is the king of Canada, and as such has some responsibilities. Mr. Carney expressed some irritation at the fact that the king gave a second state visit to President Trump, who was delighted by it.

Driving home, I started swearing like a maniac and looking about frantically for a moose to steer my car into. Fortunately, my wife had the wheel.

Let me say this slowly and calmly: King Charles III did not decide to give a second state visit to President Trump. Keir Starmer did. Charles only did what he is constitutionally required to do. Nor did Mr. Carney “express some irritation” at the king for making that invitation. He expressed irritation at the government of the United Kingdom — which, again, is, in reality, directed by Prime Minister Keir Starmer, not King Charles III.

As for “reminding” King Charles that he is also King of Canada, and that job has “some responsibilities,” I don’t know King Charles personally and he doesn’t share his private thoughts with me, but I’m damned sure he knows he is King of Canada. And that his job has certain responsibilities. Why am I sure?

Because in March, after meeting the then-prime minister Trudeau, King Charles toured a Royal Navy vessel in dress uniform — while wearing his Canadian medals, including the Order of Canada and the Canadian Order of Military Merit. Some interpreted that as a not-very-subtle signal of support for Canada. Other disputed that on the grounds that Charles has on occasion worn those medals in Britain in the past. Also, it would be inappropriate for King Charles to engage in even such subtle political signalling unless acting under government instruction.

Which is true?

I don’t know. But not-very-subtle signal or not, it demonstrates that Charles is vividly aware of his role as King of Canada. And the very fact that a seventy-six-year-old man in treatment for cancer is flying to Canada to deliver the speech from the throne shows he understands the monarch’s responsibilities perfectly well. Unlike you, Mr. Russo.

Last to speak was Peter Mansbridge.

This is a man who wrote a book called How Canada Works. Surely he would sweep away the ignorance and set Canada straight.

“I was a monarchist,” he began. Great!

Wait, what?! “Was”?

I was a monarchist, I had been a monarchist all my life, and all my professional life, too, until the current monarch sucked up to Donald Trump in such a fashion on terms of the, his offering him a second state visit to the UK, and his fumbling totally of the Canada situation so far. I would like to think that when Mark Carney met the king, whenever it was a month or so ago in Buckingham Palace, that he made it very clear to him what would have to happen in that that he gives in Ottawa.

Short of standing on his head spitting wooden nickels of sovereignty, Canadian wooden nickels, I don’t know whether I can be convinced. I think he fumbled the ball, but we’ll see.

I myself started spitting wooden nickels of sovereignty. Whatever that hell that means.

Look, I could replicate my rage. But I’m calmer now. Really. And I’d like to stay that way.

So let me phrase this positively. And directly.

Mr. Mansbridge. Sir.

If I may.

I have some excellent news for you.

King Charles did not “suck up” to Donald Trump. Nor did he “fumble the ball.”

What happened is you comprehensively misunderstood the constitution of Canada. And the constitution of Britain. And the entire history of Britain and the British Commonwealth since 1649.

As a result, you misunderstood recent events.

Now you can go back to being a proud Canadian monarchist.

Like me, your fellow ridiculous monarchist.

God save the King.