Death Of The Queen And State Imposed Grief

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The death of the monarch, Queen Elizabeth II, seventy years into her reign, is undoubtedly a pivotal moment of history and for many, an event that creates great sadness and mourning. I have to say I am less moved than many. To me it is an interesting event, though not much more so than any other ‘celebrity’ death. There are understandably plans for a state funeral, and mass media coverage on a scale never seen before. Many, myself included, are younger than Elizabeth Windsor, so the death of George IV in 1952 and the way it was treated by the media is not something many living people experienced. It was covered largely by the radio, (and newspapers), so most people only directly saw the King’s body lying in state on route to his funeral if they travelled to London to watch it personally. Elizabeth’s death will be seen in glorious colour on live TV around the World, not to mention via the Internet, phone apps and other multimedia systems undreamt of in 1952. The Queen’s Coronation was the kick start for many early TV set sales, with the promise of live coverage thereof. (TV sets had existed from before World War Two, but few saw them until the fifties). Those unable to afford their own sets to see the Coronation piled into the homes of neighbours who did. The Windsors became the first soap opera stars of the cinema-killing age. Over time, the Windsor’s every move has hit the headlines and their images have been on our screens in thousands of news broadcasts. Much has shown me a disgraceful, obscenely wealthy bunch, wheeled out to open businesses, and visit the Commonwealth (the last vestiges of a slavery fuelled empire and stale pale reminder that Britannia once ruled The Waves). There has been the casual racist blundering of Prince Philip, the unapologetic blood sport hunting and shooting antics of many of the royals, tax evasion scandals, high profile fairy-tale marriages (Charles-Diana / Andrew-Fergie) that collapsed in acrimonious divorce and infidelity, and later Andrew’s implication in sexual abuse cases with Mummy’s money buying the silence of victims and investigator’s to protect ‘the Firm’. The Queen herself superbly avoided direct personal scandal, as her dysfunctional family rolled out the farce around her. She has also had to open Parliaments, and greet incoming and outgoing prime ministers while not being allowed to directly be political. The royals have long since lost The Divine Right Of Kings (fortunately), with further curtailing of their powers coming through Magna Carta and Civil War. They still represent the peak of aristocracy, with every celeb luvvie hoping to be presented with awards, medals, and letters after their names by the monarch. A few cause controversy by rejecting such accolades, and good for them. The deaths of the famous are always fascinating, and sometimes highly emotional. I was only one year old when JFK was assassinated. It was the gunning down of John Lennon in 1980 that was my JFK moment, the day I’d never forget where I was on first hearing the news). I was in bed, just getting up and hearing the story as it broke on the radio. Beatles and Lennon's sol hits, especially Imagine, played through windows and on every radio station. One lad I saw in the evening gained huge respect by having been to Liverpool to join the mourners there and returned with a ‘Hang Mark Chapman’ tee shirt the next day to prove it. (I am not a fan of capital punishment). The deaths of Elvis Presley, John Wayne, and others, had less emotional punch. They raised eyebrows and gave me much thought on their achievements. I saw the US fuss over Elvis and the growing conspiracy of belief that he was still alive with some bemusement. It would be the death of Princess Diana that would next have a high impact on me, mostly from the sense of shock at her unexpected death while still young and as it would send such shock waves round the Royals, reopening the news stories of events leading to her shattering divorce. The media coverage was intense, and my Mum was genuinely upset by the news. I found it was stifling to see endless repeats and retrospective evaluations of her life, with the same footage of her happy wedding day on a Groundhog Day style loop. I headed out to escape he cloying depressing atmosphere of it all, initially to the cinema, only to find it had closed in respect for the People’s Princess. I found a pub that was open, with most drinkers looking as shocked and despairing as I had felt and seen the day Lennon died. One chap burst into the pub with a few of the early Princess Diana jokes to share only to be quickly lambasted and silenced as everyone felt such irreverence was coming far too soon. Gradually it emerged that her death was not caused by the Paparazzi, but a drunken chauffeur, and then came her funeral. First there was Elton John, rewriting Candle In The Wind, a song dedicated to Marolyn Monroe, to direct its sentiments to Diana, like someone trying to alter his tattoos to change his girlfriend’s name. More impressive was The Earl Of Spencer’s spirited and passionate angry statement in his eulogy shaming the royals for their treatment of his sister, the most spectacular barrage of live TV criticism the Firm ever had to endure. Even Andrew’s disastrous pre-recorded TV interview trying unconvincingly to clear his name of serious sex abuse allegations seems tame by comparison. Diana’s funeral’s saturation coverage shifted her to veritable sainthood, with Charles seen almost as a panto-villain, and his new love Camilla Parker Bowles treated as a Panto wicked step-Mum. Criticism of the Princess who campaigned against mine-fields and danced with Wayne Sleep became verboten, and it seemed everything she did was reinterpreted as a criticism of everything the royals never did. Now with the Queen’s death, the media machine is again trying to control the nature of the nation’s grieving process. TV coverage went into overdrive as soon as it became apparent that the Queen was not well, as 96 year olds showing signs of ill-health is always so newsworthy. The media hung round like carrion vultures, with live-stream cameras permanently fixed on the gates of Balmoral watching the distraught royals arriving to pay respects and be with their mother in her final hours. The news team just drew short of screaming out ‘She’s dying’ though it was obvious that was the message. I found myself hoping the Queen would recover, mainly from a sense of the chaos and disruption her death would herald. Then came the perhaps inevitable announcement that she had gone. There was talk of the crown passing invisibly over automatically to Charles as if something magical, rather than simply hereditary was going on. We are supposed to be in awe of the way the new monarch is chosen. Like many I was just glad Charles is next in line and not Andrew. Immediately, planned TV scheduling collapsed as the long rehearsed and meticulously prepared for media and state operation went into play. The main TV terrestrial stations switched to nothing but news of the death and retrospectives on the life of this ‘remarkable woman’ with little if any reference to the more troubling bits, such as Andrew’s (I never sweat) peccadilloes, the ostracisation of Diana, the similar cutting off of Harry and Meghan, (whose shameful treatment has resurrected claims of racism in the blue blood of many royals). With a proposed carefully time-tabled ten day programme of national mourning, and the funeral (set to Monday 19th September), the British public are expected to work, but grieve every time we turn on TV and radio, while many public shows, sports and entertainments have been cancelled out of ‘respect’. Often it is not event organisers who are cancelling activity, but governing council authority bodies. This comes at a terrible time for many arts groups and venues, struggling already from trade lost to the Covid Lockdown Hell, and facing huge energy bill hikes in coming months. Elizabeth Windsor’s death comes right on the close of the British Summer holiday season, so many arts festivals and events have chosen the cusp of Summer and Autumn, only to have to reluctantly issue, ‘with regret we have to cancel…’ messages. A better way to show respect would be to have such events with opportunities for audiences and participants unite in grief, and solidarity to stage a dignified moment of silence, but no, there has to be visible sacrifice, and lost potential earnings and the frustration of having to stay at home listening to endless reminders that ‘she’ has left us. The public will be described as having wanted it this way. Many will. I don’t and won’t. The radio shows have largely avoided too much funeral dirge martial music but the music choices are carefully mellow, with instructions to favour sad songs over happy tunes, and the presenters are mostly reading out listener anecdote stories of how they saw or met the Queen, however fleetingly and how lovely and privileged it was for them. Fortunately, there are music channels, Youtubes, pubs and a few events still boldly continuing. That the Queen is dead is genuinely sad news, as any death is. Given the deaths in my own family over the decades, my Mother being in serious ill-health and even having barely survived cancer myself in 2020, I see what the Windsors are going through and I would not wish it on them or anyone, regardless of my republican disposition, but life goes on. As when Lennon died, we should just continue with our day, in education, work and social life. The state efforts to engineer how I feel, and where I go, and what I do, will not help bring me to change my perception of the royals. Elizabeth II was undoubtedly charming and charismatic. Even I enjoyed her James Bond and Paddington Bear stunts. Charles is not so likely to be quite so universally popular, and less likely to rise above the scandals as the family continue to squabble and stir up controversy around themselves. Liz 2’s passing could well be the start of the final decline of the Royals as they go from national treasures to national embarrassments more and more. To cite the biggest cliche of the in your face media coverage, it really could be ‘the end of an era’. Arthur Chappell