When kings speak

It's been interesting to compare and contrast the televised Christmas addresses of two kings, Felipe VI of Spain and Charles III of the UK, to their respective subjects.

One uniting factor between the rwo monarchs seems to be, judging by viewing figures, that their nations turn off, or over, in droves as soon as they appear on their TV screens. Almost 7 million watched Charles and slightly fewer Felipe. Based on the population sizes of the two countries, that means Felipe actually got a higher percentage of his people viewing. However, Charles was probably pleased to avoid the drop in viewership from last year experienced by his Spanish counterpart (almost 700,000) and would certainly have been glad to avoid the controversy sparked by Felipe's effort this Christmas Eve.

Both addresses, Felipe's tenth and only Charles' second, were widely anticipated. Would they stick to safely traditional topics such as faith and community or, in view of the severe threats to world peace and climate stability, venture into more controversial territory? Whereas Charles seems to have learned to moderate his comments and be less outspoken as king than he was as Prince of Wales, Felipe veered dangerously close to politics by choosing to focus on the Spanish Constitution, La Carta Magna as it is known. 

Perhaps, in the forty-fifth year of the founding document of democratic post-Franco Spain, he might have been expected at least to touch upon it. But he went further and made it virtually the entire subject of his lengthy remarks. As a result, he caused anger and alarm in the already febrile atmosphere of Spain's current political turmoil. Perhaps he felt it his duty as Head of State to address an issue which is in grave danger of imperilling an already precarious Spanish national unity. If so, it appears he might have seriously misjudged the national mood, both in relation to the Constitutional integrity of Spain and also of the unifying power of the monarchy.

His remarks were prompted by the unseemly political horsetrading to form a government following the indecisive outcome of the general election of July 2023, where no one party commanded an outright majority. This is not unusual in Spain's elections, where parties regularly have to forge often fragile coalitions in order to form a government, routinely taking months to do so. However, what sparked controversy on this occasion, and risked an existential threat to the country's constitutional settlement, was former-Prime Minister, Pedro Sánchez, making an alliance with avowedly separatist regional parties to cobble together a workable coalition.

Spain's Constitution is based on the indivisible nature of the country, which has led to huge tensions with those regions seeking to break away from it, notably Cataluña, País Vasco (the Basque Country) and Galicia - and particularly the first of these following the independence referendum called (illegally according to the Constitution) in 2017 by Carles Puigdemont, which led to his fleeing the country to seek refuge in Belgium. The idea that Sánchez, leader of the Socialist Workers' Party (PSOE), should seek to make common cause with separatists has sparked outrage amongst rightwing parties and led to mass public demonstrations.

It is inconceivable that Sánchez, now sworn in as Prime Minister, could have been unaware of the contents of Felipe's speech. Indeed, PSOE has welcomed his remarks, so what on earth is going on? Is Sánchez playing a double game, running with the hare of independence while hunting with the hound of the Constitution? If so, Sánchez has shown himself in the past to be extremely adept at such games. He is a political pragmatist with a shrewd and finely-tuned sense of survival and a fearsome skill at outmanoeuvring his opponents, on all sides - including his own. Besides, written Constitutions can always be amended.

Felipe, on the other hand, is skating on dangerously thin ice. As a constitutional monarch he is not hugely popular in the way his father, Juan Carlos, was and still is despite his disgrace and self-exile following a string of financial and sexual scandals. Juan Carlos is still seen as the king who preserved Spain's fragile new democracy by thwarting the coup attempt of 1981, even though it is now alleged, and widely believed, that he colluded with and even encouraged it in order to stage his 'rescue'. 

For Felipe to preach the sanctity of the Constitution in such a high-profile format, and at such length, is adding to a growing anti-monarchist sentiment which fears him overstepping the mark by straying into political interference. To be fair to Felipe, he was Constitutionally duty-bound to involve himself in the electoral process by inviting first the Conservative leader, Alberto Núñez Feijóo, to form a government and, when that proved impossible, making the same offer to Sánchez, who succeeded.

However, it appears that Felipe's personal popularity, never strong, is waning with every intervention he makes, further damaging a tainted institution. A recent poll published by the digital newspaper, El Diario, showed that 45 per cent of Spaniards would support a republic in the event of a referendum on the monarchy. Sánchez will no doubt be content for Felipe to take the flak for now while he tries to make his leftwing coalition government work against a backdrop of rightwing political resurgence at local and regional level.

For his part, King Charles must think himself lucky that, in his new position as Supreme Governor of the Church of England and Head of the Commonwealth, he can now safely focus on the eternal values of faith and community and leave the grubby politics to others.

In short, don't expect him to opine on the value of a written Constitution for the UK in next year's Christmas speech - or any other.

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