Moon over Monarchy

By Christopher Tidmore
Contributing Writer

It’s odd to consider that the British monarch, who oversaw a retreat from empire, stood as one of the great civil rights figures of the past 70 years.

But for Queen Elizabeth II, defense of the citizenry of all of her Commonwealth, regardless of race or creed, became her hallmark. Even occupying a position where the monarch reigns but not rules, she used royal soft power to defy convention and stand up for basic human rights.

From the arrival of the first Windrush immigrants to Britain in 1948, the queen broke with centuries of tradition acknowledging that those immigrants were as British as anyone with ancestors who crossed the Channel with William the Conqueror. Outside of the United Kingdom, she stalwartly supported minority protections and equal voting rights for all in her former Empire.

Perhaps that latter democratic privilege proved particularly personal. After all, in her 96 years, the one thing the queen was never allowed to do was cast a ballot into a ballot box.

The Netflix series “The Queen” recounted her dance with Ghana’s new President Kwame Nkrumah in 1961, to the utter consternation of the British Prime Minister Howard Macmillan. However, she achieved far more than posing for a photo of a European monarch foxtrotting with an African. In this case, and many others, she employed her royal position to bring respect to leaders often shunned by ‘polite’ Anglo-Caucasian society.

Nelson Mandela dubbed Elizabeth with the name “Motlalepula,” which means “the one who brings rain,” to signify her ceaseless support for – and eventual triumph of – majority voting rights throughout Africa. She was a symbol of hope, as falling rain is upon a dusty plain.

Her most affirmative stand for equal rights came when the white leadership of Rhodesia unilaterally declared independence from the UK, but affirmed their loyalty to the crown. Elizabeth could have remained monarch of the most economically prosperous nation in Africa by just remaining silent. Instead, she then issued an order-in-council to suspend the racist constitution and sacked the Rhodesian Front government. When Rhodesian Prime Minister Ian Smith claimed it was the act of the British government and not of the queen, ignored the orders, and requested that Elizabeth appoint a governor-general of Rhodesia to act on her behalf, she refused. The queen replied that she did not recognize Smith’s title and treated the request as if it had come from an ordinary citizen as Smith was no longer recognized by the crown as prime minister. Buckingham Palace issued the response, “Her Majesty is not able to entertain purported advice of this kind and has therefore been pleased to direct that no action should be taken upon it.” Her actions were the first step in the creation of Zimbabwe, and she sent a clear message to South Africa that apartheid would never be condoned within the Commonwealth.

Perhaps, one could argue that Elizabeth just saw the proverbial “writing on the wall.” To use a local New Orleans comparison, perhaps one can argue that she merely followed a course similar to former Mayor Maurice “Moon” Landrieu, who was eulogized last week for his commitment to civil rights.

Landrieu‘s death at age 92 spawned public praise, remembering his appointments of African Americans to political office and his often lonely fights in the legislature in support of equal rights. Critics, though, read nothing more than political ambition in his embrace of a newly enfranchised Black electorate, and political experience in his outspoken embrace of civil rights – at a time when segregation looked increasingly untenable. Landrieu just moved with the times, they critiqued.

To use another cliché, the New Orleans mayor like the British monarch “read the tea leaves correctly.” Blacks were earning the vote, and the tide of history indicated equality. A smart politician would “jump on the Bandwagon.”

What this revisionist history ignores, though, is how much fundamental clarity of vision and bravery such a break with the establishment required at the time. To stand up against centuries of tradition and bigotry, to earn the condemnation of your family and your peers, requires a singular amount of courage that often proves rare in the human experience. After all, nobody knows for sure that the good guys are destined to win. How many people believed that the civil rights won in reconstruction would have evaporated within 25 years in 1867? How many people thought that apartheid would fall within 25 years in 1967?

God save the queen, for like the mayor, each took a political stand which could have chased them from office. They defied tradition in pursuit of justice; they triumphed in their resolve for change; and human rights reigned thanks to their courage.

This article originally published in the September 12, 2022 print edition of The Louisiana Weekly newspaper.