Republics, for the most part, do not get along well with history.
Now, what could I possibly mean by that? Well, for one, let's take a look at the findings the Telegraph reported. Over a fifth of the canvassed teenagers in the study reported that Sir Winston Churchill, one of the United Kingdom's most distinguished heroes, did not exist. Why? Because 77% of them did not open a history book, and 61% said they'd rather flip channels than watch a historical or educational broadcast.
Now, considering that this massive failure in education is happening amidst a constitutional monarchy, shouldn't we assume that this is another of those supposed "failures" the republicans shout about like a pack of rabid dogs?
No. On the contrary, this increasing failure can be mostly attributed to the constant desire of republicans to lower the educational threshold. If it hasn't been intentional on their part, then it nonetheless fits in with their agenda quite well. It is a situation that, contrary to popular conception, is not limited to the decaying United Kingdom, but is rather prominent in such republics as the United States, Panama, Colombia, and other such followers of the outdated diatribe of a long-dead idealist (cough-Jefferson-cough).
Go to each of these countries (I dare you) and ask the average teenager about their pre-Republican history. The result, I can guarantee you, is nothing short of drop dead dreadful. The average teenager in the United States is taught to believe that the American Revolution broke out entirely on the grounds of liberty, freedom, and all those pretty words, but fail to mention that a good deal of the reasoning behind the treason they committed was their unwillingness to pay taxes that the Crown had every right to demand, since they [the Crown] had funded most of the war effort in the Americas during the Seven Years War.
In fact, the very demands for a regional Parliament were, at the time, completely outrageous, considering there wasn't a single precedent to justify Parliament granting them any such thing.
Every period of history from there on is simply an exercise in revisionist history, where the USA is the battle-hardened colossus whose very touch is like Midas' touch of gold, except replace gold for utter failure, and you get the approximate results of every situation in which the US has ever meddled, with the only exceptions being those few events where the plan they designed actually worked (such as the Marshall Plan).
But back to the problem at hand.
The republicans will, undoubtedly, blame the Crown, somehow, for this atrocious drop in intelligence amongst the wayward teenage population of the United Kingdom. In fact, you can bet your grandmummy's hidden stash of cash under the mattress that they're jumping on their revolving chairs right now trying to find a way to spin it in their favour. The best thing they could do, however, is just sit back and watch as Labour's educational policies of total failure continue to degrade the very social fabric of the United Kingdom.
Why is that, you ask? Well, I'm glad you asked.
See, Republics thrive on the uneducated. It's basically a requirement for its electorate. The basis of their thought pattern, I believe, is that the less the people know, the more they can get away with (case in point, George W. Bush and Mireya Moscoso). Anyone smarter than the average Joe, then, is then considered a dangerous radical, and god forbid you criticize the government, at which point you're simply a traitorous lout who has no sense of patriotism.
In fact, as a show of how little they expect of their electorate, I present to you the ultimate demonstration of how little they think of the people. The flag.
That's right. The flag.
An inanimate piece of cloth that has been dyed with pretty, shiny colours and is waved from a flagpole, then burned after a few weeks of being battered senseless by the weather. According to republicans, that piece of cloth that will probably be replaced in two weeks is the one thing you, the common man, should be paying undying loyalty to. Nevermind that it has no feelings, or a mind of its own; it's the flag. And if you've ever watched a crowd in a republic gather around a flagpole like mindless sheep to honour a flag, you'll find that's it remarkably similar to watching small children getting entertained by an adult waving shiny keys in front of them.
It is, frankly, insulting that any rational human being would ask me, personally, to swear allegiance to something that’s not even alive. A human being, on the other hand, I can deal with. I could even disagree with him/her. I could make my own rational opinion of the person’s worth, and even protest their actions. A human being can be redeemed, and made to rethink their actions. A flag, on the other hand, is not rational. It is not human. And therefore, it is nothing but a symbol that has absolutely no safeguards against abuse.
Yet again, I seem to have gone off on a tangent, so let me digress.
Education has always been a benchmark of constitutional monarchies. The basis of the constitutional monarchical society is that knowledge is power, and those who can are promoted, whereas those who can’t are not. It is not unfair; it is not a crime—it is, in its very essence, a meritocratic system of advancement that favours the citizen who devotes his energies to further himself and, by consequence, the nation. If you're really good at what you do, then you are honoured with a knighthood, or even raised to the Peerage, thus setting your name in stone for all eternity.
In a republic, however, that drive to promote the state by promoting themselves is completely gone. Instead, it is replaced by the drive to promote oneself and only oneself. It promotes success, yes, but often at the cost of everyone else. If you happen to be good at what you do, then the only honour given to you is being plastered on the face of every finance or educational magazine in the country with the small hope that someday, teenagers will read about you in their history books. Hardly seems fair, doesn't it?
In Canada, one of the most successful constitutional monarchies, the focus is not on the individual, but the community. This is not anti-liberal, or anti-rights. It is simply an acknowledgement that though we be individuals, we are also part of a larger community which we cannot ignore simply because they do not profit us.
Furthermore, in the realm of education, let us not forget that the countries whose histories are discussed more in full, with criticism from all sides being discussed, are monarchies. It seems that those who hold on dearest to their traditions are also those who are more willing to admit they have made mistakes in the past. In the short time I’ve delved uniquely in British Imperial history, I’ve noticed more British admissions of past mistakes than any other US or other republican history book I’ve come across.
But the larger question here, I would argue, is not whether or not republics and history don’t get along, but why.
The reason, I think, lies within the inevitability of a republic’s downfall. Now, why is this, you wonder. It is because eventually, people, usually the same teenagers who here demonstrate appalling education, start asking questions that the republican governments are too uncomfortable answering; questions such as “Why did we abolish the monarchy?”, "Why did we rebel?" or “How come the books say something different?”
In the present-day constitutional monarchies—those which hold true to the constitutional monarchy, that is—these questions are answered openly by either the government, or other intellectuals. Monarchies are more liable to admit that they’ve done wrong, and so, other than immediately sensitive information, most constitutional monarchies are very willing to admit when they’ve erred, with some exceptions.
So when republics are faced with these uncomfortable questions, what do they do? They try and erase their tracks. Soon, statues and monuments to royalist heroes become torn down under lame excuses, or their history is rewritten to fit the government’s needs. Men like Churchill become fictitious, and fictitious protest symbols embedded in popular culture become real people.
Eventually, however, the teenager who today clamours for a republic begins to clamour for a return of the monarchy. The Jacobite becomes a Loyalist, and the cycle begins anew. That is, unless the cycle is torn apart by those of conscientious minds. This stoppage, ladies and gentlemen, would not be the work of laissez faire, as far as teaching goes, but rather an increase in focus on the rejuvenation of the education process. Schools that are successful in producing good citizens should be modelled after, not shut down. Those which are failing ought to receive government funding so they can rise to the levels of those which succeed.
God (or the gods, or whatever it is you believe in) raises only those who raise each other. And under a constitutional monarchy, that is exactly what we do.
God Save the Queen, and Her Heirs.




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