No, the Queen can't save us

What is to be done? It is now generally accepted that public esteem for the government, for the House of Commons, and for politics as a whole has sunk so low that only the cathartic cleansing process of a general election has any chance of saving the day. For a while, at least. But the likelihood is that Labour will stagger on for as long as possible in the Micawberish belief that something will turn up. And you can't really blame them. It's a choice between being obliterated now and obliterated next year. Of course they'd prefer to be obliterated next year. In the meantime, the government will surely manage to squeeze in a few more liberty-sapping laws, a few more insane squanderings of taxpayers' money, just to make the situation that David Cameron will inherit a little bit worse. It's in their interests to do so. The country couldn't hate them any more than they do now.

So we're in for a truly abominable year, politically speaking. More immediately, the "summer of rage" that was being predicted a few months ago in response to the economic crisis might well come to pass, except that it will be targeted at politicians rather than bankers. The desire for a thoroughgoing clearout is overwhelming, but there's no obvious mechanism, short of revolution, for bringing it to pass.

Various people think that Queen could come in and sort it out. Simon Heffer, for example, writes that

She will know from her experience that the situation is without precedent; that it is fraught with danger; and that the stability and continuity of our democratic institutions are at stake. If a constitutional monarchy means anything, it is that the monarch is guarantor of those institutions. They are gravely under threat after the exposure of the appalling conduct of many who are part of them.

As commentators generally do, Heffer quotes Bagehot, who described the monarch's three privileges as "the right to be consulted, the right to encourage, and the right to warn". That was only ever Bagehot's personal opinion, but it has come to be enshrined, in that illogical British way, as one of the unwritten "conventions" of the constitution. In any event, it's pretty meaningless. Why should Gordon Brown listen to the Queen's warnings when he doesn't listen to anyone else's? Any advice she did offer would have to be given in the strictest confidence, and may well have been so. It was reported the other day that she was "concerned" about the effect the row was having on the reputation of Parliament. An unnamed courtier was (presumably with royal permission) quoted as saying that the behaviour of the members "goes against everything she believes in". That's as far as she can safely go. It is not supposed to be her role to intervene in the political process, and she is highly sensitive to that fact, as Heffer recognises:

The question is whether, with all her massive experience (her Prime Minister had just been born when she ascended the throne), she judges the situation is sufficiently grave for her to take, however discreetly, an initiative designed to cool the national mood. The floundering lack of leadership displayed by Mr Brown exposes a vacuum that someone must fill.

The notion that the monarch's role is to come in and sort things out is a sign of madness. That's not what she's there for. It may have been what monarchs used to be there for, but any venturing into the political labyrinth would set a profoundly dangerous precedent, even if, on this occasion, she would be speaking for the nation. She's no more likely to depose the government than she is to start refusing royal assent to acts of Parliament she disapproves of. Hankering after a royal solution is akin to praying for divine intervention: a sign of heartfelt desire, but not remotely realistic. It's fantasy politics. Likewise, the words of Cromwell to the Rump Parliament, "In the name of God, Go!", have been widely and wistfully quoted

There is indeed a power vacuum, but it can hardly be filled by an octogenarian hereditary monarch. It might well be useful if there were the political equivalent of a referee who was able to step in at moments like this. That's what many countries have presidents for. But we don't have a president, and it would be inappropriate and democratically dangerous to turn the monarch into one. It has in the past been suggested that the Speaker of the House of Commons might be a suitable person to perform such a role in a rejigged constitution. But then what do you do if the Speaker is useless, politically biased and has his own snout in the trough?

Besides, people who live in glass houses are ill-advised to throw stones; people who live in glass palaces still less so. If the royal finances were to be subjected to this slightly deranged public examination, the assorted TVs and moat clearances of honourable members would start to look modest by comparison. There are, of course, periodic revelations about royal extravagances and claims upon the public purse. It's not so many years ago that Her Maj was persuaded with the greatest reluctance to start paying income tax. Right now, the Mail is raising the very pertinent question of whether the £250,000 per year of taxpayers' money being expended upon the "protection" of Her Royal Brattiness, princess Eugenie. Eyebrows are being raised - especially when she slips into, or occasionally out of, one of her bikinis. But less eye-catching members of the Royal Family also have their little indulgences. As Bagehot himself liked to say, and as many politicians are learning afresh, it's always dangerous to let daylight in upon magic.