What does this rush on the ceremonies of the death of Elizabeth II teach to the planetary commoners of the XXI?e century ? A need for rituals, a desire to perpetuate old traditions when everything fades away, a respect for a beloved and admired queen? Twelve days of mourning in the shared myth: a true eternity in our age of instantaneity. Many passed quickly on the past abuses of the Crown, slavery, blind colonialism, the shocking social disparities of a monarchy with iniquitous and bloody traces. Eyes averted from the contrast between the British people strangled by the recession and the wealth of their monarchy. True collective hypnosis for a tearful crowd. This departure upset memories, but was excessively covered up, in a hallucinated round.
Under the power of images, this queen, whose coronation broadcast on televisions around the world had, in 1953, inaugurated the dynasty-spectacle, wanted to bow out urbi et orbi with even more pomp. Time requires!
So many different people will have felt in tune with a monarchy clinging to the decorum of the past, now relegated to its diplomatic mission. The deceased had interpreted that role so well. Seventy years of exemplary reign, it marks and it grays, even on the blue note.
The farewells to the Queen, long choreographed, were part of show total and planetary, in sounds and lights, choirs, large organs, ceremonial costumes and magical decorations. TV, often overtaken by social media, suddenly found the jewels of its own crown there. Thus, the army of Radio-Canada reporters sent to London celebrated the power of the image in majesty. Any channel from here or elsewhere that broadcast these tributes far and wide reaped huge ratings. Four billion spectators worldwide, it is said, for this national funeral. A collective emotion from which many took advantage.
The British monarchy, beyond its mourning, gained a very welcome colossal publicity. Series The Crown is hitting Netflix again. As for the greats of this world massed at Westminster Abbey on D-Day, they took advantage of their stay in London to advance their political pawns with their counterparts, before continuing the game in New York at the UN headquarters.
“The spectacle is the bad dream of chained modern society, which ultimately only expresses its desire to sleep”, wrote Guy Debord in 1967 in The entertainment society. True ! And people need the consolation of sleep and dreams even more than yesterday. To salute the constancy of an exceptional queen, to forget their stress, the economic crisis, their addiction to video games animated by towers and dungeons, their fears about the future, the loss of the community spirit eroded by thousand termites. Therapeutic cure, that this mourning also stretched, scintillating with the fires of yesterday. No film, no series could have surpassed this theatrical charge, more Shakespearian than nature, nourished by the palpable tensions between the members of the ” royal family “.
the God Save the King, a naive hymn in its lyrics celebrating a bygone greatness, touches hearts with its melodic power with solemn accents. Its rallying force spans millennia. The ear needs landmarks. Whatever one’s allegiance, so many voices have hummed it since September 8.
Quebec will have given legs to the sovereign with her desire for independence. Among the nationalists or not, many have followed this daily soap opera here. They listened to the knell of Big Ben, greeted the funeral procession, admired the horses, observed the first steps of Charles III in the footsteps of his mother, hoping that he would not break his royal nose there.
However, the monarchy, which drags skeletons in its luxurious cupboards, is seen threatened in many corners of the Commonwealth. The departure of Elizabeth II shed light on the already gaping abyss of a planet upset by badly digested changes, like the fragility of her royal function. The Crown of England, with its persistent symbolic charge, loses its reassuring effects with the sovereign. His people feel it. Buckingham Palace knows it. Swan song?
This popular symphony of bagpipes, trumpets and tears cries out to us, beyond the media hype, that people need public figures to admire. Hence this immense popular mourning, propelled to full megaphones. The most impactful shows are woven with a latent nostalgia that goes beyond their masters, their broadcasters and the public. Then the crowd disperses, half stunned, feeling vaguely cheated, not really knowing which way to go after all that. Back to XXIe century. Hear! Hear!