The King of Papua New Guinea: the Commonwealth Realms in the 21st Century

‘Like all the best families, we have our share of eccentricities, of impetuous and wayward youngsters, and of family disagreements' (Speech on the royal yacht Britannia, October 1989)

Upon the death of his mother, Her Majesty the Queen, King Charles III quietly acceded to the throne, an invisible passage of the Crown from one head to the next. In doing so, he became the final constitutional authority, sovereign, and head of state – of Papua New Guinea.

At the same exact moment, he became King of two other Pacific Island states, eight Caribbean countries, and of three large, developed democracies – New Zealand, Canada, and Australia.

Am I forgetting one?

Oh yes – for what it’s worth, he’s also monarch here in the UK.

Though little remarked upon in Britain, this system, the Commonwealth Realms, ties us inextricably to fourteen other countries across the world who, while sovereign and independent, share a head of state. The monarchies of these other states are legally distinct, with their own traditions and resources, united only by the person who wears the crown – a so-called personal union.

Such a personal union would be entirely comfortable to the 19th century mind – Britain was itself in a personal union with Hannover from 1714 to 1837, until Hanoverian succession rules prevented a woman, Queen Victoria, from acceding to the throne.

Such an arrangement is not unique in the modern world. France’s President Macron serves simultaneously as Co-Prince of Andorra, the result of a complex medieval arrangement which governs the complex constitution of that tiny mountainous nation.

It is possible, unremarkable even, for the same person to wear many different hats, even if those hats happen to be jewel encrusted.

The system stems from the Balfour Declaration of 1926, when Britain’s self-governing dominions were proclaimed “equal in status, in no way subordinate one to another…though united by a common allegiance to the Crown.” The Crown is a legally complex institution, a single person simultaneously serving in fifteen distinct roles with a unique relationship to each Realm. There are points of commonality, of course – the Perth Agreement of 2011 saw the Realms come together to agree on a new system of succession. Where the Monarch cannot be present, they are represented by a Governor-General who executes the powers and responsibilities of the Crown in their absence.

Much like Britain’s own constitution, or the institution of the Commonwealth of Nations, this system has developed organically and over time, with no central planning, maintained by a global respect for the Royal Family, and committed people at all levels working to ensure that the system functions.

Political scientist Peter Boyce calls this system “an achievement without parallel in the history of international relations or constitutional law”. It’s certainly remarkable – fifteen countries, all independent, all with the same head of state, a truly international family.

Just like all families, this one is born of fortune and circumstance, a great historical accident. It has given rise to some of history’s most amusing stories, maintained ties which might otherwise have faltered, and given a platform for dialogue between countries which might not otherwise consult one another.

I mentioned Papua New Guinea earlier – when PNG became independent in 1975, it was initially expected that it would adopt a republican constitution. The Government noted the glowing reception that the Queen received when she visited in 1974, and so invited her to become Queen of Papua New Guinea – an offer that “both tickled and touched” her, according to former Private Secretary Martin Charteris.

Grenada’s story is perhaps even stranger. When, in 1979, the Marxist-Leninist New Jewel Movement seized power in the country, it was expected that it would transition Grenada towards a republic – after all, communist dictatorships and monarchies don’t tend to mix. However, Prime Minister Maurice Bishop decided to retain the monarchy, arguing that it would give Grenada a greater degree of international legitimacy, and foster better relations with Britain and the Commonwealth. As such, until the fall of the NJM government in 1983, Grenada stood alone as the world’s only communist monarchy.

This eccentricity extends to former Realms too. Take Fiji. Until 2012, the Queen was still displayed on Fiji’s currency, with St. Edward’s Crown still forming a part of military and police badges. In 1998, the Great Council of Chiefs reiterated that Elizabeth II served as “supreme tribal chief”, and outgoing Prime Minister Frank Bainimarama displays portraits of the Queen and Prince Philip above his office desk.

Yet, since a military coup in 1987, Fiji has not been a Commonwealth Realm. The Queen was unequivocally removed as sovereign, and yet to this day Fijians retain an immense respect for the Royal Family and the institution of the Crown. Many there still call for restoration of the monarchy, and bear allegiance to a King some 10,000 miles away.

‘Family Does Not Necessarily Mean Blood Relatives’ (Christmas Broadcast 2011)

Of course, the position and contributions of republics as full and equal members of the Commonwealth is unassailable. With thirty-six of the Commonwealth’s fifty-six members favouring a republican system of government, and just fifteen swearing their oaths to the House of Windsor, there would hardly be a Commonwealth to speak of without these closed and valued partners.

When India joined the Commonwealth as a republic in 1950, with its huge population and vast economic power, it forever cemented a place in the Commonwealth for those with a preference for suits and working lunches over robes and white-tie dinners. The Commonwealth is not about monarchy.

But there is a special link between those Commonwealth members who share the same individual as their head of state, whose constitutions are linked across continents by the personhood of Charles III.

This link is more than symbolic. Though politicians are often reluctant to talk in such intangible terms, there is immense soft power benefit in sharing a head of state. The powerful diplomatic role of the monarch can help to unpick even the most Gordian of diplomatic knots, and a shared head of state can serve as a sign of shared values, goals, and principles. Like it or not, countries which think of themselves as similar are more likely to make accommodations for one another.

This is to say nothing of the immense systemic benefits of constitutional monarchy. The world’s other remaining constitutional monarchies – Japan, Denmark, Sweden, the Netherlands, and more – are synonymous with stability, order, and measured, gradual change. By providing a thread of consistency which runs throughout and despite political turmoil, monarchy has shielded many states from the relative radicalism and instability of their neighbours.

A constitutional monarch also serves as a crucial placeholder, preventing radical and dangerous elements from holding the most senior position in Government. Patriotic citizens can express their allegiance and admiration to a personified representation of the nation without lauding a political, partisan figure.

‘All The More Determined To Struggle For A Better Future’ (Christmas Broadcast, 2008)

Despite all of this, a continued life for the Commonwealth Realms is by no means guaranteed. When, in November 2021, Barbados transitioned to a parliamentary republic, a ripple of republicanism spread across the Caribbean – the death of Her Majesty in 2022 spurred Jamaica, The Bahamas, and Antigua & Barbuda to move towards referendums on the monarchy, with their respective Governments firmly in favour of severing the tie.

In Australia, the Albanese Government has appointed an Assistant Minister for the Republic, despite earlier assurances that it would not seek to review the monarchy’s place in Australia during its first term. In New Zealand, outgoing Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern used the occasion of the Queen’s death to make clear that she saw

There are positive steps that could be taken to genuinely internationalise the monarchy, making it a creature of the Commonwealth in practice as well as in spirit, and giving new life to a system which currently seems set to limp towards its demise.

Part of this is exposure. That means more royal visits, royal residences in the other Realms – perhaps funded by the Family itself -, closer counsel and consultation with all fifteen of the King’s Prime Ministers, regular meetings of Governors-General. Britain must step back from its sense of ownership over the Royal Family and encourage it to play a part in the dealings and development of its other Realms.

There are more practical steps that can be taken too. While Royal Patronage sustains many of the UK’s small businesses and charities, it takes a more hands-off approach to the other realms. This need not be the case – perhaps Royal Investment Funds could be set up for each of the realms, using the Crown’s soft power to attract investment, and redistributing it to small businesses, community projects, and charitable causes.

Nevertheless, dealing in ‘royal policy’ of this kind is deeply difficult. There is little appetite for discussions of this nature at a time when the world’s existential problems seem so daunting. In any case, changes of this sort move beyond the world of the political and into the complex, personal world of the House of Windsor’s internal dealings.

As such, building a robust network of activists, policymakers, and academics across the Commonwealth realms, who can share resources, arguments, and strategies will be vital. Whatever happens at the Palace, there must be an underpinning structure committed to active upkeep of the Commonwealth Realms. In the digital age, close communication and cooperation is easier than ever. There are substantive steps to be taken, best practice to be shared, and cultural connections to be reforged and developed.

Most importantly, those who understand the value of our constitutional history would do well not to give into pessimism. There is no historical rulebook, in which it is written that all countries must transition slowly but surely towards a Presidential system. There is a case to be made, in countries of all shapes and sizes, for constitutional monarchy, and if it is made robustly, clearly, and repeatedly, it can win out.

In 1999, Australia was asked whether it wished to become a republic – 55% of voters said no. Tuvalu, 2008 – the same question, 65% of voters for no. St. Vincent & The Grenadines, 2009, the near neighbour of many of those countries now moving towards abolition, 56% of voters supported retaining the monarchy.

The momentum is only unstoppable if Commonwealth monarchists allow it to be.

I hope that the Centre for Commonwealth Affairs can play some small part in this mission, bringing together pan-Commonwealth minds on this issue as well as many others. We want to see stronger ties between Commonwealth nations of all stripes but this tie, one which binds a unique intercontinental family, is equally worthy of our support. While a concerted effort will be necessary to keep and maintain it, the same is true of anything worth having in the first place.

Wherever St. Edward’s Crown can be found blazoned onto coinage or the lapels of police officers, there is work to be done.

Sam Bidwell is a Parliamentary Researcher, and Director of the Centre for Commonwealth Affairs. He studied at the University of Cambridge, where he specialised in international, constitutional, and administrative law.