The Fraudulent King’s
Speech
“…[T]here is no such
thing as cold, objective reality that is solid, fixed and not open to
interpretation. Inevitably, we are to some extent creating a fiction in every
second of our lives, the fiction of who we are, what our lives are about, the
meanings that we give to things… Obviously there are some occasions when the
fictions that we base our lives upon lead us into some terrifying territory.”
Alan Moore
The King was not Himself in those final days. His muttered
ramblings of ‘illusions’ and ‘nonsense held up on stilts’ should have been an
indication of the deterioration of His faculties. Still, the lunatic ramblings
of His last public address could never have been foreseen. I shall repeat it as
faithfully as I can in due course but it should be apparent that His words were
inappropriate for the Lord of Our Fairest of Nations. The King’s physical state
appeared to be far more rapid in its decline. The cough was incessant and the
constant production of fluid led to an acute awareness among the closest staff
and confidantes that our King’s reign was rapidly coming to its termination.
In those last days, He paced rampantly as He spluttered and
muttered. Most of us took it for the bitter musings of a man coming to terms
with His mortality. If there is anyone who is less aware of the encroaching
shadow of death than an almighty leader, I am at a loss who to speculate who he
may be.
(Indeed, if I may digress from my account further into still
more speculative musings, I would suggest that, in a way, a monarch’s perceived
immortality is less an illusion and more a case of understanding that a monarch
is not a man; he is a title, a concept; an entity beyond the individual. Who
thinks of their leader as a human being? As a mere mortal? Who cares for his
personality over what he represents? He is far less who he is and far more what
he is. That is a leader’s burden.)
(And if I may explore this idea further – is not the reverse
true? Do the subjects not become merely a mass? Each individual an irrelevance
to a leader, who must rule all of them but not each of them: a king does not
think about how his decrees affect people but The People. He must remove
himself of sentiment if he is to rule effectively. Again, this is the leader’s
burden. And the people’s burden too.)
As I was explaining, there was a misperception that the
King’s ramblings were that of Him facing His certain, rapidly impending demise.
However, it transpires that we misperceived the King’s concerns – indeed His
concerns regarding His own misperception. I suppose His communications with us
closest to Him should have hinted at his true musings but that is a comment
borne out of the gift of hindsight. In short, our misperception was reasonably
misperceived.
I recall one conversation that perhaps indicated that more
was amiss than the comprehensible concern of death. In those last days, the
King asked me what was the most impressive legend or rumour that I had heard
told about He and His reign. I shared the oft-told legend of the battle against
the army of our rival nation, where the King had been known to arrive to lead
our soldiers with a rousing speech – and, not only that, but to be first into
the fray, successfully shedding the blood of four hundred enemy soldiers alone!
“Do they believe it?” He asked.
“They believe it enough to tell it, sir.” I replied, “They
believe it enough to want to believe it.”
“But can there truly be comfort in such falsehoods?
Especially one as inconceivable as this?”
“My Lord,” I said, shielding my astonishment, “there is more
than comfort in such tales. There is justification for you and your position.
If men battle for you, that shows they accept you as their leader. But if men
battle behind you, that shows they are right to accept you as their leader.
Especially if you commit such feats. To rally for a king is one thing, but to
rally behind a king! Much less
important than its truth is its meaning – it means you are one to be followed,
to be admired, to be worshipped! Is there a comfort in these falsehoods? I’d
say there is a truth in these falsehoods! The legend is more important than the
truth because it reveals a greater truth.”
“That’s a contradictory web you have just spun.”
“To say a lie can express a truth – I do not view a
contradiction.”
The King stared into space.
“The illusions we create for ourselves…” He said, sick with
wonder.
And, of course, it was His sickness that dominated our
concern. His physical failings demanded more immediate attention than His ill
state of mind. His last days had to be made comfortable. Perhaps it would have
been wise to spend at least a little more time on His mental disturbances.
For when it came to the King’s last address – His final
farewell to His subjects – we expected sadness and a sombre, serious speech.
However, we did not expect the wild ravings of a man gone mad.
I will now relay the speech as accurately as is appropriate.
I omit the intermittent coughs, heavy and hacking, for ease of flow and
reading. However, be assured that where His emotions were most animated and His
voice most intense, His words often spilled over into spluttered spitting,
making Him mercifully difficult to comprehend. Indeed, His physical state
helped to give credence to the view that the King’s words should be approached
cautiously. If a man is sick then he needs to be cared for, not listened to.
For the King may be infallible but the man is not. And on that day, the speech
was given by much less a king than a mortal and miserable man.
The speech was delivered thusly:
“My people. I come before you as a dying man. I stand here
today to speak honestly with you. To console you regarding my passing and to
direct you to happier times. I will share with you some truths; truths which
will be shocking but that I tell with kindness, with you at the centre of my
concerns.
(Only now can I see the sinister undertones in what appears
to be a commendable and considered opening!)
“I stand here before you on numbered days. I am clearly
aware – clearer than I ever have been – of my own frailty and humanity. We like
to think of our leaders as gods – well-intended, superior and, though we know
it to be untrue, immortal. We cannot imagine an existence without our leaders
but our leaders change. Your leaders change. Your systems change. There was a
time when consultation with the king was little more than an exercise in
sycophantic flattery. Now the consultation is genuine – there is consideration
of your situation when the leader makes a decision. In short, your position has
progressed and my rule has been softer than the rulers previous. In
consideration of this fact, my position has progressed also.
And so, systems change, orders change, the world does change
and kings as well.
We have to realise that it is an innocence that makes you
believe that I am, in a sense, permanent. Your innocence perceives me as an
individual that is an institution. The institution is permanent, so I am
permanent.
But I am not permanent. I am temporary. Finite and frail is
my life, exactly as is yours. Granted, in many ways our lives differ
significantly. Mine is a position of power and privilege. It is a position that
is universally acknowledged and accepted. We all have our different places in
this order but in one way our places are the same – they are places that outlast
us. They are places that are eventually filled by someone else.
And now my place is to be filled by someone else. My frailty
has come to reveal itself in the starkest terms. We see that it is a mistake to
see our leaders as permanent, an innocent illusion.
And are perhaps our other perceptions of leaders illusions
also? Is it also perhaps naïve to consider our leaders well-intended and
superior? For what makes me superior to you? Is it my permanence? I have told
you clearly that this is a falsehood. Is it my position of privilege? That
seems to me to be a circular argument. I am in a position of superiority
because I am superior. I am superior because I am in a position of superiority.
This defines my position but it does not justify it.
Perhaps it is my good intentions, my perceived
infallibility? My power to choose what is right.
Today, I tell you something. A statement sincere that
applies to myself and every other leader. It applies to every other would-be
God. My intentions are only so far well-intended. As my frailty is as real as
yours, so my fallibility is as real as yours. To believe otherwise is more
innocence.
And, ultimately, what is innocence apart from excusable
ignorance?
Today I take away your innocence. Your ignorance may no
longer be excused. I pardon it no more. I condone it no more.
For in revealing my fallibility, I reveal my injustice. My
superiority is tradition, is custom. You accept the order because you refuse to
question, to scrutinise, to demand something else. You believe me infallible,
so you refuse to question. Your lac k of questioning helps to reinforce the
myth that I am infallible. You accept my superiority so you defer power, which,
in turn, creates my superiority. You see me as unchanging and immortal, which
is why, though I die, there will be another king. The order of things is not
accepted because it is inevitable; it is inevitable because you accept it.
And so today, I ask you: should you accept it? Today, I ask
you to scrutinise, to question. Should I, or anyone else, stand before you like
a giant or a God? When I am as frail, flawed and prone to fault as you are, can
it be right to support my position?
I cannot see that.
In truth, your blind acceptance made me blind. The illusions
you succumbed to, I succumbed to them too. I saw my privilege as justified. It
is only through staring at death do I see this illusion for the damaging lie
that it is.
For who benefits best from this situation? I do! And then
all those I surround myself with, all those that sneak in close to me. We may
consider you but it’s only so that we can continue to clasp to power. We want
you to think of us as infallible and untouchable so that way we can continue to
be infallible and untouchable. We want you to see us as Gods so that we may
live like Gods. You may curse your worth but you cannot question the order of
things. And until you question, your worth is cursed.
I stand before you today as a dying man. Not a king, not a
title, but a man. I have led you too long. The legacy of my rule and the rulers
before me has been for too long. And this is a reality that is so easy to
change. Because it’s not real at all. It is as real as you choose to make it.
So, when you first respond to me – or anyone else – as your leader, your
response should be ‘why?’ And after you have explained the ‘why’ the response
to me – or any other would-be king – standing as your leader should be ‘no.’
You told a story of me that I slew 400 men in battle. An
absurdity but you believed the lie. The story gave you faith and you had faith
in the story. Your faith gave you comfort in an uncomfortable reality. I am a
lie. It is time for me to die. It is time for the lie to die.
Do not mourn what you may lose over the next few days.
Celebrate what you could win.”
The question I ask upon recounting the King’s words is: can
you kill a king for treason against himself? The answer is irrelevant, I
suppose, as He died hours later. But it is an interesting consideration for
future concerns. For the King – as He made quite clear – not only betrayed
Himself but His legacy, both past and future. Still, at least we have a future
to be concerned about, for the King’s rule remains. The King did cause a storm
and upset our nation but not by igniting a demand for republicanism. They
wanted to know, to understand why the King would try to wreak such havoc, to
cause such confusion and provoke such questioning. When confronted with the King’s
thoughts, the people recoiled. They rejected the King that would have them
reject the King. For the people understand the order of things. Things are so
because they should be so.
And so the old King is gone, his malicious monologue largely
forgotten. There is a new King, currently at ease ruling His subjects. No one
questions and no one doubts. Which is just as well, for if order does not sit
in the people’s minds, then order must be preserved through force. For even if
this way of existing was a ‘nonsense on stilts’, it has a military might
sufficient to help it keep the balance. But it is not a nonsense on stilts, it
is a truth in mind – irresistible and immovable. The seeds of revolution cannot
take root on the stony ground of convention. Everything stays the same, and it
is with pleasure that I may proclaim:
The king is dead,
long live the king!