The reportedly fairly numerous refuseniks, Francis Bacon and Roald Dahl among them, are only outed officially when deceased.
Would you accept a mark of esteem from the Queen of England yourself? If you were asked if you’d like to be a Commander of the British Empire (CBE), an Officer of the British Empire (OBE), a Member of the British Empire (MBE), if you’d accept even the British Empire Medal, lowliest-ranked honour, would you say yes, thanks?
Some have no doubts that the UK’s ‘honours system of orders and medals’ commemorates a bloody-handed empire that looted around the world. These are still worthwhile badges to a sizeable number in the north of an island once entirely part of the empire. No doubt still abominated by socialist, small-r republican Protestants who keep their thoughts mostly to themselves, the ‘Empire’ tag has never had a down-side to many if not most unionists.
But Irish Catholics surely inherit anti-British imperialism? Unearned, gigantic wealth, ludicrous privilege, pitiful wages for their humbler staff - never mind what your mother taught you, the modern monarchy on display surely repels independent souls?
Up to about the millennium, perhaps. Over the last two decades royal behaviour towards Ireland has changed some minds and hearts. It turns out that there’s the Royal Family and then there’s the Queen, her now departed consort and, if least winningly, the rapidly ageing heir to the throne.
Journalists here as elsewhere, as the ‘fourth estate’ supposedly holding others to account have no business taking ‘honours’ from government, royalty - or church. (In case anyone is wondering about my inclinations.) It shouldn’t need saying.
Everyone’s judgment here is coloured by origin and upbringing, needing lifelong self-interrogation. Why cloud the question of your judgment further? But you, non-media civilians, would you take an honour – which you might now indeed consider an honour rather than jeering at the very idea - from the 96 year old queen?
‘They’d bite your hand off for one’, says someone who will never say yes thanks, of a mutual acquaintance famed for good causes but as yet un-decorated. Nominated but said no? They aren’t saying. Apparently anyone can put a name forward. Officialdom then vets, sounds out those approved to see if they’ll bend the knee, buy the frock or a new suit, come to the palace garden party.
From an unscientific trawl of non-unionist likely awardees recently: ‘I wouldn’t offend the decent unionists I know by saying no out of hand. For reconciliation. .. Out of respect for the people doing worthwhile work in our town, for friendship. And the queen has done her best for us, hasn’t she? ... Ah never mind the Empire, haven’t we all pasts. It’s only a name... But if the DUP had anything to do with the nominating, I’d be away like a shot.’
Bowing her head for Ireland’s patriot dead, meeting presidents, a few grace notes in Irish, all that choreographed and scripted diplomacy was crowned for some by the sight of Elizabeth the Second (and Prince Philip) shaking hands with Martin McGuinness. Whose bloody-handed army fought hers to a standstill and killed her relative Lord Mountbatten, Philip’s uncle. That’s the Crown rehabilitated.
The most straightforward know that ‘the others’ in their mixed groups will appreciate their acceptance as ‘non-sectarian’ above all. Some are simply social climbers, snobs navigating in uncertain times, some more careerist than anything else.
At the moment one community here looks particularly confident in its identity alongside the grouchy and anxious, the two mindsets feeding off each other. Individuals in the first lot are no longer contemptuous about awards once solely prized by the second lot. They laugh off any suggestion that they’re whitewashing empire, becoming more British than the British. What’s in a bauble between friends? Why not?
There used to be a caste called Castle Catholics. It’s no longer recognisable. We’re not all Castle Catholics now. We’ve captured the castle.
