Introduction
The constitutional monarchy presents a peculiar discordance between theory and practice. On the one hand, the birthright inequality and aristocratic hierarchy embodied in its hereditary ascension appear to run contrary to the ideals of the many democracies over which it presides. On the other hand, the fact that 34 of the 193 modern states retain constitutional monarchs as their head of states attests to its continued prevalence.[1] Its enduring political relevance and, or in spite of, its weak theoretical foundation hence raise the question: do constitutional monarchies persist merely because they have not been abolished, or are there positive justifications for their preservation? Are they merely remnants of the Medieval past, or can they remain pillars of today’s political order?
To rigorously analyse what the constitutional monarchy has to offer, one must first identify what it entails, which competing constitutional order(s) to evaluate it against, and how to do so. Accordingly, Part 1 outlines the typology of constitutional orders, and locates the constitutional monarchy within it. Part 2 contrasts the constitutional orders outlined in Part 1, and concludes that a fair comparison can only be drawn between constitutional monarchs and ceremonial presidents. Part 3 undertakes a comparative analysis of the two, presenting the assets and liabilities of constitutional monarchies. Part 4 then attempts to rationalise the constitutional monarchy, contending that the monarchy’s theoretical illegitimacy can be overlooked as a pragmatic approach to governance.
Part 1: The Typology of Constitutional Orders
Before evaluating the assets and liabilities of constitutional monarchies, it is crucial to first map out the landscape of competing constitutional orders. A polity’s choice of its head of state can be defined along two axes: their (a) scope of authority, and (b) mode of selection. These two dimensions can be derived from the various attempts to justify political authority in literature, most aptly presented by Barber, who distills the prevailing school of thoughts into five major rationales: a leader’s (i) decision-making capacity, (ii) decision-making ability, (iii) legitimate selection, (iv) prototypicality, and (v) removability as a scapegoat.[2] Of these, justifications (i)-(iii) bear directly on the features of a political office that contribute to its leadership ability, and as such are relevant for our purposes. On the other hand, justification (iv) is contingent on the leader’s personal charisma, rather than the structural features of the office itself, while justification (v) concerns itself with the incumbent’s removability, rather than the office’s leadership ability. They are therefore set aside for the present purpose, as I proceed to outline justifications (i)-(iii) below.
Under justification (i), the populace accept the leader because they recognise that an authority— whether an individual or institution—is needed to make decisions to ‘end[…]dispute within the state’.[3] One of the earliest accounts of this rationale is Hobbes’ theory of social contract, whereby the sovereign is justified by its very capacity to enact and enforce political decisions irrespective of their merits.[4] What mattered to Hobbes was the order brought about by the sovereign, which is inherently preferable to the anarchy of the state of nature.[5] This theory yields a somewhat circular conclusion that a leader is needed because leadership is needed. Under justification (ii), most prominently advanced by Raz as the ‘normal’ justification for authority, the populace defers to the leader because they place greater confidence in their leader’s judgement than in their own.[6] Leadership justified on these two bases is transactional in character: subjects surrender a measure of their decision-making power to a leader, in exchange for the superior exercise of judgement.
Under justification (iii), a leader’s legitimacy derives not from their performance in office but from the values embodied by, or the merits of, their mode of selection.[7] To illustrate, the monarch’s authority was once attributed to God’s will, per the divine right of kings. Elected officials, by contrast, derive their legitimacy from the fact that they are the product of the polity’s collective choice, and hence the fact that their very selection embodies the polity’s respect for popular sovereignty.
The three justifications, taken together, reveal what a political office—and, for our purpose, a head of state—entails. The instrumental justifications, namely a leader’s decision-making capacity and ability, depend on the type of decisions they are called upon to make or, in other words, their scope of authority. A leader’s non-instrumental legitimacy, meanwhile, turns upon their mode of selection. A head of state is therefore always situated along two axes: their (a) scope of authority, and (b) mode of selection. The constitutional order a polity adopts reflects its choice along these two dimensions, which in turn reveals what the polity values as a collective.
This framework sets the stage for the comparative analysis that follows. A constitutional monarchy is, for instance, characterised by a hereditary sovereign wielding limited or symbolic authority, complemented by a democratically elected government that exercises administrative power on the sovereign’s behalf. This is consistent with Ginsburg’s definition, which identifies the three hallmarks of constitutional monarchies as: (1) the head of state is a monarch, either appointed or hereditary; (2) the actual head of government is not the monarch and is responsible to electoral institutions; and (3) the powers of the monarch are laid out in a constitution or set of constitutional texts.[8]
A hereditary mode of selection stands in contrast to a democratic one: pairing limited, symbolic authority with a democratic mandate yields a ceremonial president.[9] Symbolic authority may in turn be contrasted with substantive governing authority: a polity with a democratically elected head of state who possesses substantive governing power constitutes a presidential republic, while one with a hereditary sovereign exercising such power constitutes an absolute or executive monarchy. The four predominant forms of constitutional orders can therefore be identified by their choices of their Heads of State along the two axes (Table 1).
| Democratic selection | Hereditary selection | |
| Symbolic authority | Parliamentary republics with ceremonial presidents | Constitutional monarchies |
| Substantive authority | Presidential republics | Executive or Absolute monarchies |
Table 1: the typology of constitutional orders
Part 2: The roles of Heads of State
The different roles performed by heads of state with substantive as opposed to symbolic authority means that constitutional monarchs can only be meaningfully compared with ceremonial presidents. This distinction, in turn, rests upon the divergent functions exercised by heads of state and heads of government respectively.
While the state is the permanent, sovereign polity constituted by its population, territory, and institutions, the government is merely the temporary governing body charged with administering its affairs and exercising power on its behalf. Accordingly, whereas the head of government serves as the linchpin of the administrative apparatus, the head of state performs the more abstract and encompassing role of personifying the polity, symbolising the nation, and uniting the populace as a whole.
In presidential republics and executive or absolute monarchies, where the head of state wields actual governing authority, the head of state typically also serves as the head of government, discharging symbolic leadership duties in the former capacity and substantive governing responsibilities in the latter simultaneously. As ceremonial heads of state are, by contrast, relieved of substantive governing duties on a routine basis, they are instead entrusted with an additional function: providing contingent leadership where normal governance breaks down—or, in Ginsburg’s formulation, ‘crisis insurance.’[10] Such a crisis may materialise as a hung parliament, the majority party’s failure to select a leader, or even a coup d’état. Executive presidents and absolute monarchs, as direct participants in the ordinary machinery of governance, are ill-placed to perform this function. Presidential republics, and to a lesser extent absolute monarchies, therefore frequently resort to alternative institutions—such as their apex courts, or a dedicated constitutional court in some jurisdictions—to provide crisis insurance.[11]
In that sense, while the decision-making capacity and ability of executive heads of state are called upon in the ordinary course of governance, those of ceremonial heads of state are tested only in the exceptional circumstances that justify and necessitate their intervention. A direct comparison can therefore only be made between ceremonial presidents and constitutional monarchs, in relation to their respective capacities to fulfil the functions particular to their office. In other words, per Table 1, the vertical comparison between executive and ceremonial heads of state is cast aside, in favour of a horizontal comparison between a democratic and hereditary mode of selection. Part 3 therefore evaluates which form of selection is more conducive to discharging a ceremonial head of state’s symbolic duty to project unity and represent the polity, as well as their substantive duty to offer crisis insurance.
Part 3: The clashes of constitutional orders
Although the monarchy’s hereditary nature deprives it of the theoretical justification that ceremonial presidents possess, the office’s insulation from political contention eliminates many perils associated with it. However, to avert their respective risks and to secure their effective functioning, both constitutional monarchies and ceremonial presidencies depend on whether the heads of state—together with other constitutional actors—behave as ‘good chaps’.[12]
Parliamentary Republics with Ceremonial Presidents
As a product of democratic processes, the ceremonial president’s very selection conveys the state’s respect for citizen input and its commitment to the right of self-determination. As the polity’s collective choice, a ceremonial president is well-positioned to command respect and acceptance from citizens who did not support them. Such a democratic mandate further grants them the legitimacy to intervene in the state’s governance where crisis indeed arises.
Strong as this theoretical justification is, democratic selection nevertheless faces practical difficulties of its own. Electoral pressures and media scrutiny compel candidates to adopt and publicly defend positions on contentious issues. While this promotes transparency, it forecloses neutrality as an option, inevitably creating the risk of alienating parts of the population. For a head of government, whose mandate is to govern according to the will of the majority, transparency is a virtue. For a head of state, however, whose function is precisely to serve as a unifying symbol of the nation as a whole, the same dynamic may prove corrosive. In Poland, for example, the Presidency is often highly politicised. In the 2025 Presidential election, the incumbent Polish President Karol Nawrocki secured a narrow victory by running a divisive campaign characterised by the Trumpesque slogan ‘Poland first, Poles first’.[13] His anti-immigration, anti-LGBTQ+, and anti-EU agenda has reinvigorated his conservative base in the wake of the right-wing Law and Justice (PiS) Party’s loss of parliamentary majority in 2023, but is manifestly ill-suited to uniting the population.[14] That Nawrocki only secured a slim 50.9% majority over the liberal Warsaw mayor Rafal Trzaskowski’s 49.1% further underscores his inability to build cross-party consensus.[15] Partisan interest, in short, has been placed above the presidency’s unifying function.
The image that the head of state stands above politics is not only essential to their ceremonial function, but also to their substantive function of providing crisis insurance when ordinary political processes break down. For instance, when a highly polarised election results in a hung parliament, it often falls to the head of state to intervene, to facilitate negotiations between the parties, and where necessary, to determine which parties are invited to form a government. In such circumstances, the head of state’s perceived impartiality becomes decisive in securing the parties’ acceptance of the outcome, regardless of whether they agree with it. A politicised head of state is therefore structurally ill-equipped to discharge this function.
To illustrate, the electoral dynamics that bring a ceremonial president to office create inherent incentives for party alignment: on the one hand, presidential candidates may seek to mobilise existing voter base and cleavages by seeking political parties’ endorsement; on the other hand, political parties often back ideologically sympathetic candidates to extend their influence into the presidential arena. Nawrocki, for example, is affiliated with the PiS currently in opposition, while the incumbent Indian President Droupadi Murmu was backed by the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) led by Prime Minister Narendra Modi.[16] Such entanglements risk undermining the head of state’s image of neutrality and independence, and with it, their capacity to intervene impartially in times of political crisis.
This points to a deeper structural tension inherent in parliamentary republics with ceremonial presidents: the conflation and conflict between the roles of the head of state and the government. Since both offices carry a democratic mandate, their incumbents may plausibly mobilise their respective supporters and advance competing claims of legitimacy. When citizens elect a ceremonial president whose worldview conflicts with the cabinet, inter-institutional conflict may arise: is foreign policy determined by the foreign minister or the president? Is the armed force directed by the defence minister, or the president as the commander-in-chief?
Then-President of Ireland, Mary Robinson, offers a cautionary illustration. A longstanding supporter of Tibetan independence, Robinson planned to meet Tenzin Gyatso—the Dalai Lama and leader of the Tibetan government-in-exile—during his visit to Ireland, in open defiance of Taoiseach Charles Haughey’s opposition.[17] The episode threatened to bring her into conflict with Article 13.9 of the Constitution, which provides that the President’s powers and functions are exercisable only ‘on the advice of the government’ unless otherwise specified.[18] A more contemporary instance of the same tension is unfolding in Poland: openly at odds with Donald Tusk’s liberal government, Nawrocki is widely expected to exploit his veto power over parliamentary legislation—a power that Tusk’s government, lacking the requisite three-fifths majority, would be unable to override.[19] The anticipated tug-of-war between president and government mirrors, and threatens to exacerbate, the very political polarisation that the head of state is meant to heal.
Realising the merits of ceremonial presidencies, and averting their worst excesses, therefore depends on the quality and self-discipline of politicians and citizens alike. As historian and House of Lords peer Peter Hennessy observes, the UK’s uncodified constitution requires constitutional actors to act as ‘good chaps’—that is, honourably and with self-restraint—in upholding its unwritten rules and conventions.[20] This is equally true for parliamentary republics with ceremonial presidents. The president, cabinet, oppositions, and citizenry must all act as ‘good chaps’ to preserve the delicate division of labour between the head of state and government, and to protect the integrity of their respective office. This requires, among other things, that a president enters office through political contention, yet subsequently govern by withdrawing from it; that parliamentarians uphold the independence and neutrality of presidential elections; that citizens, having cast their votes, set aside their differences and accept the president-elect they may vehemently oppose as their representative on the international stage.
Constitutional Monarchies
Constitutional monarchs, however, are not susceptible to the same practical difficulties. Writing in the nineteenth century, Walter Bagehot observed that one of the virtues of Britain’s dynastic head of state is that it displaces democratic competition for the position, shielding the office from the temptations of glamour, fame, and affluence that might otherwise distort candidates’ motivations.[21] While this particular concern may carry less force today, or may not translate to other polities, the broader point holds: removing the head of state’s office from democratic competition insulates it from political controversy and contention.
First, free from electoral pressure and media scrutiny, constitutional monarchs are under no compulsion to declare their positions on the contentious issues of the day. As a result, as Barber argues, a monarch may be able to address such issues in terms that resonate across different sides of the debate.[22] Barber illustrates this with the example of a monarch speaking on the virtues of nature and the importance of environmental stewardship: for environmentalists, such remarks invoke the imperative to address pollution and climate change; for traditionalists, they evoke the protection of older ways of rural life; for farmers, they read as an endorsement of their custodianship of the countryside.[23] This ‘strategic ambiguity’ is often unavailable to democratically elected heads of state, who are elected precisely by the position they take on the contentious issues of the day. The conspicuous stance adopted by the incumbent Polish President Karol Nawrocki illustrated previously is a prominent example of how electoral pressure renders political neutrality and strategic ambiguity impossible.
If the undemocratic nature of the monarchy opens up strategic ambiguity as a possibility, the longevity of their reign supplies them the incentives to do so. Reigning across decades, monarchs typically outlast the swings of public opinion and the shifts of the Overton window. Coined by Joseph Overton, the Overton window—or the Overton window of political possibility—encapsulates a spectrum of positions and policies considered politically acceptable by the majority of the population at a given time.[24] To remain broadly accepted across their reign, monarchs are therefore incentivised to accommodate the widest possible range of political opinion within the polity. Democratic heads of state, by contrast, rise to power precisely by appealing to the political currents of the day, rendering them divisive—or simply dated—when the Overton window shifts. As a bystander of politics rather than a participant in it, a dynastic head of state conveys a sense of stability and continuity that elected counterparts, subject to the political whims of the moment, cannot easily replicate.
While constitutional monarchies are immune to the many practical dilemmas confronting parliamentary republics, their theoretical objections remain. That an individual should secure a position of authority, prominence, and wealth solely by virtue of birth—and that no other member of the polity, however meritorious or industrious, can aspire to the same position—remains a profound symbol of entrenched inequality. The religious authority that once served, in Bagehot’s time, as a façade that legitimises the privileges accorded to a particular family commands little credence in the contemporary world.[25] To install a hereditary monarch as the personification of the state therefore inevitably invites scrutiny of the values the polity enshrines.
Such theoretical objections may further translate into practical impediments to the monarch’s ability to discharge its function as the head of state—to unite citizens, and to provide crisis insurance. When republican sentiment gains sufficient traction, and when the very existence of the monarchy itself becomes an issue of division and contention, the monarch may lose its legitimacy to command its citizens’ unity on a day-to-day basis, and to intervene in political crises when they occur.
It follows that, like ceremonial presidents, the effective functioning of a constitutional monarch equally demands ‘good chaps’. In the monarch’s case, this entails, among other things, the maintenance of strategic ambiguity on contentious political issues. In an episode perceived by some as an encroachment upon royal neutrality, Prince Charles, as he then was, drew scrutiny when his correspondence with government ministers, the so-called ‘black spider memos’, was disclosed, revealing his active attempts to lobby the government.[26] A closely related dimension of ‘good chaps’ behaviour is the scrupulous respect for constitutional norms and democratic will. In the United Kingdom, for example, the monarch is expected to grant Royal Assent to Bills approved by both Houses of Parliament, irrespective of their personal views on the legislation.
The effective discharge of the crisis insurance functions offers a final illustration of ‘good chaps’ behaviours. During the attempted coup d’état of February 1981 in Spain, Civil Guard officers stormed the Cortes Generales, holding deputies hostage in King Juan Carlos I’s name.[27] In response, the King appeared on live television and ordered the military to uphold the Constitution, a decisive intervention that precipitated the coup’s collapse.[28] The credible and effective exercise of reserve powers in moments of crisis is central to sustaining public confidence in the monarchy’s continued relevance.
Part 4: Rationalising a Dynastic Constitutional Order
The comparative analysis undertaken in Part 3 echoes the discordance identified in the introduction: constitutional monarchies demonstrate considerable practical strengths, yet rest on conspicuously weak theoretical foundations. Part 4 considers whether this peculiar discordance can nonetheless be rationalised—and, as will become apparent, the answer carries further implications for the monarchy’s broader applicability.
Popular sovereignty—the basis of the democratic mode of selection—explains both why authority can be legitimately conferred upon the political office in question, and why a particular individual (i.e. the candidate receiving the majority of votes) is selected over the others to occupy it. Similarly, an attempt to rationalise the monarchy must identify a normative or logical basis that justifies the office’s hereditary nature, and the selection of a particular dynasty to fill it.
The first way to rationalise the monarchy is to reconceptualise it as an alternative form of transactional leadership. As noted above, transactional leadership involves an exchange of rights and privileges between leader and subjects, so as to best organise the affairs of the polity. The monarchy fits this mould, albeit in an unconventional way: as the monarch and the Royal Family at large obtain privileges, they simultaneously acquire duties—to conduct state visits, receive foreign ambassadors, attend charitable engagements, and come under the permanent weight of public scrutiny. What democratically elected heads of states acquire by choice, following a successful campaign, the monarch and the Royal Family acquire by birth.
Furthermore, as the Royal Family acquires privileges, they simultaneously forfeit rights—many of which other citizens take for granted, and many of which are enshrined in the European Convention on Human Rights, most notably the rights to privacy and to freedom of marriage. King Edward VIII’s abdication offers an apt example: famously declaring that he could not discharge his duties as King without the woman he loved, he relinquished the throne in order to marry the twice-divorced American socialite Wallis Simpson.[29] The relationship between monarch and populace may therefore be understood as a distinctive form of give-and-take. This rationalisation has its limits, however: it may explain why a family is placed into the monarchical office, but it does not explain why it is this particular family. In other words, the transactional logic justifies the existence of a hereditary office, but cannot justify the selection of any particular dynasty to fill it.
The second rationalisation—perhaps less aptly described as such—is to abandon the search for principled justification altogether and accept the monarchy as a matter of tradition. Less logically satisfying, but perhaps closer to the actual reason for the monarchy’s endurance, this explanation requires a degree of willing acceptance on the part of subjects—or, in Hazlitt’s phrase, a ‘suspension of disbelief’.[30] In most, if not all, contemporary constitutional monarchies, this is secured by a combination of the society’s conservatism and the monarchy’s celebritisation. The sheer weight of the monarchy’s long and immemorial reign often gives rise to a reluctance to abandon established tradition, and a tendency towards path dependence. The monarchy’s pivotal position in public life is further reinforced by its celebritisation—through elaborate coronations, balcony appearances, and other high-profile ceremonial occasions—and by its efforts to cultivate a personal connection with its citizens through royal visits and charitable causes.
In other words, while the hereditary mode of selection can be rationalised as an alternative form of transactional leadership, the selection of a particular dynasty can only be understood as a matter of tradition and historical development.
The second rationalisation yields two important insights into the conditions of the monarchy’s existence. The first is that it is deeply culture-dependent. Without a sufficient degree of collective reverence and willing suspension of disbelief among the populace, the Royal Family cannot command the respect of its subjects. The question then arises: how is such reverence cultivated? As a product of the religion-centric milieu and dynastic order of the past, and standing in marked tension with the rationalist and scientific temper of the present, it appears that the requisite reverence can only be inherited from tradition, and cannot be conjured from scratch.
This leads to the second insight: that in the broader landscape of constitutional reform, the constitutional monarchy operates as a ratchet. An absolute monarchy may be curtailed to yield a constitutional monarchy, which may in turn be abolished to establish a republic — but the process can hardly run in reverse. Italy offers an example: following the disastrous reign of Victor Emmanuel III, whose equivocal and shifting response to Mussolini proved fatally indecisive, the Italian people voted to abolish the monarchy altogether.[31] A royal family installed from scratch inevitably feels contrived and artificial, and is ill-placed to inspire the suspension of disbelief that the monarchy’s survival requires. By contrast, in a country where the monarchy has reigned for over a millennium, 62% of Britons remain in favour of the institution, against 25% who prefer an elected head of state.[32] While Barber goes so far as to characterise constitutional monarchy as a transitional form of government—one bound to fail eventually under an incompetent monarch—this article advances the more modest proposition that it is better understood as a ratchet: an arrangement whose status quo can be preserved or dismantled, but not recreated.[33]
Conclusion
While constitutional monarchs lack the theoretical justification that ceremonial presidents possess, their abstention from politics renders them uniquely well-placed to discharge the functions of a head of state. Yet precisely because of this weak theoretical foundation—and the corresponding dependence on the populace’s willing suspension of disbelief—evolution from a historically governing monarchy appears to be the only viable path by which a constitutional monarchy can come into existence. The transitions between constitutional orders may therefore be conceptualised as a ratchet: absolute monarchies can evolve into constitutional monarchies, which can in turn give way to republics, but not in reverse.
Nevertheless, its benefits can be reaped by polities and societies willing to set aside its theoretical illegitimacy. Perhaps ironic to an institution so grounded on traditionalism and moralism, the constitutional monarchy remains a choice characterised by pragmatism and realism. To borrow Deng’s famous formulation: it does not matter whether a cat is black or white, so long as it catches mice.[34] The constitutional monarchy can be the cat that catches the mouse—or the pillar of the present that has grown out of its Medieval roots.
[1] Tom Ginsburg, Daniel B. Rodriguez, Barry R. Weingast, ‘The Functions of Constitutional Monarchy: Why Kings and Queens Survive in a World of Republics’ (2023) Northwestern Public Law Research Paper No. 23-29, U of Chicago Public Law Working Paper No. 831, 3 <https://www.law.nyu.edu/sites/default/files/Constitutional%20Monarchy%20as%20Equilibrium.pdf> accessed 17 December 2025.
[2] Nicholas W. Barber, ‘What’s the Point of Constitutional Monarchy?’ (2024) 69(3) Am. J. Juris. 189, 193-202 <https://academic.oup.com/ajj/article/69/3/189/7888997> accessed 17 December 2025.
[3] ibid 194.
[4] ibid 195.
[5] ibid.
[6] ibid 193.
[7] ibid 196.
[8] Ginsburg (n 1) 2-3.
[9] There are, of course, other modes of selection in addition to the two. Theocracies, for example, can feature a religious-driven or sect-based selection process. Given that, however, democratic selection is the main competing alternative to hereditary ascension (e.g. calls for the abolition of the monarchy are usually driven by republican sentiments), further alternatives are not discussed.
[10] ibid 19-20.
[11] ibid 20-22.
[12] Tom Nicholls, ‘Good Chaps and Guardrails: Backstopping Democracy with a reverse Salisbury Convention for the House of Lords’ (2025) 96(3) Polit. Q. 529, 529 <https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/1467-923X.13527?af=R> accessed 17 December 2025.
[13] Jakub Krupa, ‘Polish president attacks rivals’ ‘propaganda and lies’ as he is sworn in’ The Guardian (London, 2025) <https://www.theguardian.com/world/2025/aug/06/nationalist-karol-nawrocki-sworn-in-as-polish-president> accessed 23 March 2026.
[14] Adam Easton, ‘Conservative historian wins Polish presidential vote’ BBC (London, 2025) <https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cx27897vedno> accessed 23 March 2026.
[15] ibid.
[16] Donatienne Ruy,‘The Implications of Poland’s Presidential Election’ (Center for Strategic & International Studies, 3 June 2025)
<https://www.csis.org/analysis/implications-polands-presidential-election> accessed 5 January 2026; ‘India tribal politician elected president’ DW (Bonn, 2022) <https://www.dw.com/en/india-tribal-politician-draupadi-murmu-wins-presidential-vote/a-62559372> accessed 5 January 2026.
[17] Vincent Browne, ‘Robinson’s constitutional challenge was a one-off’ (Magill, 10 October 2011) <https://magill.ie/politics/robinsons-constitutional-challenge-was-one> accessed 23 March 2026.
[18] ibid.
[19] Krupa (n 13).
[20] Nicholls (n 12).
[21] Walter Bagehot, The English Constitution (Little, Brown, and Company, 1873) 68-69.
[22] Barber (n 2) 200.
[23] ibid.
[24] Sophia Decherney, ‘Overton Window’ (Encyclopedia Britannica, 20 May 2025) < https://www.britannica.com/topic/Overton-window> accessed 3 April 2026.
[25] Bagehot (n 21) 64.
[26] Robert Booth, Matthew Taylor, ‘Prince Charles’s ‘black spider memos’ show lobbying at highest political level’ The Guardian (London, 2015) < https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2015/may/13/prince-charles-black-spider-memos-lobbying-ministers-tony-blair> accessed 6 January 2026.
[27] Ginsburg (n 1) 32-33.
[28] ibid.
[29] ‘Edward VIII announces his abdication’ (History, 2009) <https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/december-11/edward-viii-abdicates> accessed 7 January 2026.
[30] William Hazlitt, On the Spirit of Monarchy, 209.
[31] ‘King Victor Emmanuel III of Italy’ (The National WWII Museum, 14 July 2021) <https://www.nationalww2museum.org/war/articles/king-victor-emmanuel-iii-italy> accessed 6 January 2026.
[32] Dylan Difford, ‘Royal family favourability trackers, October 2025’ (YouGov UK, 30 October 2025) <https://yougov.co.uk/politics/articles/53286-royal-family-favourability-trackers-october-2025> accessed 6 January 2026.
[33] Barber (n 2) 189.
[34] ‘Deng Xiaoping (1904-1997)’ (CUHK Digital Repository) <https://repository.lib.cuhk.edu.hk/en/collection/crposter/dengxiaoping> accessed 7 January 2026.
Neville Leung
LLB (LSE) ’28 and Notes Editor of the LSE Law Review 2025-26