She is the Princess of Asturias, Princess of Girona, Princess of Viana, Duchess of Montblanc, Countess of Cervera, and Lady of Balaguer—but you can call her Leonor—and she may be the Spanish constitutional monarchy’s best hope. She is an encouragement to the other major European constitutional monarchies, several of which are transitioning to a new generation of monarchs. At some point in the future she will inherit the throne, and, at least for now, she has captured the imagination of the Spanish public.

　　Spain’s Political Disarray

　　If constitutional monarchies possess a unifying force, Spain may need the institution more than ever in light of the deepening political divisions that now threaten to drag Spain into political paralysis. The present prime minister, Pedro Sanchez, is stubbornly hanging on to power by a thread, and seems determined to do so no matter the cost. In exchange for parliamentary votes, he has already granted amnesty to hundreds of Catalan separatists for their 2017 unconstitutional independence referendum. As is the case across Europe, the stabilizing political middle is weakening; yet unlike certain European neighbors, Spain is unable to form large coherent coalitions. As W. B. Yeats warned, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.”

　　To stay in power after the inconclusive national elections in 2023, Sanchez concocted a Hydra-headed “coalition” that gave tiny splinter parties considerable leverage. Those parties have now become increasingly recalcitrant. Historically the two major parties in Spain’s parliament are the conservative party (PP) and the socialist party (PSOE). The 6’3” telegenic Sanchez of PSOE is nicknamed Señor Guapo (“Mr. Handsome”). PP could probably have found someone with less charisma than its leader Alberto Núñez Feijóo, but it would not have been easy. Hailing from Galicia in the northwest of the country, he’s more of a competent bureaucrat than an inspirational leader.

　　The smaller parties, some of which have only two or three parliamentary seats, represent Catalonia (two different parties), the Basque Country (two different parties), the Canary Islands, the far left (two different parties)—the list goes on. The neo-Marxist party, Podemos, recently added yet another head to Sanchez’s Hydra. The coalition is becoming unruly, and Sanchez of PSOE is finding it increasingly hard to pass what should be non-partisan legislation—like the use of Covid funds—as earlier backroom agreements are ignored by recalcitrant parliamentarians.

　　The leader, too, is doing his part to make the party look clownish. Sanchez has so emboldened the Catalan separatists—now a minority in Catalonia—that their president, Carles Puigdemont, who has been in self-imposed exile in Brussels for seven years to escape prosecution, made a surprise appearance in early August in Barcelona. Despite amnesty for the referendum, he is still wanted for embezzlement of public funds. He spoke at a surprise rally and was then spirited away by allies. A comic game of cat-and-mouse ensued in which it was hard to determine who looked more ridiculous, Sanchez or Puigdemont.

　　Multiple sources report that Puigdemont successfully evaded police and is now back in his residence-in-exile in Waterloo, Belgium. Adding to the cauldron, Sanchez’s wife, Begoña Gómez, is under investigation for financial corruption. Such challenges might drive a man to prayer were Sanchez not a self-described atheist who made European headlines as the first Spanish prime minister to take the oath of office without a Bible or a crucifix.

　　The Monarchy Today

　　On October 31, 2023, on her 18th birthday, Princess Leonor, the heir to Spain’s throne, formally stepped into the spotlight by swearing allegiance to the Spanish constitution and the Spanish State. She was flanked by her father, King Felipe VI, her mother, the Queen Consort Letizia, and her younger sister, La Infanta, Sofía.

　　Leonor and Sofía both attended “Hippie Hogwarts,” the UWC Atlantic College in Wales, United Kingdom. The school is a favorite of royal families: Leonor graduated alongside Princess Alexia of the Netherlands; other alumni include Belgium’s Princess Elisabeth and Princess Raiyah bint Al Hussein of Jordan. The school proudly offers an “experimental, experiential journey.” They may even read books.

　　More recently, Leonor has concluded her first of three years of military training at the Academia General Militar in Zaragoza, Spain. Admittedly, she is not yet a fierce presence in uniform.

　　Leonor will eventually succeed her father, King Felipe VI, whose grandfather, Juan Carlos, abdicated the throne under a cloud of scandal in 2014. Juan Carlos’s reign began well as he was looked upon as the ideal constitutional monarch. Though Franco had groomed him to continue the Generalissimo’s authoritarian rule, upon the latter’s death and under Juan Carlos’ leadership, Spain became a bona fide constitutional monarchy within three years. It had a well-conceived constitution that has survived difficult times and a half dozen different prime ministers. In 1981, largely through the force of his personality, the king put down a dramatic, televised, golpe de Estado, commanding the military to abandon their plans and restore constitutional order. His intervention has been called the foundational event of modern Spanish democracy.

　　In the decades following, the public was willing to overlook Juan Carlos’ sexual dalliances, but after revelations of financial corruption, he chose to abdicate in favor of his son Felipe and scurry off to Abu Dhabi, where he still lives in self-imposed exile. By dint of Section 56 of the 1978 Constitution, the king enjoys sovereign immunity. He has since made two cautious visits back to Spain to the disapproval of his son. Even more recently, he attended the funeral of his third cousin Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain.

　　Upon his ascension to the throne, the new King, Felipe VI immediately endeavored to salvage the integrity and reputation of the Crown. He announced that he would not take “a single euro” of his inheritance when his father died; he also stripped Juan Carlos of his annual taxpayer-funded stipend, which has left the former king living on the generosity of wealthy friends abroad.

　　The primary enemies of constitutional monarchy do not seem to be populists, but rather the political left.

　　Felipe VI has made admirable and somewhat successful efforts to restore transparency and dignity to the throne. At times, his wife Letizia has complicated things. She is a “commoner,” a former news anchor, and a divorcee, but admired for her dignified composure and her devotion to the royal family. In 2016, however, she inadvertently dragged the monarchy into ridicule. A close friend of the royals, Javier López Madrid, CEO of one of Europe’s largest conglomerates, was accused of financial corruption as reported by La Otra Crónica (LOC), a monthly supplement to the mainstream newspaper El Mundo. In a text message, Letizia referred to the “mierda (s**t) de LOC” and assured López of her support because he is her “compi yogui” (yoga mate).

　　Leonor is poised and winsome, and in her public appearances, she seems to be her father’s child, suggesting she understands the dignity and importance of the office she will inherit. In her formal appearance in October, she seemed to exude a love for Spain. We can only guess, of course, how competently she would occupy the throne.

　　Does Constitutional Monarchy Have A Future?

　　Not everyone appreciates the constitutional monarchy. Were they all dissolved, some would say, “Good riddance to a ridiculous inanity.”

　　Monarchies, they argue, are expensive, extravagant, a remnant of feudalism, bastions of privilege, and symbols of inherited power. On the face of it, they are anachronisms, theoretically antithetical to democratic principles—the institutional equivalent of the human appendix.

　　Edmund Burke’s ethereal vision of the Queen of France and his dismay upon her execution seems more treacly than it sounded when he wrote:

　　It is now 16 or 17 years since I saw the queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Versailles. And surely never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she had just begun to move in, glittering like the morning star full of life and splendour and joy.

　　Yet, on balance, European constitutional monarchies compare favorably with European republics. Even the harshest critics of monarchy, constitutional or otherwise, admit the institution has an inexplicable and curious persistence. Despite one annus horribilis after another, the British monarchy motors on.

　　In 1999, 55 percent of Australians voted to retain the monarch as their head of state. The death of Elizabeth II has ignited further debate over republicanism in New Zealand, which often makes its decisions by doing the opposite of what Australia does. But, among other factors, the constitutionally recognized indigenous citizenry, the Māori, finds security in retaining the British crown.

　　Spain’s constitutional monarchy still enjoys considerable respect and support. In the most recent poll, almost 60 percent of Spaniards polled support the monarchy, while a little over 30 percent would prefer a republic. The remaining 10 percent seems indifferent. Every April 14, modest anti-monarchy demonstrations are held in various cities across the country. The date is the commemoration of the “Second Republic” of Spain, proclaimed because on that date in 1931, King Alfonso XIII, grandfather of the present king, was deposed and Spain was declared a republic.

　　But it is not entirely clear what is being commemorated. The republic was short-lived. After an ugly three-year civil war, and a 39-year autocracy, a democracy reappeared, this time as a constitutionally established monarchy. The conventional wisdom is that all would have been well were it not for Franco, but history is surely more complex. Despite its ups and downs, Spain has now been a stable constitutional monarchy for half a century.

　　The Spanish Constitution of 1978, Part II Sections 56-65, devotes considerable space to the functions and responsibilities of the Crown, and the extensive guidelines that govern its succession. Presumably, abolishing the monarchy would require a fundamental change to the Constitution. While theoretically this might be done by amendment, it is doubtful: it would be akin to erasing Section II of the US Constitution by amendment. More likely, abolishing the Crown would require a new constitution in which case the cure would likely be far worse than the disease.

　　The most important benefits of a democratic monarch may be intangible. Part II begins, “The King is the Head of State, the symbol of its unity and permanence.” Proponents of the institution argue that it provides a sense of continuity as power moves from one political party to another, or as parties themselves evolve and devolve. It is a reminder that there is life beyond politics, offering a kind of civil religion with a unique political liturgy. So far from arrogance, the symbol of the monarch may counsel humility in human affairs, a reminder of the limits of rationality and democratic governance.

　　The primary enemies of constitutional monarchy do not seem to be populists, but rather the political left: several notable members of the PSOE boycotted Leonor’s inauguration. Perhaps most critically, constitutional monarchy requires the support of the royals themselves. Too many seem willing to foul the nest, whether it is the sordid behavior of Prince Andrew in the United Kingdom, the reckless driving of Prince Laurent of Belgium, or the philandering of Prince Albert of Monaco who has sired two—or is it three?—illegitimate children.

　　A new generation of European monarchs is now emerging. In addition to the UK, Spain, and Belgium, the king of Norway is 87 years old, the king of Sweden, 78. Both have young heirs; accordingly, Europe may be on the cusp of a new era of constitutional monarchy. A few have pronounced the end of liberalism. Is the diagnosis the same for republics and constitutional monarchies? Though Burke proclaimed that “chivalry” is dead, might civic virtue remain?