For my grandmother, the grand event at the end of all table manners was simple: dinner with the Queen. ''You can't do that,'' she'd say, putting down her knife to point gently, ''at Buckingham Palace''. The Queen, for my grandmother, was and is something of an authority. Not simply a legal or formal power, but a moral and aesthetic guardian: the source of the Commonwealth's standards. For many of her generation, the royal family in general, and its reigning monarch in particular, are the great legislators of value. The same is true of many Australians today, conservative or otherwise: for all their commitment to democracy and republican independence, the royal family has a certain magic.
For this reason, many may be surprised at the number of artists and authors who've refused the Queen's honours, over the past 40 years. Recently published by the Britain's Cabinet Office, the list contains more than two hundred names - many of them very well-known. Why, the royalists may ask, would anyone refuse.
The novelist Evelyn Waugh, for example, refused a Commander of the British Empire (CBE) in 1959. Waugh wrote to the author Nancy Mitford complaining that the CBE was for ''second grade civil servants,'' not writers of his calibre.
He later regretted his decision, but his reasons were clear: ''not good enough,'' as he wrote to fellow author Graham Greene (who also snubbed the CBE, but received the far more prestigious Order of Merit in 1986.) A far more interesting, and more noble, reason for refusal is political or moral.
The novelist JG Ballard turned down a CBE in 2003, six years before he died. ''A lot of these medals are orders of the British Empire,'' Ballard told The Guardian, ''which is a bit ludicrous.'' For the novelist, the awards were symbols of Britain's traditional class system; of bowing to the monarchy, instead of identifying democratically with fellow Britons.
''It goes with the whole system of hereditary privilege and rank,'' Ballard continued, ''which should be swept away.'' The contrast between Waugh and Ballard is revealing. Waugh recognised the Queen as a legitimate source of value, but felt undervalued. Ballard did not recognise the monarchy's legitimacy at all - they valued him (officially, at least), but this was not mutual. For all the monarchy's wealth and power, they could not compel Ballard to accept their praise.
This might seem a petty bit of grandstanding on Ballard's part. But it is actually a vital part of democratic society. Not simply refusing the Queen's honours, but knowing what it is one accepts or rejects.
Given time, authority becomes part of the taken-for-granted world. Its hierarchy lives on in consciousness: its biases, blind-spots, forgotten ideas and values. Many Australians who believe themselves modern meritocrats, are happy to have an unelected head of state, who inherited more wealth and privilege than the great majority of the population. They are comfortable with the Queen's position - to say nothing of her family's fashion, marriages, faux-pas, and so on. This is partly because the monarchy no longer has executive power.
But it is also because the Queen and the traditions she exemplifies are simply taken for granted - part of the fabric of things.
Because they can be champions of values - or at least distillers of human experience - artists and authors are often prickly about these hierarchies. And they are also more able to resist or criticise them because they are accustomed to saying ''no'': to respectable careers, conventional marriage, traditional artistic forms or themes. This can make them more desperate for recognition of course - or simply greedy for cash. But in general, the best artists are remarkably honest: they are used to rejecting, revolting, or at least refining the taken-for-granted.
This might be awkward, embarrassing or painful, but it also what spurs societies to develop: only sick civilisations stifle debate and conflict.
So, artists like JG Ballard, Benjamin Zephaniah, L.S Lowry (who turned down a record-holding five honours) might seem ungracious or ungrateful. But even if we disagree with their judgments, we ought to welcome their candour and courage. Table manners, however vital for dignified dining, are not the only virtues civilisation needs.
.gif)
