Royal rituals for democratic stability

Whatever challenges may emerge in the next five years, we pray the wisdom of our new King and his brother Rulers will successfully guide our nation.

IN the United Kingdom, the King’s Speech at the state opening of Parliament is the most ostentatious visualisation of the relationship between the constitutional monarch and the elected government of the day.

I was fortunate to get a front-row seat of Queen Elizabeth II’s procession back when I was working in the House of Commons for a British Member of Parliament, and during my recent trip to London, I caught the carriage of King Charles III, preluded by cavalry and followed by artillery, returning from the Palace of Westminster to Buckingham Palace.

‘His Majesty’s Most Gracious Speech’ is written by the government, and the latest edition outlined the ambitious plans of the new Labour government led by Sir Keir Starmer.

It contained 39 proposed bills, with proposals for reform across housing, energy and infrastructure, transport (including the renationalisation of railways!), crime and borders, migration, employment, health and education (including a generational ban on smoking similar to that proposed and then abandoned in Malaysia), technology, tax and spending, and constitutional measures (including the abolition of the remaining hereditary peers who sit in the House of Lords).

Yet, the symbolism of the some of the traditions are powerful reminders of the unique features of the British constitution.

For instance, when the door of the House of Commons is slammed in the face of Black Rod (the representative of the Crown who summons MPs to attend the speech), it is a reminder of the legislature’s independence from the royal institution: a ritual derived from when King Charles I attempted to arrest five members of the House of Commons in 1642. Yet when the Prime Minister and Leader of the Opposition walk together from the lower house to the upper house, it is reminder that both sides are working in service to the country, symbolised by the crown.

In Malaysia, we too have adopted the tradition of heads of state opening sessions of the legislature: the Yang di-Pertuan Agong in the Dewan Rakyat, and the state rulers or governors in their respective state assemblies. While these all contain ceremonies that combine unique histories with constitutional elements, we have just witnessed last week another set of powerful rituals, during the installation of His Majesty Sultan Ibrahim, King of Malaysia as the 17th Yang di-Pertuan Agong.

(A note on terminology: some media outlets referred to a ‘coronation’ which is incorrect since that requires a crown (and the tengkolok is not, literally nor metaphorically, a crown) – however, Selangor, Kelantan and Johor do have coronations (‘kemahkotaan’ as opposed to ‘pertabalan’) for their Sultans since they do have crowns.)

Of course, while the individual monarchies of Malaysia all pre-date Merdeka considerably (the Kedah sultanate is said to have derived in 1136, and while the arrival of Raja Melewar to Negri Sembilan is dated to 1773, the dynasty itself was established in Pagaruyung in 1347), the institution of Yang di-Pertuan Agong was established ahead of the independence of the Federation of Malaya in 1957.

As an expression of federalism, it was decided to incorporate elements from the installations and coronations of the component states. This was done quite literally in the forging of the royal keris, being reforged from the materials of keris from the different states.

In terms of the attire, the tengkolok follows the style of Negri Sembilan, the jacket (muskat) derives from Kedah, and the buckle features the federal crest.

Other parts of the regalia include the two sceptres representing the secular and religious realms, while the nobat orchestra (whose visceral performances are preluded by flourishes from military trumpeters) must come from one of four states that possess it.

Pahang’s Al-Sultan Abdullah Ri’ayatuddin Al-Mustafa Billah Shah’s installation used Terengganu’s nobat, given its close links to Pahang in centuries past, but Sultan Ibrahim’s installation used that of Perak, the home state of Her Majesty Raja Zarith Sofia, the Queen of Malaysia.

Perhaps some of this symbolism goes unnoticed by a majority of Malaysians. Yet for many of them, the role of the monarchy under our Federal Constitution still matters.

The Conference of Rulers that occurred in the week before the installation ceremony saw many important matters deliberated, including appointments in the judiciary which may affect the development of Malaysian law for decades, and constitutional amendments pertaining to citizenship, which could affect thousands of children.

But perhaps even more explicitly, in recent years, with political competition increasing, often accompanied by divisive rhetoric on race and religion, Malay- sians increasingly look to the royal institution to provide unity and stability.

The experiences of Covid-19 and the hung parliament during the reign of Sultan Abdullah powerfully demonstrated its usefulness, and we pray that whatever challenges emerge in the next five years, the wisdom of our new King and his brother Rulers will successfully guide our nation.

Tunku Zain Al-‘Abidin is founding president of the Institute for Democracy and Economic Affairs (Ideas). The views expressed here are the writer’s own.