The Telegraph this week made much of what it portrayed as an important evolution in the King’s constitutional role.
In the latest Sovereign Grant report, King Charles is no longer described simply as “Head of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith”. Instead, as Supreme Governor of the Church of England, the Monarch now “protects the space for Faith within the multi-faith nation”.
Predictably, some Christian nationalist voices reacted as though the monarchy had abandoned Christianity altogether. Others hailed the change as evidence of an institution embracing Britain’s religious diversity.
Neither reading holds up. The change in language is not evidence that Britain’s Christian monarchy has become more inclusive. It is evidence that the Palace knows Christian privilege is becoming less palatable to the British public.
The UK is a religiously diverse and increasingly nonreligious country where fewer than half the population now identify as Christian, and the monarch’s religious role sits increasingly awkwardly within it. Rather than being defended as a privilege for one church, the Anglican establishment is now presented as something that benefits all faiths.
This is nothing more than a public relations rebranding. The presentation has changed. The reality of privilege has not.
The King’s coronation oath does not require him to defend all faiths. It requires him to “maintain… the Protestant Reformed Religion established by law”, preserve “the settlement of the Church of England”, and protect the rights and privileges of its bishops and clergy.
Not all religions. One religion.
The UK does not need a state apparatus that champions religion. It needs a secular state that protects the rights and freedoms of people of all religions and beliefs – and of those with none – on an equal basis. That is what freedom of religion or belief means.
When the state incorporates faith rather than remaining neutral between beliefs, religious interests inevitably receive special treatment. Too often, that means religious privilege trumps equality before the law, fairness and individual rights. A state that truly protects freedom of religion or belief does not promote faith, it protects people.
The attempt to present Anglican establishment as a service to everyone (or at least those with religious faith) is ludicrous and only serves to underline how outdated it has become. The reality of establishment goes beyond presentation, it shapes who can hold office and whose advice counts.
Under UK law, no “person professing the Roman Catholic religion” or “any person professing the Jewish Religion” may advise the Sovereign on the appointment of Church of England bishops.
Ordinarily, that advice is given by the Prime Minister. When Andy Burnham, a practising Catholic, becomes Prime Minister, he will have to delegate that responsibility to another minister because of his religion. That is not a hypothetical or a relic gathering dust – it is a rule that will shape how a future government actually functions.
Until the mid-19th century there were considerably more restrictions on Catholics and Jews, including an effective prohibition on becoming Members of Parliament. Much of that architecture has gone. What remains has no place in a society committed to equality before the law and freedom of religion or belief. The fix is not to tinker with who is permitted to give this advice, but to take the state out of the process altogether: disestablishment would let the Church appoint its own bishops, free from state interference, and the question of who may or may not advise the Crown would simply fall away.
Nor does the discrimination end there. The same constitutional settlement requires that the monarch be “in communion with the Church of England”. In practice, our head of state must be a practising Protestant Christian.
King Charles has long spoken warmly of protecting freedom of religion and belief for everyone. Those aspirations are welcome. But they sit uneasily alongside a constitutional system that excludes people of most religions – and all nonreligious people – from ever becoming head of state. That’s not equal treatment. It is religious privilege. Shouldn’t the head of state practise what they preach?
The position becomes harder still to justify when looking to the future.
Prince William, who will one day become Supreme Governor of the Church of England, is widely understood not to be especially religious. According to Robert Hardman’s recent biography, it is “no secret” that he does not share either the King’s spirituality or the late Queen’s deep Anglican faith. A senior Palace figure once reportedly described him as “not instinctively comfortable in a faith environment”.
Last year, the Palace tried to shift perception by briefing journalists that William has a “quiet faith” and a strong commitment to the Church of England.
Perhaps, but it remains an extraordinary constitutional arrangement that the future Supreme Governor of the Church of England may neither actively practise that faith nor believe its doctrines. If the monarchy genuinely represented the nation as it exists today, the monarch’s personal faith would be constitutionally irrelevant. The fact that it remains so important tells us everything about how outdated these arrangements have become.
The bishops’ bench in the House of Lords tells a similar story. Twenty-six Anglican clerics continue to sit in Parliament by right simply because they hold ecclesiastical office. Parliament has already recognised that inherited privilege has no place in a modern legislature by removing hereditary peerages from the Lords. The continued automatic presence of bishops looks increasingly like another constitutional anomaly whose time has passed.
Public opinion has already moved ahead of the constitution. Polling conducted by More in Common earlier this year found that around two-thirds of the public oppose bishops sitting automatically in the House of Lords, with majorities for reform across every major demographic and political group.
A small but noisy faction of conservative traditionalists and far-right Christian nationalists may continue to pine for a Christian Britain that never really existed outside their imaginations. But most Britons are now secular in outlook, and it’s time the state reflected that reality.
Even the Palace appears to recognise that openly defending Christian privilege has become untenable. That is why the language has changed. Anglican privilege is no longer presented as privilege at all. It is repackaged as protecting “faith” in general. But cosmetic changes to a job description cannot rewrite the constitution.
The UK still reserves the office of head of state for Protestant Christians. It still excludes Catholics and Jews from carrying out part of a Prime Minister’s constitutional role. It still grants bishops seats in Parliament by right. And it still asks the monarch to swear an oath to preserve the privileges of one church above all others.
A monarchy that claims to unite the whole nation should not be constitutionally bound to one religion. A modern democracy should not reserve public office, political influence and constitutional authority on the basis of faith.
The game is up for Christian privilege. The Palace seems to know it. The public increasingly knows it. What’s missing is the will to act on it.
Politicians should stop pretending otherwise and start the work: disestablish the Church of England, remove bishops’ automatic right to sit in the House of Lords, and let the Crown’s role in episcopal appointments – along with the discriminatory rules about who may advise on them – disappear along with it.
Only then will our constitution align with the diverse and secular Britain that already exists.