The glossy newspaper supplements are out, the BBC (supposedly a hotbed of subversive lefties) is preparing wall-to-wall coverage, MPs are going on holiday for two weeks, the populace is ready to put out the flags and the picnic tables. In an orgy of deference, we are celebrating Elizabeth II's 60 years on the throne. If any other country were paying homage to an unelected head of state in this way, while the living standards of the majority of the population fall and schools and hospitals struggle with diminishing resources, we would call it "the cult of the personality" and probably think about invading.

According to a Guardian/ICM poll last week, the royal family is more popular than ever, with only 22% believing Britain would be better off without a monarchy, and as few as 10% preferring, on the Queen's death, an elected head of state rather than a King Charles or William. As Elizabeth II's supporters never tire of pointing out, the unelected monarch is far more popular than any elected politician.

That is unsurprising. The Queen never has to say anything controversial, allocate resources between competing claims, or take decisions that provoke disagreement. If your job is confined to uttering bland pleasantries, shaking hands and distributing gongs, it is quite difficult to be unpopular. Since you are exempt from freedom of information laws, you are not at risk of having your expenditure on moats and duck ponds highlighted in newspapers. Since you took office without election, you do not have to contend with the disappointed or disgruntled supporters of your rivals and, since nobody is paid to lead an opposition to you, you do not have to face weekly questions about how you discharge your duties.

Elizabeth II has understood all that. She deserves congratulations, though no more than others whose jobs require them to keep their opinions to themselves. It seems that her son and heir, who may have a lower boredom threshold, lacks the same grasp of what is required. By voicing a range of opinions on alternative medicine, education, GM crops, architecture, organic food and so on, he has made himself so unpopular that, if the succession were subject to an electoral contest, he would, according to the ICM poll, lose by nine percentage points to his son William. That is why, even if she were inclined to abdicate, Buckingham Palace officials and other pillars of the establishment will strain every sinew to stop her doing so, in the hope that, by the time she dies, Charles (if he is still inconveniently alive) will be sufficiently mellowed enough by age to change his ways.

It is a miserable prospect for republicans. Though Republic, the main anti-monarchist campaigning group, promises "the biggest and boldest" protest of modern times, it may as well join the celebrations for all the good it will do. Who wants to miss a good party? At times like this, republicans risk being portrayed as killjoys and spoilsports. A better strategy is to ask how they can instil a more democratic mood in the British population.

While Britain claims to be among the world's oldest and most stable democracies, democratic principles have quite shallow roots in our public life. MPs swear an oath "by almighty God that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, her heirs and successors". Judges, magistrates, police officers (in England and Wales), members of the armed services (except in the Royal Navy) and foreign aliens wishing to become British citizens take similar oaths, while a privy councillor must pledge that he or she will be "a true and faithful servant" to Her Majesty. There are alternatives for atheists and adherents of minority religions, but not for republicans. Judges also promise "to do right to all manner of people" and police officers to uphold "fundamental human rights", but a politician's only pledge is to the Queen. Nobody in British public life takes an oath to democracy.

It is on this ground that republicans may find some purchase. A monarchy, particularly a slimmed-down Scandinavian version, may be just about tolerable, provided our public life asserts the primacy of democracy. Why should MPs not swear an oath to serve their constituents honestly and diligently and, as required of foreigners seeking British citizenship, to respect the country's "rights and freedoms" and to "uphold its democratic values"? Why should the pledge not be made in the MP's own constituency before a JP and a randomly selected audience of, say, 500? Why should the pledge not be annually renewed and the MP required to account to constituents on the same occasion? All this, away from the flummery involved in the Queen opening parliament, might remind MPs of their true responsibilities.

Again, we hold an annual celebration of monarchy – the trooping of the colour – but no equivalent celebration of democracy. We hold street parties to celebrate the landmarks of the monarch's life – coronations, jubilees, weddings of anyone in the direct line of succession – but not to mark the major events on the British road to a (partially) democratic constitution. Does anybody recall a knees-up to mark the 100th anniversary of the 1884 Reform Act, which extended the vote to a majority of adult males? Or for the 300th anniversary of the Glorious Revolution, marking the overthrow of a despotic monarch?

Such events are commemorated, but with nothing like the fanfare and resources devoted to royal anniversaries. Why not a party, an extra bank holiday and a pageant to celebrate the 800th anniversary of Magna Carta in June 2015? And more parties, pageantry and days off for the 100th anniversary of the Representation of the People Act 1918, the penultimate step towards universal suffrage. Plus a specially big party for 2028, in celebration of the final step.

Monarchy, we are told, is merely a symbol. When MPs and judges pledge allegiance to the Queen, they are really pledging allegiance to Britain's history, traditions and way of life. When people hold street parties they are, according to the Daily Mail, engaged in "a glorious affirmation of Britishness". If so, we should think more about what monarchy actually symbolises: hierarchy, hereditary privilege, deference, feudalism, unearned wealth, militarism (the armed services being just about the only profession in which the royals seek serious employment). Democracy has a better story to tell. Republicans should help us develop symbols for its celebration. They may not immediately displace the royal symbols but, in time, people will come to love them more.

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