Kua Kia Soong
Two hundred and fifty years ago, a British monarch would not have crossed the Atlantic to “pay respects” to an upstart colonial rabble-rouser.
In 1776, the relationship between Britain and America was clear: Britain ruled, America obeyed – or rebelled and got crushed. The British Crown sat astride the largest empire in human history, commanding fleets that blackened the seas and armies that redrew maps.
The American colonies were little more than profitable plantations with delusions of grandeur.
Had George III been told that one day a British king would queue up to flatter an American strongman – spray-tanned, and with the vocabulary of a protection racketeer – he might have ordered the messenger sent to the Tower.
Yet here we are. In 2026, His Majesty King Charles III, descendant of conquerors, emperors and pirates dressed in ermine, arrived in Washington as something between a diplomatic bellboy and a tribute-bearing vassal paying court to the ‘Don’.
The symbolism is delicious, if tragic. Britain, once the imperial master of the Atlantic world, now sends its monarch to perform the geopolitical equivalent of kissing the ring.
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And what a ring. Donald Trump does not behave like the elected leader of a republic. He behaves like a mob boss whose every public appearance suggests a shakedown is imminent. His speeches are not speeches; they are protection rackets with applause tracks for his sycophantic entourage.
His diplomacy consists of public humiliation, extortion disguised as “deals” and ritual degradation of allies before the cameras.
He insults Nato members as freeloaders. He sneers at European leaders. He publicly bullies presidents and prime ministers as though they are junior subalterns who have failed to deliver the envelope.
Britain itself has not been spared. Trump has mocked British governments over Brexit, ridiculed British leaders in turn and treated Downing Street with the sort of respect a casino owner gives a losing gambler.
One recalls his open contempt for Theresa May, his condescending fondness for Boris Johnson as a useful clown and his recent mockery of a hapless Keir Starmer.
And now the British monarch, theoretically the embodiment of national dignity, shuffles along in hopes of securing favour. What next? A royal gift basket? A corgi with a Maga collar?
Charles, one imagines, arrived with all the solemnity of the Crown but the practical status of a supplicant. Perhaps bowing just enough to preserve protocol while stooping enough to preserve trade.
The saddest part is not merely Britain’s diminished stature. Nations rise and fall. Empires decay. History is ruthless and often comic.
No, the saddest part is the moral collapse hidden beneath the ceremonial pageantry.
If King Charles wished to display true dignity, true courage, true monarchy in the old-fashioned sense of noblesse oblige, he might have chosen to meet the survivors of Jeffrey Epstein’s trafficking network.
He might have publicly acknowledged the shame cast upon the House of Windsor by his brother, Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, whose friendship with Epstein and whose infamous 2019 BBC Newsnight interview – in which he claimed he could not sweat, by way of rebutting one accuser – became an international punchline.
He might have met the women whose lives were scarred by elite impunity. He might have demonstrated that the Crown stands not with privilege protecting privilege, but with the vulnerable against the powerful.
Instead, silence.
Meanwhile, Andrew retreats behind palace walls, stripped of titles but not of comfort. This is a former member of the British royal family facing accusations from numerous women of sexual misconduct, a man photographed in the same social circles as Epstein and a man whose conduct has been so extensively documented that one might imagine Buckingham Palace at least pretending to have standards.
The survivors get vague statements drafted by lawyers; Charles goes to meet Trump. The king goes courting.
Picture the scene: the monarch of a once-great empire smiling stiffly beside a former reality TV host-turned-political godfather, while aides discuss tariffs, trade and how much humiliation can be wrapped in velvet protocol.
Perhaps this is the final revenge of 1776. Not military defeat, not economic eclipse but psychological submission. The empire on which the sun never set now anxiously checks X before breakfast. Britannia no longer rules the waves; she scans Washington for approval ratings.
And the king? The king sails not at the head of a fleet but in the wake of a golf cart. Once upon a time, British monarchs sent gunboats. Now they send condolences when Trump loses elections and congratulations when he wins them.
The arc of history is long, but apparently it bends toward absurdity. So let us mark the occasion plainly: King Charles III goes to pay homage to the Don – a monarch without an empire, a kingdom without sovereignty and a crown without courage.
And somewhere up there, George III is shaking his head.
Dr Kua Kia Soong, a former MP, is the director of human rights group Suaram.
The views expressed in Aliran's media statements and the NGO statements we have endorsed reflect Aliran's official stand. Views and opinions expressed in other pieces published here do not necessarily reflect Aliran's official position.
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