哈佛大学教授:英女王应被悼念,但她的一个遗产应被废除
2022-09-15 00:28:22 来源: 环球网资讯
在英国女皇伊丽莎白二世于当地时间9月8日逝世后,虽然不少英国人都在悼念他们享年96岁的君主的离世,但也有一些西方学者把目光投向了她遗留下来的一个充满争议的遗产:英国的王室制度。
其中,研究英国历史和世界历史的美国哈佛大学知名历史学教授马娅·亚桑诺夫,就给美国《纽约时报》撰文一篇,谈及了她对英女王逝世一事的看法。
这篇文章的标题是:哀悼女王,而不是她的帝国(Mourn the Queen, Not Her Empire)。
不过,由于这篇文章相当长,耿直哥这里仅简单介绍一下文章的大致内容。
简单来说,亚桑诺夫的这篇文章大致可以分为三部分。
在第一部分,亚桑诺夫先是在英国历史的大背景下,客观地回顾了伊丽莎白二世的一生,并肯定了她在位期间取得的一些成绩,认为这位英国在位时间最长的君主是值得人们悼念的。
不过,在文章的中间部分,亚桑诺夫话锋一转,开始讲述起了自伊丽莎白二世继位以来,英帝国被她的个人光环所遮盖住的黑历史,比如上世纪中叶马来西亚、肯尼亚、塞浦路斯、也门等英国前殖民地的“总督”对当地独立运动的血腥镇压。
这位历史学教授表示,由于这些英帝国的黑历史很多都被殖民地的官员们给销毁或封存了起来,所以很多英国人自己也不清楚这些事。一些英国政客和社会活动人士虽然曾公开过这些黑历史并谴责过英帝国的暴行,但也未能引起广泛的社会关注。
至于英女王是否知情,亚桑诺夫这里给出的一个观点是:“我们或许永远不会知道女王是否知道这些以她的名义犯下的罪行”。
在第三部分,亚桑诺夫又将视角投向了21世纪,指出英国王室与新千年也越发地格格不入,比如英国的社会和文化正在变得越来越多元化,有色人种也越来越多,2011年的人口普查结果是7名英国人里就有1人是有色人种,可英国的钱币上却仍然只印有这位白人女王的头像。又比如越来越多的英国前殖民地开始要求英国为之前的殖民罪行做出赔偿,一些英联邦国家则人心思变,有的干脆公开宣布要走共和制的道路,与英国王室决裂。
而在谈及英国自脱欧以来出现的一系列社会问题时,亚桑诺夫更认为英国女王的长寿反而令内忧外患的英国更容易陷入对“第二个伊丽莎白时代”不切实际的幻想以及对英帝国时期的怀念。英国自脱欧以来的首相也在迎合着这种情绪,从约翰逊到特拉斯都在鼓吹着诸如“全球英国”(Global Britain)这种带有对英帝国时期眷恋意味的政治口号。
“现在她走了,英国帝国主义的王室制度也必须终结了”,亚桑诺夫在文章的结尾处写道。
她还认为,继位的英国国王查尔斯三世应该从将英国王室授予杰出人士的“大英帝国勋章”(Order of the British Empire)改名开始,让英国王室做出真正顺应历史的改变,大大减少以前那种奢靡的王室盛典,让王室逐渐向北欧斯堪的纳维亚国家那种更加平民化、象征性大于实际意义的王室转变。
“这将一个值得庆祝的结局”
最后值得一提的是,虽然亚桑诺夫的文章并不是在攻击伊丽莎白二世,而是在客观肯定伊丽莎白二世的同时,提出为什么英国王室已经不再适合这个时代,可这篇文章还是深深刺激到了英国网民的情感。在境外的社交网络上,大量英国网民就对此文表达了强烈不满,认为亚桑诺夫在伊丽莎白二世刚去世不久就写出这样的文章,是对逝者的不尊重。
一些英国的保守派网民还认为立场偏自由派的《纽约时报》是“故意”用这样一个文章来恶心伊丽莎白二世的。这些人甚至还给英国的殖民主义进行辩护,说恰恰是英国的殖民才令许多殖民地得到了“高度”的“发展”和“进步”。
但也一些网民很认同亚桑诺夫这篇文章的观点,并认为这篇文章值得一读。
不过颇为搞笑的是,当《纽约时报》中文网在9月13日晚间将这篇文章进行了摘编和翻译后,一些海外的中文账号也纷纷跳出来攻击起了该报。而且他们中不仅有人也在为英国的殖民主义进行辩护,甚至还给《纽约时报》以及文章的作者亚桑诺夫扣上了一个“通共通中”的帽子。
哀悼女王,而不是她的帝国
MAYA JASANOFF
“The end of an era” will become a refrain as commentators assess the record-setting reign of Queen Elizabeth II. Like all monarchs, she was both an individual and an institution. She had a different birthday for each role — the actual anniversary of her birth in April and an official one in June — and, though she retained her personal name as monarch, held different titles depending on where in her domains she stood. She was as devoid of opinions and emotions in public as her ubiquitous handbags were said to be of everyday items like a wallet, keys and phone. Of her inner life we learned little beyond her love of horses and dogs — which gave Helen Mirren, Olivia Colman and Claire Foy rapt audiences for the insights they enacted.
The queen embodied a profound, sincere commitment to her duties — her final public act was to appoint her 15th prime minister — and for her unflagging performance of them, she will be rightly mourned. She has been a fixture of stability, and her death in already turbulent times will send ripples of sadness around the world. But we should not romanticize her era. For the queen was also an image: the face of a nation that, during the course of her reign, witnessed the dissolution of nearly the entire British Empire into some 50 independent states and significantly reduced global influence. By design as much as by the accident of her long life, her presence as head of state and head of the Commonwealth, an association of Britain and its former colonies, put a stolid traditionalist front over decades of violent upheaval. As such, the queen helped obscure a bloody history of decolonization whose proportions and legacies have yet to be adequately acknowledged.
Elizabeth became queen of a postwar Britain where sugar was still rationed and rubble from bomb damage still being cleared away. Journalists and commentators promptly cast the 25-year-old as a phoenix rising into a new Elizabethan age. An inevitable analogy, perhaps, and a pointed one. The first Elizabethan Age, in the second half of the 16th century, marked England’s emergence from a second-tier European state to an ambitious overseas power. Elizabeth I expanded the navy, encouraged privateering and granted charters to trading companies that laid the foundations for a transcontinental empire.
Elizabeth II grew up in a royal family whose significance in the British Empire had swollen even as its political authority shrank at home. The monarchy ruled an ever-lengthening list of Crown colonies, including Hong Kong (1842), India (1858) and Jamaica (1866). Queen Victoria, proclaimed empress of India in 1876, presided over flamboyant celebrations of imperial patriotism; her birthday was enshrined from 1902 as Empire Day. Members of the royal family made lavish ceremonial tours of the colonies, bestowing upon Indigenous Asian and African rulers an alphabet soup of orders and decorations.
In 1947, Princess Elizabeth celebrated her 21st birthday on a royal tour in South Africa, delivering a much-quoted speech in which she promised that “my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong.” She was on another royal tour, in Kenya, when she learned of her father’s death.
On Coronation Day in 1953, The Times of London proudly broke the news of the first successful summiting of Mount Everest by the Sherpa Tenzing Norgay and the New Zealander Edmund Hillary, calling it a “happy and vigorous augury for another Elizabethan era.” The imperialistic tenor of the news notwithstanding, Queen Elizabeth II would never be an empress in name — the independence of India and Pakistan in 1947 stripped away that title — but she inherited and sustained an imperial monarchy by assuming the title of head of the Commonwealth.
“The Commonwealth bears no resemblance to the empires of the past,” she insisted in her Christmas Day message of 1953. Its history suggested otherwise. Initially imagined as a consortium of the “white” settler colonies (championed by the South African prime minister Jan Smuts), the Commonwealth had its origins in a racist and paternalistic conception of British rule as a form of tutelage, educating colonies in the mature responsibilities of self-government. Reconfigured in 1949 to accommodate newly independent Asian republics, the Commonwealth was the empire’s sequel, and a vehicle for preserving Britain’s international influence.
In photographs from Commonwealth leaders’ conferences, the white queen sits front and center among dozens of mostly nonwhite premiers, like a matriarch flanked by her offspring. She took her role very seriously, sometimes even clashing with her ministers to support Commonwealth interests over narrower political imperatives, as when she advocated multifaith Commonwealth Day services in the 1960s and encouraged a tougher line on apartheid South Africa.
What you would never know from the pictures — which is partly their point — is the violence that lies behind them. In 1948, the colonial governor of Malaya declared a state of emergency to fight communist guerrillas, and British troops used counterinsurgency tactics the Americans would emulate in Vietnam. In 1952 the governor of Kenya imposed a state of emergency to suppress an anticolonial movement known as Mau Mau, under which the British rounded up tens of thousands of Kenyans into detention camps and subjected them to brutal, systematized torture. In Cyprus in 1955 and Aden, Yemen, in 1963, British governors again declared states of emergency to contend with anticolonial attacks; again they tortured civilians. Meanwhile, in Ireland, the Troubles brought the dynamics of emergency to the United Kingdom. In a karmic turn, the Irish Republican Army assassinated the queen’s relative Lord Louis Mountbatten, the last viceroy of India (and the architect of Elizabeth’s marriage to his nephew, Prince Philip), in 1979.
We may never learn what the queen did or didn’t know about the crimes committed in her name. (What transpires in the sovereign’s weekly meetings with the prime minister remains a black box at the center of the British state.) Her subjects haven’t necessarily gotten the full story, either. Colonial officials destroyed many records that, according to a dispatch from the secretary of state for the colonies, “might embarrass Her Majesty’s government” and deliberately concealed others in a secret archive whose existence was revealed only in 2011. Though some activists such as the Labour M.P. Barbara Castle publicized and denounced British atrocities, they failed to gain wide public traction.
And there were always more royal tours for the press to cover. Nearly every year until the 2000s, the queen toured Commonwealth nations — a good bet for cheering crowds and flattering footage, her miles clocked and countries visited totted up as if they’d been heroically attained on foot rather than by royal yacht and Rolls-Royce: 44,000 miles and 13 territories to mark her coronation; 56,000 miles and 14 countries for the Silver Jubilee in 1977; an additional 40,000 miles traversing Jamaica, Australia, New Zealand and Canada for the Gold. The British Empire largely decolonized, but the monarchy did not.
During the last decades of her reign, the queen watched Britain — and the royal family — struggle to come to terms with its postimperial position. Tony Blair championed multiculturalism and brought devolution to Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, but he also revived Victorian imperial rhetoric in joining the US-led invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. Social and regional inequality widened, and London became a haven for superrich oligarchs. Though the queen’s personal popularity rebounded from its low point after the death of Princess Diana, the royal family split over Harry and Meghan’s accusations of racism. In 1997 the queen famously shed a tear when the taxpayer-funded Royal Yacht Britannia was decommissioned, a few months after escorting the last British governor from Hong Kong. Boris Johnson floated the idea of building a new one.
In recent years, public pressure has been building on the British state and institutions to acknowledge and make amends for the legacies of empire, slavery and colonial violence. In 2013, in response to a lawsuit brought by victims of torture in colonial Kenya, the British government agreed to pay nearly 20 million pounds in damages to survivors; another payout was made in 2019 to survivors in Cyprus. Efforts are underway to reform school curriculums, to remove public monuments that glorify empire and to alter the presentation of historic sites linked to imperialism.
Yet xenophobia and racism have been rising, fueled by the toxic politics of Brexit. Picking up on a longstanding investment in the Commonwealth among Euroskeptics (both left and right) as a British-led alternative to European integration, Mr. Johnson’s government (with Liz Truss, now the prime minister, as its foreign secretary) leaned into a vision of “Global Britain” steeped in half-truths and imperial nostalgia.
The queen’s very longevity made it easier for outdated fantasies of a second Elizabethan age to persist. She represented a living link to World War II and a patriotic myth that Britain alone saved the world from fascism. She had a personal relationship with Winston Churchill, the first of her 15 prime ministers, whom Mr. Johnson pugnaciously defended against well-founded criticism of his retrograde imperialism. And she was, of course, a white face on all the coins, notes and stamps circulated in a rapidly diversifying nation: From perhaps one person of color in 200 Britons at her accession, the 2011 census counted one in seven.
Now that she is gone, the imperial monarchy must end too. It’s well past time, for instance, to act on calls to rename the Order of the British Empire, a distinction that the queen has bestowed on hundreds of Britons every year for community service and contributions to public life. The queen served as head of state in more than a dozen Commonwealth realms, more of which may now follow the example of Barbados, which decided “to fully leave our colonial past behind” and become a republic in 2021. The queen’s death could also aid a fresh campaign for Scottish independence, which she was understood to oppose. Though Commonwealth leaders decided in 2018 to fulfill the queen’s “sincere wish” and recognize Prince Charles as the next head of the Commonwealth, the organization emphasizes that the role is not hereditary.
Those who heralded a second Elizabethan age hoped Elizabeth II would sustain British greatness; instead, it was the era of the empire’s implosion. She will be remembered for her tireless dedication to her job, whose future she attempted to secure by stripping the disgraced Prince Andrew of his roles and resolving the question of Queen Camilla’s title. Yet it was a position so closely linked to the British Empire that even as the world transformed around her, myths of imperial benevolence persisted. The new king now has an opportunity to make a real historical impact by scaling back royal pomp and updating Britain’s monarchy to be more like those of Scandinavia. That would be an end to celebrate.