BETWEEN RELIGION AND BORDERS: CHARLES III, THE VATICAN, AND A MONARCHY ON THE BRINK

The visit of King Charles III to the Vatican, presented as an act of religious reconciliation, is in fact much more than that. The prayer with Pope Leo XIV in the Sistine Chapel—the first between a British monarch and a pontiff after five centuries of mistrust and hostility—marked the culmination of a strategy planned with surgical precision, designed to address a twofold fragility: the geopolitical weakness of a post-Brexit United Kingdom and the institutional vulnerability of a monarchy shaken by scandals and forced to reinvent itself in a post-imperial and post-sacral age. It is the gesture of a sovereign striving to restore meaning to his role, in order to spare the British crown the fate that befell the Bourbons, the Habsburgs, the Romanovs, the Savoys, and the many dynasties that, unable or unwilling to adapt to their time, vanished from the stage of history. The end of monarchy is almost always inevitable, the product of that dynamic of enantiodromia whereby every power, once past its peak, generates the force that negates it. Yet every wise sovereign seeks to postpone that outcome.

A SICK KING AND AN EVER MORE DISUNITED KINGDOM

Charles III, now seventy-six, is battling cancer that, though carefully monitored, limits his public agenda. The Princess of Wales, Kate, is also fighting illness, turning the royal family into a narrative of resilience and courage that has temporarily rekindled popular affection. But compassion alone cannot offset the loss of trust in an institution that many now see as unjust, elitist, and decidedly anachronistic. According to a British Social Attitudes survey, in 2025 only 58% of Britons declared themselves in favor of maintaining the monarchy, while among those aged 16 to 34, 59% preferred an elected head of state (1).

As long as Charles lives, the realm is safe: no republican leader would be so reckless or foolish as to stir unrest bound to fail. Deposing a sick king would be perceived as an act of cruelty—and even revolutionaries, today, must adhere to an ethics of image. Better not to squander a potential base of support that might prove useful in a not-so-distant future. Charles, of course, is perfectly aware of this, but he also knows how precarious the position of his successors—especially George—really is. Their lives may not be in danger—the European ethic, after all, has changed since the days of the French and October Revolutions—but their power certainly is. Yet Charles seems to understand better than many of his predecessors the geopolitical dimension of symbolism: for decades he has acted as a “diplomat-king,” focused on less divisive and polarizing issues such as ecology, interreligious dialogue, and cultural soft power.

The question is: will this strategy suffice to counter the gradual erosion of national unity? Will a mild moral authority be enough to deter the heirs of Oliver Cromwell? And will this strategy still work when George is king and new social tensions emerge?

For now, it is difficult to say. But no dossier worries Buckingham Palace more than the Irish one. According to the 2021 census, 45.7% of Northern Ireland’s population is Catholic, while 43.48% is Protestant or adheres to other Christian denominations. In 2011, Protestants were still the majority (48% against 45% Catholics). The overtaking—long predicted by statisticians—is the result of decades of differing birth rates and a gradual generational shift (2).

Just days ago, the election of Catherine Connolly as President of the Republic—an independent figure but supported by Sinn Féin and leftist parties—added to the atmosphere of uncertainty. Connolly has never concealed her support for a referendum on Irish unification within the next decade. On the island, the border question has returned to the realm of possibility. A Northern Ireland increasingly perceived as Catholic would make the position of an Anglican monarch, the “Defender of the Faith,” ever more fragile in a realm that no longer shares a common faith. Hence the Vatican operation: a gesture of openness aimed at softening confessional divides and showing that the Crown can also stand as a guarantor for Catholics.

But Ireland is not the only sensitive front. To the north, Scotland represents another fissure in British unity. Scotland today is more secularized than the rest of the Kingdom: the Church of Scotland (Presbyterian) has lost much of its former social influence, while Catholicism—historically rooted in urban areas—remains a significant presence. This religious pluralism, along with the growing number of atheists and agnostics, makes the monarchic narrative less tied to Anglicanism and more in need of a civic, inclusive language. To make matters worse, the independence drive—muted after the 2014 referendum—has reawakened in the post-Brexit years: Edinburgh looks with growing nostalgia toward continental Europe, seen as its natural sphere of reference. Naturally, this affinity is also opportunistically amplified by those who operate in the shadows, seeking to inflame separatist sentiment.

Charles knows this, and he tries to respond through the universal language of dialogue and ecumenism: a king less English and Anglican, more European, one who recalls his family ties to Catholicism and even to Orthodoxy (his father was raised in the Orthodox faith), a king striving to preserve a unity now more moral than religious.

For the moment, this strategy works: the press is distracted, public opinion is moved, and the king’s image is stronger than it was a few months ago. But time is working against him. When biology and geography come knocking again, no prayer will be able to halt history.

REFERENCES

1- https://natcen.ac.uk/news/public-support-monarchy-falls-historic-low-while-calls-abolition-start-rise

2- https://www.radiodublino.com/cresce-la-popolazione-cattolica-in-irlanda-del-nord-superati-i-protestanti/