It’s the monarchy’s humanity that gives it such power

It matters that, at the heart of our system, there is a man enduring what millions of his subjects will also face

A cancer diagnosis is always a frightening moment; three words that nobody wants to hear, but statistically, half of us will during our lives – “you have cancer”.
Understandably, the world’s media have carried the news that these words have recently been said to one man. The King’s cancer diagnosis is at once an ordinary and extraordinary thing. Yes, in this case, front pages have been changed, prayers will be said in churches and well-wishes uttered by heads of state, while constitutional protocol will lurk in the distance to be deployed if need be. But there will also be an anxious family, treatments that must be performed on the patient, and a frail human body in the midst of it all.
This seeming paradox, these contrasts, are at the heart of monarchy and its enduring power. The institution personalises the state, showing the constitution in its human form. It embodies public-facing virtues like strength, honour and duty – and wraps those up in an individual.
The King’s openness about his diagnosis is a departure from previous practice and will have an obvious impact. Men (especially, dare I say it, those of the King’s vintage) are famed for shunning medical attention – “it’ll get better on its own”, “I don’t want a lot of fuss” etc. In calling his malady by its proper name and avoiding euphemism, the King’s actions may encourage others to book their check-up or report suspicious symptoms. In this case, the personal – and it doesn’t get more personal than His Majesty’s diagnosis – has obvious public implications.
But there is a deeper point here, which perhaps explains one facet of the monarchy’s continued relevance. At the heart of the institution is not a piece of paper or a cabinet or governmental system, but one man and his family. It can therefore reflect the personal lives of millions across the country. Indeed, the swift turnaround of grief reflects an experience common in many households; a death in the family, soon followed by health complaints, a worrying diagnosis elsewhere. 
Some dismiss this as “the Windsor soap opera”; but these are issues facing real people, too. All this puts a necessarily fragile human being at the heart of the state. Whereas republican systems may adopt some of the pomp and grandeur that we associate with royalty, they will struggle to replicate a constitution seen through the humanising lens of a family.
This mixture of vulnerability and transcendence is woven into the history of monarchy. Alongside the grandeur of the late Queen’s funeral ceremony, it was often the more mundane moments that captured the public imagination; the sight of Elizabeth II’s corgis and her fell pony, the piper’s lament as the coffin finally descended from view.
This isn’t, as some commentators have suggested, a recent response by the House of Windsor to a more sentimentalised public. This mixture of the personal and the constitutional has been a longstanding feature of the Crown. 
George III oversaw one of the greatest periods in British history while locked away at Windsor Castle. Or the dying Queen Elizabeth I – the ailing Gloriana – being led reluctant to her bed having fought against lying down for the last time. Or Queen Anne, a faithful and conscientious stateswoman who also presided over a glorious era, in contrast to her personal infirmity. Perhaps no other Queen endured so much in her quest for an heir as Anne, whose life was marred by the loss of 18 children through miscarriage, stillbirth and early death. Beyond their role as glittering symbols, it is also in the moments of sadness that the value of monarchy becomes clear.
When so much divides us, there seems little in our common life that confers that same shared goodwill. While some will, inevitably, use any aspect of news about the Royal family to bemoan unfairness or inequality, the truth is that the vast majority of the country, republican or monarchist, will recognise this as something that speaks to a common humanity.
True, the King will receive world-class private hospital treatment that few can expect under the NHS. But neither princes nor paupers should be wished ill when they have cancer.
Those who would seek to make this a political moment fail to see the sad beauty that it embodies. Viewing the state in abstract terms is a dangerous thing and can lead people to commit very great evils. By contrast, the King’s illness reminds us that the state is composed of individuals, of humans, who experience all the ups and downs that a human life can bring. The Crown only has relevance when it’s on someone’s head.
There is a final reason why the King’s diagnosis may yet prove important. So often in moments of crisis, families reunite, jolted into a renewed appreciation of what really matters. Let us hope that Prince Harry’s return to the UK to see his father might be the beginning of a rapprochement. Because it is in moments of vulnerability that we don’t just realise how important monarchy is, but family, too.