IF I were the Queen I would be getting more than a little annoyed about the lack of respect being shown to the monarch by politicians.

Let me lay my cards on the table; I am far too much of an egalitarian to ever be a monarchist and in my perfect political world all countries would be republics.

However, we do not live in utopia and it is highly unlikely that the British people would ever ditch the Royal Family, even with all its faults, the web that shrouds it in stuffy protocol and some members’ financial excesses. Moreover, with the reputation of politicians at an all-time low, would a head of state elected by the popular vote do any better?

Until five years ago I failed to appreciate the symbolism of the British monarch. As far as I was concerned the Queen was a dour elderly woman who never had anything interesting to say, spent far too many long holidays in the Highlands or at Sandringham shooting wild animals and was, consequently, out of touch with her people.

The clouds shadowing my judgement were lifted on a baking hot day in Normandy five years ago at the end of the British and Commonwealth commemoration of the 60th anniversary of the D-Day Landings. As the distinct maroon helicopter ferrying the Queen and Prince Philip to the international commemoration at Arromanches banked over the Bayeux War Cemetery, the crowd waved and cheered.

I looked around at the faces of the war veterans from all over the British Isles – including Jersey’s very own D-Day vets – Australia, New Zealand, Canada et al. The wave of emotion was almost tangible, even on a day when feelings were running high from dawn to dusk.

To them, the Queen – as her father and mother did from 1939 to 1945 – symbolised what it was to be British or whatever nationality of which the monarch is the head of state. The monarch is the national figurehead, the physical embodiment of the nation’s colours, the Union Flag, the rallying symbol carried into battle by generation after generation over the centuries.

If a country and its way of life are worth preserving, they are worth fighting and dying for – if they are not we might as well emigrate. Those old men, flagging in the exhausting heat five years ago had, 60 years before, been willing to put their lives on their line in the defence of freedom but more importantly for their king and country.

Since the penny dropped on that unforgettable day, I have grown to respect the Queen as a person who has dedicated her life to her country, her people and the Commonwealth.

I still favour a republic and am dismayed by the line of succession but in comparison with other current heads of states, the Queen does a damn good job. While heads of state have come, gone and faded into political oblivion since 1945, there has been one constant at all major national and international acts of remembrance, and that is Queen Elizabeth II.

The French President’s snub to the Queen by failing to invite her as the head of state for the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth to the 65th anniversary of D-Day is not simply a personal insult to her as a person, it is an insult to us all. Above all it is an unforgiveable slight to the thousands of men – and women – who fought to liberate France and free Europe from the Nazis.

The reason why anniversaries are commemorated is being increasingly overlooked by political leaders of all persuasions and nationalities who use such events to raise their profile by having pictures taken with medal-laden veterans. Or, as happened five years ago on 6 June, while elderly men and women were standing in the heat or stuck in traffic jams, the heads of state were being wined and dined at a sumptuous lunch in Caen.

Combine such vanities with the protocol of who should be invited and by whom, where they should sit and in what order wreaths should be laid and you lose touch with the reality.

In vying for the front row at national commemorations pol-iticians frequently forget what and whom they are supposed to be honouring, remembering or mourning.
Regardless of the usual protocol that dictates for the Queen to attend such events as the 65th anniversary of D-Day this Saturday, and the fact that the French President, Nicolas Sarcozy, should have delivered his invitation many months ago, she should have gone.

Living as we do in such security-conscious times, I fully realise that the Queen simply can’t catch the Eurostar or pop down to Portsmouth in the Bentley to hop on a cross-Channel ferry. Notwithstanding such considerations, a helicopter or two from her very own flight could have whisked the Royal couple and their usual Court entourage across the Channel, in next to no time.

On occasions such as this, it is worth ditching archaic protocol and pulling out the stops for the veterans to whom she signifies so much, but also to show the politicians what it means to have earned the respect of the people not by right but by setting an example. Five years on it is a new shift of world leaders who will enjoy Sarcozy’s hospitality rather than the ‘yesterday’ men and women who dined with Jacques Chirac in 2004.

This disconnection between the body politic and the people was evident in Liberation Square last month when the official procession from the States Building arrived to take their seats, elevated above the public. Those mere mortals assembled below the dais were asked to stand. A war veteran in front asked his wife for what purpose they were being requested to rise. On being told that States Members had arrived he muttered ‘I’m not standing for them!’ and promptly sat down.

There were similar comments of public discontent later outside the Pomme d’Or, where an area roped off for ‘VIPs’ obstructed the view of the parade for the most important people on 9 May, those who lived through the Occupation.

Respect is not a given right: it must be earned and be seen to be earned. It is a lesson that politicians everywhere need to learn.