The New York Times; By TINA ROSENBERG
In the old days, a deposed monarch desirous of power would raise an army. Today, as King-turned-Prime Minister Simeon II of Bulgaria did this spring, he shakes hands at shopping centers and hands out waffles to voters as he campaigns for election. This is progress.
Except for the Middle East and the Himalayan Buddhist kingdom of Bhutan, monarchies today are largely ceremonial. Royals have become the appendix of the body politic. Most seem to exist to sell gossip magazines and keep the fashion and light-aircraft industries humming.
Simeon, who ascended to the Bulgarian throne as a child in 1943 and was forced into exile by the Communists three years later, joins a small group of more serious monarchs. The best known have paradoxically used their thrones to strengthen democracy. Spain's king, Juan Carlos, chose a reformist democratic government after Francisco Franco's death in 1975, and six years later intervened to quash a military coup attempt. King Bhumibol Adulyadet in Thailand spent the 1980's and 1990's quietly and effectively supporting civilians during repeated military grabs for power. Nepal's King Birendra — 1 of 10 royals massacred in June — peacefully gave up his near-absolute powers to a democracy movement in the early 1990's. Royal rulers can be a force that stabilizes and unites a nation.
They can also be frivolous and spoiled. Cambodians desperately needed a Bhumibol, but King Norodom Sihanouk has been an irresponsible monarch, pitting his sons against each other and keeping silent or issuing contradictory statements during crises. He even served as honorary chief of the Khmer Rouge in exile in the early 1970's. The chief political asset of his son, Prince Norodom Ranariddh, president of Cambodia's National Assembly, is his resemblance to his father. The prince's golf game is renowned.
The mystique of the monarch lures many people into endowing royals with qualities they do not possess. This is especially true in former Communist nations. The Soviet Union expelled the East European monarchs, who then became symbols of everything Communism was not. Romania's King Michael abdicated under Soviet pressure in 1947 and has lived in Switzerland. His recent trips to Romania have not created a groundswell to return him to the throne, but the government did hire him as an ambassador-at-large to make its case for joining NATO. In Yugoslavia, Crown Prince Alexander Karadjordjevic and his family ended six decades in exile this month when the government allowed them to return to their Belgrade palace.
Prince Alexander has said he will stay out of politics, but he might well win if he ran for office. More than 45 percent of Serbs called themselves monarchists in a recent poll. Kings and princes have money, name recognition and star power — a good foundation for electoral success anywhere. Older voters may remember the strong hand of a past monarchy with fondness, and many people look for a powerful, mythic figure to swoop in and solve their nation's problems.
These expectations are why Simeon II is governing Bulgaria today, but they may lead to rapid public disenchantment. As prime minister, he enjoys no more power than his predecessors. Voters may be disappointed to see a man elected for his royal mystique swapping votes in parliament and railing at an unruly press. But given Europe's history, Bulgarians are fortunate. If you are going to have a king in power, it is far better to have elected him.
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