When President Trump made his first state visit to Britain in 2019, the royal family saw it as an opening of Buckingham Palace to a political phenomenon that Britons viewed as a comical aberration. At the time, Queen Elizabeth II, aged 93, hosted a splendid banquet meticulously prepared to dazzle America’s 45th president. Yet, there was an undertone of theatricality in all that grandeur, epitomized by the moment Camilla shot a pointed glance at a security officer during a photo op at Clarence House with the Trumps. The moment went viral the next day.
This week, for Trump’s second state visit—an unprecedented honor for an American president—the atmosphere is gloomier. Trump is no longer the star of a political soap opera. He is a global force exerting pressure, unafraid to unleash tariffs like torpedoes or, at times, threaten to abandon Eastern Europe to Russia’s wolves. And his harsh populism is spreading: on Saturday, tens of thousands of far-right protestors—incited by a jarring video appearance from Elon Musk urging them to “fight”—filled the streets of central London.
Windsor Castle, where Trump will be ceremoniously received this week, has a quieter, more solemn, and historic aura compared to the grand spectacle of Buckingham Palace, which, as Stephen Fry—author, actor, and friend of King Charles III—put it, perhaps has more “appeal to the classically vulgar hybrid type, and feels like a convention is being held there.”
In many ways, Windsor is a more fitting venue to host Trump in his second, war-torn term. It is a fortress as well as a royal residence, originally built by William the Conqueror to repel invaders in the 11th century. The president will walk past grim medieval exhibits of torture devices, eye-gouging spikes, and deadly halberds.
Trump, who has recently rebranded the Department of Defense as the Department of War, might enjoy the flamboyant spectacle of King Henry VIII’s oversized armor, missing only the monarch’s monumental metal codpiece. (It’s a pity Trump can’t try it on; he and the despot Henry share a deep affinity for treasure, pronounced germophobia, and a penchant for the predatory dismantling of sacred institutions.)
What does Britain hope to gain from lavishly hosting a president most of its citizens despise? For the embattled Prime Minister, Keir Starmer—whose approval rating stands at just 24% and who was recently forced to sack his ambassador to Washington, Peter Mandelson, over his overly cozy correspondence with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein—this is an opportunity to announce billions worth of new deals and craft the image of a leader in control.
But the reception Trump will receive at Windsor will also highlight the monarchy’s enduring relevance, showcasing King Charles’s adeptness in international diplomacy, which will play a key—not merely ceremonial—role in the president’s second visit.
For years, critics questioned how the dogmatic and emotional Charles, fixated on issues like drought, dubious homeopathy, and the conservative preservation of traditional crafts, could ever embody the regal aura of his mother. Elizabeth was a sphinx for 70 years, while Charles’s life has been an open book—from his covert sexual escapades with Camilla during their secret romance to the bitter breakdown of his relationship with his younger son, Prince Harry. While the British public expects Prince William to open the door to destiny, the most anticipated from the transitional reign of his septuagenarian father was, in Churchill’s words, “simply to carry on.”
Yet, Charles’s early years as monarch have been a silent triumph. Polished by countless overseas tours, seasoned by years of constitutional practice, and now attuned to many of his citizens’ modern concerns, Charles may be the last man to wield global gravitas in this digitally engulfed world.
It was he who managed to soothe some Brexit wounds by addressing the Bundestag in fluent German and then warmly speaking to the French Senate in perfect French. He signaled official British displeasure at Trump’s mocking of Canadians as “America’s 51st state” by swiftly traveling to open Canada’s Parliament at the Prime Minister’s invitation. A subtle gesture of humanity was his invitation to Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky for tea at his private Sandringham residence, immediately after Zelensky’s awkward Oval Office encounter—a move Elizabeth, with her precision for diplomatic agendas, would never have considered. In the age of social media, where the monarch’s mask is no longer desirable, Charles is rewriting the script of how a sovereign is expected to behave.
It’s all the more tragic that his diagnosis with an undisclosed type of cancer may make his reign a race against time, lending added emotion to his long-awaited reconciliation with his estranged son, Harry, last week. Charles knows that, in these times of ugly political divisions, a fractured royal family paints a poor picture. But it was also a fulfillment of paternal longing. It’s no secret that Charles deeply misses his wayward son, who in the past was always the lively and cheerful one—compared to the more arrogant and Hanoverian William. Understandably, William finds it irritating to see his faithless brother—who, over the past five years, has muddied the family’s name on television and promoted a bestselling tell-all book—now basking in the British charity world, visiting Ukraine, and overshadowing William’s diligent engagements.
But Charles, as I’ve been told, is weary of his eldest son’s stubbornness, which sees himself as righteous in this family feud, and thus wants to embrace Harry again—if the latter can keep his mouth shut. Harry’s recent interview with The Guardian, where the troubled prince declared, “My conscience is clear,” dashed any hopes among his detractors that Harry Hotspur would play by the old royal rules.
Here in America, we’re fixated on the process and drama of presidential politics, the burden of duty, the daily colonoscopy by White House correspondents, and the unbearable intrusions into our leaders’ private lives. Former First Ladies lament the pressures of their dreadful years inside the White House bubble. But only those born or married into the institution of monarchy know the true meaning of life in a gilded cage—imposed by duty, service, and relentless public scrutiny, with no exit but death or exile. It’s easier to take on the role of priest than a life of grandeur atop red carpets, served by humble servants—something Harry’s wife, Meghan, never understood.
Is there any chance Trump will leave the royal residence at Windsor with a deeper understanding of the futility of playing at being a fake king? Windsor Castle has survived for 1,000 years, as has the British monarchy. As Mr. Fry told me: “One hopes Trump, at least subconsciously, reads the castle’s message. True power needs no bravado. Dignity is nobler than dazzle.” Unfortunately, it’s more likely Trump will order some armor and a bunch of halberds for America’s 250th anniversary parade.
Perhaps what’s truly achieved from Trump’s state visit is the reaffirmation of Britain’s constitutional self-assurance. The sovereign will always stand as a symbol of stability above the inevitable bipartisan fray. It’s comforting to think that a British monarch will continue to welcome American presidents long after Trump becomes a historical footnote.
