Extra: The Queen and I

AMPUS, France–My first encounter with the Queen ended with an Indian Ocean odyssey to polar opposite archipelagos: Maldives, still a medieval Muslim time warp hidden among coral fantasia, and Seychelles, then fun-loving islands where Sex on the Beach was not a bar drink.

That was in 1972 after a five-week visit to Southeast Asia in a world entirely different from today. Elizabeth II and Prince Philip sailed on their yacht, Britannia. A few reporters flew ahead on a Royal Air Force transport. We had an awful lot of fun, but I don’t think the queen did.

Britannia tied up at Male, Maldives’ minuscule capital, in water clear enough to see parrotfish frolic on the sea floor. Instead of jumping in, the royal couple traipsed off to a fish plant, gamely ignoring the stench, and then hobnobbed with officials, schoolkids and the four resident Brits.

On that trip, and others like it in various far-flung places, I watched a purely symbolic monarch work hard to fortify humanity in a world bent on destroying itself. She dined with dictators, only subtly appealing to their better natures. In remote villages, she lit up lives.

Fifty years later, her impact can’t be measured. But her mark is indelible. People who waited 30 hours to file past her casket and all those who now gather in London for a last goodbye show her legacy. Great Britain, though diminished these days, still punches far above its weight.

This is no paean to a faultless queen. A costly archaic monarchy in a parliamentary democracy with a class-based society is no easy fit. And the House of Windsor has a lot of dark corners.

Friction is often amusing sidelight. I once saw a photographer shout to Princess Anne: “This way, luv.” She stiffened and glared. “I’m not your ‘luv,’” she said. “I’m your royal highness.” But one night in Paris, sirens wailed near my boat on the Seine. I spent the next week in London.

Reaction to Princess Diana’s death was entirely different despite repeated assertions by American television commentators who parachuted in when the queen died. She was seen as a tragic victim, badly treated by a family who froze her out.

Don Lemon on CNN kept marveling at the absence of shoving or confrontation among the huge crowds. Christiane Amanpour gently set him straight. Britons are world champions at patiently waiting in queues. They just wanted to honor a long-serving monarch whose time had come.

For many Americans, British royalty is not a thing. Before the queen’s death, Bill Maher noted a survey that asked millennials which country Elizabeth ruled. One said Egypt; another said Brazil. But “The Crown” is wildly popular on Netflix. It is largely accurate but partly hype.

One episode asserts that Elizabeth’s foxtrot with Kwame Nkrumah in 1961 at a state banquet in Accra changed the course of history. That, it said, caused the Ghanaian dictator to shake off strong Soviet ties and turn back to the West. Not even close.

I went to cover West Africa for the Associated Press in 1967, a year after Nkrumah was deposed in a military coup. Actual facts say much about Elizabeth’s soft approach with what diplomats and economists call moral suasion.

Until independence in 1957, Ghana was the Gold Coast. Its economy boomed with cacao and other exports. Schools, roads and healthcare were good. Nkrumah was prime minister with an elected parliament. Police in smart uniforms kept order. Tribes got along. But it was a colony.

That dance caused no racial shock or awe. It was Ghana, not South Africa. Nkrumah had studied and taught in Pennsylvania before seeking a doctorate at the London School of Economics. By 1961, he was a firebrand among “nonaligned” states that leaned heavily on deals with Moscow.

The trip took courage. Advisers urged the queen to call it off after reports of dissidents who threatened violence. Her reply was typical of her view of duty: How would that look?

Elizabeth’s aim was to replace colonial excesses with a Commonwealth linking fragments of an ex-empire on which the sun never set. She spent long days meeting people of all sorts. Some, kids back then, showed up in London to join the long line into Westminster Hall.

In 1960, Prime Minister Harold Macmillan toured the continent. “The wind of change is blowing through this continent,” he said, “and whether we like it or not, this growth of national consciousness is a political fact.” In Paris, Charles de Gaulle said essentially the same thing.

Today, the Commonwealth numbers 56, including Gabon, formerly French, with such outliers as Mozambique and Rwanda.

King Charles now pledges to carry on his mother’s work. It is hard to imagine him plowing into crowds in steamy backwaters or reviewing endless parades of schoolchildren. Britain hasn’t thought much of him until now. And after the Diana days, neither has the world beyond.

But thinking back to that Indian Ocean idyll, he may be just the man for the moment. Even 50 years ago, coral reefs and pristine waters showed warning signs. Since that trip, “environment” has been my personal obsession. As it happens, it has also been his.

Now the oceans, the air, the forests and everything else are so far gone that only concerted global action can save what is left. Down here in Provence, even timeless tough olive trees struggle to survive. Effective action requires an articulate leader who commands respect.

Queen Elizabeth spent 70 years promoting peace on the earth. Now King Charles is likely to champion Earth itself.