I recently came across an interesting article about a man who commands fees of $4000 for slicing a leg of ham.
If one reads the article, the startling headline begins to make a bit of sense. Many consider Florencio Sanchez the pre-eminent international voice for Iberian ham, a traditional Spanish cuisine/delicacy. Apparently Iberian ham means to Spain what barbecue might mean for Texan. The pig must be raised in a certain way, cut in a certain way, and so on. Clearly as well, Sanchez styles himself as an “artiste.” For Iberian ham to truly be Iberian ham it must be presented in a certain way, with certain instruments that . . . only he may ever touch. Among other things, Sanchez believes that no true slicer of ham would ever speak English.
One comment in the video below particularly stuck with me, however:
Sanchez clearly takes the most pride in having cut ham for the King of Spain, which should not surprise us. But he added that, “We have a great king, who loves ham.”
It seemed to me that he could have almost said, “We have a great king because he loves ham.”
Of course, Sanchez has honed and practices a very traditional skill, and monarchy is a traditional form of government that relies on tradition to succeed. And if the king appreciates Sanchez’s life’s work, we should not blame Sanchez if he feels flattered and even vindicated. But with this comment, I think Sanchez has an insight into political leadership, and why many in the west–not just in the U.S.– feel less confidence about our democracies at the moment.
A successful monarch need not necessarily have the right policies. He/she will generally be loved if their actions in some measure reflect well on their country. So Richard I, the “Lionhearted,” can be revered in English memory although he actually spent very little time in England. Saint Louis IX lost on two crusades and emptied the treasury in payments to Moslems for his own ransom, but his noble character and sanctity earned him the love of France. Louis XIV had an enormous appetite (apparently due to his abnormally huge stomach), eating multiple courses for dinner, making a huge show of it in the process, and Frenchmen took pride in that. “Look what our king can do!” So too, “Our king loves ham.” He acts in ways that embody something of Spain, just as Richard did for England. Such kings overshadow more “successful” monarchs like Henry II, if we think of success in modern terms.*
Our founders recognized the need for this on some level. I think they wanted the president to always be George Washington–that is–someone above reproach who used his powers sparingly but with forbearance and wisdom, someone who had no political skin in the game. They utterly failed to anticipate the almost immediate rise of the presidency as a popular/populist office and the impact that would have on our democracy.
Bernard Bailyn, Gordon Wood, and others point out the radical nature of the American Revolution and its clean break with tradition and the past. This bold move helped make the Revolution successful and gave it its influence worldwide. But, this recent election might make us wish that we had a king, “who loves ham,” or in our case, perhaps cheeseburgers.
*Before we think that, “Hey, I’ll gladly love ham if you make me king of Spain,” kingship has some very tricky elements. By the end of his reign the people hated Louis XIV. Louis might say, “Sure, I lost two big wars, but after all, so did St. Louis IX! And . . . I can still eat more than most mortal men, right?”
But it wouldn’t have helped him.
People cheered Louis XVI at the opening of the Estates General in 1789. They executed him a few years later. Kingship works when a quasi-mystical, perhaps sacred connection exists between him and his people–when he rightly acts as the “pater-familias.”
Wikipedia tells us that Felipe VI of Spain has the favor of the Spanish people, and that many want him to intervene a bit more to reconcile party differences. He seems to have popularity and good-will at the moment. But if Wikipedia accurately reports, he will need great caution, because some of his popularity seems rooted in his abandonment of certain long-standing traditions, such as the practice of elected officials taking their oaths of office upon a Bible or crucifix.
A king’s power rests in large measure upon tradition, and he tampers with that as his peril. Many assume France’s Louis XVI was reactionary and inflexible. In fact, as Simon Schama points out in his Citizens, Louis attempted many progressive reforms. Some of the Enlightenment philosophes initially praised him as just the sort of king France needed (Louis probably did not want their praise, but still . . . ). Events show that this stance almost certainly hurt rather than helped.