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Those are significant viewing figures, even by the standards of a Hollywood blockbuster or a global mega-sports event. I must confess I was not among them. Although I am British, I find weddings poor entertainment.
That does not make me a republican, but many Brits are. They complain that the royals enjoy unfair privileges and waste taxpayers' money. The first point can be argued. The second point cannot; the royal family delivers immense value, both as an institution and monetarily.
Royal patronage raises big money for charities, the arts and national institutions. Royal awards are prestigious, and are sought even by rock stars and sporting heroes. The royals make formidable diplomatic assets ― an audience at Buckingham Palace has cachet among global leaders as diverse as U.S. President Ronald Reagan and the late Rumanian dictator Nicolai Ceaucescu.
Royal-related tourism and merchandizing are big businesses. Above all, the royal family drives massive global media and public interest in the United Kingdom. The issue of calculating "brand value" is fraught, but by any such metric, the royals are worth billions: They function as core pillars of Brand Britannia.
It is not just the U.K. Constitutional monarchies deliver similar benefits to multiple nations in Scandinavia and Western Europe, while in Japan and Thailand royal families are core elements of national unity and identity. At best, royals embody positive values such as good deeds, duty and citizenship; at worst, their scandals sell newspapers.
This leads me to wonder: Could Korea's monarchy feasibly return?
The first question is: Are there any Yis left? When doing a story a decade ago on what I thought were the last members of the Yi Dynasty ― Yi Gu and Yi Seok ― I was amazed to be informed that some 2 million Koreans are connected to the royal bloodline. So, finding a modern monarch should not be difficult.
More problematically, the Yis were ineffectual at resisting the Japanese, and were, in the 1940s, co-opted by Tokyo. Even so, amid widespread revulsion at politicians and endless presidential disgraces, they retain status: I vividly recall watching the late Yi Gu, who was then in line to the throne, as he took part in a royal procession to Chongmyo Shrine. Central Seoul buzzed with thousands of well-wishers cheering him on.
Modern Koreans certainly seem well predisposed toward ― and remarkably tolerant of ― the current crop of "semi-royals." Chaebol are being passed down to third-generation family inheritors, despite histories of crimes and malfeasances that range from repeated embezzlement through violent abuse to undercutting democratic institutions with bribery.
Can monarchs return? Beyond Korea, there are precedents for restorations. Charles I of England was beheaded by parliamentarians in 1644; his son, Charles II returned to the throne in 1660. More recently, Spain's royal family was dethroned in 1931; it returned to the palace in 1947.
Surely, any returned Korean monarch would be constitutional rather than governing: Koreans battled for democratic governance, and nothing will change that.
But a neo-Yi could do charity work, undertake state and military ceremonial duties, and function as a touristic and diplomatic asset. In terms of hardware, Gyeongbok Palace stands majestically in front of the Blue House. Returning ceremonial and diplomatic functions to its precincts would transform it from an empty tourist attraction to a living institution.
Finally, South Korea craves the international spotlight. Currently, South Korean consumer goods brands and hallyu successfully drive interest in the country ― but alas! The most famous living Korean is not a southerner. He is the third-generation monarch of the kingdom that lies 30 miles north of where I now sit.
A restored South Korean king, astutely marketed, might help alter this situation and provide a challenge to Kim III.
Andrew Salmon (andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk) is a Seoul-based reporter and author.