The funeral brought the world together in a remarkable display of British soft power

The service in Westminster Abbey brought together world leaders in a way that few events do. It was a United Nations of shared reflection, writes John Rentoul

This was a show that did not put Britain on the world stage; it was a show for which Britain was the world stage (Getty)

Service in life; hope in death.” Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, summed up the message of the funeral. They were not just pious words: the service in Westminster Abbey brought together world leaders in a way that few events do. It was a United Nations of shared reflection.

This was a show that did not put Britain on the world stage; it was a show for which Britain was the world stage, a display of the soft power of British ceremony and history. The English language and Christian religion don’t unite everyone, but they are inclusive enough to bring a TV audience of billions together.

World leaders were equalised by the occasion and by the logistics of bussing them in. Hierarchy persisted, naturally. The president of the US was allowed to come in his own car, asserting the rights of the sole superpower. Sinning leaders were not invited – Afghanistan, Belarus, Myanmar, Russia, Syria and Venezuela were off the list, with Iran, Nicaragua and North Korea in the disapproval zone (ambassadors only), and China in a twilight category of its own.

Most of the leaders joined in the camaraderie of travelling by public transport. Justin Trudeau, the Canadian prime minister, said this morning that “a lot of great conversations happen on the bus”. President Ruto of Kenya shared a photo of the smiles inside his coach. Jacinda Ardern, prime minister of New Zealand, said at the weekend: “I don’t think the bus warrants too much fuss.” Not too much, anyway.

It was like a school trip, everyone wondering who would sit next to whom, not just on the bus but in the church, only with several layers of diplomatic nightmare layered on top. “You can pretend it’s alphabetical order but it’s not,” Lord Renwick, former British ambassador to the US, said.

Yet its importance lay in getting so many rivalrous egos in a single space, including that of President Macron, who managed to draw attention to himself the evening before by touring London “incognito”. One official was quoted saying that it was “the equivalent of standing up hundreds of state visits in the space of two weeks compared to what we would normally do – just a couple in a normal year”.

We have seen in the first 10 days since her death that respect for the Queen has a unifying effect on Britain; now we can appreciate how it brings the world together too.

What was so striking about watching the live stream of the lying in state was that you could see how much it mattered to the people filing past, each marking the moment in their own way. Mostly a solemn bowing of the head, but there were people curtseying, waving, blowing kisses, mouthing “Thank you, Ma’am”, crossing themselves, kneeling, salaaming and namasteing. The funeral was an attempt to put all those moments together on a national scale.

Thus it brought Britain’s political leaders together. Keir Starmer, the leader of the opposition, sat next to Ed Davey, leader of the Liberal Democrats: Davey chatting cheerfully before the service, presumably not about the pros and cons of the single transferable vote in multi-member constituencies; Starmer mostly listening and looking sombre. Nicola Sturgeon, Mark Drakeford and Michelle O’Neill represented the devolved administrations (the Sinn Fein vice president a startling reminder of a historic reconciliation).

Then came the six former prime ministers with their spouses, walking in date order, John Major to Boris Johnson, to their places. They had fought each other for the right to lead, but now they were a visual reminder of continuity. And finally the new prime minister, so new that the commentator for Channel 9 in Australia thought she “may be one of the minor royals”. But the world knew who she was when she read one of the lessons, the one in which Jesus tells his disciples, some of whom are being a bit slow on the uptake, “In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you.”

The funeral gave Liz Truss the chance, too, to cash in some of Britain’s soft power by arranging a few discreet meetings with select world leaders – meetings that would otherwise require a major diplomatic effort on their own. Her office helpfully listed them all, but said it would not be issuing the customary briefing on the contents of their conversations: Anthony Albanese of Australia; Ardern of New Zealand; Micheal Martin of Ireland; Trudeau of Canada; and Andrzej Duda of Poland. Joe Biden was pencilled in and then pencilled out again: she will have to see him at the UN in New York on Wednesday, because he didn’t have time to see her in London, even though they were in the same building for 55 minutes.

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Such snubs aside, the funeral was a priceless opportunity for unofficial diplomacy, giving unexpected meaning to the “Global Britain” slogan. Or not quite priceless, because the entry fee was that world leaders had to be lectured by the archbishop, who began his sermon bluntly: “The pattern for many leaders is to be exalted in life and forgotten in death.” In case that wasn’t clear enough, he went on: “Those who serve will be loved and remembered when those who cling to power and privileges are long forgotten.”

Most of the service was about the promise of eternal life, but for those for whom this is a metaphor, it nevertheless provided a message of the enduring value of selfless leadership.

The Queen said in 1982: “I don’t think you should ever leave a Christian service feeling sad.” It was a pointed remark, to Robert Runcie, Archbishop of Canterbury, according to Charles Moore, Margaret Thatcher’s biographer. The Queen thought the Church of England’s squeamishness about a service of thanksgiving for the Falklands war had resulted in an uneasy compromise.

But her last legacy was in that spirit: leaving Britain and the world with a funeral that sought to celebrate the virtues of unity and humble stewardship.