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On the occasion of Victor Yushchenko’s recent inauguration as President of Ukraine, it is an opportune moment to pause and consider that magnificent emblem of modern governmental authority, the ceremonial mace. For centuries the mace was exclusively used as a weapon on the battlefield where it was prized for its ability to pierce body armour and inflict horrible wounds. Over time it was adopted as a purely symbolic means of wielding power, and the only maces in use today are those accompanying heads of state on official duties. Passed down from one despotic ruler to another, in a kind of baton-relay of inherited political power, these rare and exquisite objects now grace the august chambers of our contemporary western democracies as the ultimate symbol of political force. |
The mace presented to Yushchenko was a superlative example of a modern ceremonial weapon. Created by one of the finest metal-smiths in Eastern Europe, it features a non-slip rubber handle, a series of finely turned flanges on the main shaft, and an orb-like head covered with sharp conical studs. Holding aloft this elegant accessory to official power after his inauguration, the new president aligned himself with the dignified rule of the 17th century Cossack ruler Bohdan Khmelnitsky who wielded such a mace while fiercely resisting the Polish army. Hopefully this handy implement will help Yushchenko ward off attacks from future threats to Ukrainian independence and perhaps also to the edibility of his presidential luncheons.
| The Ukrainian example is a rather trivial affair in comparison to the ceremonial mace of the House of Representatives of Australia, which represents the Queen’s authority at each sitting of parliament. Manufactured from the most exquisite silver gilt and weighing over 7 kilograms, this splendid vice-regal accessory has a flanged ball at one end and at the other bears the Royal Arms, which are decorated with a beautifully worked arched crown surmounted by an orb and cross. The Australian ceremonial mace is carried by the Royal Serjeants-at-Arms, an assistant to the Crown, who once had unlimited power of arrest. The Serjeant simply presented the mace at the point of arresting any offender thereby forgoing the need for any written warrant. |  |
With this in mind, a proposal for enhancing the political power of our elected representatives, one which would have the advantage of also augmenting the ceremonial beauty of the office, would be to extend the use of symbolic weapons to a broader range of lower-ranking government officials. The range of ancient bludgeons is quite broad and fine examples can be readily sourced from local metalsmiths and jewellers. Some initial proposals could include: the ceremonial skull club for the Minister of Justice; the ceremonial battle axe for the Minister of Immigration; the ornamental flail for the Minister of Police. These lesser ceremonial implements, certainly not as resplendent as the Australian ceremonial mace, but perhaps more convenient in a state of emergency, could usefully symbolize the power of the office while adding a touch of fascination and glamour to even the dullest Cabinet posts. Furthermore, although intended as purely metaphorical embodiments of power, their practical application could, with time, expand. Needlessly long press conferences, with their tiresome and probing questions, could be effectively dismissed with a swing of the ceremonial club; obstructive laws preventing summary arrest would no longer prevent the most efficient exercise of government. Those with complaints could be told: talk to the mace.
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