Luxembourg’s heir to the throne is guiding TIME around the paintings in the royal palace, when he briefly pulls back the curtain to show the cobbled square below the ornate reception hall. From the street, locals and tourists point excitedly at the man peering out in a suit and tie—a figure that today will step through the balcony doors as his country’s newest head of state, the Grand Duke Guillaume V.
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As the oldest of five children of the outgoing Grand Duke Henri, Guillaume, 43, has been groomed for the job since he was a toddler, in the world’s last remaining Grand Duchy, a designation that faded elsewhere generations ago. In a sense, he was born with a metaphoric crown on his head. (Unlike the British royal family, this one has no bejeweled headwear.) “I’ve known all my life that this moment would come,” Guillaume says, in a long interview in the palace in late September. “I want to make sure that I always keep this link with the people. I think that’s what the monarch in the 21st century should be.”
Three days of celebrations will follow the enthronement inside Luxembourg’s small parliament, with music and dance concerts, a dinner for European leaders and royals, and a swing through the country by Guillaume, beginning with him walking across the city’s main bridge—perhaps the only time in his life he will do so. “The challenges I will face during my reign are not known for the moment,” he says. “But I am ready to be listening.”
If Guillaume listens, what will he hear? Amid the churn in Europe and globally, with trenchant nationalism on the rise, and a war raging in Ukraine just 1,200 miles from the palace, many might say that having a hereditary royal as their head of state offers some reassuring continuity, acting as a counterweight to political upheaval. His father Henri, 70, reigned for 25 years, and Guillaume is likely to reign far longer, since Charles, the older of his two sons (and now heir to the throne) is just five. Remarkably, 12 European countries are still ruled by monarchs—nearly one-third the world’s total—many of them small nations like Denmark and Monaco.
“European monarchies are a pole of stability,” Guillaume says, when asked why an ultra-modern continent adheres to seemingly outdated royalty. “We represent something that will not change, that is attached to tradition,” he says. “And the more we find ourselves in a fast-changing world, the more you sense that young people need these strong references.”
That, indeed, seems a fairly broad opinion in Luxembourg, with just 670,000 people, nearly half of them foreigners. Its miniscule size belies an outsized global role. Sandwiched between giants France and Germany, Luxembourg is the wealthiest country in Europe, and about 15% of its residents are millionaires. There are more global investment funds based here than anywhere outside of New York, together managing more than $1 trillion in assets, and in 2014, a major document leak described how multinationals like Apple and Koch Industries used Luxembourg as a tax haven. While some laws have changed, the wealth is evident even on a brief visit. There are priceless sculptures in city parks. Museums are free, and so is public transportation, including gleaming new electric trams.
Not surprisingly, there is little push to retire Guillaume’s Nassau royal dynasty, of which he is the ninth generation. A poll in August by the Luxembourg Times found that 48% of people favored a national referendum on whether the royals should keep their role—the last referendum on the issue was in 1919. But two-thirds said they would vote to keep the monarch. “I’m a huge fan” of the Royal Family, gushed one resident to the paper.
Even so, as the issue of economic inequality propels far-left and far-right politicians across Europe, there was deep discomfort last March when a British publication claimed the Grand Duke was Europe’s richest royal, worth about €3.7 billion ($4 billion); the royal family disputed that, saying much was state-owned. Despite a childhood spent inside sumptuous palaces—one of them privately owned by the family—Guillaume attended public school until 15, and he intends his children to do the same. He finished his education at an elite Swiss boarding school, before undergoing military training in Britain and studying political science there.
Guillaume says he now intends to focus time on helping Luxembourg’s poorer citizens, with activities managed partly by a new royal charity he launched last month, and funded by donors. “A position like ours comes with responsibility for those for whom life is not so good,” he says. “Even in a country like Luxembourg there are people in distress.” The monarchy’s operations, like travel and household staff, cost taxpayers about €22 million (about $25.8 million) last year.
To some politicians, that is a bargain, for which the Grand Duke increasingly serves as a traveling brand ambassador. “For a small country, it is the best way to have stability, and it is cheaper than presidents,” the country’s foreign minister Xavier Bettel tells TIME. In 2020 Bettel oversaw a government reorganization of the royal budget, bringing in more transparent accounts after years of opaque spending.
Bettel, who was Prime Minister for 10 years until 2023, says he first met Guillaume when he was a teenager, and traveled with him this year to New York, Japan and Cambodia, where they met companies and discussed trade deals. “I can tell you when we go somewhere, I have a key,” Bettel says. “But he has a passport that opens all the doors. It makes things much easier.”
One path shut to the monarchy is political involvement. In 2008, a constitutional amendment stripped the Grand Duke of his political role, after Guillaume’s father Henri refused to ratify the government’s vote allowing euthanasia; the royals are observant Catholics. A similar situation to 2008 might perhaps have happened this year again, after the government voted to enshrine abortion rights in the constitution. “We don’t ask if they agree or not,” Bettel says. “We will not have that risk again.”
In Bettel’s mind, the greater risk is having no monarchy at all. “I have to admit there is one thing,” Bettel says of monarchies. “You don’t get to choose. You are either lucky or unlucky. And we have been very lucky.”
Preparing for today’s coronation, Guillaume says he has spent time reflecting on how it will change his life. “It is quite emotional,” he says, sitting under the large oil paintings of his ancestors. “Even though we might be in a palace,” he says, “it doesn’t mean that I cannot understand and even see what is going on outside the walls.”