YOU can’t be a democrat, and at the same time believe in a hereditary head of state. I’ve said and written that many times before. I have always been reluctant to call myself a republican (maybe that’s because the term is somewhat loaded in these islands) but, for sure, I have long been of the view that being led – even theoretically – by an unelected monarch cannot be countenanced.

However, the eight days since the death of the Queen have afforded us all the opportunity to reflect on the monarchy and its role, constitutional, political and ceremonial.

It feels rather like we have packed eight years of events into the last eight days. Liz Truss has been Prime Minister for only 10 days, and it already feels like very, very old news. This breakneck speed makes it difficult to maintain a cool head. However, I have tried. I have asked myself whether my view on the monarchy has been too binary. And my answer is that, yes, it has.

This is not an emotional response. I was no more distressed about the death of the Queen than I was about the hundreds of other people in the UK who died last Thursday, almost all of whom will have been younger and will have led a more difficult life than Elizabeth R. Death leaves behind sadness, and I felt that for the Queen’s children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, just as I did for the loved ones of everyone else who died that day.

No, it is, I hope, a practical response. My moment of clarity during this period of reflection came, unusually, when looking at Twitter. In the space of five minutes I saw three tweets which I felt compelled me to think differently.

The first was a photograph of New York’s Empire State Building adorned in purple lighting to commemorate the Queen. The second was another photograph, of Berlin’s Brandenburg Gate lit up in a Union flag in memory of a woman who was involved in World War Two. And the third was a video of France’s President, Emmanuel Macron, saying “to you she was your Queen; to us she was The Queen”.

These countries are not members of the Commonwealth; they are merely friends, and friends with whom the UK has had some difficult times of late. And yet their respect for the Queen and the Monarchy seems limitless. And, as I read those tweets, it occurred to me that the soft power that the British monarchy possesses is highly likely to be irreplaceable.

Now that, on its own, is perhaps not enough to justify what is undoubtedly a democratic anomaly. But, combined with a range of other benefits which have become clearer this week, perhaps justifiability moves closer.

I was struck by an interview given by former Prime Minister Sir John Major, in which he told viewers of Sky News that his most important hour of the week was that which he spent with the Queen. That sounds like the sort of thing you would expect a former Prime Minister to say after the death of a monarch, thought I, but as Sir John delved into more detail, it became clear that it was deeper than that. He said that the Queen had a historical memory which was both longer and clearer than any of his advisers or civil servants. She helped him, he said, by recalling events many decades before which had similarities to those faced by him. Those conversations helped his decision making.

Furthermore, the orderliness of transition offers a welcome certainty and stability. Buckingham Palace announced the Queen’s death in a rather brutal manner, but it conveyed that immediate and orderly transition: “The Queen died peacefully at Balmoral this afternoon. The King and The Queen Consort will remain at Balmoral this evening and will return to London tomorrow.”

The Queen is dead. Long live the King. I understand the irony, of course – that stability is precisely because of the hereditary nature of the post. But stability is stability, however it might come about.

Then, of course, there is the question of “if not this, then what?”. The removal of the hereditary monarch as head of state would close this democratic loophole, but it wouldn’t half open up a major political and constitutional rammy. The UK needs a head of state. What and who would it be? On the basis that it would be elected, the person would inevitably be a politician from one of the two main parties which, as well as obliterating the benefits of an apolitical head of state on the world stage, would exacerbate what is already a fairly toxic environment here at home.

Problems remain. Most obviously, the relentless Anglicanism and Protestantism of this week’s events was, I found, grating and clearly anachronistic. That seems ripe for some relatively urgent modification in order to maintain the relevance and, frankly, digestibility of the monarchy.

I am not a politician or a political activist, so I can change my mind like a normal person. I don’t need to pretend I know the answer to every question. And so I can’t be sure that my reaction to the death of the Queen is not a knee-jerk one. I can’t be sure that I won’t change my mind about this. I certainly won’t be afraid to.

But, for the moment at least, we have bigger fish to fry. When Liz Truss visited Balmoral last Tuesday, she was not asked to form a subordinate government by a Queen on a throne in a gown and a crown. She was confirmed as Prime Minister by an elderly lady in her living room who was ticking a constitutional box. The Royal Family is not a threat to our democracy. Indeed, if there’s any part of that meeting upon which falls a democratic question mark, it’s the fact that the new Prime Minister was chosen only by members of a political party.

The King’s role is neither ceremonial nor political. Instead, it belongs in that large grey area inhabited by so much of Britain’s wonky constitution. Perhaps, at least for the moment, it should just stay there.

• Andy Maciver is Founding Director of Message Matters and Zero Matters