The full apparatus of the monarchy has been deployed to preserve itself – rousing nostalgia for an age when the world bowed to Britain

The prime minister, Anthony Albanese, has become Captain Protocol.

His obedience to the lengthy set of instructions set down to follow the death of Queen Elizabeth II has been understandable.

It has not been a time for grandstanding individualism.

But Albanese has made an effort to portray himself as a defender of tradition and institutions. He has done this strongly, as if there had been some doubt.

At a base level his unstinting homage to the conventions might be a contrast to the convention shredding of his predecessor, or to avoid the charge of left-wing excess.

He showed he was a willing captive to the royal mourning process while explaining the public holiday next Thursday.

“Because the protocols that have been in place for decades indicated that the national remembrance day should be the day after the governor general and myself return from London,” he told 2GB’s Ben Fordham this week.

“One of the things that I’ve done, as prime minister, is respect our institutions, respect our traditions and respect the processes, including these processes that have been in place for a very long period of time.

“They began tragically on Friday morning, and I have followed the protocols to the letter that have been established, and consulted, of course, with the palace over a long period of time, just as measures were put in place in the United Kingdom.”

Further, he was among thousands who wanted to tell of their brush with royalty, harking back to a 2009 G20 meeting in London and a reception at the palace.

“Her Majesty was very informal,” Albanese said this week. “She made sure that she greeted and had a chat with every single person in the room. She was someone of great character and had a real sense of humour.”

Not long ago there would have been suggestions Albanese had been duchessed by the Queen.

The prime minister has appeared to be heading off a source of political criticism at a time when politics are said to have been smothered by the emotion and ceremonies following the death of Queen Elizabeth.

In fact, political objectives have been a driver of many of the events of the past week. They have just taken another, more subtle direction, differing from the common grunt of the party political variety.

Those protocols were drawn from centuries of protection of the royal line. The process was designed to reinforce the importance of the late Queen and the legitimacy of King Charles III as an heir and a replacement of equal stature.

A political push has been under way in which the full apparatus of the monarchy has been deployed to preserve itself.

There of course has been the genuine grief felt by Charles, his siblings and their children after he lost both parents in the space of 16 months.

And there is great distress among the late Queen’s subjects who are entitled to share in public their sorrow over her passing.

But within that a campaign has been launched, exploiting the royal family, 18th-century uniforms and other vestiges of a remote past, rousing nostalgia for an age when much of the world bowed to Britain and its kings and queen.

There has been an obvious Australian consequence. The pageantry of the royal succession process has all but eliminated debate on an Australian republic and confirmed the power of the monarchy to manage related events.

Albanese appointed Matt Thistlethwaite assistant minister for a republic, but it doesn’t mean that constitutional change will be an immediate a priority. Certainly not now.

Albanese has decided, again understandably, the priority will be for a referendum on an Indigenous voice to parliament.

Meanwhile, as elaborate mourning for Elizabeth II gathered speed and expense, a much simpler event in Canberra remembered an Australian whose passing had been mourned by the Queen herself.

It was a celebration of the life of Sir David Smith who died on 17 August aged 89 and who was the last Australian knighted by Queen Elizabeth, back in 1990.

The contrasts were stark: a simple and moving program at the National Jewish Memorial Centre on Wednesday, followed by afternoon tea.

Those attending included neighbours of the family, former prime minister John Howard, vice-regal veterans, and the head of Smith’s Probus branch. No medals or uniforms in sight.

Smith served as official secretary to five governors general from 1973 to 1990 – Paul Hasluck, John Kerr, Zelman Cowen, Ninian Stephen, Bill Hayden.

He was summoned to London to directly work with the Queen for three months during that bothersome year 1975 which included the the vice-regal dismissal of the Gough Whitlam Labor government.

He had wanted to leave the job at Yarralumla after Stephen but former Labor leader Hayden asked him to stay.

His diligence, integrity and precision were important to Australia maintaining a living and effective connection to the monarch.

On hearing of his passing the Queen wrote a letter of warm praise and gratitude much appreciated by Smith’s family.

For some reason it was sent surface mail. It didn’t arrive at their Canberra address until three days after the queen’s own death.

Smith was a strong constitutional monarchist, a patriot who prized his Order of Australia over his KCVO – the Royal Victorian Order knighthood which for just over 125 years has been awarded for particular service to the monarch and the monarch’s family.

In 1990 Smith formally received his knighthood at Balmoral Castle, and Charles had a walk-on role.

Smith and his wife, June, were in the drawing room of the castle with royal family members, waiting for his dubbing, when the then prince “breezed into the room”, according to one account.

Others, aghast: “It hasn’t happened yet.”

Charles: “Whoops. Does he know?”

Smith (cheekily): “He does now, sir.”