The Last of the Royals
Why Harry and Meghan have launched the final battle
Team Kate or Team Meghan? Are you a supporter of buttoned-up, dutiful William, or let-it-all-hang-out Harry? Is the new Netflix Special a devastating blow to the monarchy or an understandable bid for financial independence, away from the suffocating strictures of Court? And is the media determined to destroy kind, beautiful Meghan, just as they did Harry’s beloved mother - or are the Sussexes a pair of dimwit narcissists, rolling like greased otters in the spotlight?
Here’s the truth, as Harry would say: It doesn’t really matter. The Royal Family are no longer revered representatives of our great nation, they are only the reviled representatives of our collective national id - conflicted, riven with internal strife, and soon, probably, to die.
As Prince Philip said when the Royals first opened their doors to cameras back in 1969, ‘letting light in upon magic’ is a very bad idea when your entire existence depends on there being enough distance and mystery to convince onlookers that you are the Great and Powerful Oz, ruling over the Emerald City. But for some time now, the doors have been hanging off their hinges, and its increasingly clear that Oz is just a small man with a bunch of clanking levers and a hangover.
In recent decades, the family survived Tampon-gate, and the poolside cavortings of Fergie. It survived Diana’s death, and a Jenga tower of tabloid scandals. It even, just about, survived Prince Andrew’s ‘honourable friendship’ with sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein, and his dear friend Ghislaine Maxwell’s imprisonment. But that was all because the Queen was still alive - silent, untouchable and adored. Now she’s gone, and the Waystar Royco board is scrapping in full view of the shareholders.
They forget, it seems, that their wealth, privilege and position only exists because we continue to will it into being. Other nations have had revolutions, Kings and Queens are deposed, empires crumble even when they seemed eternal and unassailable. By collective agreement, our Royals remain - but increasingly, younger subjects look at these angry, unhappy people, bound by ancient rules of protocol, forced to express their feelings only by how they pin a brooch, or whether they choose to wear their late mother-in-law’s tiara, and wonder what purpose they serve.
Harry may be spoilt, entitled, emotionally incontinent and permanently angry, but he was also the first insider to cast cold, bright light on the damaged and peculiar family he longed to escape. Meghan, with her years of Californian therapy and her all-American belief in the vital importance of the authentic individual, was the grenade that detonated his true feelings.
Some may say, “oh, but he was happy, he was just a simple, jolly soldier before she came along with her nonsense,” but a glance at any Royal biography suggests he was not. He was raging, bereaved, stuck in his pain, and unable to move on. She gave him a way out.
“It becomes harder to believe that the Royal Family are anything other than ordinary people”
The cost of that escape, however, might be his entire family, and the future of the monarchy. Because as he paces in the blazing LA sun, chucking new truth-bombs across the Atlantic, with Meghan blinking back pretty tears at his side, it becomes harder to believe that the Royal Family are anything other than ordinary people, with ordinary minds and bodies and feelings.
And if that’s the case, why are they so venerated?
“It’s because of what they represent,” say the Monarchists. History, heritage, tourist dollars, soft power. It could also be argued that what they represent now is a tired, crumbling edifice, a vision of Empire with racist undertones and pointless, gilded spectacle. “But the charities,” they say. And it’s true that the Good Royals are devoted to their causes, smiling and waving on behalf of the Arts, abused women, poor people and sports. But any good Socialist would argue that they should not be propping up vital support services with their benign patronage - they should be lobbying successive governments for better funding. Or better still, coughing up.
They are still loved by many older people because they’re relics of a dying age - the post-war belief in the Commonwealth, simple hierarchies, a familiar pattern of society that made sense. But in this bleak, post-Brexit, post-Capitalist age, the only vision of society that’s left is of a virtual pub at chucking out time, where the landlord is Sauron.
The Royals - or at least, Harry and Meghan- like to blame The Media for all their problems; unless it’s the sort of media which offers them a global platform for millions of dollars. It’s easy to accuse the press of racism, but it’s ironic that America, where our beleaguered lovers fled, has far greater problems with the far Right than the UK currently does. There are, of course, plenty of racists out there, and indeed, ‘credible threats’ were made to Meghan - though credible threats have been made to all the Royals, year after year. But the Hazmeg wedding was celebrated and supported and buoyed by millions of people - and the media. It was the swift and sudden realisation afterwards that glad-handing crowds and smiling for the paps was not for them that drove them away.
Harry is now the little boy who saw the Emperor with no clothes on, and shouted out. His cries of surprise and horror, whether misguided or not, have reverberated through that ancient institution, and now the populace can see that the Emperor is just a person - venal, vain and deluded.
Whether he meant to bring down his family lineage is debatable, but ultimately, he may have done us all a favour. Because in the end, The Emperor’s New Clothes is a story about silliness. And the Royal Family is beginning to look increasingly silly, and even worse - outdated.
PROBLEM OF THE WEEK:
I don’t want to see family at Christmas
I’m in my 40s and single, and every year, I go to my parent’s house for Christmas (I can’t host as my flat is too small.) My brother, his glamorous wife and their high-achieving teenagers go too, as does my very successful younger sister. I spend the entire day feeling frustrated, a failure, and comparing myself to them. They always buy expensive presents, too, which I can’t afford. I really want to just spend Christmas on my own this year, but if I don’t go it will cause a huge argument. Help.
I know you want me to say, “of course you can spend Christmas alone, you’re entirely justified in doing so.” And if you want to do that, of course you can - the price of freedom will probably be an argument , as you’re aware, and it won’t be because they hate you, it will be because they want you to be with them to celebrate and they’ll be hurt and disappointed that you’d rather be alone. But if you want to spend the day eating pizza and watching The Muppet Christmas Carol on your own, fill your boots - it’s entirely your choice because you are an adult. However - all of us are less adult-like when faced with a full phalanx of family, and I think that’s what's happening here.
Noticeably, you don’t say they’re cruel or boastful, or selfish or bullying. They don’t parade their achievements or call your life choices into question. In fact, all your unease and upset come from how you are feeling about yourself in comparison to their perceived success. Glamorous, high achieving, successful…while you are ‘frustrated’ and ‘a failure’. They don’t think this; you do, and you’re projecting your unhappiness onto them and imaging they judge you, rather than being pleased to see you.
“In families, children are often unthinkingly ascribed roles by their parents - the clever one, the pretty one, the lazy one…”
Maybe you’re absenting yourself to avoid that imagined judgement - even though, as far as we can tell, it only exists in your own mind. Instead of ascribing feelings and thoughts to your family - who doubtless have their own miseries and fears, regardless of outward success - take some time to ask yourself why you believe these things about yourself, where the belief that you’re ‘a failure’ began, and what you can do you perceive yourself and your life more positively.
In families, children are often unthinkingly ascribed roles by their parents - the clever one, the pretty one, the lazy one - and unfortunately, those roles can enter into our subconscious, so we grow up believing that we embody that one descriptor, and must live accordingly. We can’t be clever because our sister is clever. There’s no point trying to be sporty, because that’s our brother’s department. And yet we can all be many things, and nobody in a family owns a particular role, any more than an actor owns the role of Hamlet. Parents cause great damage by doing this - as Philip Larkin said, ‘they may not mean to, but they do’. And they probably didn’t mean to.
Now you’re in your forties, its time to unpack some of those old, mouldering beliefs - that you ‘should’ be married because your brother is, or you ‘should’ earn more because your sister does. Maybe they wish they had your knack for friendship, or your independence. Maybe they wish they could be as unencumbered and free.
“You need a shift in your festive perceptions”
On a practical note, expensive presents are bought either because it’s easier to splash cash than do something thoughtful or because they’re used to having money and it doesn’t occur to them that it might make others feel bad.
Talk to them. Say “Cost of living crisis, shall we do a set budget this year?” or “I’m making home made presents,” or be honest and say,“I can’t afford those kinds of presents.”
I don’t think you need a Christmas alone - but you do need a shift in your festive perceptions. Go, and every time you catch yourself making an assumption about what other people are thinking, turn it around. They’re not showing off, they’re hoping you’ll share their excitement. They’re not more successful, they have a different definition of what’s important in life. And so on.
And if it’s still awful, remind yourself that it’s just one day - and you can eat pizza and watch Elf all day Boxing Day, while they wrangle overwrought teens and send urgent emails. Happy Christmas.
RECIPE OF THE WEEK: Not-Fish & Chips
“Why do you call it fish when it’s not fish?” Everyone always (relentlessly) asks. My reply is always “because it tastes a bit like fish and having fish in the name explains what it’s like.” But if you object, call it tofish, or fish-fu, or “A vegetarian version of the classic,” or “Steve.” Whatever. But it works, and it’s tasty.
Serves 2
2 x 1.5cm thick slices of firm tofu
juice of ½ lemon
1 tbsp chopped dill
1 tsp garlic granules
1 tsp miso paste
black pepper
50ml water
1 tbsp plain flour
For the batter
125g plain flour
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
150ml very cold, fizzy water
1L vegetable oil
1 Drain the tofu in a press, or wrap in kitchen roll and place under a pan of water for 30 mins.
2 In a shallow container, whisk together the lemon, dill, garlic, miso, pepper and water.
3 Make diagonal cuts halfway through the tofu slices (place chopsticks either side, so you don’t cut right through.) Add to marinade for at least 30 min.
4 Drain, pat dry and dust with flour.
5 Whisk together the batter ingredients. Heat the oil till boiling in a deep fat fryer or very deep, heavy pan.
6 Dip the tofu in the batter, then fry for 2-3 mins, turning once, until golden and crisp. Drain and serve with chips and a slice of lemon.
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Ahh thanks, Sally!
Great read. I wish I had your optimism about their imminent death. The royal family's, metaphorically, I mean. But they're a kind of religion aren't they? Like, no matter what atrocities and scandals the Catholic church commits, it keeps staggering on, like some mutant Marvel superhero. I have a fear this lot are similarly indestructible. I hope I'm wrong though.