It has been unedifying, and, it should be said, far from noble. But being unedifying has become something of a day specialty for Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex, notably when giving interviews from commodious abodes in California. On taking a step down from the subsidised duties that characterise his position, the disgruntled Royal fled the stable and made for the United States. He had found love with Meghan Markle, but it proved to be that sort of noisy, declarative love that Buckingham Palace loathes, and his relatives generally try to sedate.
The latest tremor of narcissistic display on the Duke’s part involved an interview with the BBC which could be billed as confession and advertisement: “I confess; I advertise”, with an afterthought of “Please Forgive Me Daddy” while funding my security detail on visits to the United Kingdom.
The man, self-proclaimed victim, had been consistently sinned against. He felt that the courts had wronged him in not accepting the proposition that he needed as much security as other working Royals and public figures, despite seeking a pampered life in California and exiting the British orbit in 2020. The lack of a risk assessment post-2019 of his family was “not only a deviation from standard practice [but] a dereliction of duty.” His court failure was also a “good old fashioned establishment stitchup”.
The legal proceedings so irking Harry centred on an appeal against the dismissal of his High Court claim against the UK Home Office. The interior ministry had accepted the decision of the executive committee for the protection of royalty and public figures (RAVEC) that he should receive a different, less hefty measure of protection when in the UK. The Court of Appeal was unconvinced by the Duke of Sussex’s claim that his “sense of grievance translated into a legal argument for the challenge to RAVEC’s decision.” Judge Geoffrey Vos appreciated that, from Harry’s view, “something may indeed have gone wrong” in that stepping back from Royal duties and spending most of his time abroad would lead to the provision of “more bespoke, and generally lesser, level of protection than when he was in the UK. But that does not, of itself, give rise to a legal complaint.”
In a terse statement, Buckingham Palace reiterated the point: “All of these issues have been examined repeatedly and meticulously by the courts, with the same conclusion reached on each occasion.”
Harry felt his family had not given him his due, certainly on the “sticking point” of security, but wished for “reconciliation”. As a plea, it was lamentable; as an effort, it could hardly have softened well hardened hearts.
A bit of blackmail was also proffered. Not giving him the security assurances would mean depriving his children and wife of any chance of visiting Britain. It was the fault of Britain, its courts, and Buckingham Palace that the state had not provided the subsidised level of security he sought. Pompously, he was certain “there are some people out there, probably most likely wish me harm, [who] consider this a huge win.”
Cringeworthy justifications flow, not least the shameless use of his dead mother, who died in a Paris tunnel with her lover because of the drunken actions of an intoxicated chauffeur. Blaming the insatiable paparazzi for what was otherwise an appalling lack of judgment on the part of Diana and her bit of fluff, Dodi Fayed, is all too convenient. Responsibility is found elsewhere. The levers of destiny lie in another realm. The best thing to do, as the duke demonstrates, is sentimentalise and exploit the situation.
Unfortunately for him, sympathy for his arguments in the Sceptred Isle is not in abundant supply. Marina Hyde of The Guardian preferred to call him “His Rich Highness” who had changed his life but failed to appreciate the examples of others in the well heeled category. Beyoncé, for instance, was not complaining about splashing out on security knowing that such matters went “with the territory, and that you have to pay for it out of your riches.”
In The Spectator, Alexander Larman made the pertinent observation that Harry, despite seeing himself as a “maverick” on the hunt for justice, sounded all too much like President Donald Trump. “Both men have talked passionately, if not always persuasively, about the shadowy forces that have frustrated their popular crusade for truth and justice”. One difference proved incontestable: Trump won.
This hereditary figure of aristocracy cannot help his instincts on entitlement. He was “born” into the role, and for that birthright, he demands a degree of security protection exceptional, whatever his personal decisions and choices about career, location and Royal duties. Here is a figure who insists on not so much damaging the monarchy as an institution – as if more could be done to it – but by airing his public life as a new, celluloid royal, a figure happy to condemn the media and its violations of privacy on the one hand, yet reveal the rather disturbed contents of a private life he has cashed in on. The public arena has become the site of his ongoing, distinctly unattractive effort at raking in the cash and seeking therapy.
