Harry the Spare and American royalty

Despite almost a quarter of a millennium of independence from the wise and benevolent rule of the British Empire, America has developed royalty. That, of course, is obvious. There is a definite, if not defined, system of deference outside of the legal and constitutional relationships. The important distinction is that the deference is only partially sentimental, being also built on merit. As with the UK, and despite the best efforts of post-Watergate investigative journalism, sunlight is not normally permitted to intrude on the magic.

This royalty operates most openly in the entertainment sector. Hollywood royalty is rarely dynastic, although there are exceptions such as the Fondas, but there is a definite tier of success that creates a permanently revolving version of a royal family, whose members rise and fall in popularity that is only partially related to box office receipts and Neilsen ratings.

There is also political royalty, which is much more dynastic. The Bushes and the Clintons were for a while rather like the Yorkists and Lancastrians, albeit with constitutionally limited power, but also with numerous rivals for advancement. The members of the Supreme Court, appointed as they are for life, are a constitutional approximation of royalty. Certainly the death of the veteran Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg seems to have been marked with a type of sentiment the British displayed when our own beloved Queen passed away.

Part of the objection to the presidency of Donald Trump was not just the usual carping about a Republican in the White House. Instead it was because in Trump’s case the fusing of the dignified and efficient portions of national governance did not work. While Trump was mostly efficient, his response to the pandemic notwithstanding, he was hardly dignified, and could have been described as the polar opposite of a ceremonial leader that Americans expect to have in a presidency. In fact it was this absence that saw him beat off Republican challengers, including yet another member of the Bush dynasty, before he halted the Clinton political machine in its tracks.

It is in this context of American royalty that the conduct of the Duke of Sussex and his consort should be regarded. Prince Harry’s only real constitutional function was to remain alive, should anything unfortunate happen to his elder brother William before he had children. He was well aware of his role, which is why his autobiography is entitled Spare.

Spares have been needed surprisingly frequently in the monarchy over the last century or so. Queen Victoria was the daughter of George III’s fourth son, the result of a mad scramble starting in 1817 to secure the succession after the death of Prince Regent’s only legitimate daughter and grandson in childbirth.  George V was the second son of Edward VII, and became necessary for the succession after his older brother died, interrupting what would have otherwise been a largely unremarkable career in the Royal Navy. George VI was George V’s second son, after Edward VIII decided to become a sort of role model for Prince Harry and desert his duty to the nation, though in his case before rather than after his marriage to an American.

Now that the succession is secure for the next century or so, with George VII likely to ascend the throne some time no later than the 2070s, Prince Harry found himself in the same position as Prince Andrew had been after 1990 or thereabouts. Unlike George VI’s siblings, all of whom managed to evade hostile scrutiny, Prince Andrew’s existence was always good to fill a couple of hostile columns on a slow news day. The Duke of York’s problem is that outside of certain ceremonial duties, he seemed to have very little to do. He did not seem to get stuck in to public service like his sister, Anne, and he did not have an excellent wife like his younger brother, Edward. Prince Harry may have looked at Prince Andrew’s life as something approaching what he might end up being, and did not like what he saw.

So what we may be seeing is a concerted effort by Harry and Meghan to transition from British to American royalty. Prince Harry’s wife is trying to leverage British royal celebrity to achieve this goal. By using the American media she seems to want to become ubiquitous figure like a Kardashian, but with less reliance on relentless exposure, burlesque, cheesecake, and amateur pornography. In the case of the Kardashians, the casualty is taste and common decency, as their media presence edges towards low common denominators. In the case of the Sussexes, the casualty is our country and our Royal family.

The problem the Sussexes face is that there is a stronger meritocratic element to American society. The Kardashians succeeded in their ventures through being able to provide premium reality television entertainment, as well as exposing too much flesh at certain celebrity-infested functions. It is difficult to see what basis of merit the Sussexes can employ. Any merit would be used to deflect sunlight away from the magic. All American royalty has a niche appeal, and retain publicists to nurture that appeal. What we are now seeing is the outcome of the advice of American publicists about how to ascend to the American version of royalty.

The Sussexes may find their American royal niche, but it is impossible as a British observer to know what that will be. What we do know is that in the course of Harry and Meghan’s search to find that niche, our own, genuine, British royalty may yet have to go through a lot of pain.

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