I’m sorry Harry, but you can’t become a half-royal!
IDON’T think there can be anyone in the country who watched a 12-yearold boy wretchedly trudge behind the coffin of his late mother in full glare of the world’s media who doesn’t understand Prince Harry’s compulsion to try to protect his wife from the pressures and intrusion which plagued Diana.
It takes a hard heart to listen without admiration to him talking about his concerns for his own mental health, and how he sought counselling after 20 years of bottling up his grief and emotion – told only in the hope that it would help others.
And there is not a parent in the land who hasn’t felt the overwhelming responsibility that bringing home a new baby elicits – and the pathological conviction that the only important job in the world is to keep that baby safe.
So there is plenty to understand about Prince Harry’s wish to step back from the glare of royal life, gather his new family around him, keep them safe and out of harm’s way (as he sees it) thousands of miles away in Canada.
But what is incomprehensible is the manner in which he’s gone about it. He can’t have thought a unilateral declaration to quit – without discussion, agreement and joint communication strategies with the Palace – would have been anything other than hurtful and damaging to the Queen who, at over 90, is trying to stabilise a monarchy rocked by Prince Andrew’s association with a sextrafficking paedophile.
Nor can he genuinely believe that saying: ‘I’m off, but keeping the house, the title and all the millions my dad gives me tax-free from the Duchy of Lancaster,
OK?’ could set him and Meghan up on a positive footing as beloved global philanthropists, which seems to be their plan. Can he?
In politics, it is not uncommon to find yourself at events attended or addressed by royalty. I only met Prince Harry once, at a small dinner in Kensington Palace after a larger event supporting antilandmine charities. He presented every bit as the dutiful Royal.
It was clear the big event was the main purpose – to put his name and weight behind a global push to get governments to commit hundreds of millions of pounds to eradicate such weapons of war. It seemed the dinner was his way to thank those who made it happen.
He was a slightly halting but heartfelt speaker, and far less comfortable moving between people than any royal I’ve ever witnessed before. For the dinner to take place, he must have wanted it to happen, but there was an awkwardness suggesting at least a degree of discomfort.
HAVING seen him on TV play with children in Lesotho, hug limbless servicemen at the Invictus Games and show delight announcing his engagement or the birth of his son, it’s clear he’s a man who feels things deeply. At 35, he’s only a year younger than his mother was when she died – his wife already two years older. Prince Harry has all but admitted that her death continues to be the defining event in his life and has coloured so much since.
It must be hard to have private grief become a global event.
Everyone remembers where they were when they heard of Diana’s death. But most of us recall what happened after, too. The Queen coming under pressure – and criticism – for not leaving Balmoral to lead national mourning in London; withstanding that criticism as she felt it vital to stay with her grandchildren after they had lost their mother.
We remember, too, the closeness of Prince Charles, Prince William and Harry as the boys grew into men – caught complaining about royal reporters as they posed for pictures before a family skiing holiday as the price for being left alone for the rest of the week. We remember, too, seeing William and Harry giving each other support as they started completing royal duties. Friends as well as brothers. So while many understand Harry’s urge to quit and to keep his family safe, to do so in a way that purposefully hurts those who tried to keep him safe as he transitioned from boy to man is confounding.
They’re family, too. They don’t deserve the callous disregard of this week’s unilateral announcement. And there’s no such thing as becoming half-royal.