Political theorist Walter Bagehot's famous saying about the British monarchy – that its “secret” is the source of its vitality – has been taken to the extreme in the first months of 2024. First, King Charles III revealed. Details of his cancer diagnosis with a candor the royal family had not previously seen. And now Kate Middleton's whereabouts are the subject of an international debate. The royals – once seen as ethereal, almost non-human and beyond strict control – are now seen as normal, incompetent and fraudulent. It turns out that if you “let the daylight in” into the institution (which Bagehot warned about in 1867), you won't find any magical properties, but instead a pretty troubled family with a bad PR team.
The emerging story of the Princess of Wales has so far been a catalog of errors. In January, the palace released a statement saying Kate was recovering from abdominal surgery but was expected to return to full duty around Easter time. The rumor mill got going – apparently influenced by some sort of national entitlement, a belief that the public was somehow entitled to the private medical information of the woman they call Kate. No matter how bad that impulse was, it was a problem of the palace's own making. Charles' openness about his cancer diagnosis brought into stark relief the relative secrecy surrounding Kate's illness: why be open about one and not the other?
It's a shame. The King's honesty seemed a refreshing change, in keeping with the demands of contemporary media and his own modernizing impulses. But it brought with it a serious side effect: a shift in attention to the Princess of Wales, a sharp scrutiny of the institution that was reminiscent of the tabloids' worst days of the early 2000s.
Of course, this was just the beginning of the communications fiasco. Social media was already abuzz with conspiracy thoughts about the future queen's whereabouts when Kensington Palace posted a photo of her and her three children on Mother's Day. But far from quashing the speculation, it catapulted an already strange story into the stratosphere. The photo is clearly manipulated: the hands looked strange, the clothing was obviously subjected to amateur digital manipulation. The Reuters and Associated Press news agencies all but confirmed the suspicion by withdrawing the image, saying it did not meet their editorial standards. And then of course the otherwise friendly tabloids got involved. The Daily Mirror spoke of an “image of chaos”, the Daily Mail proclaimed a “PR disaster”. And then came the strangest moment of all: a statement from Kate in which she explained that, as an amateur photographer, she simply enjoyed playing around with photo editing programs. The idea that she was recovering from major surgery while playing with Photoshop could not be confirmed.
The photo seemed to confirm an already acute suspicion of dishonesty. But this is a problem that goes far beyond the immediate annoyance of a poorly manipulated image. For all the will and resources in the world, it appears that the Palace has not only launched a failed PR campaign but, and what is worse, has seriously misunderstood the nature of the British people. By abandoning its usual reserve, the palace has left itself vulnerable: the monarchy will fight to retain the public's approval as long as the public believes it is being lied to.
Many suggested that after Queen Elizabeth II's death in 2022, the fate of the monarchy was at stake: Charles would not be popular, they had already lost an asset when Harry and Meghan fled to Los Angeles, and the whole Prince Andrew matter remains a source of great embarrassment. The assessment was both wrong and right: Charles was more popular than any of his critics suspected; and the institution is far more robust than many give it credit for. But the disappearance of the king and the widely beloved Kate from public life has put a pretty heavy burden on the palace. One that – without the stabilizing power of the late queen – will be difficult to survive.
For a largely secular society, the monarchy offers Britain something that other places find in public religion: a collective effervescence, a root of the nation's ancient origins that satisfies a very human desire for the mythical and the strange. The closest Britain came to a moment of national religious community was probably the coronation of King Charles III. last year (no matter how silly the whole thing seemed on the outside).
[ Finn McRedmond: As public religion wanes, monarchy moves into the void ]
Unfortunately, the events of the last few months have damaged this important function, perhaps beyond repair. The family stopped acting like royalty and started acting like a celebrity: tell-all memoirs, interviews, Photoshop. It will not be easy to restore the sense of quiet dignity that the late Queen brought to the institution after this failure of communication. But the palace should know that the source of their appeal lies in mystery, not publicity: perhaps this is a forgotten art.
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