AND ANOTHER THING
Lions, unicorns, harlots and the mumbling classes
PAUL JOHNSON
The monarchy has lost a lot of ground in recent years. Criticism seems to come under three heads. First, almost everyone feels there are too many royals on the civil list. The institution's only hope of doing what the public expects, that is setting a good example by exemplary behaviour, lies in keeping the royal family small. It is now enormous, or appears to be, and all those extras in the cast are so many additional hostages to fortune. By the logic of statis- tics, the family is now associated in the eyes of many with broken marriages and divorce. Second, there is almost universal unease at the Queen's failure to pay tax on her private fortune. Even the well-informed were surprised at the news that the exemp- tion dates back only to the previous reign and it is resented by rich and poor alike. Third, there is a pretty general belief that Prince Charles is not up to it and that, when he takes over, the monarchy will lurch off the rails. One recalls George V's grim and accurate forecast about his heir: The boy will ruin himself within a year.' When pressed, critics find it hard to pro- duce specific reasons why the Prince will not do. Perhaps the historian G.M. Young's judgment provides a clue: 'The danger of having an educated king is that he would be bound to find some section of his subjects ridiculous.' Prince Charles is not exactly well educated; more of a pseu- do-intellectual. But he is plainly' more interested in ideas, some of them dotty, than people. What makes matters worse for Charles is that his wife, who has no claims to education at all, possesses the royal touch by instinct. She finds no one ridicu- lous and everybody interesting — and it shows. The public is dismayed by the trou- bles of their marriage, and it is the Prince's duty to resolve them.
However, if the royal family is held in lower regard than 20 years ago, that does not mean there is any discernible current in favour of a republic. People know that the institution, despite a judder or two, has functioned well for the best part of two centuries. It is comparatively cheap. It pro- vides colour and jokes for all, and for many leading lonely lives it is a continual source of passionate interest, a royal soap opera, as Malcolm Muggeridge spotted all those years ago, which is real, unscripted and, therefore, intriguingly unpredictable. Those who enjoy the royal family most are not, of course, members of the chattering classes — they are, rather, the mumbling classes — but they constitute a sizeable part of the nation. None of us, moreover, is impressed by what we see of the alterna- tive: the huckstering of the American elec- tions, the gruesome vieux routier de la poli- tique in the Elysee, the Goldoni comedy in Rome.
It is true that John Major's call for a classless society may have struck a chord and inadvertently launched a debate which, as a Conservative prime minister, he will live to regret. There is a growing feeling of dislike for the stuffiness of our official life, the snobbery and anachronisms of the hon- ours system — and the disreputable infight- ing that goes on behind its scenes — the absurdity of an unelected second chamber, with all the patronage and corruption it involves, and the continuing arrogance of a them/us divide. The fact that the country votes for safety first and capitalism does not exclude strong radical impulses quite the contrary. Many in Britain, embit- tered by the recession and by such unreme- died scandals as the Maxwell pension plun- der, would welcome a fierce social shake-up, and in such a convulsion the monarchy would inevitably be affected.
But none of this means that people want the media to determine the fate of our monarchy. There is huge resentment about the current invasion of the Princess of Wales' privacy. What makes the present spasm of royalty exposure particularly obnoxious is that the pack is being led by what was until recently regarded as a quali- ty newspaper. Under pressure from falling sales and recession-hit advertising rev- enues, all the broadsheets are tending to go
'Shall we wait until they send us a final reminder?'
downmarket, and that is bad news for roy- alty. The degradation of standards is not confined to newspapers. The last time I went to the BBC's World At One studio the Duke of York's marriage was reputed to be breaking up and I was lured there under the impression that there would be a serious historical discussion of the issue I felt I was in the frenzied newsroom of a tabloid, and could distinctly feel the shud- ders as John Reith turned in his grave.
No government, it seems to me, can per- mit the monarchy, which remains an impor- tant part of the constitution, to be destroyed by the irresponsible harlotry of the media. There is no need for the Attor- ney-General to consult with the Palace over possible use of the criminal libel law, a clumsy device which might not work. The true remedy is simple and has the addition- al merit of being popular. The public detests the constant invasion of personal privacy, high and low, by unscrupulous journalists. Juries have made this feeling repeatedly plain by awarding huge sums, otherwise unjustified, in libel actions. But what ordinary people, as well as exposed celebrities like the royals, really want is legal protection against the vultures. Back- benchers brought forward the issue in the last parliament and the Government dodged it by putting the media, as it were, on probation. But the voluntary system and the code of conduct have now clearly failed and the time has come, not indeed for statutory supervision by quango — God forbid! — but for a full-blooded Protection of Privacy Bill. This, while providing for a public interest defence, should permit vic- tims to seek civil redress and, in extreme cases, authorise criminal proceedings.
Decency always bows to the fear of falling circulations and rations. This then must be balanced by the even greater fear, among editors and moguls alike, of huge damages and, in the last resort, of the cells.
Thus the Government, if it is wise, will offer help and encouragement to any back- bencher who brings forward a sensible Pri- vacy Bill. In return, it might suggest to the Palace, the greatest single beneficiary of such a statute, that one or two voluntary changes are in order: a smaller, simpler version of the family firm, with royal status withdrawn from the teeming fringe; and a renunciation of tax-privileges. John Major could do himself a power of good by nego- tiating such a deal.
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