Prince Harry’s press tour for his new memoir, Spare, is getting tons of attention for all the wrong reasons – and writer Merryana Salem has questions. Why, they ask, are those on the receiving end of abuse or injustice vilified for finally speaking out about the people who hurt them, and walking away?
It’s 2023 and, for many, Prince Harry fatigue is well and truly starting to set in. From Oprah to Netflix; Anderson Cooper to ITV; the mononymous Prince has escaped the clutches of the British Royal Family with Meghan Markle, and seemingly won’t stop talking about it.
Many of us had sympathy for the couple after their 2021 Oprah interview. It sounds like the couple experienced some serious pushback from the Royal Family, particularly Meghan, seemingly for the three cardinal sins of being mixed-race, divorced, and American. But, judging by recent commentary, it’s hard to hold people of such grotesque privilege in our hearts for too long.
After the release of Harry’s new memoir, Spare, and a series of interview appearances promoting the book, the tide of public opinion appears to be turning. Detailing the criticism and abuse he and Markle allegedly dealt with from the Royal Family, the reactions of many have been one of either eye rolls, exasperation, or pointed condemnation. #ShutUpHarry is trending.
But is this reaction to a person speaking up about what very much sounds like an abusive family really fair?
Have We Got Victim Fatigue?
The past year has shown a decline in compassion for survivors of abuse. Backlash against various civil rights movements like #MeToo and Black Lives Matter, the ongoing rise of the right wing’s influence in media, and an uptick in ableism prompted by the pandemic have all contributed to a culture – at least online – that doesn’t prioritise the safety of society’s most vulnerable.
Look up Amber Heard, Brittany Higgins, or Megan Thee Stallion on TikTok and you’ll find 1000s of hours worth of content passionately and cruelly discrediting them. In each case, evidence of their suffering included witness testimonials, recorded evidence as well as physical evidence of the abuse they endured from people they were close to.
In 2022 we also saw the much-anticipated release of actor Jeanette Mccurdy’s memoir, I’m Glad My Mom Died. Covering McCurdy’s childhood to her time on iCarly to now, McCurdy lays out chapter after chapter of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse she allegedly suffered at the hands of her mother.
Despite writing an entire book detailing the harm she says her mother inflicted on her, many reviews and interviewers publicly scolded McCurdy on the book’s title. In an interview with ET in which the interviewer chastised McCurdy’s “heavy” title, McCurdy responded, “Anybody who had experienced parental abuse gets the title. Anybody else – the book isn’t for them.”
Amid this storm of victim backlash, enter: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. The couple received serious criticism for bailing on the Royal Family, despite a conspicuously racialised hate movement purported by some British press outlets against Markle, which included everything from vitriolic articles and tweets to cartoon caricatures.
In Harry’s book, Spare, as well as in the couple’s self-titled Netflix series, he alleges that the Royal Family’s PR offices regularly traded in stories with the Royal Rota – the British press pool that covers the Royals. In effect, the memoir reveals that press representatives of various Royal Family members traded stories on other monarchs in exchange for more beneficial coverage or to distract from a negative headline.
In his book, as well as his US 60 Minutes interview, Harry alleges how elaborate stories of his “scandalous” party days were supposedly traded by his own father’s office to keep the press from vilifying Queen Consort Camilla. “I had complex feelings about gaining a stepparent, who I thought had recently sacrificed me on her personal PR altar,” the book reads.
In their Netflix documentary, Markle and Prince Harry show official correspondence between the royal PR offices and the editor of a major UK tabloid. The court document shows that the press offices representing the Prince’s family had, once again, traded in malicious gossip to stave off unwanted attention from elsewhere (Prince Andrew’s association with convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein, perhaps).
Despite the couple winning a court case that proved Markles’ private messages sent from the Palace were being leaked. Despite the number of times the pair have gone on record to explain how the media’s hatred of Markle affected their mental health. Despite hours of interview footage where the couple share how the Royal Family (in the very least) refused to support them – #ShutUpHarry continues to trend.
The Problem With Silence
In a piece for the New York Times author and daughter of Ronald Regan, Patti Davis encourages Harry to “remain silent” about his family troubles, while also mournfully encouraging him to consider that, “the other people who inhabit our story have their truths as well”.
The common refrain people who have experienced abuse and injustice often hear is that they should consider both sides under the guise of fairness. In reality, this kind of false equivalence is weaponised when evidence disputing the status quo is stacking too high for comfort.
Abuse is not a town hall debate: it’s harm inflicted and perpetrated by those who have more power than their victims.
Why are Harry and Meghan labelled as uncaring for not wanting to be a part of an institution and family that was violating their privacy for personal gain? Why was Jeanette McCurdy called a monster for saying she was glad her abusive mother died? Why are those who try to speak out against their monsters made into them by the masses?
If both sides were truly being given space, why does the side that upholds the current state of affairs appear to always get the benefit of the doubt? Why, when those who say they have experienced abuse speak out, does society chorus that they should consider the feelings of their abusers? Where is the consideration for what kind of harm might cause them to speak out in the first place?
Rather than considering whether it’s possible for people with wealth and fame to be abused, perhaps we should ask how we’ve built a society where even the most privileged among us struggle to speak out.
Ultimately, we can’t really ‘both sides’ abuse. Abuse is not a town hall debate: it’s harm inflicted and perpetrated by those who have more power than their victims. Families contain power dynamics that can be and are abused and suffice to say a Royal Family is no different.
Privilege does not negate abuse, nor is it a free pass to abuse. Rather than considering whether it’s possible for people with wealth and fame to be abused, or whether they have the right to speak out – perhaps it should be considered how we’ve built a society where even the most privileged among us struggle to speak out or seek justice. If it’s this difficult for those at the top, how much worse is it further down the ladder?
It’s easy to feel these celebrity stoushes have little relevance to our daily lives, however calls to domestic violence support groups increased drastically after the verdict of the Depp/Heard case. Amber Heard probably won’t see every single one of the smarmy bigoted comments discrediting her experiences – but friends, colleagues and neighbours living with domestic abuse will.
‘At the end of the day, family is family,’ does not negate abuse of power or emotional or physical harm, and people don’t owe civility to their alleged abusers or their supporters — whether they’re an actor, a parliamentary staffer, a musician, or a Prince.
This is an opinion piece written by Merryana Salem, a proud Wonnarua and Lebanese–Australian writer, critic, teacher and podcaster. Follow them on Twitter.