Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are stepping down as “senior royals,” planning to cut financial ties to the queen (while still vowing to support Her Majesty and their patronages) and to split their time between the U.K. and North America. Kindly pass the fainting couch.
The announcement on Wednesday, January 8, the year of our Lord 2020, landed as a shock—it’s not every day a member of the House of Windsor goes rogue, and an icy follow-up statement from Buckingham Palace indicated the queen may be none too pleased (“We understand their desire to take a different approach,” it read, “but these are complicated issues that will take time to work through”). Sources told Vanity Fair that Harry and Meghan blindsided and “devastated” the family with the news.
At the same time, the Sussexes have long been on a path to transition from rank-and-file royals to global superstars, in the vein of their friends George and Amal Clooney, Barack and Michelle Obama, or Beyoncé and Jay-Z (with whom they mingled at last summer’s Lion King premiere).These larger-than-life couples belong not to one institution or industry, but have elevated themselves into a sphere all their own, mixing philanthropy, politics, entertainment (the Obamas’ Netflix deal), and business (George Clooney’s Casamigos boom). Even before Wednesday’s big announcement, Prince Harry had partnered with Oprah on a new show about mental health, while Meghan had guest-edited British Vogue and collaborated on a fashion line to benefit Smart Works, which helps underserved women. And yes, they have also been known to jet to Uncle Elton John’s on holiday and sit courtside at the U.S. Open in support of Serena Williams. Their hearts are at least half-celebrity—why fight it?
In a way, the announcement of Harry and Meghan’s “progressive new” model for being royal confirmed what many people already suspected: Perhaps the royal family needed Harry and Meghan more than they needed it (even as, ahem, the couple concedes they are still working “to become financially independent”).
These were never two people who seemed eager to conform to the fusty House of Windsor. Harry grew up beloved in the public eye as the rakish ginger “spare,” sticking his tongue out at the paparazzi (and playing strip billiards in Vegas), a rebel with the spirit of his late mom, Princess Diana, and who later became invested in combating poverty in Africa and climate change. Meghan, as is forever pointed out, is a biracial American former actor and divorcée whose passion for social justice leans progressive by royal standards, including campaigning against period poverty in India and, even after joining the Firm, scrawling happy messages on bananas for Bristol sex workers. She stood out in smaller ways too, wearing black nail polish and closing her own car door.
Their international love story captivated the world, as evidenced by the 1.9 billion people who watched their 2018 wedding. Like the Avengers, they’ve become something far bigger than they were individually—a super-couple, even a royal family unto itself, and one that has not been keen to follow the usual royal rules. Last year they moved to Windsor’s Frogmore Cottage rather than living Melrose Place-style with the extended family at Kensington Palace (a decision, they explained on their new website, that was based on lower renovation costs and the fact that their proposed K.P. residence, Apartment 1, was teeming with asbestos). They did not give their son, Archie, a royal title or present him on the steps of a London hospital. In the fall Harry and Meghan filed a lawsuit against a British tabloid publisher, citing a “ruthless campaign” of negative coverage of the duchess. By the time of their lengthy holiday sabbatical at the end of the year, Meghan seemed eager to put an ocean between herself and the press that churned out such headlines as “Harry's girl is (almost) straight outta Compton.” Now they’re making it a more permanent arrangement.
Harry and Meghan’s historic “rebellion” is likely an act of self-preservation. They were always fated to live in privilege among the royal fold for all the rest of their days, but the couple occupies an uncertain place as a new era of the House of Windsor looms: wildly famous in their own right, but lesser royals according to the family’s line of succession, in which Prince Charles, then William, and eventually George will be king; as people are always quick to note, Harry is but sixth in line. Amid the recent Prince Andrew scandal, reports said Prince Charles has long wanted a “streamlined royal family” focused on its heirs—awkward for his second son.
“The other palaces knew it was coming,” ITV News royal editor Chris Ship tweeted. “The Sussexes could see the direction of travel. The slimmed down Monarchy didn’t include them. And they needed to find an alternative route.”
The allure of book deals, Obama-esque Netflix (or perhaps OWN) contracts, and endorsement deals now beckons—and why not? Unlike the Cambridges, who by virtue of their proximity to the crown must lead more conservative lives, Meghan and Harry have long been given a certain amount of freedom. On Wednesday they announced that they plan to use it.
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