Royal Family as Soap Opera: A.N. Wilson argues the monarchy mirrors a nation’s frailties

A.N. Wilson writes that the Royal Family has become a ridiculous soap opera we all feel compelled to watch, and in his view there is sympathy for Prince Harry alongside disbelief at Andrew and Fergie’s conduct. He notes that the monarch’s recent televised address about cancer treatment was a moving moment, underscoring a changing relationship between the public and a family once imagined as infallible. The column frames this shift as a turning point in how Britons relate to the crown, moving from reverent distance toward a more intimate, if unsettled, engagement with the royals’ frailties.

Wilson describes a Channel 4 broadcast in which the King spoke frankly about his illness and urged others to get checked. Historically, royals were guarded about illness, and public acknowledgment of sickness was rare before death or abdication. The speaker’s vulnerability marked a departure from the old script, inviting a national conversation about health, mortality and duty. The piece also notes the Christmas walk to Sandringham church, a ritual the King aims to preserve, while acknowledging that attendance runs through a close-knit circle that includes Princess Anne’s family and other trusted figures. After the broadcast, the family’s travel plans and duties hint at a careful choreography of duty and personal circumstance, with Eugenie and Beatrice heading to their father’s residence and Camilla returning to Gloucestershire, while Charles returns to his study—the work of being royal, as the author emphasizes, remains central to his identity.

The piece pivots to the broader question: what is a Royal Family for, exactly? Wilson invokes David Dimbleby’s recent documentary to explore whether the monarchy serves a purpose beyond spectacle. He traces the evolution of the institution into a modern construct that began with Prince Albert and Queen Victoria, who leveraged photography to create an idealized family image during a time of republican sentiment. Albert’s foresight, Wilson argues, produced a powerful cultural symbol that the royals would rely on for generations, even as their personal lives proved far messier than the studio-perfect portraits suggested. The column is careful to note the ironies: the father of the modern royal image aimed to stabilize society through monogamy and loyalty, yet the centuries that followed showed a succession of indiscretions, scandals and tragedies that undermined that ideal.

Wilson catalogs a string of historical tensions designed to illustrate the permanence of human flaws within the royal system. He recounts tales long whispered in the annals of history—the Prince of Wales’ alleged affairs in Paris, the rumored complications of Princess Louise’s marriage, and Victoria’s own private lore—pointing to a pattern the press later exploited to blur the line between myth and reality. The author argues that the media’s shift in the mid-20th century—from sanitized, flattering coverage to a more open, sometimes sensational style—helped nurture a public appetite for the royal soap opera. Initial tabloid scoops on Princess Margaret’s love life and later revelations about Edward VIII’s abdication are cited as turning points in how Britons consume royal narratives, moving public perception away from idealization toward relatable scrutiny.

The article ties these historical threads to contemporary controversies, including Andrew and Fergie’s links to Jeffrey Epstein and the broader questions about royal entitlement. Wilson notes that ongoing reporting—bolstered by biographies and investigative journalism—has reshaped a public image once protected by convention. At the same time, the column acknowledges the intense scrutiny of Prince Harry and Meghan, whose Oprah Winfrey interview and Harry’s Spare memoir amplified a sense that the royal family is a sprawling, imperfect plot rather than a flawless symbol. The result, Wilson suggests, is a paradox: the royal soap opera feels more invasive and less comforting, yet it also deepens the institution’s cultural resonance by forcing the public to confront the humanity behind the tiara.

Yet the column also emphasizes a form of empathy that arises from watching a family navigate illness, duty and mortality in real time. The King’s public acknowledgment of cancer and the family’s continued service amid health fears are characterized as demonstrations of resilience, not merely spectacle. Wilson contends that such moments can enlarge the monarchy’s meaning, offering a kind of moral mirror: a reminder that power and privilege do not immunize individuals from the fragility that governs ordinary lives. The piece closes on a note of cautious optimism about the brothers’ complicated relationship and about Kate and William’s steadiness as custodians of the Crown’s future, even as the public remains divided between sympathy and skepticism.

In sum, the royal narrative has shifted from a pristine myth to a mature, if messy, drama that mirrors the nation’s own complexities. The author acknowledges the discomfort many feel when confronted with the Royalties’ moral ambiguities, yet he also finds a kind of solace in recognizing that the monarchy is not immune to the same human forces—ambition, vulnerability, loyalty, scandal—that shape everyone’s lives. The result is a culture story as much about a nation’s appetite for spectacle as it is about the Royal Family’s capacity for endurance. The soap opera, in this framing, is not a trivial curiosity but a lens through which a modern Britain negotiates its ideals, its disappointments, and its sense of shared identity.