It's time for even the republicans among us to weigh in on the eponymous Netflix series, Harry and Meghan.
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Not, as you might imagine, because the couple's over-hyped "Megxit" and associated Royal-on-Royal sniping has hastened Australia's shift to self-respect. Although one can hope.
No, it is because the vile overreaction to this surprisingly well-made docuseries, has laid bare something corrosive and shameful.
For the record, I carry no water for the monarchy nor give a fig for palace intrigue, fawning coverage and Royal gossip. Windsor is one card-house I'd happily see collapse.
Also for the record, I had not heard of Meghan Markle nor seen her in any television role, prior to her relationship with Prince Harry.
You might think it odd, then, that I have watched these films at all. Yet such has been the bile from right wing commentators and the public directed mostly at the Duchess of Sussex, that it rang alarm bells.
Even from the periphery, one felt uneasy at the abuse, assuming initially that it cloaked an ugly little racism at its core. But maybe something else explains the ranting bombast of foghorns like Piers Morgan?
At worst, she was an attractive American celebrity who was fractionally more interesting than the stuffed shirts who populate this tedious family. At best, a catalyst perhaps for a spot of regal introspection around the Crown's centuries-old business model of enrichment via cultural obliteration, theft, and human trafficking.
The British tabloids of course, win either way. They have made millions by first being dewy-eyed to the point of infantilism about the love-story of the century, before turning to run salacious stories about the pair, about Meghan's wrong-side-of-the-tracks and "ghetto" upbringing, and about her attention seeking behaviour - subtext, she's beguiled our good but feeble prince!
From this pretext she's been called a climber, a narcissistic whiny brat, and a grifter.
Back in modernity, we learn in the docuseries that Meghan's school friends and extended family have been pursued relentlessly by paparazzi, financially enticed, and surveilled.
These stalking behaviours have been carried out by the same jackals who hounded Harry's mother to her death, and who in recent years were exposed for illegally tapping phones and numerous other criminal and ethical breaches.
Yet nobody seems that interested in these fresh allegations of antisocial and intimidatory behaviour. The singular focus for the most energised critics remains Meghan - American shrew, temptress, vixen.
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In a typically thoughtful piece last Sunday, columnist Jacqueline Maley skewers this hypocrisy observing that the pair were being criticised for speaking publicly by people who make their living from speaking publicly. And she could have added, by people who demand on a daily basis that the Royals do indeed speak.
Maley, like several others analysing this peak-21st century media onslaught, also focused heavily on the race dimension.
For many Brits, let's call them racists, Meghan's heritage is problematic. They cannot accept that a person of colour, or "mixed race" to use the term tossed around in the films, should be part of the Royal Family.
But while racist attitudes may be part of the problem within the family - or "system" as it is sometimes called - the needlessly spiteful attacks on Meghan by media and others cannot be disentangled from something equally elemental about her: gender.
At the heart of this thermonuclear hatred is a terrible fear of female power - a view of women as the agents of male corruption, sinful desire, and wicked control. Poor old Harry, he's been ensnared by a scheming siren who has turned him against his own kind. Meghan, then, is the most dangerous kind of woman, articulate and worse, unafraid.
It reminded me of the unhinged hatred spewed at Julia Gillard in some quarters, and of similarly boiling contempt for Hillary Clinton. All proportion was immediately lost. It's a tell-tale sign.
Even Maley, an impeccable feminist, half acknowledged gender biases as explanatory, while also half-nodding to their social normality.
"It's probably sexist to say so, but Prince Harry does seem a bit scared of his wife Meghan Markle, or at least scared of losing her," she began.
I can't help wondering why more is not made by female critics of the underlying misogyny fuelling the negative reaction to the docuseries.
Peak "offence" apparently, for the Meghan haters comes in the scene where she re-enacts (clearly to her own amusement alone) the awkward curtsy she did upon meeting the Queen.
This made conservatives incandescent because it was disrespectful. But again, the loss of proportionality speaks to much deeper prejudices.
"There is a profound disconnect between the pretty smile and coquettish demeanour and this spiteful, jealous, malignant narcissism. Harry can't see it, but it's clear to any woman. Tough to be her," sneered the New York Post's Australian columnist, Miranda Devine.
For Sydney feminist and writer Diana Reid, it is more the narrative arc of the series as a "great love story" that is problematic. She asks how Meghan could ever have expected the Royal Family to be anything but the deeply conservative institution it is?
It is a very reasonable question, yet, outwardly, this is the films' point. They married for love but found that to be incompatible with the rigidified world they were required to inhabit.
Finally, there is something else missing from most accounts. Both Harry and Meghan are more likeable than expected. Smarter too.
Pretty sure that's what's got the Meghan haters so riled. And scared.
- Mark Kenny is The Canberra Times' political analyst and a professor at the ANU's Australian Studies Institute.
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