Prince Pervert: How The Past Caught Up With Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor

We do live in interesting times.

Just when much of the world was reconciling itself to the idea of bad demagogues having a free run of the global commons, there are indications that the future may not be all that bleak. Two developments, one from London and the other from Washington, prompt a dollop of optimism.

First, the good news from England—the arrest of an ex-royal, Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor. As has been noted, this is the first instance of its kind since 1647. It has also been pointed out that the “Prince” had already been stripped of his royal epaulettes by the current King on proven bad behaviour; but the arrest, though short-lived, was not without its historical moment. What is remarkable in this royal episode is that the police did discharge their institutional duty. No one will perhaps know whether any pressure from the royal family or other custodians of the monarchy was brought to bear on the police to go slow on the prince. “The police” invariably means one individual policeman or a group of policemen in various hierarchical roles felt unhampered as the investigation proceeded into the disgraced prince’s potentially criminal conduct.

How could British police officers and investigators feel emboldened to pursue the cause of justice? How could so many of them instinctively feel the same sense of the requirements of law and justice? Could it be that modern-day Britain, despite having become a vastly different country, still retains its feel for justness?

And, how? Is it a cultural phenomenon? An undiluted Victorian virtue? From Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes to Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple to P. D. James’ Adam Dalgliesh, we get a glimpse of an uncompromised investigator/detective determined to see justice done and injustice avenged. Those who infringe the law or commit a crime must get their comeuppance.

Why do the “police” as an institution and as individuals still feel so empowered to go about doing their professional dharma? Does the confidence come from an innate Englishness that remains a national character despite England having become a multicultural society?

The arrest, a week later, of Peter Mandelson, a prominent political figure, reinforces the idea that an honest and autonomous policeman is deeply embedded in popular imagination, and that collective imagination, in turn, emboldens the custodians of law.

It cannot be anybody’s argument that Britain is free of scoundrels, scamsters and criminals of various shapes and sizes, or that there are no bent cops; rather, it is worth asking: Can the demagogues, political frauds, partisans and corporate crooks overwhelm a nation’s character?

That brings us to the second development: the US Supreme Court’s ruling against President Donald Trump on his use of tariffs. It must be noted that this judgement against President Trump was handed down by a court that has so far been rather indulgent to him, as he has insisted on putting a maximalist interpretation of his power and authority. Now the court says: you do not have a free run, you are not above scrutiny. The basic principle of checks and balances is not completely dead, it would seem.

Americans have always prided themselves on their individualism as the source of their national strength and American exceptionalism. Now this very consequential ruling against the Trump White House will help the Americans sustain the fiction that the US’ foreign policy is dictated by high purposes and principles.

Admittedly, US foreign policy since World War II was deeply anchored in the requirements of realpolitik, and every president felt compelled to justify his overseas actions by invoking high principles. As former US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, himself a ruthless practitioner of realpolitik, once remarked: “The Americans have never been comfortable acknowledging openly their own selfish interests. Whether fighting world wars or local conflicts, American leaders always claimed to be struggling in the name of principle, not interest.”

Against this national grain, Trump, in his second presidential innings, has openly and unapologetically been touting his foreign engagements in transactional terms; there is no evidence so far as to whether the Americans are comfortable with their president’s “tariff wars”. The American Supreme Court’s ruling is the first indication of institutional resistance.

Trump has been trying to buck the historical tradition of Americans’ discomfort with the idea of “imperial presidency”. As Tony Judt, the eminent liberal voice, once observed, American culture is characterised by a “distinctively American suspicion of central government”. In his second term, President Trump has arrogated to himself the role of the nation’s sheriff, trampling over the states’ autonomy.

The uncomfortable question before the American Supreme Court on the tariff question was: How could a society so deeply committed to individualism be overrun by the authoritarian whims of a president? Columnist David French in The New York Times would want to believe that the “presidency is stuffed back into its box”. There is evidence that the judges are not amused that the Trump administration has been wilfully ignoring judicial orders. The courts have started holding offending executive officers in “civil contempt of court”. The institutional fightback has begun.

That is good news for democracies all over the world.

What about us in India? Once serenaded as “the argumentative Indian,” the poor fellow is now silenced into a submissive creature. A society that grew up chuckling every morning with an R. K. Laxman cartoon or waiting every Friday for Shankar’s Weekly is now afraid to laugh either at itself or at others. The “national media” no longer dare ridicule or mock the Prime Minister as it used to make fun of Jawaharlal Nehru or Indira Gandhi or Manmohan Singh. A society that once took pride in reciting Ramdhari Singh Dinkar’s Sinhasan khali Karo ki Janata Aati Hai (Vacate the throne, for the people are coming) from public platforms, now feels tamed into singing praise of those on the sinhasan.

Is this submissiveness a passing phase or will Indians rediscover their cultural addiction to arguments, contestation, and cantankerousness? Will this submissiveness become a lasting trait or will we once again rejoice in debates and arguments, as we did after the Emergency was lifted in 1977?

Difficult questions, but definite hope that democracy and its habits will outlive our version of demagogues. Amen.

(Views expressed are personal)

This article is part of Outlook's March 11 issue Femme Fatale which looks at how popular media has shaped narratives of violence against women over the years and rewrites the language of male gaze in media which commodifies and condemns the women who make headlines.