Editor’s note: Louis Staples is a London-based culture writer and editor. His work has appeared in Slate, Vogue, The Guardian, Rolling Stone, Wired and elsewhere. The views expressed here are his own. Read more opinion on CNN.
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Days before Prince Harry’s memoir Spare was officially released on January 10, scandalous details from the book made headlines around the world. The Guardian got its first piece of news: Harry’s description of a physical fight with his brother Prince William that resulted in a broken dog bowl and broken necklace.
We soon heard more clips: Harry’s frozen penis (or “Todger,” as he kept calling it) on his brother’s wedding day, his confession to using cocaine, and the story of how he gave his virginity to a mysterious woman in a field older woman who spanked his ass.
Not surprisingly, these headlines don’t capture the full story. “Spare” is a sad read about a man who is clearly hurt and damaged. A man who, through a birth accident and tragedy, never had complete control over his own life.
The central narrative of the memoir is that Prince Harry, while born into immense privilege, is also a victim. He recalls knowing from a young age that he existed, just in case something happened to William. (As a child, he believed he was there to donate organs should the heir to the throne need them).
Growing up, he was harassed by the same tabloids that hounded his late mother, Princess Diana. He tells how they branded him a “bad prince”, “Prince Dicko” or portrayed him as a drug addict. He says in the book that one of the tabloid editors who allegedly wanted to “blackmail” him later went to work for his father and stepmother. (Charles and Camilla have not publicly commented on the claim).
Now that Harry’s relationship with his family and the British press has deteriorated, the adjectives often used to describe him are even less flattering: soft, frail, thin-skinned, spoiled and spiteful.
The racist and misogynistic media coverage experienced by Harry’s wife Meghan Markle is well documented. What is less discussed, however, is how Harry’s own manhood is being used against him. In fact, gender expectations of Harry’s behavior are a major driver of much of the vitriol he’s received.
Prince Harry comes from a long line of military men who took pride in adopting a stiff upper-lip stance and getting on with the job. His grandfather, Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, was particularly keen to convey this image to himself, as he performed royal duties until the mid-1990s.
Viewed through this prism, Klagen is considered feminine and weak. Harry alluded to this himself by distinguishing between “Institutional Harry” and “Husband Harry” – the latter being more emotional.
Outside of the royal institution, there has been a cultural shift to encourage men to speak out about their feelings and mental health. “Spare” walks us through Prince’s process of doing just that. And after exploring some of the ways he grew up in the royal institution, with the help of a therapist, it seems he prefers “husband Harry” to “institution Harry.”
The tension between the prince’s two personalities is really a microcosm of a broader cultural clash between different versions of masculinity. In the so-called “culture war” in which the Sussexes are embroiled, millennial manhood has become a key battleground.
A number of conservative politicians and commentators have converged on the idea that today’s young men are no longer, as they would put it, “real men”. In 2020, conservative influencer Will Witt gave a lecture at the University of Denver entitled “Make Men Masculine Again” in which he argued that men who are no longer masculine are causing profound societal problems.
Republican Senator Josh Hawley’s forthcoming book, Manhood: What America Needs, similarly calls on American men to “stand up and embrace their God-given responsibilities as husbands, fathers, and citizens.”
In the UK, right-wing political activist Laurence Fox was ridiculed for bemoaning the fact that men are no longer ‘tough’, tweeting: ‘Bad times make tough men. Tough men make good times. Good times make soft men. Soft men make bad times. We’re in bad times. We need MEN.”
Fox has drawn criticism for claiming society wants “Men chopping off eggs‘ and describes men with whom he disagrees as ‘Cucks woke up.”
But similar language has fueled the troubling rise of “ultra-masculine” influencers like Andrew Tate. The British former kickboxer has built a lucrative social media platform by claiming he can teach men how to be “alphas”. In some of his videos he has bragged about choking and hitting women. Along with his brother Tristan, Tate was arrested in December 2022 as part of an investigation into sex trafficking and rape in Romania. Their lawyer, Eugen Vidineac, said both brothers denied the allegations.
For these self-proclaimed saviors of “real” masculinity, the main enemy is feminists like Markle. But hostility is also reserved for so-called “beta” males who don’t subscribe to their worldview.
In “Spare”, Harry recalls a cartoon in a British newspaper depicting him on a dog leash held by his wife. He describes this as “textbook” misogyny, blaming a woman for decisions he’s made. But it was also a classic example because it tried to emasculate him for refusing to take part in the oppression of women — a key tactic used to perpetuate misogyny.
Similarly, Jeremy Clarkson called Harry “Harold Markle” in his now infamous newspaper column, in which he wrote that he wanted to watch Markle being paraded naked through the streets and having feces thrown at him. The Sun newspaper later removed the column and apologized. But it’s just another example of how the demonization of Markle goes hand in hand with the casual emasculation of her husband.
Older men like Clarkson and prominent Sussex critic Piers Morgan, who go out of their way to mock Prince Harry, relate to his openness about being a man in therapy. Right-wing media have targeted the so-called “therapy industry,” often promoting the characterization of therapy as a rampant practice.
On the eve of the release of “Spare,” the royal institution appeared to feed into that narrative by informing journalists that Prince Harry “kidnapped by the cult of psychotherapy.‘ In this framing, a man portrayed as victimized or damaged in any way is equated with weakness and narcissism.
I can sense a sense of weariness on social media as the Sussexes continue to share their story across so many different mediums. But Spare is still the UK’s fastest selling non-fiction book of all time. Most people form their opinions based on excerpts from the memoir that the media or social media users have curated for them, rather than reading the entire memoir.
But beyond that memes about the prince rubbing Elizabeth Arden’s cream on his frozen penis or googling his wife-to-be’s TV sex scenes, “Spare” is a story about a man of immense privilege who at least tries to do better – even if it means to go against the institutions and social conventions that have benefited him so far.
Yes, this book is occasionally contradictory, detached, and full of many toe-curling details that I would have been much happier not knowing. (For someone like Harry, who often berates tabloid editors, there were a lot of details here that seem tailor-made to make them salivate).
And yes, a break from hearing about the Sussexes would be very welcome. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is bigger than Prince Harry for his loudest critics. His harshest critics feel threatened and betrayed by the version of modern masculinity he espouses – one that, like the prince himself, is trying to break free from his past.