Six years on from their dramatic UK departure, Prince Harry and his wife Meghan are returning from California with their two small children. Royal watchers have many questions: Where will they live and where will Archie and Lilibet go to school? What does this say about Harry's strained relationship with his father King Charles and brother William? And can Meghan forgive William's wife Catherine after they fell out over whether the latter's daughter wore tights to Harry's wedding?
Beyond the ardent monarchists, Brits have been more phlegmatic about the latest twist in the Harry and Meghan show. A YouGov poll found that while 21 per cent welcomed the couple's return and 33 per cent were opposed, a sensible 45 per cent had more pressing things on their minds and didn't have a view.
But there is one aspect of this "reverse Megxit" that plenty of people are annoyed about, with good reason. That's the possibility, perhaps likelihood, that the overburdened UK taxpayer will now have to pick up the cost of providing security to the peripatetic couple.
This isn't to doubt the need for some safeguarding. For all his equivocations about a stuffy and anachronistic monarchy, and his decision to stop being a "working royal," Harry does remain fifth in line to the throne. And even if there have been few attempts of late on royal lives, they remain a target. We live in an era of hostile states waging unconventional warfare and of social media nudging unstable individuals toward violence.
Charles' sister Anne fought off kidnappers in 1974, declaring "Not bloody likely" when an assailant ordered her out of her car having shot her security guard. The king's beloved great-uncle Louis Mountbatten was murdered by the Irish Republican Army in 1979. Three years later a mentally disturbed man scaled the wall of Buckingham Palace and entered Queen Elizabeth II's bedroom while she slept.
Harry has been accused of worsening the risk to himself by boasting in his memoir Spare of killing 25 Taliban fighters during two military tours. The couple's taxpayer-funded protection was withdrawn after they stepped down from official duties, and last year Harry lost a legal battle with the Home Office over his security status, subsequently telling the BBC that: "I can't see a world in which I would be bringing my wife and children back to the UK."
And yet, back they come. An independent UK body that decides which VIPs warrant state-supplied security conducted a fresh review of the family's arrangements earlier this year. That will be rerun to assess their needs as permanent residents.
Keeping a royal safe is expensive. As the former Home Secretary David Blunkett has disclosed, the Metropolitan Police provides three levels of security for the Windsors, government ministers, some ex-politicians deemed at risk and visiting bigwigs. The first is simply offering a driver with security training, the second is assigning one or two armed officers, and the third is placing armed police inside the VIP's car plus supplying a backup vehicle.
The king and other senior family members get that top level of protection, including support from a specialist armed-police unit known as SO14 and a team of highly trained motorcycle officers to help move them swiftly through traffic. Blunkett doesn't think this is necessary for Harry's family, suggesting instead that they rely on the "happy medium" second option, and that this should be a temporary arrangement while we gauge the actual need.
While it's hard to argue with his assessment, it's reasonable to ask how it will be funded. Andy Burnham, Britain's new prime minister, describes the Duke and Duchess of Sussex's security arrangements as "a private matter." That doesn't stack up given the likely police costs. The price of the specialist teams is confidential, but several politicians and security experts estimate it at between £3 million ($4.1 million) and £5 million a year per individual or family.
And the optics around this are more important than the pure numbers at a time when Brits are struggling financially and taxes are rising. Some lawmakers in Burnham's ruling Labour Party reckon the state should stump up to keep the Sussexes safe. Voters have a different view. A new poll for The Times shows 71 per cent believe the government shouldn't pay for any of the couple's security costs. Only 2 per cent say the state should pick up the tab in full.
Plus the VIP protection budgets are already under pressure because of the UK's recent revolving door of prime ministers. The country must now provide security for an unprecedented nine living ex-PMs. The horrible murder of former Home Office minister Ann Widdecombe this summer has stoked concern about the extent that all politicians, past or present, are vulnerable.
Harry could instead pay for his own round-the-clock private security, but it appears unlikely he could afford it. He's having to pay a share of a hefty legal bill after losing a libel case against the Daily Mail. And even if he persuaded King Charles to pick up his protection tab, he'd still need to use the police for armed support. Under UK law, only law enforcers can carry guns.
Still, a workaround wouldn't be difficult. The royals received 132.1 million pound last year to cover their working duties and lifestyle, not including their security costs and separate private income. Charles and William have enjoyed a vast pay rise in recent years, thanks to the profits from the Crown Estates and the duchies of Lancashire and Cornwall. These are ancient public landholdings that have for centuries been allocated to the sovereign and his heir.
The extra burden on the police of protecting the Sussexes could be covered easily by adjusting that hefty payout. Surely Charles can spare a few million pounds to keep his son, daughter-in-law and grandchildren safe. William might not love having to help fund his brother's return. But there's a stronger case for sparing UK taxpayers.
(Rosa Prince is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering UK politics and policy.)
Disclaimer: These are the personal opinions of the author
