When Kate Middleton's over-scrutinized belly finally decides to evict the newest British royal, the world's media will go into full-on meltdown. Although the actual birthing and frontline reporting will take place in the U.K., the epicenter of baby fever will be in a whole other country: America.
And it's cashing in, free of charge.
As a Brit, I like to think of my fellow royal subjects as largely indifferent to the antics, in utero or out, of the newest squalling prince or princess. Confronted with the "news" of a new Windsor, we resolutely roll our eyes at the insane media reaction. But we're endlessly fascinated by America's excitement. Why, we wonder, are the citizens of another nation so invested in events and a family that have nothing to do with them?
Subscribe to The Week
Escape your echo chamber. Get the facts behind the news, plus analysis from multiple perspectives.
SUBSCRIBE & SAVE
Sign up for The Week's Free Newsletters
From our morning news briefing to a weekly Good News Newsletter, get the best of The Week delivered directly to your inbox.
From our morning news briefing to a weekly Good News Newsletter, get the best of The Week delivered directly to your inbox.
U.S. media is already chomping at the bit for the latest royal hoopla. Just last week, Vanity Fair swooned breathlessly over the current gestational hold-up: "As we all go completely insane, waiting, waiting, waiting for the arrival of the royal baby…" Undeterred by the delay — or the absence of reportable facts — US Weekly and People have been busy pumping out ever more vapid headlines: "Prince Harry Attends London Marathon Ahead of Royal Baby's Birth," and "William & Kate to Announce Birth of Second Child on Twitter."
And this is just a prelude to the true madness. Last time around, even NPR, beacon of level-headed reporting, got in on the ridiculousness. Just before the arrival of Will and Kate's firstborn in 2013, they aired a lengthy segment on the princeling's surname. Would it be Cambridge? Wales? Saxe-Coburg-Gotha?
And then there was CNN, which pumped out round-the-clock coverage on the birth and build-up. "I'm so excited I feel like I might go into labor myself," said the network's royal correspondent, Victoria Arbiter. "Every time the phone rings I feel sick, in case this is the moment."
As a Brit, I find it amusing and a little unsettling that a nation that fought an eight-year war to rid itself of George III's tyrannical rule should now fawn over the mad king's descendants. Shouldn't Americans have a built-in suspicion of anyone who inherits power based not on their own merit but on their bloodline? Of course, the U.S. has a long history of obsessing over its own political dynasties — you have the Clintons, the Bushes, the Kennedys, the Adamses, the Roosevelts… I could go on. Still, it makes infinitely more sense to create and worship your own stately celebrities than to adopt someone else's.
To understand America's British royal obsession, first you need to look backward. As soon as the hatchling nation sloughed off its British overlords in 1783, its Anglo fixation quickly resurfaced. Now that a monarchy wasn't being forced on them, Americans realized they actually quite liked it. And so, everything from what the current crop of royals were wearing to who they were marrying, was scrutinized by newspaper commentators in a way that would seem, minus some of the flouncy vernacular, spookily familiar. The New York Mirror reported in 1838 that one of its editors "actually fretted himself into an apopleptick fit" because none of his London correspondents knew whether Queen Victoria would wear velvet or satin slippers to her coronation.
Perhaps part of the fixation is a yearning for something America will never have: a monarchy with a centuries-long back-story and plot twists that go beyond anything Disney could dream up.
And let's not forget, unlike Brits, Americans are not forced to spend their tax dollars keeping an already wealthy clan housed in castles and nourished by Harrods. They can enjoy the pomp and pageantry for free. It's like seeing an endless stream of blockbusters without ever being charged for a ticket.
While Brits are bogged down with the debate about whether it's appropriate for a modern democracy to keep a monarchy in the manner to which it has become accustomed, Americans can breezily cream off the good bits and have themselves a jolly lovely fantasy. So when, say, a rogue young prince rocks up to a party with a swastika on his arm, or a duchess has her toes sucked by a financial adviser, it's easy for a non-mother nation to turn a blind eye.
Attach a compulsory fee to the veneration, though, and you might actually see American support drop off. Would that be such a terrible thing?
Mary Poppins tour: 'humdinger' of a show kicks off at Bristol Hippodrome
Jaguar's stalled rebrand
What the chancellor's pension megafund plans mean for your money
