'The Guardian', the bible of British journalism, editorialized this week about the global KateGate madness that exploded with social networks and the wedge-level chatter of certain press and television. The newspaper did not use these words but, wow, everything was understood. Lines later, he not only asked but begged that the privacy of the Princess of Wales be respected now that she has said that she has cancer.
The London journalist colleagues are right that the Kate Middleton issue got out of hand at the moment when the line between reality and fiction blurred without anyone stopping it.
There is morbidity in real drama and we have all taken advantage of it, including me now. In part, because this is naturally a gossip society, which does not necessarily have to be bad if the national sport, gossip, is practiced with the appropriate ethical rules. Here the error of letting the networks set the pace has been evident.
Partly also because, in general, the staff does not accompany curiosity with the exercise of critical capacity, during low hours.
And in part – it would be unforgivable to ignore it – because the House of Windsor could not manage worse from the point of view of public communication the crisis unleashed by the disappearance from the public scene for three long months of the very heir to the throne.
The perfect storm hit Kensington Palace. And Carlos III, with cancer. “The networks were burning,” ahem, while the usual scavengers and newbies stoked rumors with the craziest conspiracy theories. This Thursday we learned that even Putin was targeted for the mass shooting of 'fakenews', always ready to stab daggers from the sides of the area.
Let's be honest: who hasn't played the 'What's Up with Kate' game these days. Many of us were there. Voracious spectators of gossip. You, me, the neighbors. The henhouse crowed, cock, cock, cock, eager to know what face Guillermo's supposed lover had...
Until cancer put everyone in their place. The story took a radical turn with the video. From giggles for the horned princess it turned to pity for the princess with cancer. Kate reappeared like a ghost, grieving, wearing a simple striped sweater and stripped of the distinctive sign that comes standard in royal houses, haughtiness. And her big mouth was sealed.
In fact, the only certainty I had from watching the video is that she would prefer not to have to be doing it. And who doesn't. But she had no choice, she took charge. It is difficult not to empathize with a young woman who, suddenly, seemed as fragile and as lost as anyone in the devilish labyrinth of cancer. Despite her royal privileges, Kate has entered the fateful statistic of 9% of new cases between 25 and 49 years old.
And now that? Only she should rule over her cancer. A royal chronicler, Monica Hesse, has written that 'KateGate' has turned out to be an eloquent parable about limits: those that royalty owes us and those that we owe to her. One, transparency. The others, respect for privacy. We'll see.
'To be continued'.
