Prime minister set the tone for coverage of Prince Philip’s passing

Early on Saturday the news channels were full of the big story of the day, but it wasn’t until Scott Morrison took to the podium in Sydney to give his address to the nation – and to its sovereign head, the Queen – that the tone was set. Newscasters had been tiptoeing around the evident failures of the prince’s life and, especially in the light of recent scandals in Canberra, his frank and robust manner. I sensed that for many of the TV presenters the issue of how to deal with Prince Philip’s vagrant tongue – he was well known for making casual and inappropriate remarks – was testing their equipoise.

The front held, however, but when Morrison took the line that Philip was staunch in supporting the Queen, more analysis became unnecessary. Pictures of the prince playing with children whose marriages would eventually fall apart showed on the TV screen, filling up the interstices between things. On Facebook friends who wouldn’t normally comment positively on the royal family gave their best wishes on the occasion. 

A pattern was being set but the old-school manner of Philip is not what’s needed, now, at a time when the world is assuredly and finally coming to grips with past mistakes. Not surprisingly, Morrison made no mention of his predecessor Tony Abbott’s knighting the prince – a final flame-out of the old guard before it was completely extinguished by the catcalls of the Left – but took refuge in the words of the old national anthem: “Long may she reign over us, God save the Queen.” By repeating these words, Morrison took a middle line between poetry and tradition, and struck a nice balance on the international stage.

In London the ABC had two reporters on the ground, making crosses at different times (see above, outside Buckingham Palace). Floral wreaths being left by locals despite a sign asking that this not be done. The household put out a request that donations should be, instead, made to charities.

The media really comes into its own on occasions such as this. As does the PM. Morrison reliably avoided tears while speaking to the cameras, the microphones set in front of him at Kirribilli in front of his residence on the harbour, and many would have been thinking of the elapsed period of a month or so marking the time since Philip had been admitted to hospital for a pre-existing heart condition. It takes a long time for anyone to die, if they die in their beds. 

Not like princes of old. “Duke remembered as champion of environmental causes,” went the strapline on ABC News channel. “Prince Philip’s Duke of Edinburgh Award a lasting legacy.” But it was strange – considering what this man was really known for – that nothing at all was said about his faux-pas, his indiscretions, his gaffes. We remove a tangible mechanism for change when we censor ourselves at the time of someone’s passing. This silence surrounding Philip’s failings speaks of our own cowardice, an unwillingness – when we, too, pass away – for the truth to be spoken. Are we so guilty in our minds?