A world of two halves: on institutional trust, establishment mistrust and the travesty of war, bloody war

This morning I woke to a media storm, begun last night when HRH Kate, The Duchess of Cambridge, turned up unexpectedly at my daughter’s Beaver’s troop to help them do their “disability badge.” They cut up chocolate bars with boxing gloves and iced cakes with blindfolds on. You can read about (or rather view) the whole thing on the slightly sycophantic Hello Magazine pic-a-thon here. We were thrilled, though rather bamboozled by the cool efficiency and media hysteria surrounding the event, while also revelling in social media engagement the like of which I’ve not seen since I published an article in the Sunday Times Magazine on open marriage.

But Ava, 6, was more interested in telling us who the cakes she had iced were to be eaten by, than our slightly starstruck princess-probing when it was time for pick up, which rather made me happy for her, and proud that she is not yet indoctrinated on the cult of celebrity. Or the obsessed with princesses for that matter.

Jonah was less nonplussed however. He had watched the Royal Wedding with us as a toddler, a day when I’d gone out dressed as a blushing pound shop Kate Middy to a street party. He has some idea of famous she is, and he also knows fame has currency. So when Ava got her picture in a national newspaper and was featured on a slot on Good Morning Britain, he was distraught. He only ceased to howl when I found a picture of him looking remarkably well-behaved that had been tweeted out by Clarence House for the nation to imagine what angels-in-boy-clothing the Scout movement is producing these days.

I can’t fault the Scouts, honestly. Since the kids joined, there has been nothing but positivity and a sense of community that is lacking in almost every other aspect of their lives: days out, quizzes, hikes, educational visits (last night’s press call also included Paralympic champion triathlete Steve Judge but he garnered not one tenth of the press coverage or interest from the snapping and posting mothers – sadly me included). It is instilling a sense of social duty, moral obligation and pride in things in which, heretofore, the kids have shown very little interest (I blame myself and damn consumerist society and computer games, of course). But as the paedophile scandals that have infiltrated every institution in the land, including the NHS, the church, and  – whisper it – the palace – continue to bubble away on the blogs, occasionally rearing up for a more measured update in the mainstream press, it’s hard not to find yourself becoming increasingly suspicious of anyone who wants to devote their free time to helping children for little material reward. Perhaps it’s visits such as these that incentivise the volunteers – in today’s time poor society, these people deserve much credit for how much time they are willing to give up to devote to other people’s kids. As Heidi@Saracen77 said replying to a wry remark I’d made  on Twitter, “For every Royal visit there are a million unsung days”. I couldn’t help but regret my cynicism.

Ostensibly, it all seemed to promote a worthy message – Kate’s visit was to draw attention to a dearth of volunteers within the Scouting movement – perhaps one of the reasons being, given my own vaguely acknowledged fears, the very real paranoia people feel about working with children, as much as a lack of time and interest. But as the media storm begin to gather, the Duchess’ visit began to sit a little uncomfortably with me as the eye passed over us, with my Twitter account quoted by The Mirror, complete with laughable spelling error so caught I was in the moment and bedazzled by celebrity (as well as a hearty draught of mulled cider). Cloaked in secrecy, it smacked of an deeper agenda and a wider PR offensive; it introduced the children, albeit very gently, to hierarchy and the power of celebrity in one fell swoop, and sat the scouting movement very firmly in the glare of the Establishment. My children, if we hadn’t managed to convert them already with a slightly hysterical celebrations of the Queen’s Jubilee and royal wedding (any excuse for a street party) are now budding royalists, and the exceptionally well-oiled Royal PR machine has done it job with aplomb.

The royal clipboard nazis, smelling of mothballs and Creed, were standing guard to ensure nothing inappropriate was said and done by anyone (except the slightly red wine-fuelled interview I gave afterward in which I referred to her highness as the Duchess of Catherine) were a stern reminder of who was in charge of the situation; and we were all of us quelled into submission and funnelled through the process by armed policeman, like a pack of scouts encouraged to sing Christmas songs to show the Princess what good little children East London kids could be, really. I tweeted snide illuminati-based links to quietly rebel against the Clarence House PR machine, and two of the followers I picked up in the immediate Twitter frenzy immediately unfollowed me, but I in my slightly punch drunk interview I made it clear how much I appreciate all the work the Scouts are doing in the area, and what I feel they have done for my children , which is to say – a lot.

My children’s pictures began trending, fuelled, admittedly, in some small part, by my own supra-excited pride at being caught up in the whirlwind, and then the story was picked by the nationals, and then the morning telly. As I switched on the rolling news and encouraged the kids to come and see it themselves on TV, I was struck by the profound juxtaposition between their situation: of having been visited at their safe and well equipped facilities, and offered a glimpse of stardust and friendly banter by the smiling princess, and the horrific, inhuman and appalling attacks on a school in Peshawar, Pakistan that was actually on the news, rather than the news clip of my kids that Tom had texted me about.

Suddenly my griping about the Establishment – currently rocked with child abuse scandals; Scouts, like every other institution in the land, included – seemed trite. I watched as Ava and Jonah witnessed the coverage about the attacks and watched their innocence rolls away. I wanted to switch off to shield them from it. But I also wanted not to censor the world, to recognise how lucky they are, even if the inequality shoved in their faces last night, when PRINCESS VISITS IMPOVERISHED EAST LONDON SCOUT TROOP, or so the newspaper appeared to scream, was nothing compared to what is happening elsewhere in the globe. (Particularly, in the video we have of Kate asking the kids what they are doing at Christmas, many of them say “skiing”)

It was reinforced when I picked up The Metro this morning on the tube – the Duchess looking cosy with white kids on page 11, while brown children were being hacked to pieces by insurgents on page 3, which made me think again.

If western decadence, power structures and inequality wasn’t such a problem, would there be any terror in the world at all? Something to think about before we bow obsequiously before the rich and famous, before sniping at them under the guise of a pseudonym from the public platform of Twitter.

But certainly, if the royals represent the near pinnacle of some kind of illuminati world order, whether it’s “Ninth Circle”, Bunderberg, Freemasons, or simply a degree of collusion keeping power in the hands of the Establishment, rather than a covert organisation run for and by the elite, they’ll need to do more than cutting up chocolate bars wearing boxing gloves in a lesson in disability awareness to do something about the crippling inequality that is resulting in horrific casualties elsewhere in the world.

At least in this country I can criticise the monarchy without fear for my life – so why is it I kept looking over my shoulder for a sniper, or an unmarked car because I’d been looking at a few unorthodox websites of late pointing an accusing finger at those in charge for unmentionable crimes? Perhaps it’s the fear of fear, created by terror. It’s a vicious circle that keeps us all in our place.