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(293) Rapace

Prince Harry addendum: in his biography, Harry reports that he killed 25 Taliban in Afghanistan—and his tally causes him “neither satisfaction nor shame” (very Zen-like, he has apparently achieved the situation where his tally is “just a fact”). He was condemned by his former army commanders for this revelation—“betrayed the military family as he betrayed his own family”. Probably soldiers do keep score, I’d be amazed if they don’t—as Harry pointed out, since he was a gunner in an Apache helicopter everything he did was recorded and analysed; so presumably everyone kept score. What’s forbidden is to talk about it—that’s the taboo he broke, and he knows it.

As regards his narcissism, he’s broken the omertà of his mannerbund (to mix Italian and German, somewhat uneasily)—he has betrayed the military, like his commanders say, but for him it’s no big deal because he’s cut off from his emotions (narcissists typically behave in exploitative ways and break standard rules of conduct). The excuse he gave when challenged was that “he put it in to help veterans overcome their shame and so to prevent possible suicides”—that’s a classic narcissistic manoeuvre, break a rule then excuse it on the grounds you’re “helping people”. Harry claimed what he said wasn’t a brag, but it’s a humble-brag really—he talks about “the gravity and seriousness” of the deaths, but he still says “I killed 25 people” (I only hope it made Meghan wet).

Harry hasn’t really acknowledged what he feels about the 25 people he killed. He just pretends. The most notable thing about killing people is how easy it is—one moment they’re walking along, the next a bundle of limp fabric; it happens so fast, life is so tenuous—the birth, the childhood, the tree, the bird, the rock, the water, the lover, the death. It took so long to grow, it took a second to become limp rags on the ground; everyone is replaceable, as they say. Except Harry.


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