Harry's response to charity row is typically him – blame others and then flounce off instead of trying to fix things

The Sun

2 days ago

PRINCE Harry has flounced out – yet again.
This time, not from the monarchy. Not from a podcast deal. Not from the Army, that many believe he quit too soon.
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This time, from Sentebale – the worthy African children's charity he co-founded in memory of his mother, Princess Diana.
Once a passion project. Now just another scorched bridge.
The exit wasn't quiet or dignified.
It followed an ugly row with the chair of trustees, Dr Sophie Chandauka, a punchy Zimbabwean-born lawyer and major donor.
Several trustees stepped down, too.
What followed was familiar: leaked emails, bullying allegations, duelling statements and headlines Harry tried — and failed — to control.
Now comes the Charity Commission's verdict: No laws broken.
But the rebuke was clear: governance failures, damaging behaviour and a serious lack of leadership.
Harry insists he was forced out. That the chair was impossible to work with. That the environment had turned toxic.
What else could he do?
Harry always throws toys out of pram - latest charity move is childish
But leadership isn't about walking away when the mood turns.
In any serious institution — royalty, the boardroom or charity — you don't storm out.
You stay in the room. You resolve the problem for the greater good.
Instead, Harry bailed. Same old story. And like so many of his recent exits, this one fits the pattern.
When pressure mounts and compromise is needed, he withdraws.
Rather than engage, Harry flushed red and scarpered back to the luxury of Montecito, and Megs to mop his furrowed brow
Robert
It's a shame. Because Sentebale mattered.
Founded in 2006, it provides long-term support to children in Lesotho and Botswana affected by HIV and poverty.
It wasn't a vanity project. It was purposeful — touching the lives of 100,000 youngsters — and at one point, so was Harry.
I travelled to Lesotho with him twice. I saw the work up close.
Those children in need of help didn't see him as a prince. They saw someone who listened, who cared, somebody who came back.
His presence wasn't performative. It was real. His royal rank and media profile opened doors.
His conviction helped break stigma of HIV/AIDS, just as his late mother had done right at the outset of the fight.
For years, he gave Sentebale visibility and momentum. It was, without question, his most meaningful contribution. But cracks appeared.
His decision to quit royal life was costly. In 2023, Dr Chandauka initiated a financial review.
She flagged a sharp drop in donations following Harry's withdrawal from royal duties; income fell to £2.39million in 2020, though later rebounded.
She reportedly labelled his image a 'reputational risk' and raised questions about whether he was now more liability than asset.
Rather than engage, Harry flushed red and scarpered back to the luxury of Montecito, and Megs to mop his furrowed brow.
No formal rebuttal. No quiet diplomacy. No attempt to repair.
He threw his toys out of the pram.
He could have shown resolve, offered solutions, and strengthened the structure. Instead, he vanished. And that's what makes this so frustrating.
Harry had no shortage of templates to help lead through turbulence.
His grandfather, Prince Philip, oversaw the Duke of Edinburgh's Award for more than six decades — often in silence, always with rigour. His son Edward, the new Duke, is its leader.
His father, King Charles, spent years building The Prince's Trust — now the King's Trust — from a niche programme into a national institution.
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His sister-in-law, Catherine, champions important causes such as early years development with longevity, consistency and focus.
His brother, William, leads Earthshot, a well-structured mission with financial backing.
None of them walked out mid-crisis.
They worked through it. Harry could have done the same. He could have stayed on the board in a non-executive role.
Helped recruit new trustees. Brought in independent mediators.
Stabilised the organisation rather than adding to the unrest.
But that would have required discipline — and a willingness to listen.
'Squandered legacy'
Instead, he defaulted to the same script: leave, blame, reposition. And this time, the people most affected weren't palace courtiers or out-of-pocket podcast executives.
They were the children of Lesotho — many living with HIV, others orphaned, some still stigmatised.
Those were the ones who stood to lose most.
The pattern goes back further. His early exit from the Army — ten solid years of exemplary service, but he chose not to be a career soldier and go on, to rise further through the ranks and gain his braided uniforms on merit rather than royal birthright.
His abrupt departure from working royal life. His mudslinging. His family ties frayed.
Promises to reinvent himself in California have mostly yielded media spats, stalled projects and carefully lit documentaries.
What's missing is institutional maturity. And staying power.
This isn't about empathy or charisma; Harry has plenty of both.
But he's never learned to sit with discomfort, to fix what's failing. Instead, he blames. Then bails.
Since relocating to Montecito, his inner circle of advisers has narrowed.
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He listens to American PR consultants and is guided, above all, by his Duchess, Meghan Markle — who built her brand around control and survival, not compromise or tradition.
The problem is that leadership — particularly in the charitable sector — requires grit, continuity and people willing to challenge you, not flatter you.
It's not that Dr Chandauka is beyond reproach. Under her tenure, annual accounts remain unpublished, and the next set is delayed until 2025.
She may face valid questions. But here's the telling detail: the Commission didn't ask her to go. She stayed. Harry didn't.
Now his team says Harry will support African kids 'in new ways.' In practice, that means nothing.
His seat at the Sentebale table is empty. His voice, once essential, is absent.
It's the institutional equivalent of ghosting.
And this wasn't just another cause. This was personal.
A living tribute to his mother. One of the few initiatives he helped build from the ground up.
He could have pushed for reform. Brought in fresh trustees. Set a better standard.
The options were there. What they didn't need was drama. What they couldn't survive was abandonment.
This isn't scandal. It's waste. A squandered legacy. A cautionary tale.
Another institution left to sweep up the debris of brand-driven burnout. The headlines will fade. The charity may recover. But something has shifted.
The Harry I saw in Lesotho back in 2006 –- he had a purpose. A spark.
A sense of something larger than himself.
Now, all we're left with is another clean break, and another promise unkept.
When Harry chose the name Sentebale, it meant forget-me-not — a tribute to Diana and her favourite flowers. It was a promise never to let her memory fade.
Well, sadly, it looks like he's done just that.
Robert Jobson is a royal editor and the No1 bestselling author of Catherine, The Princess of Wales – The Biography
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