Tom Bower has built an entire cottage industry out of demonising Prince Harry and Meghan Sussex, and now he is back with another melodramatic instalment. This time, he wants readers to believe the real scandal is not Prince Andrew, not the palace’s long record of evasion, not the endless network of royal enablers and grifters, but Harry’s fallout with Sentebale’s chairwoman, Sophie Chandauka.

It says everything about Bower and the media outlets that indulge him. Here is a man who once declared that “the monarchy in fact depends on actually obliterating the Sussexes from our state of life.” He said that out loud. Publicly on TalkTV. And yet we are still expected to treat him as some sober chronicler of events rather than what he plainly is: a hostile obsessive with an agenda.

Bower’s credibility has also faced scrutiny before. In 2020, his publisher paid damages after withdrawing a false claim in one of his earlier biographies following a libel complaint.

The deeper ugliness in this latest excerpt is not just the attack on Harry. It is the now-familiar effort to frame a Black-Biracial woman as the problem, to cast her as difficult, disruptive or overreaching, while excusing the old networks of white male entitlement that have failed charities, failed institutions and failed the public for years.

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The real obsession is not charity governance but destroying the Sussexes

Bower’s latest serialisation presents the Sentebale dispute as proof that Prince Harry lost control, misread the situation and picked a fight he could not win. That is the drama he wants to sell. Yet the version he presents closely mirrors the narrative promoted by current chairwoman Sophie Chandauka rather than the wider record of events.

Even Bower’s own excerpt admits that the charity’s problems long predated the current conflict. He writes that:

“Employees… presented a petition criticising their pay and conditions, and questioning the directors’ use of the charity’s funds.”

The reality is more complicated than the morality play being pushed. When Prince Harry and Prince Seeiso stepped away from Sentebale in March 2025, they did so alongside the entire board of trustees, who said their relationship with Chandauka had “broken down beyond repair.

Serious concerns had already emerged. Reports in The Times and the Daily Mail said trustees were alarmed after Chandauka allegedly requested around $3,000 (£2,200) per day for her role despite the chairmanship traditionally being unpaid. Trustees also raised questions about a consultancy bill reportedly worth about £427,000 and whether some consultants had personal or professional links to Chandauka. At the same time, efforts to replace lost donors struggled, leaving the charity under growing financial strain.

By September 2025, Sentebale’s 2024 accounts were filed late. When they were finally released, they described a charity under pressure, with reserves falling and polo fundraising expected to decline following Harry’s departure.

None of that fits the neat narrative Bower prefers. Instead, his coverage circles back to the same talking point: Meghan. Echoing claims repeated in Chandauka’s media interviews, Bower writes that donors allegedly did not want to be associated “especially not with Meghan.”

The claim lands almost too neatly. A messy governance dispute becomes another anti-Sussex storyline built on Sophie Chandauka’s claim that a “brand audit” showed donors wary of Harry’s Netflix projects. This is the same Chandauka who appeared on camera in a Hello! interview speaking positively about Netflix. After her falling-out with Harry and the trustees, however, her tone began to sound remarkably similar to the British media’s long-running complaints about the Sussexes and their media deals.


Bower claims Sentebale wanted distance from Netflix, yet Sophie Chandauka said the opposite in a recent Hello! interview.

A Failed Chairwoman Becomes Bower’s Convenient Witness

What stands out in Bower’s account is not some brave reformer exposing uncomfortable truths. It is how conveniently Sophie Chandauka’s talking points appear just when he needs them.

For years, Bower has had a credibility problem. His anti-Sussex fixation has grown so obvious that even sympathetic audiences struggle to take his “investigations” seriously. But along comes a charity chair whose tenure has been defined by board resignations, donor anxiety and public infighting, and suddenly Bower has exactly the witness he needs.

This is the trick. Bower can recycle the same old Sussex hostility while hiding behind Chandauka’s complaints. Instead of sounding like the man who once declared the monarchy must “obliterate” Harry and Meghan, he can claim he is simply quoting an insider.

It is narrative laundering. Chandauka, after all, is not some neutral whistleblower. She is a volunteer chair who presided over a spectacular collapse in trust inside the organisation she was meant to steward. Trustees walked away. Founders walked away. Donors grew nervous. The charity’s public reputation deteriorated into a rolling PR brawl.

And yet, somehow, the problem is still Harry and Meghan. That is why Bower’s reliance on her claims feels so convenient. A failing chairwoman eager to deflect blame meets a biographer eager to blame the Sussexes for everything. Each provides exactly what the other needs.

The result is predictable. A messy governance fight inside a struggling charity becomes another morality play about the Sussexes. For Bower, that is not journalism. It is simply the next instalment of a very old obsession.

Royalists still reserve their deepest fury for Harry and Meghan

This is the part that should not be ignored. There is something deeply warped about a royal media culture that has endless rage for Harry and Meghan Sussex while showing far less moral urgency about the family’s actual scandals.

Prince Andrew’s disgrace is a rotting wound on the royal family that shows no sign of closing. His association with Jeffrey Epstein is a reputational catastrophe that continues to ensnare the other “working” royals. The wider questions around who knew what, who enabled what, and who protected what still hang over the monarchy like the sword of Damocles. The endless murk around royal money, access, donors, influence and backroom privilege is not invented. Those are the issues that go to the heart of institutional decay.

And yet Bower argues that the monarchy depends on “obliterating” the Sussexes. The language is strikingly extreme. He is not talking about distancing, disagreement or even simple indifference. He is talking about obliteration.

For what, exactly, justifies such language? Leaving royal duties, speaking publicly, making documentaries, writing a memoir, or Meghan Sussex building a lifestyle brand and selling jam hardly amount to existential threats. This is where the mask slips. The Sussexes are called irrelevant while being treated as a danger to the institution. They are dismissed as unserious while being blamed for everything. They are mocked as fame-hungry while attracting a level of fixation that looks increasingly unhealthy.

This campaign is ugly, and it is not normal

Nearly a decade after Prince Harry and Meghan Sussex stepped away from royal duties, the intensity of the commentary surrounding them has not faded. If anything, it has hardened into a permanent industry of speculation, criticism and grievance.

At this point, the dynamic is difficult to ignore. The couple built a life outside the royal system, launched independent projects and moved on. Yet an entire ecosystem of commentators still treats every step they take as a provocation that must be analysed, condemned or reframed as scandal.

That imbalance is telling. Public figures will always face scrutiny. What has emerged here goes far beyond that. It is a culture of commentary in which the Sussexes are not simply discussed but continually positioned as the explanation for unrelated problems, institutional tensions and media drama.

The result is a strange feedback loop. The louder the attacks become, the more attention they generate. The more attention they generate, the more commentators return to the same story.

Meanwhile, the couple themselves remain the least surprising part of the equation. They left an institution that no longer worked for them and continued with their lives.

The real story now lies elsewhere. It sits in the machinery that keeps pulling them back into the centre of every royal narrative, long after they chose to walk away from it. That machinery says far more about the royal media ecosystem than it does about the Sussexes themselves.

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