The readers' editor on … a day of too much pomp and circumstance

Complaints to the Guardian's readers' editor, and the paper's letters' page, about the royal wedding coverage convey a general sense that the Guardian has betrayed a long-standing history of republicanism.

Not so. Certainly not the "long-standing" bit, anyway. Ian Mayes, the paper's first readers' editor, who is now writing a history of the Guardian, tells me that it was only 11 years ago that the Guardian came out for a republic: "The Guardian's first real trawl through the issue was a week of features starting 7 January 1995 under the general heading, "The New Republic: an important Guardian series on what Britain would be like without a monarchy". A leader to launch it said: "This paper has always been agnostic about the monarchy and remains so."

The Guardian didn't really declare in favour of a republic until 6 December 2000. On that day, in a leader timed to coincide with the Queen's speech, it called for the abolition of the Treason Felony Act of 1848, which inhibited any real argument against the monarchy. Here's the relevant bit of the leader:

"It seems fruitless to begin by demanding the immediate advent of a republic in Britain: it ain't going to happen … [But] People ought to be able to say whether they would prefer an elected head of state or to continue with the monarchy … We declare our hand: we hope that in time we will move – by democratic consensus – to become a republic."

Those readers who didn't like the Wills and Kate coverage might be surprised at the Guardian's souvenir editions of Charles and Di's marriage in 1981 if they look one out. Not enough space here to go into detail, but it was pretty much a sneerless celebration in those pre-republican days.

But that will not comfort those complainants – relatively few, with three to my office and 64 to the letters' page – who found our coverage, which stood at 124,000 words before the big day, Friday 29 April, just too much in every way. The day after the Guardian carried 16 pages of coverage in the main section of the paper on Saturday 30 April and also published a 16-page souvenir edition.

Why a special edition?, asked one reader in a well-argued letter, which stood for the bulk of complaints that we received: "I was shocked when buying Saturday's Guardian to see 'Free royal wedding souvenir supplement' across the front page … Could these not have been put into the supplement? I could then just have thrown it away. I have to say I felt short-changed skipping the first 15 pages of the paper before I found anything worth reading. I paid for those pages!

"I would have preferred to read in the news pages some more in-depth coverage of the stories that matter: the police clampdown on protests, the Facebook purge, the republican events taking place around the country, the NHS story that the government tried to bury. These are genuinely significant and important stories.

"But there is a deeper issue here. I have considerable brand loyalty to the Guardian. I buy it because it reflects my values. I define myself as (among other things) a Guardian reader. To me, the Guardian is not just another newspaper: it's a community of people who keep me informed about the things that matter, share my values and give me a voice.Yesterday, you informed me about things that don't matter, trampled on my values, and gave me no voice. It would not be exaggerating to say that I feel betrayed."

Within the Guardian there was a substantial debate about the scale and depth of the coverage.

Katharine Viner, who edited the wedding edition of the paper, said: "'We put a lot of thought and preparation into our coverage. I think the Guardian, unlike many of our rivals, has a broad range of views among our readers – from full-blooded republicans to keen monarchists and everything in-between – and I wanted to speak to all of them.

"I have no regrets about the quantity of coverage. We did not do a poster front, which many others did."

What about the argument that we should not be part of the flummery?

"It was a huge national event that we should cover – it was the news that day. We wanted to signal that the paper was a varied mix, so on the front page we ran Marina Hyde's witty take on the British approach to monarchy, plus a teaser to Polly Toynbee's republican article, and on the masthead a trail saying that we had two magazines and seven sections with no royal coverage at all. Incidentally, we also increased the amount of foreign coverage that day."

Viner argues that a World Cup win would engender a similar amount of coverage and prominence.

"The royal wedding has even more significance … it's about class and culture in the UK."

Not the view of columnist Simon Jenkins (Comment, 29 April), who wrote: "The global brain clearly has trouble dissociating the fascination of a happening from its significance, or otherwise."

And therein lies the rub. It's hard to judge the social and cultural significance of a "happening", which pushed up sales of the Guardian by more than 100,000 on the day after the wedding, and which led to more than 3 million people visiting the website on the wedding day. Journalists can, on occasions, lead readers, but cannot wilfully ignore events that can create such a powerful response.

The website, on which there was even more excitement than in the paper, was able to have its cake and eat it. There was a button on its news front page for those who couldn't stand any more – when pressed, all royal coverage disappeared.

The Guardian also did some tongue-in-cheek merchandising. Maybe one T-shirt slogan summed up the paper's ambivalence: "Smash the monarchy … but first look at that lovely dress."

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Chris Elliott

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