Entre Deux Feux was published in France this week, the first of several books which will treat the public to an insight into the tumultuous love life of President Hollande. This follows hot on the heels of the publication of pictures that exposed the particulars of Prince Harry’s trip to Las Vegas. In both cases, the debate has centred around whether journalists have sufficient reason to enlighten us about what public figures get up to ‘off duty’. It’s the legal and philosophical issue of the extent of ‘the public interest’.

It is an undeniable fact that we, the public, have a keen interest in the private lives of those in the public eye – such publications would not exist were that not the case. Part of the fascination is no doubt due to puerile nosiness, and editorial decisions that appeal to this prying are regrettable.  But ‘an interest’ is not the same as ‘a public interest’ – the idea that the public ought to know everything they need to, in order to make an informed decision. And generally speaking, most people do think that a glimpse of what someone is like when the TV cameras aren’t trained on them qualifies. This is supported by a survey recently conducted by Theos, which shows that over 70% of the British public think that politicians ought to have higher personal moral standards than ordinary members of the public.

This is hardly controversial. It’s very much an issue of character, integrity and honesty. As much as a politician may claim that their formal position, and their technical proficiency, is separable from what they do in ‘the private sphere’, the broader public cannot divorce their decisions from their personality. They know that the choices public officials make are always intrinsically linked to the person they are. Those with authority over the public cannot expect their private lives to be kept entirely separate.

Now that counts for Hollande – a democratically elected politician – but not for Harry, whose position and behaviour the public have no say in whatsoever. Indeed, Harry’s actions have largely been treated as amusing confirmation of his reputation as “a bad boy, a cheeky chappy and a life-and-soul lout”. If anything, it enforces the general consensus that he is better suited to his own role than his brother’s. But why should he be subject to different standards than Charles or William?

In western culture there are remnants of the medieval belief that somehow the king’s body literally is the state – he is the body politic. We can’t shake the feeling that what those of real or symbolic authority do can be identified with what it is to be British, or French. Thus, we expect our public leaders to embody the values that we uphold as a society. Even if aspects of the private lives of public figures do not directly affect their judgments as leaders, they are held to higher standards by virtue of their symbolic status. Herein lies the reason for the differing public reactions to Prince Harry and Hollande: the Prince is only an heir to the throne, and a fairly removed one at that. The public reaction would no doubt have been somewhat different had it been Prince Charles holidaying in Las Vegas.

Amy Taylor is reading for an MPhil in Philosophical Theology at Oxford University and is an intern at Theos