There is something quietly radical about Princess Anne's refusal to shake hands, and it has nothing to do with rudeness. She calls the custom "patently absurd," and we suspect she is right. While the rest of the Royal Family, Prince William, Princess Kate, King Charles, has embraced the warmer, more personal gesture during walkabouts, the Princess Royal has held fast to the old rule: you cannot shake hands with everyone, so you do not start. It is a position that could easily read as cold, but in her telling, it becomes something else entirely: a quiet act of equity. By refusing to single out a few for a handshake, she ensures that every person in the crowd is met with the same attention, the same eye contact, the same brief but genuine exchange. It is not distance she is guarding; it is fairness. This conviction feels especially resonant in a moment when royal gestures are being recalibrated for warmth, as explored in A royal bid to heal the divide between Princes fell short, where even the best intentions among senior royals could not bridge a personal rift. Anne's approach suggests that formality, when rooted in principle, is not the enemy of connection, it is its guardian.
What strikes us most is the clarity of her reasoning. She does not judge those who shake hands; she simply observes that the walkabout has transformed into a "shaking hands exercise," and in doing so, has lost something of its original purpose. That purpose, as she remembers it, was conversation. And conversation, she notes, has become nearly impossible when every fan is holding up a phone or an iPad. "You don't know who you're talking to," she says, and the line lands with the weight of someone who has watched the public shift from engagement to documentation. She has adapted in her own way, either skipping the interaction entirely or telling people plainly to put the device down if they want to meet her. It is direct, unapologetic, and deeply intentional. In an era where every royal appearance is curated for maximum accessibility, Anne's insistence on being met eye-to-eye feels like a small rebellion. It also echoes the understated evolution happening elsewhere in the family, like the quiet refinement of The Tweed Bag the Royals Love Gets a Quiet Fall Update, where tradition is not discarded but gently updated to suit the moment.
The consequence for the rest of us is a useful question: What are we losing as we make everything more accessible? Princess Anne's stance suggests that not every barrier is a wall. Some are simply boundaries drawn to protect the quality of an encounter. She has chosen consistency over popularity, and in doing so, has preserved a version of royal duty that feels increasingly rare. The next time you watch a walkabout clip, notice who is shaking hands and who is simply standing still, waiting to be seen. Anne's choice is the one that asks more of the crowd, and perhaps that is exactly the point.