Analysis
A tale of
two brothers: could the Andrew crisis bring down King Charles?
Stephen
Bates
Former
prince’s arrest was most damaging event for the family firm in centuries – and
the questions keep coming
Fri 20
Feb 2026 16.34 GMT
London
fashion week was probably the last public place King Charles III wanted to be
on Thursday, admiring the suits and costumes that no one he knows would dream
of buying, and making light conversation with designers he would have
difficulty in recognising at a royal garden party.
Charles
must have been contemplating the crumbling of all his plans and hopes for his
reign. He always knew it would be short, even before his cancer diagnosis, but
he probably never thought it would be upended by the alleged behaviour of his
own brother.
Thursday
was the most consequential and damaging day for the family firm in centuries,
perhaps since the Glorious Revolution of 1688, or the capture of King Charles I
in 1647 and his execution two years later. Certainly it is worse than Diana’s
death and more threatening than the 1936 abdication crisis, because it
undermines the institution itself.
The
Andrew crisis has not been over in a week or a fortnight – it just goes on
posing questions, not only containable ones limited to Andrew’s apparent
behaviour, but wider ones seeping through whole aspects of the monarchy: its
money, its privacy, its unaccountability, its character and, crucially, its
popularity with the public.
If
Charles really did warn their mother about appointing his brother as a trade
envoy back in 2001 – if that is not just a piece of retrospective palace spin –
why did it take so long for the palace to take action?
It must
have known about “Airmiles” Andy’s extravagance, freeloading and general
boorishness, which has been publicised for years. Did Mountbatten-Windsor’s
staff and royal protection officers know of his other alleged proclivities?
If they
knew and nothing was done, that was taking deference to him and the late queen
too far. As Elizabeth well knew, the monarch’s chief duty is to preserve the
institution for the succession. She seems to have protected her favourite son
and paid at least some of his debts at a cost to Charles’s inheritance.
As it is
now, every gradual step – the removal of public duties, military ranks,
aristocratic and royal titles and the eviction from Royal Lodge – has come too
little too late, where earlier it might have staunched the coming flood.
In
Charles’s statement, rushed out in the wake of his brother’s arrest, not having
been told about what was going to happen in advance, he ended with a plaintive
reminder of his role: “My family and I will continue in our duty and service to
you all.”
Hence his
appearance at the fashion show, and Princess Anne’s dutiful tour of Leeds
prison, ironically, on the same day her brother was in police custody.
In the
circumstances, Charles’s assertion that the law must take its course was the
least he could say: he can scarcely try to hide Andrew from prosecution as
earlier monarchs did in less intrusive, pre-social media ages.
If the
case ever comes to trial, Mountbatten-Windsor will be appearing in the king’s
court, in front of a judge sitting under the royal coat of arms. If convicted
and sentenced to imprisonment, he will serve time at His Majesty’s pleasure.
Again,
any such eventuality is a long way off.
Duty and
service are two lodestars that Andrew apparently failed to observe. “I’m not
doing this trade envoy business for my own good,” he told an interviewer in
2010. His own good seems precisely what he was trying to do.
The
king’s mind at the fashion show must have been elsewhere, probably 100 miles
away in Sandringham where, at Wood Farm on the Norfolk estate, his brother had
been rooted out by plainclothes police officers at 8am – over breakfast? In his
pyjamas? – to be cautioned and arrested on suspicion of misconduct in public
office, alleged to have passed on confidential information about business
opportunities gathered ostensibly for the British government.
Normally
such investigations into a difficult crime to prove take months, if not years –
this one still might – and involve junior officials and police constables, not
the man who is still eighth in line to the British throne.
The
former prince spent most of the rest of his 66th birthday being questioned by
detectives at Aylesham police station. When he was released to be driven back
to the farm in the early evening, Mountbatten-Windsor, far from his usual
appearance of arrogant and complacent disdain, looked shell-shocked and frankly
scared, an eye glowing red in a camera flash’s glare, as he sought to slump
down as far as he could in the rear passenger seat.
It was
the equivalent of what the Americans call the Perp Walk. The picture, which
went round the world in minutes, has already taken its place in a growing
gallery of royal portraits, alongside that of the former prince with his hand
around Virginia Giuffre’s waist in 2001 and poised lubriciously and sweatily
over a recumbent female figure at some unknown date, released in the most
recent tranche of the Epstein files.
We cannot
of course know what was going through Mountbatten-Windsor’s mind on Thursday.
It must be uncomfortable to realise that, thanks to the Epstein files, many of
the things he said to Emily Maitlis in his notorious BBC interview in 2019 –
the one he thought had gone so well at the time – seem to have been proven
untrue. He did not end his association with Epstein – in fact he knew him
rather well. He did know Virginia Giuffre. He can sweat.
Did he
even go to Pizza Express in Woking?
It is one
of the ironies of the whole scandal so far that the release of the files has
had a greater effect in Britain than it has in the US. The only person so far
convicted is Ghislaine Maxwell, who is British. Meanwhile Donald Trump is
insisting he has been totally exonerated; so totally that he keeps repeating
it.
In the US
it is a political football, in the UK it is a constitutional one. It may be the
first time US lawmakers have ever praised the British police and legal system.
Hanging
over all this, and so far unaddressed, is what happened to the young women
trafficked by Epstein, some of them allegedly sent to England in a private jet
to meet the then prince.
If that
is the case, what happened at Stansted and Luton airports when the jet and its
personnel landed? Were the passports checked, were questions asked (“Where are
you staying?”) or were they just waved through?
The
former prime minister Gordon Brown has written to numerous police authorities
in the past week asking for an investigation. Presumably no one further down
the chain noticed, or took an interest at the time.
And what
of Mountbatten-Windsor’s extant roles? He is indubitably eighth in line to the
throne and he remains a counsellor of state with the potential to stand in for
the monarch in their absence.
Neither
is remotely likely to come to pass. The first would require a sort of Kind
Hearts and Coronets scenario, with the king and the next seven in line –
William and his children, George, Charlotte and Louis, and Prince Harry and his
two, Archie and Lilibet – to be wiped out first (there is a reason they don’t
travel by air together).
Similarly,
Andrew would never be called upon in any circumstance now to perform a royal
duty. But still. After the fuss the palace made about how difficult it would be
to remove Andrew’s titles and then how easily it was done, his removal could be
waved through even if it required parliament to do it.
The
palace always pores over its own opinion polls to gauge its continuing
popularity, and public polls have marked a decline in recent months. Ipsos
shows 25% saying it would be better for the monarchy to be abolished, up 10% in
10 years. Asked whether the monarchy will survive, 50% believe there won’t be
one in 50 years.
When one
asks even firm monarchists about the situation, they nervously respond that
they hope the Andrew scandal doesn’t damage the crown. Very, very few seem to
feel sorry for him, while very many think he has brought the trouble on
himself.
The
monarchy is not rocking yet, though a lot of hopes rest on Prince William.
People, particularly the older generation, still like the pageantry and the
street parties, but another serious scandal would push the family nearer the
exit. The age of deference is past, and questions of accountability need to be
answered.
To
paraphrase the Victorian constitutionalist Walter Bagehot, the full glare of
public scrutiny needs uncomfortably to be let in on the magic.
Stephen
Bates is a former Guardian royal correspondent. His books include The Shortest
History of the Crown and Royalty Inc. Britain’s Best-Known Brand.
.jpeg)
.jpeg)
Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário