When I first came upon the now infamous photo of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, slumped in the back of a car, a line from Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray” immediately came to mind: “Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man’s face. It cannot be concealed.”
But that hasn’t stopped Andrew and the House of Windsor from trying.
Late last year, I argued that the Royals had failed to follow one of the most fundamental rules of crisis management: get to the endgame fast.
What does that mean? It means that at the first sign of serious trouble, you move immediately to the action that you know will ultimately have to be taken.
In Andrew’s case, once it became publicly known that he had maintained a long-standing relationship with convicted pedophile Jeffrey Epstein, decisive steps should have been taken immediately: remove him as a working royal, strip him of his titles, sever all taxpayer-subsidized accommodation and benefits. Instead, we witnessed hesitation and half measures. And the final necessary step, removing him from the line of succession, has yet to happen.
When you fail to move decisively, the damage does not arrive in a single catastrophic blow. It is, in fact, worse. It comes in slow, corrosive drips over time that undermine the entire institution.
Last week, police arrested Mountbatten-Windsor on charges of misconduct in public office over allegations that he shared confidential government reports with Epstein while serving as a U.K. trade envoy in 2010.
Heaven only knows what is yet to come. This can no longer be branded as an isolated, “rotten apple” issue. It is an institutional crisis.
The gravest danger in any episode of elite misconduct, whether in government, business or a constitutional monarchy, is not simply the wrongdoing itself. It is the possibility that the wrongdoing reflected a permissive culture, enabled by silence or wilful blindness.
When that possibility arises, disciplining the individual is no longer sufficient. The scrutiny climbs the ladder. It cuts its way upward to the figure who embodies or leads the institution. And whenever questions of “who knew what, and when?” begin to surface, as they now have around the House of Windsor, you are in a perilous place.
There are flashing arrows pointing toward the only remaining stabilizing move: the King should step aside and allow Prince William to assume the throne.
This is what endgame looks like. It is what remains after years of incrementalism and reluctance. Because the failure to act early leaves only more dramatic action later. And make no mistake: dramatic action is now required.
For decades, the personal popularity of Queen Elizabeth II shielded the monarchy from deeper structural vulnerabilities. Her presence acted as a stabilizing force that transcended criticism.
That buffer is gone. Now, amid cost-of-living pressures across the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth, public patience is much thinner.
But that’s not all. The Epstein affair is no routine scandal. It is emblematic of a broader public revulsion toward elite impunity and the perception that the powerful operate by different rules. Of the many horrific allegations that emerged from the Epstein investigations, remarkably only three individuals have faced criminal consequences: Epstein himself, now dead; his principal accomplice, Ghislaine Maxwell, serving a 20-year sentence; and now Andrew.
Notably, Andrew’s charges are not yet related to the alleged sexual assault of Virginia Giuffre, but on allegations of misconduct in public office. As Sam Sifton of The New York Times observes, it has the feel of prosecuting Al Capone for tax evasion.
All this matters because when accountability appears partial or indirect, public suspicion does not dissipate, it intensifies.
Which brings us back to the institution itself.
How sorry would it be for a man who has waited his entire adult life to serve his people as King to have to conclude that the only way to save the very monarchy he loves so much is with his own departure.
How monumental would be a decision at once so historic and yet so deeply personal for not only him but for the House of Windsor itself.
Some will insist that a monarch’s duty is to remain. But the higher expression of duty may well be sacrifice. To relinquish the throne not out of weakness, but out of stewardship and a genuine understanding of the course of history. To allow William and Catherine to inherit not a diminished institution fighting for credibility, but one renewed through decisive leadership.
