The photograph in the back of the Range Rover said it all. There was once a time when Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor envied not just his brother Charles’s rank, but his visual ubiquity, his face as recognisable as a postage stamp.
After the past six months’ front pages Andrew might, if he has any self-awareness left, finally recognise the value of anonymity. There isn’t a soul now who couldn’t recognise the greying, bloated man in the photo: wide-eyed, thin-lipped, like a rabbit panicking at the mouth of a burrow.
The British royals and those close to them have always understood that they are both prey and predator. Among the most famous words spoken about a royal figure in the modern era are those from Charles Spencer’s elegy for his sister Diana: “A girl given the name of the ancient goddess of hunting was, in the end, the most hunted person of the modern age.”
Now Andrew, more appropriately, is the target. He reminds me of the mythic Greek king Pentheus, remembered in Euripides’ play The Bacchae. Uptight, status obsessed and fond of insulting the staff, by the end of The Bacchae Pentheus is described as a hunted animal. He is torn to pieces by the same women who have just discovered him voyeuristically leering at their scantily clad rites.
I joined Republic, the campaign to abolish the monarchy, at the age of 16 and have barely moderated my views on monarchy since. For years I have written columns arguing that the institution of the Royal Family is a mechanism for corruption and structural inequality, with the former “prince” Andrew its inevitable product. Greek myths have currency in modern Britain – the National Theatre programmed The Bacchae last autumn, nearly 2,500 years after Euripides wrote it – because they ask resonant questions in a nation still in thrall to mobs and monarchies.
When does righteous anger become blood lust? When does public punishment become private tragedy? What happens to princes who forget humility? And what is the responsibility of a society when it creates a monster?
We know, from watching Andrew, that his character was formed by the institution that raised him. Andrew Lownie’s impeccably researched biography only confirms what had been long whispered: his mother’s unshakeable protection allowed him to grow from bullying classmates as a child to bullying servants as an adult.
This wasn’t a secret. In his years of “service” as a trade envoy, every well-connected London dinner party had a story about Andrew’s demands for deference and tax-payer funded golf trips.
In a 2005 interview, Prince Harry was widely perceived to take a side-swipe while speaking of his own hope of a future as a royal second son: “I’m not going to be some person in the Royal Family who just finds a lame excuse to go abroad and do all sorts of sunny holidays and whatever.” We all knew exactly whom he was talking about. We were complicit, until the bravery of Virginia Roberts Giuffre made complacency impossible. What happens next?
Euripides offers one lesson: question every part of our civic structures, but never forget that even tyrants are human. If Andrew faces charges, he should face the full process of the law. Things get nasty when we deny him the basic rights that we should allow to all accused criminals facing justice.
That includes the right to visitors if incarcerated; the right to rebuild family relationships in private; the right of his family to put a roof over his head, if they can. Already, we hear voices arguing that if Andrew goes to jail, the Royal Family should cut all contact. The Church of England, of which Andrew’s brother Charles remains the head, teaches that visiting those in prison is a core Christian duty. Forgetting this charge for fear of bad PR would make for a poor moral leader.
It is easy now to turn our fury on Andrew. In many ways, he deserves it. But ordering his family to disown him, a bloodshot scapegoat for all their privilege, lets them avoid the tougher questions.
The Royal Family created Andrew, because they are creatures of the same culture. They have a duty of care to him as a family. We have a duty to keep our eyes on the whole pack.
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‘ The preceding article may include information circulated by third parties ’
‘ Some details of this article were extracted from the following source inews.co.uk ’
