How do you solve a problem like Prince Andrew? Finally, a royal conundrum that unites left and right: the disgraced ex-duke roundly castigated as “dim”, “pompous”, “oversexed” and “entitled”, and that’s before conversations turn to what happened with the late Virginia Giuffre, a Jeffrey Epstein victim whose $12m receipt of a royal payoff was not enough to save her own life.
Andrew insists he is innocent. Like he insisted he had no more contact with Epstein after that fond farewell in December 2010? These days, it is all too easy to trash Andrew. The nation’s communal whipping boy, this pilloried blimp’s public denigration has become so singular that feeling sorry for him has acquired its own subculture in quiet conservative corners of England.
Yet one of the biggest questions in the week when Ms Giuffre’s memoir was published had nothing to do with the prince’s relationship with her, but of worrying about whether Andrew has paid a peppercorn rent for the Royal Lodge. The direction of travel will be of deep concern beyond palace walls. After all, what is one dodgy lease in an institution so rich, secretive and well-protected that none of us (historians, journalists, civil servants and politicians alike) have a clue exactly how Andrew finances the upkeep and security on that 30-room behemoth in Windsor Great Park?
Beyond yet more headlines focused on the prince’s dodgy business associations, I suspect the King has something to do with it. After all, thanks to former prime minister John Major, in the wake of the late Queen’s annus horribilis and in exchange for paying voluntary income tax on royal wealth, the sovereign was exempt from inheritance tax on any assets passed down the line of succession.
It is rumoured (and likely) that Elizabeth II left Andrew very little (why give it directly to the second son when it can be funnelled tax-free through the first?) What you can be pretty sure of is that the late Queen will have future-proofed Andrew’s finances before she departed. But exactly how she did this is anyone’s guess. An act of parliament prevents the publication of the monarch’s will. Not so for lesser royals, but despite the best efforts of some journalists, Prince Philip’s will is under wraps for some 90 years.
As for King Charles – by far the richest British sovereign in modern times – we were told he cut his brother off financially last year. Beyond the gleeful headlines, where is the actual proof? Of course, one does not question the monarch. Convention dictates that MPs can’t even raise queries about His Majesty or the royal family in parliament.
Please note that the government has rejected a tabled debate on Andrew’s titles and “taxpayer-funded home”. After all, bills require royal assent, and one would not want to put King Charles in an invidious position. Supine politicians of all colours have always found it easier to roll over in the face of royal turbulence. As ex-Tory chancellor Ken Clarke sagely observed: most “are so in awe of the royal family that expressions of displeasure from the palace about issues bearing directly on the family can usually produce quite significant policy shifts”.
However, certain administrations have been more prone to capitulation in the face of royal pressure than others. Under prime minister David Cameron, a distant cousin of the late Queen whose first job in politics came with a recommendation from Buckingham Palace, a new financial deal was struck for royalty – the sovereign grant replaced the civil list and even when the penny dropped that it would guarantee royalty a financial win even in a bad year, any attempts at push back were futile. The palace dug its heels in and that was that. Likewise, under Cameron’s stewardship, royal correspondence was protected from costly freedom of information inquiries.
In other words, today’s equivalent of those infamous black spider memos from the then Prince Charles would never see the light of day. We have no clue whether and what lobbying powers Prince William engages in because Cameron severed one of the few means of evaluating behind-the-scenes royal influence on the body politic.
William and his father, as the dukes of vast business and real estate conglomerates – Cornwall and Lancaster, respectively – not only evade corporation, capital gains and inheritance tax, but they have an unchallenged back-channels into the heart of government decision-making. Phew, you well may think, thank goodness Andrew wasn’t the late Queen’s firstborn. How lightly we escaped with Andrew masquerading as a mere national trade envoy (one inexplicably protected from FOI inquiries until 2065).
But there is a very serious point here about transparency when it comes to the royal family’s wealth, private investments and other sources of income that are kept from the public. William appeared on a carefully curated Apple TV documentary recently to talk about “change” under his stewardship when the time comes. But exactly what sort of change?
Do we really think he is going to usher in an era of transparency, hack away at the thicket of privilege and opacity that the royals have for so long enjoyed? Of course, he isn’t. William is talking of superficial optics, the sort our press are obsessed with – for example, whether Andrew is allowed into Sandringham this Christmas, or if there will be 12 royals, not 10 on the Buckingham Palace balcony for Trooping.
The sort of structural change our royal family so desperately needs is less superficial and far more uncomfortable: it would require a radical overhaul and opening up of the system that governs royalty’s wealth and political access.
As it stands, the House of Windsor relies entirely on the decency of its respective players. Andrew is a predictable dud in an institution urgently requiring major renovation. “Let them eat cake,” came Marie Antoinette’s apocryphal cry before she lost her head. History tells us that subjects overthrow ruling dynasties if they show themselves to be out of touch, even exploitative.
In contemporary Britain, much is made of our constitutional monarchy’s lack of real political power as the key to its exceptional survival. But ultimately, that survival is dependent on the royal family’s popularity with the public.
If recent polling is to be believed, going forward, that popular support is by no means a given. In other words, the House of Windsor cannot afford another Andrew. But the odds suggest there will be another, unless the political establishment grasps the nettle and is brave enough to talk truth and real change to royal power.
Tessa Dunlop is the author of ‘
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