This is set to be a damaging week for the Royal Family. The posthumous publication of Virginia Giuffre’s memoirs is likely to lay out further details of Prince Andrew’s involvement with Jeffrey Epstein and his proximity to the abuse of young women. Further stories will likely follow – including around how truthful the Prince has been as this story has developed. Combined with a recent Andrew Lownie book it points to a man who was perilously indulged and indulgent, self-important, self-entitled and wholly uninterested in being held to account. By extension, anything but complete repudiation of Andrew by the Royal Family is set to damage the institution.
On Friday, there was some attempt to limit this damage. It was announced that Prince Andrew would cease to use his titles of nobility and chivalry. He will henceforth be known “simply” as Prince Andrew. Poor reporting has, however, obscured the reality of this. In law, he remains the Duke of York, Earl of Inverness, and Baron of Killyleagh. The same is true of his HRH title and his various knighthoods. If, for example, he was now to have a legitimate son, those hereditary titles would still pass to him. So far, this has been treated as a politeness, rather than a punishment.
The legal reasons for this are simple. There is no way for him to disclaim himself of his titles. The only way to renounce a peerage is under the Peerages Act 1963, famously used by Tony Benn and Alec Douglas-Home. Yet this can only be done within one year of inheritance of a title or achieving majority (or within one year of the act itself passing). Equally, the King has no power to strip the titles – except for “Prince” and “HRH,” which would require Orders in Council and Letters Patent. There is however one body that can – and arguably should – act: Parliament.
Despite the protestations of the government on the media round this morning that such titles are a matter for the Crown, Parliament remains sovereign. An act of parliament would override all aspects of crown prerogative involved in the handing out of titles. A short, sharp law — just a few lines — could declare that from its assent all Andrew’s titles, orders and honours are null and void, and henceforth the artist formerly known as Prince Andrew is now Mr Andrew Windsor.
This would hardly be a parliamentary innovation. Indeed, it has pedigree stretching back centuries. So called “private bills”[1] have been used for centuries dealing with issues which pertain to one person. They were employed to tidy up inheritances among well-to do families, for changes of names, and for many years were the only way for people to be granted a divorce. They have been utilised more recently too – including making provision for Sir Keir Starmer’s pension when he was DPP.
Fans of Tudor history will be particularly familiar with their punitive role. The most extreme form of a private bill has always been the Act of Attainder. These were used against people like Thomas Cromwell and Catherine Howard to bypass the courts and deliver the “justice” which Henry VIII demanded. As a result of attainder, the victim would be stripped of all titles and possessions and sentenced to death. Towards the end of World War II, Churchill considered such acts as a way of dealing with senior Nazis before the Tribunal system was settled upon.
While attaining Prince Andrew would be a step too far, the weaker cousin, a bill of pains and penalties, could see him stripped of all his titles in perpetuity. Such an act was used during the First World War against the titled descendants of Queen Victoria who took up arms for the Kaiser. While each of these acts had its own context and reasons, the fundamental point remains that the precedent is there.
Indeed, it is arguably the perfect tool. Such bills have traditionally been used when Kings have wanted to bypass the court system. At present, it seems unclear if the Prince has committed any criminal acts, and the possibility of such a conviction seems remote. A bill, however, requires none of this. There is no burden of proof of evidence. The matter will be resolved if a parliamentary majority is convinced that his general debauchery and attitude merits it, rather than being tired to any crime.
It also provides a convenient way out for the Palace. The Royal Family’s powers in this are limited, and anything they do is also tempered with the awkwardness of being family. Using the power of parliament breaks this deadlock. While the King would have to assent to any law passed against his brother, refusal would bring on an even greater constitutional crisis.[2] It would be difficult to see such a refusal as anything but the end of the monarchy. Instead, the Andrew problem would be solved without HMK having to make a deliberate choice to turn on his brother. In any real sense, his hands would already be tied.
Perhaps the only outstanding legal question is whether such an act would be compatible with the ECHR. Punishment without conviction is generally frowned upon by the courts, both here and in Strasbourg. However, a tightly drafted law would still at most attract a declaration of incompatibility, which the government could ignore, here. Further, I suspect that Andrew is not sufficiently tone deaf enough to take a challenge all the way through the European courts.
The real question here is whether the government should use parliamentary time to facilitate such a bill. So far, they have seemed reluctant, but there are several good reasons for doing so. The first is a moral one. It is quite clear that Prince Andrew was involved in shifty business wholly unbecoming of the privileges afforded to him. Given he has escaped most other consequences, it seems unfair that he enjoys those privileges, or even the concession of not using them. He deserves the indignity of having them publicly stripped from them.
More than that, it will be popular. Governments are always on the lookout for things that the public like which come with no fiscal cost. This is one of them. Prince Andrew is deeply unpopular, with around two-thirds supporting the removal of his titles. That number could well rise as more revelations spill out. Acting decisively would be a popularity win for the government, and fair better than their current listless approach which seems to lack an understanding of their own power. It is also likely to be one which is popular with their own backbenchers.
This points to another factor for the government. They need to learn what they are capable off. The recurring theme of this government is that it lacks both strategy and effectiveness, often hamstrung by not knowing its own desires or how to get them done. This could be a corrective to this. A lesson in what happens when you commit and find a way. Instead of saying “This is for the palace,” actually look at your own lawmaking powers and what you want to use them for. Getting this resolved might actually give them the sense that they can start pulling levers and making things happen. It could provide a much-needed inoculation against helplessness.
The Prince Andrew affair has been a terrible one for the Royal Family. His behaviour has confirmed the worst suspicions of those raised in gilded privilege. He has shown little of the dignity and duty we expect in return. The coming week will intensify this, and worsen a running sore in Windsor. Only parliament can bring it to an end. Furthermore, they should.
A short private bill would not merely remove a man’s titles, but reaffirm a principle: that privilege is contingent on conduct, that even those born closest to the Crown must answer to the public’s sense of decency, and that Parliament remains supreme. In doing so, the government would show that sovereignty still means something — that power, once recognised, can be exercised with purpose. If ministers are searching for a sign that they can still make things happen, they could start with three words: Mr Andrew Windsor.
Regular readers may have noticed there were no posts the last two weeks - I was away and taking a break. As a result there are also no recommended things I’ve read - but normal service will resume next week and there may be a bonus post or two to come. In the meantime, here’s a picture of a kitten to make up for it:
[1] Not be confused with Private Members Bills
[2] The first use of delegated assent was by Henry VIII who didn’t want to literally sign his wife’s death warrant.