Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor’s scandals weren’t lapses – they were bred by a system that shields its own and punishes perception, not behaviour, argues Herald columnist Calum Steele

There is something of a strange habit that exists amongst former cops. When they get together and invariably share war stories about the most despicable folk they locked up, the subject of the conversation is usually referred to by the full name their mother gave them. It no doubt stems from the working practice drilled into you from day one that you record first name, all middle names, surnames, nicknames and aliases from anyone whose details ever made their way into your notebook.

On top of that any accused who subsequently found themselves convicted has their Sunday name read out in all its glory before sentence is passed, and in some small psychological way giving someone their full handle reinforces their position in our minds as cretins worthy of extreme disdain. Revelling in the misfortunes of others is, after all, a pastime we indulge in more often than we care to admit.

You would think therefore that the endless references to Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor (AMW) would create a schadenfreude pool so deep that I’d soak in it for hours. A man, I was going to say, more worthy of disdain, you would struggle to find – but he is sadly one in a long list of those disgraced in the Epstein files, although to be fair he has worked harder than most to earn the pillorying he now receives. The hyphen in the new abridged name means nothing as you don’t see it when you say it; he is now merely a triple-named man like the hundreds of thousands of others recorded on police systems across the country and he deserves all the notoriety and dripping contempt that goes with it.

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Yet I find myself jarred whenever the three names are deployed – not because I feel a second of sympathy for him, but because this linguistic demotion is not about Andrew at all. It is about the survival instincts of an institution that protects itself first, last and always.

The House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha has form here. It may not be renowned for deft public relations but has no hesitation in acting when the stench of association started clinging to them all after years of apparent myopia at the behaviours of its Prince Andrew.

The Royal Household is awash with staff. Valets, servants, private secretaries and countless others besides are in near constant contact with those they work for. So too the British Government civil servants who support trade ambassadors and who through the police, sustain and provide security for them. They know who comes and goes, the company kept, the reputations whispered about, and they know how those who they work for are spoken about behind their backs.

Andrew’s past behaviours and associations are hardly news. His sense of entitlement and general oafishness has been common knowledge for decades. A blundering ignoramus and renowned philanderer – he held a unique status amongst the police officers I know who have been involved in providing security for the royals – he was uniquely despised. Little wonder a former royalty protection officer recently revealed his nickname amongst officers was synonymous with meeting someone the day after the upcoming Monday.

And yet for all of these personal qualities – what did the Royal Household do? Where was the concern? Where was the action? The never complain, never explain doctrine that has served it so well for over a century was fully deployed, and for as long as nothing provable forced their hand, he remained free to enjoy the titles, status and privileges afforded to him by virtue of his birth.

Spare me the indignity that we now see.

The Royal Household has shown it is more than a master of the dark arts when it wants to be. The innumerable briefings and leaks about another of its princes – this time Harry – more than reveals the willingness to be brutal when it suits. The treatment of Harry tells us much about what was deemed tolerable and what was not. The reported payment of £12 million to settle a civil lawsuit over a sexual assault allegation was swallowed – but a man seeking to ensure the privacy, safety and security of his wife and family was a bridge too far.

The pomp of letters patent, which declared that “AMW has been entitled to hold and enjoy the style, title or attribute of “Royal Highness” and the titular dignity of “Prince” and that by declaration he shall no longer be able to do so are one thing, but, and I suspect this was the absolute intention, they have been taken to mean something else entirely.

Just because Andrew is formally stripped of his titles doesn’t mean we need to pretend. Using "AMW" won’t erase the fact that this was a prince whose conduct sullied the institution. Let’s pretend that, by continual use of AMW, we demote the prince to the status of mere commoner, for the nobility could never be sullied by such opprobrium.

Prince Andrew may not be allowed to call himself a prince – but that doesn’t demand the rest of us cannot do so. The tedious repetition in every single newspaper, radio station, and television news programme of AMW is giving the Royal Household (and for that matter the British Government) a free pass here.

Prince Harry has been subject to briefings and leaks (Image: PA)

Every accusation he is facing has come about from his behaviour whilst officially and unquestionably a prince. His access, his money, his travel, security, secrecy – every single aspect has only been possible because he is a member of the titled nobility. He is one of theirs, they should own that, and not be allowed to forget it.

Let us not be fooled by the ceremonial stripping of titles. The institution endures while a man coddled for so long is now sacrificed. Andrew’s behaviours are not some isolated moral lapse – they were made possible, facilitated, and shielded by the very system that now gestures indignantly at his name.

Every private jet, every closed-door meeting, every palace tour, every loophole exploited, every whispered excuse was a function of his birthright. And for decades, the highest echelons of the state looked the other way, secure in the knowledge that the monarchy itself could not be touched.

Now, with AMW paraded in headlines like some linguistic punishment, the establishment demonstrates what it always has: it can sacrifice its members when necessary, but never itself. We should call it what it is: performative nonsense masking unflinching institutional self-preservation.

Calum Steele is a former General Secretary of the Scottish Police Federation, and former general secretary of the International Council of Police Representative Associations. He remains an advisor to both.

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