Why Andrew is the monarchy’s biggest argument for an Australian republic
Former Prince Andrew’s scandals highlight that the monarchy is becoming obsolete and Australia is ready to move on, writes Vince Hooper.
ASK MOST AUSTRALIANS about the former Prince Andrew These days you’ll probably be met with a shrug, a sigh, or a guffaw of laughter. “Isn’t he the guy who can’t sweat?” Before moving on to more relevant royal gossip, someone might joke, as the Prince did HarrySo far or whether the Governor General has actually done anything.
We love our wildlife, but we don’t love the noble reptiles who slip through scandals like they’re dodging customs at Sydney Airport. In the great family saga of crowns and controversy, Andrew’s chapter reads like a dangerous one. Home and AwayIt’s a place where the acting is bad, the excuses are even worse, and everyone wishes the writers would just kill the character off on the spot.
The former Duke of York, fresh from his quiet “exile” to Sandringham and rumored solicitations for public office, remains the monarchy’s strangest subplot. Once dubbed “Air Miles Andy” for his fondness for luxury travel, he now finds himself permanently grounded; an aristocrat without heights and a former Duke without tops.
After those bastards court settlements This left Buckingham Palace red-faced and the royal brand tarnished, leaving public life as small as a Sandringham mansion. He’s as welcome as a warm stump on a stinky, hot summer barbecue.
Yet Australians are generous storytellers. Some think we should make it useful; He thinks we should send him to the Outback to run a bar for stubborn little royals. “Ye Olde Royal Inn of Redemption,” someone jokes with a sign out front: No paparazzi, no questions, no sweat. He could pour beers, burnish his reputation, and tell the locals about a time when he served almost honorably in a family full of poor men.
Our tabloids love it, of course. Nothing sells newspapers like a royal train wreck with a posh Pommy accent. But even they look tired. Like last season’s football scandal; It’s embarrassing, overdone, and impossible to make interesting again. The man who once made wild headlines has now been relegated to the trivia section of royal reporting, stuck somewhere between “palace corgi update” and “Camilla’s new hat.”
Maybe that’s the point: The royal family no longer shapes our headlines; they just complicate them. What once dominated the front pages now reads like nostalgia for an empire that forgot to log off.
Meanwhile, the British monarchy continues to send representatives to remind us that connection still matters. But when it comes to Andrew, even the most patriotic Australian monarchist mutters under his breath: “Yes no, you can keep this.” The palace may regard him as a rehabilitated relative; Australia sees it as a vivid argument for ending the import power concession.
In fact, Andrew’s scandal fatigue says as much about us as it does about him. We’ve reached the point where royal misbehavior is no longer shocking; It just entertains, like reruns of a series we no longer take seriously. Scandal once threatened the Crown; is now just another subplot in an endless Netflix media franchise.
But Australia moved on. We have celebrities and former prime ministers to embarrass us, and we have public inquiries to provide moral education. The monarchy is increasingly like a colonial subscription service that we forget to cancel; a relic that automatically regenerates whenever a royal cuts the ribbon or waves from the balcony. Andrew’s misfortunes remind us how little we need the brand.
The truth is that he did what no constitutional lawyer or campaigner could achieve: he made the idea of an Australian republic seem like a fair dinkum. It’s hard to defend hereditary privilege when the heir’s brother is a walking HR crisis. There is an unspoken fatigue even among monarchists; an acknowledgment that the mystery has dulled.
Maybe that’s what modern monarchy is like: not a glorious ostentation, but a slow, awkward drift into irrelevance. Scandals no longer spark outrage; They make you roll your eyes. Ostentation seems strange and hierarchy seems absurd. Andrew has inadvertently become the monarchy’s cautionary tale; proof that power inherited without responsibility always rots from within.
On the contrary, it has become the best argument for an Australian republic since the last referendum. The idea that we should still curtsey – figuratively or otherwise – to a disgraceful family making front-page news for all the wrong reasons feels absurdly outdated. We don’t need a scandal to make us interesting or a prince to make us proud. We are a lucky country!
So if Andrew feels unwelcome in London, we’ll politely decline his retirement trip here. The Outback is a harsh region, but even snakes deserve better company. Let him stay at Sandringham, polish his trophies and watch old news clips. The rest of us have a nation to govern; a nation that doesn’t need royal drama to prove it’s grown up.
Because after all, maybe this is the silent revolution: We God Save the Queen with Dude, Save Yourself. And if this means finally cutting the royal cord, then Prince Andrew – whether he sweats or not – may have done Australia a service. I will say God Save the King to this!
Vince Hooper is a proud Australian/British citizen and professor of finance and discipline at the SP Jain School of Global Management, which has campuses in London, Dubai, Mumbai, Singapore and Sydney.
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