Even as he grudgingly surrendered his dukedom last week amid a ceaseless onslaught of allegations about his sexual and financial affairs, Prince Andrew managed to remain graceless and obnoxious.

“I’ve decided, as I always have, to put my duty to my family and country first,” said the man who’s rarely appeared to put anyone else ahead of his own wants and needs. His latest reluctant retreat from the limelight came after claims that he’d dissembled about the duration of his friendship with the now deceased pedophile Jeffrey Epstein — and as a book by alleged victim Virginia Giuffre is posthumously published detailing the abuse she claimed to have suffered from both men.

The prince has insisted he had no memory of meeting Giuffre, despite paying her a reported £12 million ($16 million) three years ago to stop her civil claim against him. Police are investigating an email he allegedly sent in 2011 describing how he instructed his taxpayer-funded security detail to dig up dirt on her. Andrew has always vigorously denied all the accusations against him.

The ugly saga highlights the absurdity of the hereditary principle, a childish idea that the best way to select a head of state is to take one family, regardless of merit, and bestow on them deference and wealth beyond the wildest dreams of most. All that’s asked in return is that they take on a few drab duties such as opening leisure centers, doing a bit of overseas glad-handing and having heads of state — some unpleasant — over for tea or dinner.

It's not just that Andrew has fallen so far below the standards of conduct required of anyone who demands fealty as birthright, it’s that all too often this kind of privilege has a corrosive effect on the person who possesses it.

In a hereditary monarchy, it’s a roll of the dice whether the chosen clan’s members are viewed as decent — at least to the standards most of us live by, including affairs, divorce and family squabbles — or royal reprobates. King Charles III and his heir Prince William seem to be in the first camp. But that’s luck, not judgment. Andrew joins a long line of blue-blooded outcasts.

Nor is he the first younger sibling to act out after failing to find sufficient purpose outside the top jobs. The late, troubled Princess Margaret once burst into a room where her sister Queen Elizabeth II was holding an audience with then prime minister Harold Macmillan. “No one would talk to you if you weren’t the Queen,” she howled jealously.

William’s brother Harry wrote an entire book, Spare, which you can sum up as the psychological scarring left by watching each successive baby heir bump you down the succession ladder. Andrew was next in line to the throne after his brother for 22 years; Harry for 29. Living under the pitiless and distorting glare of British tabloids without any of the attending ceremonial power must be its own peculiar torment, but it doesn’t excuse all kinds of behavior.

It’s the name of the hereditary game: A monarchy based on primogeniture means it’s only “unfair” on the spare prince in the building in the same way it’s unfair that you or I are denied a crown. Into her 90s, Elizabeth refused to abdicate because she understood the fragility of the hereditary principle. If you can step aside in favor of a more suitable relative, why not go one further and remove the family from the equation altogether?

Before Andrew, the lowest moment for the monarchy of the last century — discounting the mistreatment of Princess Diana — came with Edward VIII’s abdication. His worst crime, according to the British state, wasn’t fraternizing with Nazis (footage emerged a few years ago of him teaching the young Elizabeth to perform a Sieg Heil salute) but his desire to marry a twice-divorced American. The crown passed to the more “suitable” George VI, whose wife, another Elizabeth, always described Edward’s abdication as selfish, partly because of the burden it placed on her husband but also because it exposed the arbitrary nature of monarchy.

Thanks to his status as the late Queen’s son, Andrew will remain a prince of the realm until he dies, no matter how much he trashes his reputation. His poor judgment brought embarrassment to his family before he met the venal Epstein. It was no great surprise he was drawn into the financier’s orbit.

Amid the furor over Giuffre’s book, there have been calls for Andrew to be formally stripped of his titles by Parliament, to be forced to explain his financial links to shady foreign associates and to quit his 30-room Royal Lodge in Windsor Great Park where he pays only a peppercorn rent. There are demands, too, from those seeking justice for Epstein’s surviving victims, for Andrew to give testimony on what he knew about his associate’s crimes.

All of these demands are legitimate, yet they duck the deeper constitutional question on why in the 21st century we need royals at all.

British royalists point approvingly to Walter Bagehot’s comments during Victoria’s reign that the merit of using a monarch “in a dignified capacity, is incalculable.” While the Windsors are a long way from perfect, they concede, a constitutional monarchy remains the best form of government for the UK as it elegantly separates the role of head of state from the messy and impermanent business of running the country.

Some argue that the nation’s warm feelings for the Windsors help it avoid the more flammable varieties of patriotism, although the forward march of flag-waving rabble-rousers like Tommy Robinson and Nigel Farage calls that reasoning into question.

I’d go as far as to suggest that monarchy itself — constitutional or not — can be inherently corrupting and undemocratic. See the King of Thailand Maha Vajiralongkorn, whom it’s a crime to insult, and the abdicated Spanish king, Juan Carlos. Or look at newish monarchies across the Middle East and Africa who abuse their status to siphon billions from their countries’ resources.

The cri de coeur of protesters who marched in the US against Donald Trump’s abuses of power last weekend was “No Kings.” The Windsors of course have none of the executive might that Trump wields ever more dangerously. A neutered British regent could never inflict the same terror as a wayward president. But the banner slogan still applies. No system of monarchy can possibly be more legitimate than a head of state who’s chosen in free, fair elections.

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This column reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.

Rosa Prince is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering UK politics and policy. She was formerly an editor and writer at Politico and the Daily Telegraph, and is the author of "Comrade Corbyn" and "Theresa May: The Enigmatic Prime Minister."

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