What Do We Do About Andrew? Prince Andrew, Andrew Tate, and Male Entitlement
Friday, August 28, 2026.
Friday, August 28, 2026.
There are two famous British men named Andrew whom polite society does not quite know what to do with.
One was born in Buckingham Palace.
The other built a digital palace from sports cars, cigar smoke, grievance, and apparently inexhaustible Wi-Fi.
Prince Andrew inherited status. Andrew Tate manufactured it.
One represents the exhausted final chapter of aristocratic male privilege.
The other represents its energetic reinvention for the algorithmic age.
They are not equivalent men.
The allegations against them differ, their legal situations differ, and those distinctions matter.
Prince Andrew denied Virginia Giuffre’s allegations and settled her civil lawsuit without admitting liability.
Tate denies the criminal allegations against him, which remain subject to legal proceedings across several jurisdictions.
But culturally, they belong in the same room.
Both became symbols of a masculine fantasy that has survived every apparent modernization of sexual life:
A sufficiently important man should not have to experience women as fully separate people.
The costume changed.
But the proposition did not.
The Prince and the Influencer
Prince Andrew was born into a world in which deference arrived before he did.
The palace opened doors. Servants anticipated needs. Invitations were rarely refused. The architecture of royal life taught an unavoidable lesson: some people enter a room carrying more reality than others.
Andrew Tate came from no such world.
He had to build one.
His palace was assembled from social media clips, declarations of masculine supremacy, photographs of expensive cars, and a commercial empire offering young men admission to a supposedly hidden reality.
Prince Andrew was protected by an institution.
Tate created an audience willing to function like one.
The prince’s authority descended through bloodlines. Tate’s rose through followers, reposts, subscription fees, and the internet’s peculiar willingness to mistake confidence for evidence.
One man’s status said:
Do you know who I am?
The other man’s status said:
Do you know how high-value I am?
Women standing near either system might hear the same thing underneath:
Your reality has less standing than mine.
Old Entitlement and New Entitlement
Prince Andrew represents old entitlement.
Old entitlement is quiet because it does not need to advertise. It has footmen, private entrances, and people whose livelihood depends upon not noticing too much.
It assumes the world has already been properly arranged.
Tate represents new entitlement.
New entitlement is noisy because it must continually reproduce itself. It needs clips, enemies, rankings, luxury props, and an uninterrupted supply of young men wondering why women do not appreciate them.
It assumes the world has been improperly arranged and offers male dominance as the repair.
Prince Andrew is the product of a social order in which rank conferred access.
Andrew Tate is the salesman for a social order in which men are told they can earn access by becoming sufficiently rich, feared, muscular, visible, or “high value.”
The old promise was aristocratic.
The new promise is aspirational.
But both make the exact same category error.
They confuse desirability with entitlement. They assume that being wanted by some women—or admired by other men—creates a claim upon women in general.
It does not.
Tate Did Not Invent the Lonely Boy
It would be reassuring to believe that Andrew Tate caused the problem.
Then we could ban the accounts, remove the videos, prosecute any crimes that can be proved, and send the children back to algebra.
But Tate did not invent the lonely, frightened, sexually inexperienced young man.
He recognized him as a market.
Some boys drawn into Tate’s world are angry. Some are grandiose. Some enjoy the misogyny.
Others are bewildered.
They have been told that men possess enormous social privilege while privately experiencing themselves as unnecessary.
They see girls appearing more verbally confident, more relationally connected, and often more academically successful.
They enter an online sexual marketplace where a small number of highly visible people appear to receive nearly all the attention.
Then an algorithm introduces them to a man who explains everything.
You are not lonely because intimacy is difficult.
You are lonely because women have become arrogant.
You are not frightened of rejection.
You are insufficiently dominant.
You do not need to learn curiosity, emotional regulation, or courtship.
You need money, muscle, status, and control.
It is an excellent business model because it converts pain into grievance and grievance into recurring revenue.
Research with teachers suggests that Tate-influenced language has entered schools, affecting how some boys speak about girls and female teachers.
But boys are not a single ideological bloc. Studies of their responses find admiration, irony, disgust, uncertainty, and resistance.
That complexity matters.
A boy repeating Tate’s language may be rehearsing misogyny. He may also be testing an identity, signaling membership, or concealing humiliation beneath a borrowed swagger.
The language must be challenged.
But the boy must still be understood.
Otherwise, Tate remains the only adult who appears interested in explaining his pain.
What Prince Andrew Was Not Told
Prince Andrew’s disastrous 2019 Newsnight interview remains culturally important because it revealed more than questionable judgment.
It revealed the psychological insulation of rank.
Andrew apparently believed that explaining his association with Jeffrey Epstein, presenting his recollection of PizzaExpress, and discussing his inability to perspire would restore the natural order of things.
It did not seem to occur to him that viewers would be watching for grief, moral comprehension, or spontaneous concern for the girls and young women surrounding Epstein.
He supplied details.
The audience was looking for a conscience.
This is one effect of extreme social protection. A man can become so accustomed to having his intentions interpreted generously that he loses the ability to imagine how he appears from outside himself.
He may retain the human capacity for empathy.
But the surrounding system has made its use unnecessary.
Nobody becomes this insulated alone.
There are always courtiers.
The Small Domestic Prince
Most entitled men are neither princes nor influencers.
They are husbands.
They do not own castles, international businesses, fleets of cars, or enormous online followings. Their kingdoms may consist of a successful career, a respected surname, a large income, an advanced degree, or the belief that nobody understands how much pressure they are under.
Their entitlement arrives in domesticated forms:
His intentions should outweigh her experience.
His professional importance should outweigh the family’s needs.
His sexual frustration should outweigh her autonomy.
His apology should end the discussion.
His betrayal should be understood in context, while her anger is treated as a character defect.
His exhaustion is an emergency. Hers is poor time management.
His withdrawal is self-protection. Hers is punishment.
Her continuing pain becomes an act of disloyalty.
Accountability feels like humiliation because he has confused being respected with being exempt.
This is where the two Andrews enter couples therapy—not as celebrities, but as relational patterns.
The deeper problem is failed reciprocity.
Intimacy requires two partners whose realities carry equal moral weight. They will not have equal strength every day. They may not earn equal incomes, possess equal social status, or contribute identically in every season.
But neither life partner can become the permanent supporting character in their counterpart’s heroic narrative.
Marriage cannot survive indefinitely when one partner is treated as the nation and the other as a minor territory.
When Shame Replaces Accountability
Entitled men often experience accountability as annihilation.
This is why conversations about their behavior can become strangely theatrical. A wife raises one specific injury and soon finds herself reassuring her husband that he is not an irredeemably horrible person.
The conversation quietly changes subjects.
His conduct disappears.
His shame becomes the emergency.
This maneuver may be deliberate, but it is often automatic. Shame protects entitlement by making honest examination feel psychologically unbearable.
A mature man can say:
I did something harmful without becoming nothing but a harmful man.
He can remain present while another person describes pain he caused.
He can distinguish explanation from exoneration.
He can surrender the privilege of deciding when the injured person should have “moved on.”
He can tolerate the discovery that his self-image was incomplete.
That is not emasculation.
That is functional adulthood.
What Do We Do About Andrew?
We investigate serious allegations carefully.
We prosecute crimes when the evidence supports prosecution.
We stop allowing money, royalty, celebrity, political usefulness, or enormous audiences to operate as private forms of immunity.
We believe neither powerful men nor their accusers automatically. We examine evidence, protect due process, and recognize how frequently powerful systems make the pursuit of truth exhausting for less powerful people.
But removing individual men will not be enough.
If Prince Andrew disappeared completely from public memory tomorrow, the institution that formed him would still be comprehensible.
If every Andrew Tate account vanished tonight, the fierce adolescent hunger to which he speaks would remain online tomorrow morning.
Another man would reliably exploit it.
We need to offer boys a more convincing account of masculinity before the next salesman arrives.
That account cannot consist of telling boys to become harmless, apologetic, and pleasantly ashamed of themselves.
Boys will not build an identity around being assured that they are the demographic problem.
They need an image of male strength that is neither domination nor disappearance.
Strength means tolerating frustration without making it someone else’s emergency.
It means surviving rejection without converting humiliation into contempt.
It means protecting your partner without possessing them.
It means developing competence without treating intimacy as its reward.
It means being capable of influence while remaining influenceable.
Most of all, it means encountering women as separate centers of consciousness—not mirrors, prizes, audiences, mothers, servants, temptations, or evidence of male rank.
For centuries, the culture told important men that rank brought access to women.
Now it tells ordinary men that wealth, muscles, followers, dominance, or sufficient personal optimization should accomplish the same thing.
We dismantled some of the old hierarchies.
Then we rebuilt them as lifestyle brands.
Prince Andrew is what masculine entitlement looks like when it has been protected by history.
Andrew Tate is what it looks like after it learns digital marketing.
The first Andrew reminds us what happens when a man is rarely told no.
The second teaches boys to interpret every no as evidence that the world has been stolen from them.
So what do we do about Andrew?
We hold men accountable without pretending that public disgrace is moral education.
We protect women without reducing boys to prospective predators.
We stop confusing status with character, attention with love, and sexual access with masculine success.
And we teach men that reciprocity is not the consolation prize awarded to those who failed to become dominant.
It is the achievement.
Because if we merely remove Andrew, another Andrew appears.
One will arrive through the palace door.
The next will come through a boy’s phone.
Why Work with Daniel?
Entitlement rarely announces itself in marriage as entitlement.
It arrives as chronic defensiveness, sexual pressure, unequal emotional labor, repeated betrayal, status competition, or the conviction that one partner’s reality should govern the relationship.
Effective couples therapy does more than referee arguments. It identifies the relational structure beneath them.
The work is not to humiliate a powerful partner or teach the injured partner to accommodate more gracefully. It is to restore reciprocity: two life partners capable of influence, accountability, boundaries, repair, and genuine intimacy.
If your marriage has become organized around one partner’s importance and the other partner’s adaptation, that pattern can be named—and, when both partners are willing, changed.
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Frequently Asked Questions
Are Prince Andrew and Andrew Tate being accused of the same behavior?
No. The allegations, evidence, jurisdictions, and legal histories are different. The comparison concerns the cultural and relational logic of male entitlement, not an assertion of identical conduct or legal guilt.
Was Prince Andrew convicted of a crime involving Virginia Giuffre?
No. Andrew denied Giuffre’s allegations and settled her civil lawsuit without admitting liability.
Has Andrew Tate been convicted of the criminal allegations discussed here?
The allegations discussed in this essay remain subject to legal proceedings, and Tate denies them. They should not be described as established facts unless a court determines them to be so.
Why are some boys attracted to Andrew Tate’s message?
Tate offers a simple explanation for complicated experiences: loneliness, rejection, status anxiety, economic uncertainty, and confusion about masculinity. He transforms vulnerability into grievance and presents dominance as the cure.
Is male entitlement the same as narcissistic personality disorder?
No. Entitlement can exist without a personality-disorder diagnosis. It may operate as a learned relationship pattern, a cultural belief, a defense against shame, or a feature of several personality styles. Careful couples therapy treats the behavior and relational structure rather than casually diagnosing someone from a distance
Related Reading
Andrew Tate’s “The Real World” Breached
When Status Becomes Oxygen: What New Research Reveals About Narcissism and Status Seeking
Why Do Some Men Hate Independent Women?
The Trad Man Meme and the New Liturgical Masculinity
Why Do Some Men Care So Much About Women’s Beauty?
Be Well, Stay Kind, and Godspeed.