The Epstein affair, that endless sewer of elite depravity, has once again surfaced in Washington with the former attorney general defending the very secrecy that London now demands be lifted. One might think, given the global scale of this sordid business, that transparency would be the least our institutions could offer. Yet here we are, watching a spectacle of legalistic dodging and diplomatic posturing that would make a Victorian bureaucrat blush.
Consider the historical parallels. The Epstein case is not merely a scandal; it is a symptom of intellectual and moral decadence that recalls the twilight of the Roman Republic. Then as now, the ruling classes insulated themselves from accountability, hiding behind procedural walls while the public clamoured for justice. The former attorney general’s defence of secrecy is the modern equivalent of a senator invoking privilege to protect his patrons. It is a tired, predictable routine.
London’s demand for full transparency in the cross-border inquiry is, on the surface, a noble call for openness. But let us not be naive. The British establishment has its own skeletons, its own Epstein-adjacent figures who have enjoyed the protection of silence. The demand for transparency is as much a geopolitical manoeuvre as it is a moral stance. It is a way for Whitehall to appear virtuous while throwing stones at a glass house that is, in fact, its own.
What we are witnessing is the erosion of any remaining trust in the institutions that claim to serve the public. The Epstein files are a mirror held up to the political and financial elites on both sides of the Atlantic. They show us a world where justice is negotiated behind closed doors, where the powerful pay for silence, and where the truth is parceled out only when it serves a strategic purpose.
National identity, in this context, becomes a shield. The Americans plead sovereignty. The British plead the integrity of the investigation. Both sides are engaged in a dance of deflection, each hoping the other will bear the brunt of public outrage. Meanwhile the victims of Epstein’s crimes watch from the wings, their stories buried under layers of legal and diplomatic obfuscation.
If we are to learn anything from history, it is that empires rot from within when their rulers lose the capacity for moral clarity. The Epstein files are a test of whether our modern democracies can still produce that clarity. So far, they are failing. The former attorney general’s defence of secrecy is not an anomaly; it is the standard operating procedure of a system that values institutional preservation over truth.
London’s demand for transparency is a correct impulse, but it must be matched with domestic housecleaning. Until both sides are willing to expose the full extent of this rot, the Epstein files will remain a tomb of secrets, guarded by those who fear what they might reveal about the fall of the West.
