Epstein files spark moral reckoning for the rich, says Sarah Vine

A fresh tranche of Jeffrey Epstein–related materials has reignited questions about how the rich and powerful view access to Epstein’s world. In a column for the Daily Mail, veteran commentator Sarah Vine argues there are two clear reasons why high-profile figures accepted invitations: either they were chasing Epstein’s money or they were drawn to what he was peddling. The latest disclosures, she notes, have shifted the narrative from whispered whispers to documented photographs and notes, underscoring a moral calculus that many found either opaque or troubling.

The piece describes the material as a hall of familiar faces at Epstein properties, with odd setups and provocative props that Vine said cast a dark light on the era’s excesses. Among those appearing in the cache are former President Bill Clinton, business magnate Richard Branson, and public figures such as Michael Jackson, Mick Jagger, Kevin Spacey, and others. The documents, as highlighted by the U.S. Justice Department’s ongoing releases, show these figures photographed in settings that Vine characterizes as surreal or unsettling, with descriptions of unusual decor and scenes that suggest a world far from ordinary social gatherings. Ghislaine Maxwell herself surfaces in the material, along with other items that Vox-like reviews have described as incriminating, including letters and props that amplify the sense of a participants’ lifestyle far outside conventional norms. The images are stark enough to prompt a jarring question about the limits of discretion among people accustomed to privilege.

Vine argues the two motives for accepting Epstein’s invitations reveal a deeper, more troubling pattern: a calculus of wealth and influence that bordered on moral indifference. She writes that those in Epstein’s orbit either wanted money, or they liked what he was selling—the belief that association with Epstein could grant access, prestige, or social capital. That framing, she writes, signals a broader collapse of moral boundaries among elites, a theme she says is reinforced by the sheer ease with which powerful people moved in and out of Epstein’s world.

The column goes on to connect these revelations to broader political and royal dynamics. Vine contends that the scale of the material and the number of prominent names involved make it implausible for any close observer to claim complete ignorance. She references the ongoing scrutiny surrounding Prince Andrew and the royal family, suggesting that the King’s decision to distance himself from his brother may have been influenced by awareness of these issues or at least a strong sense that the public mood would not tolerate continued association. Whether or not a direct line can be drawn from the Epstein files to this year’s royal recalibration, Vine argues that the moral implications are inescapable: when investigations render the connections inescapable, public figures must confront accountability rather than distance themselves from the fallout.

In a lighter counterpoint, Vine’s column turns to the season’s public-facing rituals. She notes the Christmas cards released by the Prince and Princess of Wales and the Sussexes, arguing that the images felt incongruent with the festive mood—appearing more like late-winter or spring scenes than traditional Christmas imagery. By contrast, she praises a card from Joan Collins and Percy Gibson as the quintessential holiday greeting, citing its festive touches and visual warmth as a reminder of the season’s expected cheer. The comparison, she writes, underscores how public figures balance personal branding with the era’s heightened scrutiny.

The column also wades into contemporary political culture, poking at perceived hypocrisies. Vine references how some public figures navigate tax rules and expenses, noting that prominent politicians have drawn scrutiny for their own claims on public funds or tax arrangements. One line in the broader discourse touches on a Labour front-bench figure’s accounting claims, using it to illustrate how public figures’ financial handling can become a talking point in a culture that scrutinizes every detail of the powerful’s lives. The tone remains satirical but is anchored in a larger argument about fairness, transparency, and the boundaries that ought to govern those who wield influence.

The piece closes with a stark assessment of the Epstein saga: the revelations, Vine argues, lay bare the worst fears about wealth and power—that some believe themselves to be above the law or immune from consequences. She distances herself from melodrama—declaring not that the famous and powerful are literally “lizards,” but that the behavior described in the Epstein milieu is reptilian in its lack of moral compass. It is a portrait of elite life that she says demands accountability and a reexamination of how society treats its most privileged figures when they cross lines of legality and decency.

Overall, Vine’s public-facing meditation on Epstein’s legacy in culture and entertainment circles frames the case as a catalyst for a broader reckoning about ethics, power, and responsibility among the rich and famous. The revelations, she argues, challenge assumptions about loyalty, privilege, and the social immunity that once shielded prominent figures from scrutiny—and they invite a wider public debate about accountability for elites in both the royal sphere and beyond.