Jeffrey Epstein is dead, but the system that allowed him to flourish still exists. Epsteinism — understood as a configuration of power, wealth, sexuality, and institutional safeguards for elites — will persist as long as societies remain divided and human beings fail to regulate their desire for power, wealth, and sexual dominance through moral restraint and effective law.
It is not simply the story of an individual predator, nor merely the pathology of one man; it is a reflection of deeper social arrangements that enable impunity where privilege meets institutional weakness. Gautama Buddha preached that desire is the root of suffering. Yet desire is inseparable from human existence; it cannot simply be abolished without abolishing life itself. Indeed, the attempt to eliminate desire is itself an act of desire — the desire for transcendence or control. Desire, therefore, is not inherently destructive. It becomes dangerous when it operates within unequal structures of power, where restraint weakens and accountability erodes. In such conditions, desire ceases to be a private impulse and instead becomes a mechanism of domination.
William Shakespeare captures this transformation of desire into ambition in Macbeth, where the protagonist confesses:
“I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself.”
Macbeth recognises that nothing drives him except “vaulting ambition”. Desire, when magnified by access to authority, escalates beyond restraint. It is no longer personal longing; it becomes political force. When unchecked by ethics or law, ambition mutates into entitlement. The tragedy in Shakespeare’s play lies not only in murder, but in the corruption of conscience under the intoxicating influence of power.
Karl Marx argued that the ruling ideas of any era are the ideas of its ruling class. Law, therefore, often strengthens and protects their rule and interests in a society. In other words, where class divisions exist, legal institutions can reflect structural inequality. Epstein’s earlier plea arrangements clearly demonstrate how prosecutorial discretion can intersect with elite influence and social capital. Thus, Epsteinism represents not only moral failure but institutional vulnerability in unequal societies, where access to power can soften the consequences of wrongdoing.
Phil Rockstroh, a poet and essayist writing in CounterPunch, places the Epstein scandal within a broader critique of capitalism and elite entitlement. He calls Epstein’s network a “microcosmic reflection of the capitalist macrocosm.” His argument resonates with Marx’s theory of commodification. When market values expand into all areas of life, even personal relationships and human vulnerability become shaped by economic logic. Rockstroh writes: “According to the creed of the global economic elite, all things on planet earth and beyond into the cosmos (Elon’s maniacal fantasies involving his clown car rocketry) are fodder for exploitation. Due to the fact that the economic elite believe they possess the entitlement to throw the planet’s human life sustaining climate into exponential runaway because they cannot run their life-defying existence without fossil fuel – how is it conceivable that they would regard teenage girls and women from lesser socio-economic backgrounds as anything less than fodder for exploitation? We, of the lower economic orders, are regarded as commodified, disposable consorts on everyday, capitalist Epstein’s Islands, albeit with scenery consisting of strip malls in decline and health-decimating fast food outlets. In short, we are not talking so much about sexuality but the violation of human beings, body and soul… The only way out of this dehumanising setup is to break the cycle of exploitation — from molecule structure to insular, gated mansion — the capitalist order itself.”
Epstein’s documented interactions with prominent global figures, including Donald Trump, Bill Clinton, Bill Gates, Prince Andrew, Peter Mandelson, and former Israeli prime minister Ehud Barak, as well as financial support for certain Israeli-linked organisations, demonstrate how influence circulates beyond national borders in a globalised order. These associations do not by themselves prove criminal complicity, but they illustrate how networks of wealth and status operate across political and ideological divides. Epsteinism happens wherever powerful individuals are insufficiently scrutinised — whether in America, Britain, or elsewhere.
However, one notable development has emerged from this episode in the United Kingdom. The Guardian recently argued that the legal scrutiny of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, the king’s brother, signals a potential shift in the culture of deference that long protected the British elite. For more than 15 years, allegations surrounding him were handled through silence, an out-of-court settlement, and withdrawal from public duties. His behaviour was treated largely as a reputational issue rather than a matter demanding transparent legal accountability.
A single 2001 photograph showing the then Prince Andrew with 17-year-old Virginia Giuffre plunged the monarchy into crisis and lent credibility to her trafficking allegations. Although he denied knowing her and rejected the claims, a £12 million settlement followed, and the image shaped a scandal that shook the House of Windsor. More women have since come forward alleging abuse, which he continues to deny. Giuffre’s tragic death by suicide last year added further gravity to the case.
Symbolically, this episode may mark the end of the assumption that membership in the royal household guarantees immunity. Practically, it may strengthen victim-centred accountability. If prosecution proceeds in any future developments, the principle would be clear: judgment rests with jurors evaluating evidence, not with birthright or inherited privilege. If no charges emerge, the episode still demands institutional reform and sustained transparency. Either way, the old model of discreet exile and managed silence appears increasingly untenable.
Epsteinism — the exploitation of vulnerable children within unequal social structures — also exists in Pakistan. The 2018 rape and murder of Zainab Ansari in Kasur and the broader Kasur child abuse scandal exposed organised networks of sexual exploitation involving minors, with hundreds of victims reportedly blackmailed through recorded videos. Although convictions were secured in several cases, public concern persists that powerful individuals allegedly connected to these crimes may not have faced full accountability. Similarly, reports of abuse in certain madrassas have raised serious concerns about the vulnerability of children in poorly monitored environments where oversight mechanisms remain weak. These cases reveal a recurring structural pattern: victims lack adequate institutional protection while influential actors may remain shielded by hierarchy, patronage, or fear.
The lesson is consistent across countries — whether in the United States, Britain, Pakistan, or elsewhere. Justice requires transparency, equal treatment under the law, protection for vulnerable populations, and the courage to confront entrenched privilege. Moral philosophy alone cannot restrain exploitation; nor can law function effectively if it bends before wealth and status. Only in societies where institutions operate independently, accountability is non-negotiable, and class-based impunity is dismantled can meaningful reform occur.
Epsteinism, therefore, is not confined to one island, one palace, or one prison cell. It is embedded in systems where inequality magnifies desire into domination and where institutions fail to challenge power. Confronting it requires more than outrage at individuals; it demands structural change — legal, economic, and cultural — so that no person’s status places them beyond the reach of justice.