The Epstein case: power, institutions and the question for Australia
The Epstein case: power, institutions and the question for Australia
Janine Hendry

The Epstein case: power, institutions and the question for Australia

The Jeffrey Epstein case is often treated as an exceptional crime enabled by extraordinary wealth. In reality, it reveals how institutions respond when allegations threaten powerful people – and why Australia should not assume it would act differently.

The crimes of Jeffrey Epstein are frequently presented as an anomaly, an extreme case of individual criminality enabled by unusual wealth and influence in the United States. This interpretation suggests that the failure was personal rather than systemic, and that the circumstances which allowed the abuse to occur are unlikely to be replicated elsewhere.

Such conclusions are premature.

The Epstein case is more accurately understood as an illustration of how institutions behave when confronted with allegations against a powerful individual. It demonstrates the extent to which legal, social and professional systems may prioritise reputation, continuity and influence over accountability. On that basis, the question for Australia is not whether an identical case could arise, but whether the conditions that sustained Epstein exist here.

They do.

Epstein’s offending was documented over many years through consistent accounts provided by young women and girls. These accounts described patterns of recruitment, payment and exploitation. The issue was not the absence of information, but the response to it.

The decisive factor was Epstein’s social and financial power.

He possessed sufficient influence to shape institutional behaviour. Law enforcement investigations were constrained. Prosecutorial discretion was exercised in his favour. A non-prosecution agreement was negotiated that shielded him and others from federal charges, while excluding victims from the process.

This outcome reflected neither legal ambiguity nor evidentiary weakness. It reflected institutional deference to power.

The power imbalance was also gendered and socio-economic. The complainants were young and often economically vulnerable. Epstein was wealthy, connected and embedded within elite professional networks. Credibility was not assessed on evidence alone, but on status.

While individual accomplices have been prosecuted, including Ghislaine Maxwell, the focus on individual culpability risks obscuring the broader context. Epstein’s activities were sustained by a network of institutional and social enablers.

These included law enforcement agencies that limited investigations, legal processes that favoured negotiated outcomes, professional networks that normalised rumours rather than addressing them, and media organisations that delayed or constrained reporting despite credible information.

Silence, in this context, was not accidental. It was produced through reputational risk management, fear of litigation, and loyalty to influential figures.

Such dynamics are not unique to the United States.

Australia has substantial evidence of similar institutional behaviour. The Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse documented systemic failures across religious, educational, sporting and care institutions. In many cases, the central issue was not ignorance but deliberate inaction.

Complaints were minimised or dismissed.

Offenders were relocated rather than removed.

Institutional reputation was prioritised over victim safety.

These findings demonstrate that Australian institutions are not immune to the same pressures that operated in the Epstein case. Where allegations threaten powerful individuals or organisations, the tendency towards containment rather than accountability is well established.

A further protective mechanism evident in the Epstein case was the association between status and credibility. Epstein’s wealth and perceived intelligence were frequently invoked as indicators of character. This framing functioned to undermine the accounts of complainants without addressing their substance.

This pattern reflects a broader gendered dynamic. Men with professional or social status are often afforded the benefit of doubt, while women and girls, particularly those without social capital, are subjected to heightened scrutiny. Their credibility is treated as contingent rather than presumed.

In Australia, similar dynamics can be observed in public responses to allegations against powerful men, where attention frequently shifts from the alleged conduct to the behaviour, motives or reliability of the complainant.

Silence in cases of abuse is often attributed to individual reluctance to report. The Epstein case suggests a different interpretation. Silence is better understood as a structural outcome of systems that distribute risk unevenly.

Those with less power face significant consequences for speaking.

Those with more power face limited consequences for inaction.

In professional and institutional settings, this asymmetry creates predictable patterns of non-disclosure. The persistence of silence in the Epstein case was not the result of ignorance, but of rational assessments of risk within unequal systems.

The Epstein case illustrates the limits of legal frameworks when institutional culture favours deference to power. Laws existed that could have been applied. They were not.

This suggests that accountability depends not only on formal legal mechanisms, but on institutional willingness to act against influential individuals. Cultural norms regarding status, credibility and reputational risk play a decisive role in determining whether allegations are pursued or contained.

Australia faces similar challenges. Without sustained attention to how power operates within institutions, reforms risk addressing procedure rather than practice.

The Epstein case should not be understood as an isolated failure or a uniquely American phenomenon. It reveals structural features common to many liberal democracies, including Australia: the protection of powerful individuals, the marginalisation of vulnerable voices, and the prioritisation of institutional self-interest.

The relevant question is not whether Australia could produce an identical case, but whether its institutions would respond differently under comparable conditions. The available evidence suggests caution in assuming that they would.

The views expressed in this article may or may not reflect those of Pearls and Irritations.

Janine Hendry

John Menadue

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