The Corruption of our Country

It's difficult to get away from the corruption in much of our Country's public life: MP's expenses, criminal behaviour (allegedly) by many in the media plus much unethical activities e.g. entrapment, secret recording of conversations and what many suspected - that the Financial Sector was and probably is incredibly corrupt. I do not sigh and reflect that it was always so and we do need to understand how we got here. 1986 is an important date in the de-regulation of financial markets. If we understand history and human behaviour we are drawn to the conclusion that what we have now is the inevitable ultimate end of the Thatcher (inspired by Hayek) neo Liberal economic and social experiment. Markets are there to be manipulated by large and powerful players and just as Diplomats are employed to lie on behalf of their country (see WikiLeaks) then corporate executives quite often perform a similar function for their companies. Remember the initial response of NI to the hacking scandal - it was a rogue reporter!. We now know this was not true and it is probable that many others in the business knew and at best silently condoned such actions. The pathetic PR which daily insults ordinary people's intelligence about these issues just shows how ex reality these people are!! The establishment rush to contain the crisis by incremental release of damaging information thinking that it will calm down if not blow over. Don't insult our intelligence any more! Most people now realise this is a charade designed to keep existing post holders and power wielders in position. Show some real backbone and clear out the criminal and immoral now this year!
I leave this post with John of Gaunt's speech about England beautifully given last evening by Patrick Stewart. Read it and weep for what our country has become!
 

William Shakespeare

Richard 11

Act 2 Scene 1

Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd,
And thus expiring, do foretell of him,
His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last,
For violent fires soone burne out themselues,
Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short,
He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder:
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe.
This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle,
This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars,
This other Eden, demy paradise,
This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe,
Against infection, and the hand of warre:
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone, set in the siluer sea,
Which serues it in the office of a wall,
Or as a Moate defensiue to a house,
Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands,
This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England,
This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth,
Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home,
For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie,
As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury
Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne.
This Land of such deere soules, this deere-deere Land,
Deere for her reputation through the world,
Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it)
Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.
England bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds.
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe.
Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death?