Lies that come home to roost

That’s it, George W. Bush has had to admit (temporary) defeat for his rescue of the U.S. banking system: Congress did not pass his request for $700 billion to bail out the greedy sharks of Wall Street. The world’s stock exchanges dropped like lead balloons, with Big Brother Nynex falling to hysterical lows that haven’t been seen since the Great Depression of the 1930s. The Dow Jones Industrial Average started to plummet the minute the voting began to be counted and ended the day down 778 points, the worst point drop ever. By yesterday, though, the European markets had begun to creep up, albeit with a beady eye on Big Brother across the water. Spain’s Ibex stock market index was probably the least affected by the Wall Street crash in Europe, though.

What had the Bush administration tried to do? Have the U.S. government take over the bad debts accummulated by American banks and to let them start lending to each other again. And why do the banks have so many bad debts? Because they bought up bonds that were issued by their fellow bankers, based on rubbish mortgages they knew could not be paid. Why does this impact on European banking? Because it, too, bought into the bonds and what amounts to lies. This is simplistic, I know, but it puts things into perspective a little.

I don’t pretend to have any knowledge of finances (my bank manager can vouch for that) and even less so of global economics. But I can smell the shit when it hits the fan. And the whole thing stinks.

Seven hundred million million is what the Americans call $700 billion. That’s a lot of frijoles, as they might say, too. Enough to feed the world’s hungry several times over. Enough to ensure water for all those exploited (largely by America and Britain) countries where the people have to live on less than a litre a week, for many years. Enough to find a permanent cure for malaria without the intervention of multi-national chemical companies making a fast buck. Or AIDS. I agree, it is a simplistic point of view. But when I see the well-suited sharks in their expensive cars heading home to their expensive Manhattan or Chelsea abodes, having had an expensive lunch on their expense accounts and betting expensively on how many expensive points the markets will drop, knowing they won’t have to scramble for water or food… No, I don’t feel sorry for them when they lose their jobs. I don’t feel anything.

Simplistic, yes, but my teeth can’t stop grinding.

(c) Alexander Bewick 2008