Category Archives: banker-bashing

Financial drug-pushers

What banks were like when Dalrymple was a boy

Today’s bankers

Some argue that banks

are up to their old tricks again, lending riskily with abandon, selling on their risky debts to those who have not the faintest idea of what they are buying, having learned from the last crash that when push comes to shove, they will be rescued from the consequences of their improvidence. But this time the banks will not be bailed out; we, the account holders, will be bailed in. The bankers are greedy and insouciant.

The doctor-writer observes that in his lifetime, bankers

seem to have changed in nature, or at least in image.

When Dalrymple was a boy in the 1890s,

bankers were rather respectable, dull persons who acted like the financial guilty conscience of their customers.

Consols Transfer Office, Bank of England, 1894

Corbyn the anti-Semite

The Enemy of Humanity Kalen Ockerman 2018. Mural in Hanbury Street, Spitalfields

Dalrymple reports that Jeremy Corbyn, leader of Britain’s far-Left-populist opposition party, recently mounted a defence of a mural depicting Jewish bankers playing Monopoly on the backs of naked minorities. Corbyn wrote:

Why? You are in good company. Rockerfeller [sic] destroyed Diego Viera’s [sic] mural because it includes a picture of Lenin.

Dalrymple points out that this sort of thing is

cause for anxiety among British Jews unknown since the rise — and thankfully swift fall — of Sir Oswald Mosley.

The analphabetic Leader of the Opposition

Nelson Rockefeller and Diego Rivera

Diego Viera

Vladimir Lenin

Sir Oswald Mosley and friend

Roderick Spode (Lord Sidcup)

Man at the Crossroads Mural at the Rockefeller Center. Diego Rivera, 1933. Destroyed 1934

American Progress Josep Maria Sert, 1937 — the mural that replaced Rivera’s at the Rockefeller Center

The sport of banker-bashing

Nothing is more tempting, writes Dalrymple,

than to blame the financier, merchant, or banker—in short, the scheming middlemen—for the woes of the world. They are parasites, goes the cry, mere bloodsuckers; they create nothing, but take advantage of everything and everybody. They make profits on the way up as well as on the way down, in abundance and in scarcity, no matter how others suffer in the process.

Such ideas, he points out,

are the stuff of propaganda, both Bolshevik and Nazi. For such propaganda, only the producers of simple tangible goods—the shirtsleeved proletarian in his forge pouring pig iron, say, or the happy flaxen-haired peasant hoeing the land to produce turnips—make a real contribution to wealth, everything else being but a form of hidden confiscation of what the sweat of their brow has produced.

Those who have believed this,

or at any rate acted as if they believed this, have been responsible for a great deal of misery in the world.

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