The Library

As we have travelled along the evolutionary highway, something strange has happened. We have subconsciously shifted from viewing the Earth and its resources as the things that sustain us, to treating them as a leisure park built for our entertainment.
We have built social and financial systems that prioritise individual gain over ecological balance, ignoring the cascading effects of our actions.

The entire modern media environment is dominated by privately
owned platforms, each with its own editorial slant shaped by ownership, commercial
incentives, and institutional culture. Bias is not an anomaly — it is a structural feature of
media. It appears in story selection, programme content & context, guest choices and tone.
It’s unavoidable and exists everywhere.

We’re told AI infrastructure is inevitable — but that story serves investors, not communities.
While the planet heats and water is diverted, machines expand and millions sit idle. Data centres are tools, not lifelines, the future we need lies in the ground beneath our feet, not in the clouds. Rushing head‑first into the unknown carries social, environmental, and planetary consequences — the real impact is still to come.

As the Earth’s warehouse of natural resources diminishes it is inevitable that global societal relationships will become strained. The truth is, that beneath the veneer of human civility lies an ancient instinct: when resources dwindle, competition turns ruthless. History shows that every great conflict—from imperial conquests to modern wars—was preceded by a scramble for essentials.

The United Kingdom presents itself as a model of democratic stability, yet the mechanisms
that govern how power is exercised reveal deep structural weaknesses.
The result is a growing public sense that something fundamental is
being bypassed.

Tax-funded workers don’t have to worry about the markets, they don’t have to worry about
inflation or the economy, they’ve got it all covered. They sit in a bubble protected by
politicians from the real world, with no risk at all to their pensions.
Compare that to the non-tax funded workers, to whom the politicians offer no protection.
These workers are left to defend for themselves, left to live in a volatile world of real
uncertainty.

The public sees small boats crossing the Channel,
hotels filled with asylum applicants, overstayers working in the shadows, and political
promises that never materialise. The natural conclusion is that the system is broken because
nobody is doing anything.
The truth is more uncomfortable.

A modern healthcare system cannot function indefinitely as an ever‑expanding trough of collected taxes. Without competition, without price signals, and without individual choice, the NHS has become a system where demand is infinite, costs are invisible, and responsibility is diluted across the entire population. The result is predictable: spiralling expenditure, rising expectations, and no mechanism to moderate behaviour or improve performance.

Tax‑funded workers are a cancer. Each new service, rule, and administrator is another cell multiplying out of control. The bigger it grows, the weaker the patient becomes — and that patient is our country.

Politicians have learned that by using other people’s income and wealth to fund entitlements, they can keep the population hooked. A dependent population is more important to them than prosperity, prudence, or even democracy. As long as the people remain needy, votes are secured, power is maintained, and the illusion continues.

Across the UK and Europe, a structural crisis is unfolding — not in the future, but right now. Our social and economic model depends on a constant supply of new people to sustain a system that has grown too large, too dependent, and too fragile.
Immigration has become a numbers‑based sticking plaster for a model that can no longer sustain itself.