Debt Relief Quotes

So, is there hope for a truly democratic Africa? Long answer: Only if continent-wide improvements in education, human rights and public health are coupled with an aggressive and far-sighted debt-relief program that breaks the cycle of subsistence farming and urban squalor. Short answer: No.

But just as soon as fear hits, I smell him, his signature aroma, his musky cologne, and I feel...relief. Relief because he is the devil I know.

They’d had no choice but to fall into the cycle the growers wanted them in: living on credit, building up debt, and never making enough, even with relief, to break out.

This is the debt I pay Just for one riotous day, Years of regret and grief, Sorrow without relief. Pay it I will to the end — Until the grave, my friend, Gives me a true release — Gives me the clasp of peace. Slight was the thing I bought, Small was the debt I thought, Poor was the loan at best — God! but the interest!

Some of his bitches had left him with the clap, some with ramped up credit card debt, and some with a feeling of damn relief. But not Glory. No. Glory had left him with remorse. And regret. And something that felt like pain in the area of his heart. And now she was coming back to where it all started. Back to Crownsmount. Back to the lake house. But not back to him. Not back to him. And he had absolutely no idea what to do with that.

You’ve got to determine your own fate. Make your own choices. And I have to let you.” “Thank you,” he forces out. It’s not a polite thing to say among the Folk, but Jude ought to hear it. Those words absolve him of no debt. He’s let her down and possibly made her proud of him, too. His family cares about him in ways that are far too complex and layered for it to come from enchantment, and that is a profound relief. “For listening to you? Don’t worry. I won’t make it a habit.” Walking up to him, she puts her arms around him, bumping her chin against his chest. “You’re so annoyingly tall. I used to be able to carry you on my shoulders.” “I could carry you,” Oak offers. “You used to kick me with your hooves,” she tells him. “I wouldn’t mind a chance for revenge.” “I bet.” He laughs.

Migrants are the creators of some of the biggest and most liquid capital flows anywhere. They send back some $600 billion in remittances every year,6 which amounts to three times more than the direct gains from abolishing all trade barriers, four times more than all foreign aid, and 100 times the amount of all debt relief.

Maybe after Trump is gone, what is understood as the political “center” can be reestablished. But it seems doubtful. Politics appears to be moving in two opposite directions. One way, nativism beckons; Donald Trump, for now, is its standard-bearer. The other way, socialism calls to younger voters who, burdened by debt and confronting a bleak labor market, are embracing social rights in numbers never before seen. Coming generations will face a stark choice—a choice long deferred by the emotive power of frontier universalism but set forth in vivid relief by recent events: the choice between barbarism and socialism, or at least social democracy.

Since there is no possibility of relieving debt and guilt, the state of unfreedom perpetuates itself: ‘A vast sense of guilt that is unable to find relief seizes on the cult, not to atone for this guilt but to make it universal.

A person who cannot forgive has forgotten the great debt for which they were forgiven. When you realize that Jesus delivered you from eternal death and torment, you will release others unconditionally. (We’ll talk about how to walk through this in chapter thirteen.) There is nothing worse than eternity in a lake of fire. There is no relief, the worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched. That was our destination until God forgave us through the death of His Son, Jesus Christ. Hallelujah! If you have a hard time forgiving, think of the reality of hell and the love of God that saved you from it.

Where did the Communists get their support? From the "great majority’"—the poor peasants, ready to die for them. Why? Peasants were not interested in revolution, Marxism, or theories. They wanted peace, rice, parcels of land, relief from their agonies, freedom from crushing debts, usury and taxes, and a chance for their children to learn to read and write.

That was Catiline’s position after he had been beaten in the annual elections for the consulship in both 64 and 63 BCE. Although the usual story is that he had been leaning in that direction before, he now had little option but to resort to ‘revolution’ or ‘direct action’ or ‘terrorism’, whichever you choose to call it. Joining forces with other upper-class desperadoes in similar straits, he appealed to the support of the discontented poor within the city while mustering his makeshift army outside it. And there was no end to his rash promises of debt relief (one of the most despicable forms of radicalism in the eyes of the Roman landed classes) or to his bold threats to take out the leading politicians and to put the whole city to flames.

I'm a part of your Pack?" Lily smiled, emotions surfacing. "And your family?" It was clear that she felt both sadness and relief. She had lost her own family that very day, only to be officially welcomed into another so quickly. "You always have been," Mia promised. "Magic just happens to agree with us now." Lily laughed and let out a relieved sigh, smiling through her tears. "I love magic.

One can hardly fault China for seizing on a great bargain, but for Zambia, the auctioning off of its most lucrative economic resources at fire-sale prices constituted another big stroke of bad national luck. Copper prices were still depressed and the government’s state of near bankruptcy at the time meant that Zambia had little negotiating power. Edith Nawakwi, who was the Zambian finance minister at the time of the sale, said that the country was pressured by its more traditional partners to accept this pittance. “We were told by advisers, who included the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank, that … for the next twenty years, Zambian copper would not make a profit. [Conversely, if we privatized] we would be able to access debt relief, and this was a huge carrot in front of us—like waving medicine in front of a dying woman. We had no option [but to go ahead].” The

What are you so afraid of?” “Nothing!” He yelled so fiercely that a pair of oxen grazing in a nearby field snorted and moved farther away from us. It was the first time I ever saw fire in Milo’s eyes. “I’m no coward. That’s not why I wouldn’t go with your brothers. I have to go with you.” “Who said so? You’re free now, Milo. Don’t you know what that means? You can come and go anywhere you like. You ought to appreciate it.” “I appreciate you, Lady Helen!” Once Milo raised his voice, he couldn’t stop. He shouted so loudly that the two oxen trotted to the far side of the pasture as fast as they could move their massive bodies. “You’re the one who gave me my freedom. If I love to be fifty, I’ll never be able to repay you!” Milo’s uproar attracted the attention of the two guards, but I waved them back when I saw them coming toward us. “Do you think you could be grateful quietly?” I asked. “This is between us, not us and all Delphi. You owe me nothing. Listen, if you leave now, you might still be able to catch up to my brothers. I’ll ask the Pythia for help. There must be at least one of Apollo’s pilgrims heading north today, one who’s going on horseback. If she tells him to carry you with him, you’ll overtake Prince Jason’s party in no time! I’ll give you whatever you’ll need for the road and--” “Then I will be in your debt,” Milo encountered. “If you say I’m free, why aren’t I free to stay with you, if that’s what I want?” “Because it’s stupid!” I forgot my own caution about keeping our voices low. I’d decided that if I couldn’t win our argument with facts, I’d do it with volume. “Don’t you see, Milo? This is a better opportunity than anything that’s waiting for you in Sparta! What could you become if you went there? A potter, a tanner, a metalsmith, maybe a farmer’s boy or a shepherd. But if you sail to Colchis with my brothers, you could be--” “Seasick,” Milo finished for me. I raised my eyebrows. “Is that why you won’t go? Not even if it means passing up a once-in-a-lifetime chance for adventures? For a real future? I’m disappointed.” Milo folded his arms. “Why don’t you just command me not to be seasick? Command me to go away and leave you, while you’re at it. Command me to join your brothers. It’s not what I want, but I guess that doesn’t matter after all.” I was about to launch into another list of reasons why he should rush after my brothers when his words stopped me. Lord Oeneus was open-handed with commands, I thought. And it was worse for Milo when his hand closed into a fist. I shouldn’t bully Milo into joining the quest for the fleece just because I wish I could do it myself. In that instant, a happy inspiration struck me with the force of one of Zeus’s own thunderbolts: Why can’t I? I found an unripe acorn lying on the ground beside me and flicked it at Milo. “All right,” I told him. “You win. You can stay with me.” A look of utter relief spread across his face until I added, “But I win too. You’re going to go with my brothers.” “But how can I do that if--?” “And so am I.

Greece, maneuvering for debt relief, is flirting treacherously with Moscow. Recession-hit economies such as Italy seem to believe business as normal with Russia trumps calls for solidarity over Ukraine.

Why don’t I just stop training juniors? I said to myself as I angrily turned the pedals. Why don’t I just do all the operating myself? Why should I have to carry the burden of deciding whether they can operate or not when the fucking management and politicians dictate their training? I’ve got to see the patients every day on the ward anyway as the juniors are so inexperienced now – on the few occasions when they’re actually in the hospital, that is. Yes, I shall no longer train anybody, I thought with a sudden sense of relief. It’s not safe. There are so many consultants now that having to come in occasionally at night wouldn’t be a great hardship . . . The country’s massively in debt financially, why not have a massive debt of medical experience as well? Let’s have a whole new generation of ignorant doctors in the future. Fuck the future, let it look after itself, it’s not my responsibility. Fuck the management, and fuck the government and fuck the pathetic politicians and their fiddled expenses and fuck the fucking civil servants in the fucking Department of Health. Fuck everybody.

We are people of worship and work in service to God and to each other. It’s that simple. It’s that hard. While many run from Islam, or from poverty, immigration, AIDS, third-world debt relief, the church runs toward them all. It is a dangerous mission. But it is the mission to which God has called us. In our baptism, he calls us to a life of search and rescue. Each time we gather, we do so with the full knowledge that we are being sent. Sent to usher in the shalom of God, to bring shalom to every person, space, and place. The first step in not killing your Muslim neighbor is to join a church that reads the gospels (particularly Luke 10) and puts those words into action. We’re moving beyond stereotypes. The future depends upon it. Beyond fear. Beyond anger. Beyond rage. Beyond caricatures. So be bold. And do not be afraid.

we proposed to substantially reduce the loans of the IMF and the World Bank to the poorest countries, and to write off the U.S. government loans entirely over time. We also proposed some creative conditions. To qualify for debt relief, governments would have to divert the money they saved on interest payments into health care and other services for their people.

Fritz Stern, a scholar of fascism who has written about the origins of Nazism and who fled Nazi Germany as a young man, “in Germany there was a yearning for fascism before fascism was invented.” It is the yearning that we now see. If we do not swiftly reincorporate the unemployed and the poor back into the economy, giving them jobs and relief from crippling debt, then the nascent racism and violence that are leaping up around the edges of American society will become a full-blown conflagration.

Dark students and their families are sharecroppers, never able to make up the cost or close the gap because they are learning in a state of perpetual debt with no relief in sight.

The Reverend Brook-Edward Bridges is the sort of man I cannot help but despise,” she rejoined sharply. “He believes the world exists to sustain his follies, and ask nothing of him in return. My brother was spoilt as a youth, and age has merely made him indolent. He sponges on my mother and my husband for the relief of his debts, and is foolish enough to believe that he might prevail upon an excellent woman to make his fortune in marriage. Yes, Jane, I am severe upon him—for he has disappointed me these fifteen years at least.

The Third World debt crisis that erupted in 1981–1982 was a near catastrophe for the global economy. It was also a golden strategic opportunity. Over nearly a decade, Washington tied the provision of new lending and, eventually, debt relief to the enactment of pro-market reforms. The debt “can and should be used as leverage,” U.S. officials wrote.

For the first time she started understanding the appeal the Daemon must hold to a broad cross-section of people. It was a chance to start over. Daemon operatives had said it provided medical care. Retirement. Debt relief. No wonder. It was essentially a tax on corporations—one the corporate attorneys couldn’t dodge by moving their headquarters to Bermuda.

A shame culture is one in which the source of moral sanctions and authority is perceived to reside in other people, in their ridicule, criticism, or contempt (so that one is shamed in other people's eyes). The feeling of shame actually occurs in oneself, of course, and can occur when one is alone, but it characteristically perceived as something that occurs before an audience, an external judge in whose eyes (and by comparison with whom) one appears weak, failed, foolish, incompetent, ridiculous, rejected, inferior, contemptible — in short, shameful. Thus, shame motivates concealment of those traits in oneself of which one is ashamed, since shame is only intensified by exposure to others. A guilt culture is one in which the source of moral sanctions and authority is oneself, one's own internalized conscience and the moral law one imposes on oneself, violation of which leaves one feeling guilty and sinful in one's own eyes. By contrast with shame, the feeling of guilt or sin is actually relieved by exposure, which is why guilt cultures institutionalize the practice of confession of sins. This is understandable, since the person who feels guilty perceives his sin (evil) as being "inside" himself, so to speak, so letting it "out" through confession can feel like draining a moral abscess, bringing a relief of painful pressure. But why would the perceived source of moral sanctions and disapproval affect either the likelihood or the direction of violent impulses? The answer, I believe, is that what the feeling of shame motivates most directly is the wish to eliminate the feeling of shame, since it is a very painful feeling; and since shame is seen as emanating from other people, that can be done most directly by eliminating other people. It is true that one could also eliminate the feeling of shame, at lower cost to oneself and others, by means of achievements of which one could feel proud, and which would elicit approval, admiration, respect and honors from others. But that is not always possible, and when it is not, eliminating others may be seen as the only alternative. What the feeling of guilt motivates, correspondingly, is the wish to eliminate the feeling of guilt, since it is a very painful feeling; and since the feeling of guilt emanates from the self, the only way to eliminate it may be by eliminating the self (as in suicide, or by provoking or passively submitting to martyrdom). Another way to understand why shame motivates anger and violence toward others, and why guilt directs those same feelings and behaviors toward the self, is to remember that in a shame ethic the worse evil is shame, the source of which is perceived as other people (the audience in whose "evil eyes" one is shamed). Therefore evil resides in other people, and to the degree that one feels shame, it is other people who deserve punishment. Punishing others alleviates feelings of shame because it replaces the image of oneself as a weak, passive, helpless, and therefore shameful victim of their punishment (i.e. their shaming) with the contrasting image of oneself as powerful, active, self-reliant, and therefore admirable, and unshameable. In a guilt ethic, by contrast, the worst evil is to be guilty or sinful, and guilt and sin (to the degree that one feels guilty and sinful) are perceived as residing within oneself. Thus, people who feel guilty see themselves as deserving punishment. And receiving punishment, whether from oneself or from others, relieves guilt by expiating it. Indeed, that is the purpose of punishment, both in the criminal law (in which punishment is the means by which the criminal "pays his debt" to society and thus discharges his guilt) and in the religious sacrament of penance (the self-punishment by which the sinner expiates his sins, that is, relieves his guilt-feelings). Thus, whereas punishment intensifies feelings of shame, it relieves feelings of guilt.

We need to stop thinking we can "rescue" the world from problems we helped create. Haiti has no money because the United States, France, and other colonial powers stole it. When we buy a twenty-dollar shirt that a Haitian was paid pennies to make, we are continuing to steal from them. When a U.S. aid worker in Haiti is paid a salary equivalent to that of fifty Haitians, we are continuing to steal from them. This is not aid. Aid is reparations. Relief is overthrowing a system of colonial domination, and eliminating debt. Support is standing in solidarity with Haitians ... [who] are organizing and fighting and leading their own struggles for an end to colonialism.

Since the loss of Julia and the opening of the prosecution against him, he had forced himself to make this walk daily. Or if the mood took him and the weather was favorable he would go out in the new dinghy and sail as far as St. Ann’s. Such activity didn’t lift the cloud from his mind, but it helped to set it in proportion for the rest of the day’s tasks. His daughter was dead, his cousin had betrayed him, his much-labored-over smelting scheme was in ashes, he faced charges in the criminal court for which he might well be sentenced to death or life transportation, and if by some chance he survived that, it would be only a matter of months before bankruptcy and imprisonment for debt followed. But, in the meantime, fields had to be sown and reaped, copper had to be raised and marketed, Demelza had to be clothed and fed and cherished—so far as it was in his scope to cherish anyone at this stage. It was Julia’s death that still hit him hardest. Demelza had grieved no less than he, but hers was a more pliant nature, responding involuntarily to stimuli that meant little to him. A celandine flowering out of season, a litter of kittens found unexpectedly in a loft, warm sunshine after a cold spell, the smell of the first swathe of hay: these were always temporary reliefs for her, and so sorrow had less power to injure her. Although he didn’t realize it, much of the cherishing this year had been on her side.

Such crises make it plain that capitalism - counter to widespread belief - is not a religion. Every religion operates with both debt (guilt) and relief (pardon). But capitalism only works with debt and default. It offers no possibility for atonement, which would free the debtor from liability.

Atlantic City" Well, they blew up the chicken man in Philly last night And they blew up his house, too Down on the boardwalk, they're getting ready for a fight Gonna see what them racket boys can do Now there's trouble busing in from out of state And the D.A. can't get no relief Gonna be a rumble out on the promenade And the gambling commission's hanging on by the skin of its teeth Well, now, everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Well, I got a job and tried to put my money away But I got debts that no honest man can pay So I drew what I had from the Central Trust And I bought us two tickets on that Coast City bus Well, now, everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Now, our luck may have died, and our love may be cold But with you, forever, I'll stay We're going out where the sand's turning to gold So put on your stockings, baby, 'cause the night's getting cold And everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Now I been looking for a job, but it's hard to find Down here, it's just winners and losers and "Don't get caught on the wrong side of that line" Well, I'm tired of coming out on the losing end So, honey, last night, I met this guy, and I'm gonna do a little favor for him Well, now, everything dies, baby, that's a fact But maybe everything that dies someday comes back Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty And meet me tonight in Atlantic City Bruce Springsteen, Nebraska (1982)

Aunt Becky was born a Presbyterian, lived a Presbyterian, and died a Presbyterian. She had a hard man to please in Theodore Dark, but she made him quite as good a wife as he deserved. She was a good neighbour as neighbours go and did not quarrel more than anybody else in the clan. She had a knack of taking the wind out of people's sails that did not make for popularity. She seldom suffered in silence. Her temper was about the average, neither worse nor better and did not sweeten as she grew older. She always behaved herself decently, although many a time it would have been a relief to be indecent. She told the truth almost always, thereby doing a great deal of good and some harm, but she could tell a lie without straining her conscience when people asked questions they had no business to ask. She occasionally used a naughty word under great stress and she could listen to a risky story without turning white around the gills, but obscenity never took the place of wit with her. She paid her debts, went to church regularly, thought gossip was very interesting, liked to be the first to hear a piece of news, and was always especially interested in things that were none of her business. She could see a baby without wanting to eat it, but she was always a very good mother to her own. She longed for freedom, as all women do, but had sense enough to understand that real freedom is impossible in this kind of a world, the lucky people being those who can choose their masters, so she never made the mistake of kicking uselessly over the traces. Sometimes she was mean, treacherous and greedy. Sometimes she was generous, faithful, and unselfish. In short, she was an average person who had lived as long as anybody should live.

Why in the world would you sit down to play cards with gentlemen who freely admitted they’d heard about your reputation for losing at the table?” Nigel wrinkled his nose right back at her. “They heard I was remarkably skilled at cards.” “When you’re not drowning yourself in a bottle of brandy, which, I hate to say, is something I’m afraid everyone knows you make a habit of doing most nights.” “I was delighted to accept the invitation after their flattering words,” Nigel continued as if Lucetta had not spoken. “And was doing quite well, but then . . . I’m afraid I got overly ambitious and lost everything on a single turn of the cards. To my relief, Mr. Silas Ruff was incredibly gracious. When he discovered I might not actually have the deed to Plum Hill readily available, he offered me another way to honor my debt to him.” Lucetta suddenly found it rather difficult to breathe. “You sat down to cards with Mr. Silas Ruff?” “Ah, wonderful, so you do know him.” Nigel smiled. “He spoke most highly of you, my dear, and learning you’re acquainted with him makes this so much easier to say.” “Makes what easier to say?” “That Mr. Ruff is perfectly willing to take something in lieu of the deed to Plum Hill—something he seems very anxious to acquire. . . . That something being . . . well . . . you.

Wiremu tried shoving the handful of notes into his trouser pocket. The movement did not go unnoticed. ‘I have no other debt with you and, as I said, I was just leaving,’ Wiremu said, getting up to leave. Jowl reached out, clasping the smaller man on his arm, digging his fingers in, dragging Wiremu back into his seat. ‘The thing is, Mister Kepa — oh yes, I know who you are. I’ve heard all about you. I know more about you than your mother does. See, you interfered with my family business, and the Jowl brothers don’t take kindly to others interfering in our business. We’re good churchgoing folk who abide by the word of Lord Jesus our Saviour, but we also need money to live, to follow the word of God. And when you owe the Jowl brothers, you pay the debt. You, sir, are well overdue on paying what you owe.’ Wiremu looked around the bar, trying to catch the eye of anyone watching, hoping they’d intervene, but no one would meet his eye. Since Jowl had sat at his table, most of the other patrons had decided they had things to do elsewhere. The room was almost empty. No one would help him; he was on his own. Resigned to his fate, Wiremu replied, ‘Fine. How much do I owe you?’ ‘You owe me for the bottles of liquor which smashed, two shillings ought to deal with that.’ Wiremu exhaled in relief. Two shillings was fine, it left him enough for the trip down country. He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out the cash. Joe changed his grip to Wiremu’s wrist, ‘I said two shillings would cover the bottles which were broke, but that won’t cover the loss of the girl.’ Wiremu frowned, ‘What

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By the end of 2008, however, the ingredients for a solid market recovery were in place. The over-levered funds that had received margin calls either raised additional capital, sold assets to de-lever as required, or liquidated. Funds and investment managers that received notices from investors desiring to withdraw at year-end either put up “gates” postponing withdrawals or completed the asset sales needed to meet them. The prices of debt securities reached a point where they implied yields so high that selling was unpalatable and buying became attractive. And, ultimately, market participants demonstrated that when negative psychology is universal and “things can’t get any worse,” they won’t. When all optimism has been driven out, and panicked risk aversion is everywhere, it becomes possible to reach a point where prices can’t go any lower. And when prices eventually stop going down, people tend to feel relief, and so the potential for a price recovery begins to arise.

A credit card comes in the mail. They use it and max it out. A loan company calls and says their greatest “asset,” their home, has appreciated in value. Because their credit is so good, the company offers a bill-consolidation loan and tells them the intelligent thing to do is clear off the high-interest consumer debt by paying off their credit card. And besides, mortgage interest is a tax deduction. They go for it, and pay off those high-interest credit cards. They breathe a sigh of relief. Their credit cards are paid off. They’ve now folded their consumer debt into their home mortgage. Their payments go down because they extend their debt over 30 years. It is the smart thing to do.

Taking her cue from the points I had made, Christine seconded my appeals for debt relief and lower tax rates as prerequisites for a Greek recovery. Then she addressed me with calm and gentle honesty: You are of course right, Yanis. These targets that they insist on can’t work. But, you must understand that we have put too much into this programme. We cannot go back on it. Your credibility depends on accepting and working within this programme.2 So, there I had it. The head of the IMF was telling the finance minister of a bankrupt government that the policies imposed upon his country couldn’t work. Not that it would be hard to make them work. Not that the probability of them working was low. No, she was acknowledging that, come hell or high water, they couldn’t work. With

We have reached the point where even some of the central institutions have been forced to admit, however quietly, that this is indeed the case. In America, the Federal Reserve floated a plan for mass mortgage relief in the summer of 2012, only to discover the political class was simply unwilling to consider it. For a while, even the IMF, under Dominique Strauss-Kahn, began trying to reposition itself as the conscience of global capitalism, issuing warnings that if the economy continues on the present course, some kind of crash is inevitable, and the next time, no bailout is likely to be forthcoming: the public simply will not stand for it, and as a result, everything really will come apart. “IMF Warns Second Bailout Would ‘Threaten Democracy,’ ” reads one headline.16 (Of course by “democracy” they mean “capitalism.”) Surely it means something that even those who feel they are responsible for keeping the current global economic system running, who just a few years ago acted as if they could simply assume the current system would be around forever, are now seeing apocalypse everywhere.

These policies would come back to haunt Europe in the aftermath of the 2008 collapse. Instead of the vigorous, countercyclical fiscal, monetary, and debt relief policies called for in the wake of a 1929-scale crash, Europe’s institutions promoted austerity reminiscent of the post–World War I era. The debt and deficit limits of Maastricht precluded strong fiscal stimulus, and the government of Angela Merkel resisted emergency waivers. Germany, an export champion, which in effect had an artificially cheap currency in the euro, profited from other nations’ misery. Germany could prosper by running a large export surplus (equal to almost 10 percent of its GDP), but not all nations can have surpluses. The European Central Bank, which reported to nineteen different national masters that used the euro, had neither the tools nor the mandate available to the US Federal Reserve. The ECB did cut interest rates, but it did not engage in the scale of credit creation pursued by the Fed. The Germans successfully resisted any Europeanizing of the sovereign debt of the EU’s weaker nations, pressing them instead to regain the confidence of capital markets by deflating. Sovereign debt financing by the ECB went mainly to repay private and state creditors, not to rekindle growth. Thus did “fortress Europe,” which advocates and detractors circa 1981 both saw as a kind of social democratic alternative to the liberal capitalism of the Anglo-Saxon nations, replicate the worst aspects of a global system captive to the demands of speculative private capital. The Maastricht constitution not only internalized those norms, but enforced them. The dream of managed capitalism on one continent became a laissez-faire nightmare—not laissez-faire in the sense of no rules, but rather rules structured to serve corporations and banks at the expense of workers and citizens. The fortress became a brig. There was plenty to criticize in the US response to the 2008 collapse—too small a stimulus, too much focus on deficit reduction, too little attention to labor policy, too feeble a financial restructuring—but by 2016, US unemployment had come back down to less than 5 percent. In Europe, it remained stuck at more than 10 percent, with all of the social dynamite produced by persistent joblessness.

It’s also possible to revise the rules of globalization to reduce the amount of damage done by speculative private finance and to expand the role of transparent social investment. We could provide a lot more debt relief, as well as imposing a Tobin tax (see Chapter 3) on short-term financial transactions. Though the West has less economic influence than it once did, the markets of Europe and North America are still the world’s largest, which gives the West immense power to influence the rules for the global economy as a whole. Those rules were once used to promote balanced domestic social contracts. Lately, they have been used to enrich the already rich, often in concert with the repression of labor in the third world, and at the expense of decent labor standards in the West as well. The point is not that Japan, South Korea, China, and other emergent economies are doing something fundamentally wrong or inefficient by having industrial policies, subsidies, and managed trade strategies to promote their own economic growth. This is precisely what the West did at earlier stages of its own development. The point, rather, is that the system needs more realistic rules and norms, so that there is a fairer balance of benefits. That means balance between developing and developed countries, balance between capital and labor, and balance between market norms and social standards. Today, both the global trading system and US trade policy are promoting imbalance.

Chad [...] The Sudan [...] Algeria and Libya [...] Ethiopia [...] All of them drawing venom from the lethal inheritance of the last century, a staggering tonnage of outdated armaments passed from government to government at knock-down prices. From America to Pakistan to mujahedeen to a Somalian splinter group with nothing to recommend it but a holy desperation for martyrdom...From Russia to a cadre of bug-eyed Marxists strongmen shooting anything that even looked like a bourgeois intellectual...Billions in aid had been poured into the sub-Sahara, permanently warping governments into bizarre funnels of debt and greed, and as the situation worsened more and more arms were necessary for "order" and "stability" and "national security", the outside world heaved a cynical sigh of relief as its lethal junk was disposed of to people still desperate to kill each other...

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America" Loans Interest rates Endless advertisements Usury and deception Countless heavy bodies filled with fear Migrant, refugee, and illegal bodies that came escaping America’s oppression in their own countries… America Depression, anxiety, and pain relief pills A political, media, and institutional matrix of power ran by one lobby… Credit cards Bankruptcy Debts Drugs The homeless Racism Weapons Strict security measures Suffocating any attempt for any meaningful change under the pretext of the homeland security… America Sanctions imposed on this country and that, Internal psychological sanctions imposed on a majority of the naïve who believe themselves to be free… America Tasteless fruit, vegetables, meats, eggs, and cheeses, injected with hormones, sprayed with pesticides and many other carcinogenic substances… America Houses that look beautiful from the outside, inhabited by people who are mostly lonely, going through psychological or nervous breakdowns, or perhaps wrestling with depression or hysteria, the luckiest of them are on daily pills to help them adapt to the psychological and spiritual death surrounding them from all sides… America Fruitless trees and scentless flowers, as if as a punishment or a curse from heaven upon those who stole the land from its native people, after erasing most of them… America Bills Sad letters in the mail, mostly from companies and advertisers wishing you a delightful day and great consumption, encouraging you to solve your problems with more consumption, and reminding you that you may die abruptly of loneliness or the toxins that you consume, and therefore, you must seriously consider purchasing your casket and the plot under which you will be buried… [Original poem published in Arabic on August 27, 2024 at ahewar.org]

As the eminent historian Gordon Wood has pointed out, we must understand that a majority of the Articles’ most famous critics — and the later constitutional framers — were basically aristocrats in the pre-industrial, pre-capitalist sense of the word. They feared inflation, paper money, and debt relief measures because they modeled their social and economic world on the systems and tendencies of the English gentry. Their entire societal and agrarian order was at risk during the 1780s — in fact it would later collapse in the increasingly commercial northern states, only to live on in the plantation life of the antebellum South. Much of their complaint about “excessive democracy” in the new American state governments may ring hollow to modern ears, but they believed in their position most emphatically.