I especially appreciate Murdoch-as-Caesar (and the futility of attacking one figure even as the Republic continues to collapse from its pervasive corruptions…) But there’s always a darker analogy (and perhaps even more apt?): Murdoch as Alfred Hugenberg. (and we all know how that one ended up.)
From this perspective, sometimes a few sharp (metaphorical) knives, while not saving the Republic, might help to shape the coming Empire for the better…? It is important for a society to publicly rein in the worst of its worst–even when structural corruptions remain untouched–if only to keep the worst of the worst from becoming the new, acceptable norm. Hardly an inspiring rallying-cry, though.

On a very different note (but still pessimistic): one of the reasons that asset capitalism in America IS so untouchable is that it really does distribute wealth widely (though certainly not equally) within the borders of the polity. Americans now are fantastically wealthy by all historical comparisons; even the worst-suffering in the U.S. today remain far better off in this moment than they would’ve been in the ’30s or the 1890s or anytime earlier–or than if they lived in another part of the world. The genius of contemporary asset capitalism is that its worst horrors are relocated out of view–across borders, and/or into the environmental future–which then become abstractions that it is difficult to become truly outraged about or mobilize around.

We (readers of this blog) ARE phenomenally wealthy (by historical standards)… are we truly willing to give up some of that wealth (access to our new Macbook Air) for something as abstract as food for non-Americans or the health of our own great grandchildren?

(okay, I’ve just finished “The Windup Girl” by Bacigalupi, so that’s where the super-gloom comes from…)

Where did we come from?
Where are we going?
What should we do while we are here?

Most of humanity typically answers the first question by supposing that there exists, or existed, some power that predated and created humankind. The second question is typically answered by supposing that the creator power has made one or more destinations available to us. The third question is typically answered by supposing that there is some action or set of actions that we can perform which will determine our ultimate destination, usually with the consent of the creator power. These questions are used by religions and political parties, they are often heard in barrooms, dorm rooms, and in Congress, and they are valuable tools for demagogues and racists. These questions have a great weakness: they tend to focus on the next world, they tend to subordinate this world to the next; they give many people and institutions an excuse to avoid dealing with the problems of this life. They make it easier to turn our backs on reality. Somehow, in some illogical way, they make many believe that this life is less important than the next, and that all we are doing here is preparing for the life to come.

The second set of three eternal questions is:

Where do we stand?
Where do we want to go?
How do we get there from here?

These questions form the basis of most human progress. On can see the scientific method emerging from these questions, and technological progress is mainly based on them. While it is true that some useful discoveries such as penicillin and vulcanizing rubber were accidental, the bulk of humankind’s progress was purposeful. Bridges, skyscrapers, medical equipment, universities, corporations and almost all the rest our species creates are developed by the intelligent application of these questions. They are everyday tools for scientists, engineers, and teachers—even the guy who runs a small dress shop in a small, dusty, dry Texas town relies on these questions.

I am glad to see you well on the way to answering the first question. Problem identification is the essential first step toward success. I look forward to seeing how you answer the next two. There are answers. There is a method for developing, planning, and building the systems that the answers will identify.

I remind myself that the big problems we face nowadays are mostly secondary problems, side effects of the solutions of bigger primary problems. A financial system is part of the solution to the big primary problem of making an economy run efficiently, and a financial crisis is a smaller secondary problem that happens when the fancy financial system gets out of tune. And the purpose of a financial system is to respond sensitively to changes and ease the exploitation of opportunities, so it’s intrinsically hard to keep it well-tuned over a long period.

And we all know that… I guess? Right? The view must be there, but I don’t feel it coming through, either in everyday life or in articles by politicians, administrators, and economists.

The Murdoch thing is an interesting spectacle of elite infighting, but looks unlikely to increase the scope for progressive politics in the short term. Maybe in ten years time when the hollowing out of the middle class’s net worth is more fully apparent. It’s been interesting in Ireland the “slow motion” way this realisation has been taking place.