I just finished reading Marc Reynebeau’s back-page column in the Flemish newspaper De Standaard on 12 February, about the excesses of neo-liberalism in the aftermath of the 2008 banking crisis.
The lure of boundless bonuses was so irresistible that bankers created products they didn’t even understand themselves. Products that brought the entire financial system crashing down like a house of cards. Russia may be delighted today that Agent Trump is helping them get what they want in Ukraine, but back then the Kremlin must also have chuckled: “See! Capitalism is rotten to the core. We’ve told you so!”
Keir Starmer’s position is under pressure thanks to the Mandelson-Affair. His beloved chief of staff has been shown the door. Andrew Mountbatten‑Windsor has lost his princely title. And Clinton’s infamous line “because I could” – his explanation for having sex with an intern while president – is being dusted off once again.
The common thread running through all this ugliness is Jeffrey Epstein. I never met the man, but he seems to have made it his life’s work to place anyone who’s someone in a compromising position, just so he could bend them to his will. This modus operandi is as old as humanity itself.
The KGB even turned it into Russia’s number‑one export product: the honey trap. And yet we were all warned as children by no other than Winnie‑the‑Pooh: stay away from the honey pot, because if something seems too good to be true, it isn’t true. My two young daughters watch K‑Pop Demon Hunters, so instead of telling them about Tigger and Piglet, I tell them the Parable of the Antwerp Dockworker before they go to bed:
“There once was a modest young man named Peter. He lived with his wife Gwen in a small working‑class home on the more affordable northern outskirts of Antwerp. Every morning, before dawn, lunchbox under his arm, he headed to his straddle carrier in the Port of Antwerp.
Gwen and Peter had big dreams: they desperately wanted to visit Dubai to spice up their boring Instagram page. Peter longed to replace his Fiat Multipla with a BMW 4‑series; even a second‑hand one would do. But they simply didn’t have the money to live large.
One day a friendly, young looking Eastern prince appeared on the quays. He listened to Peter’s story and promised him riches and an iPhone-17 so he could take the best selfies atop the Burj Khalifa. In exchange for €150,000 Peter only had to do five minutes of work: pick up a certain container with his crane and place it where the prince wanted it to be. Eyes closed – daydreaming about getting black rims on his BMW – eyes open, nothing happened.
Peter had promised himself he would dip into the honey pot just once, because €150,000 is enough! But the prince had other plans. After the third time, Peter refused to move any more containers. The prince was furious and sent Peter a persuasive little note with a photo of Gwen leaving the supermarket.
With red and black marker he had expertly drawn in a knife and lots of blood. Peter decided he had no choice but to help the prince. On a bleak Monday afternoon he climbed out of his crane and the police took him away. Gwen and Peter never made it to Dubai, and the prince lived happily ever after. Sleep tight, children.”
Mandelson, ex-prince Andrew, and Peter all bit into the forbidden apple. Every Sunday at church we ask Him not to lead us into temptation, but the lure is sometimes simply too powerful. Of course, that’s easier said than done, especially when your tempter stands before you offering exactly what you’ve dreamed of your entire life.
