Its policy of eco-imperialism forces renewables on a reluctant but largely helpless developing world.
What is the point of the World Bank? You probably think of it, if at all, as a benign institution, a kind of giant, multilateral aid agency, whose job it is to bring liquidity to developing nations and help them grow out of poverty.
Until not so long ago, that was indeed its function. Created alongside the International Monetary Fund at the 1944 Bretton Woods Conference, the bank did sterling work in its early years helping countries like France recover from the war; and later, giving mostly third world countries the vital seed money needed to help attract investors to risky capital projects. Its multiplier effect on investment can be extraordinary. In 2013, the World Bank gave Kosovo $40 million towards building a lignite power station. This sent out the positive signal needed to encourage the private sector to complete the funding with another $1,960 million.
Amazing. Except that’s not what the World Bank does now.
What is the cause of the devastating fires in California which have killed more than 40 people, destroyed or damaged more than 5000 buildings, with an estimated financial loss running into the tens of billions of dollars?
Climate change, of course!
Well, at least it is if you believe all the usual suspects.
Here’s Al Gore, trying to pin it on “global warming” while simultaneously promoting the renewables interests that have made him so disgustingly rich:
“All over the West we’re seeing these fires get much, much worse,” Gore said, noting that a number of factors contribute to this. “The underlying cause is the heat.”
[…] “The heart of it is that we still depend on fossil fuels,” Gore said.
“It’s been a tough couple of weeks with hurricanes and earthquakes and now these terrible fires,” Clinton told an audience at the University of California, Davis while promoting her new book “What Happened.”
“So in addition to expressing our sympathy, we need to really come together to try to work to prevent and mitigate, and that starts with acknowledging climate change and the role that it plays in exacerbating such events,” Clinton said, according to First Coast News.
Of all the sordid details to emerge thus far from the burgeoning Harvey Weinstein scandal, there’s one that creeps me out above all else.
No, I don’t mean the potted plant jerk-off scene, or the shower jerk-off scenes or the scene where he sits jerking off to some rare nude footage of Meg Ryan…
“I am going to need a place to channel my anger so I’ve decided I’m going to give the NRA my full attention.”
Let us pause awhile to relish that moment, because I don’t think history will ever provide us with a better example of what’s wrong not just with Hollywood in particular, but with liberalism in general. Let us bathe in the truly Augean disgustingness, the moral bankruptcy of Wankstain’s message to a world which he has personally done so much to deprave, demean and debase.
Michael Mann is writing a children’s book about climate change.
Don’t all rush to donate at once – you might break the internet – but he wants you to pay for it through crowdfunding.
The book is called The Tantrum That Saved The World.
Michael Mann knows all about tantrums. Probably his biggest was the one that led him to sue Mark Steyn for having had the temerity to suggest that his now-infamous Hockey Stick was fraudulent. The case has been grinding on for six years now: as Steyn says “the process is the punishment”. Also, the alarmists funding it really can’t afford for it ever to be resolved because the disclosure requirements may open a can of worms so huge that the $1.5 trillion a year climate industry may never recover.
‘Nearly always when you find a place as beautiful as Positano, your impulse is to conceal it. You think: “If I tell, it will be crowded with tourists and they will ruin it, turn it into a honky-tonk and then the local people will get touristy and there’s your lovely place gone to hell.” There isn’t the slightest chance of this in Positano.’
John Steinbeck, 1953.
Yeah, right. The sad truth is that like so many classic destinations, Positano, on Italy’s Amalfi Coast, has long since been overtouristed almost to the point of ruination. Even as early in the season as late April, when the Fawn and I visited, the tiny beach area was almost unbearable. Boatloads of day trippers swarmed across the promenade, funnelling into the steep narrow alleys on a near-impossible quest to find somewhere to eat. At which point you might wonder: ‘Why bother?’
I know I keep saying that in Decline of the West terms we’re all currently living in Rome, circa 400 AD. But now, on TV, there is actual proof of this in the form of a truly appalling reality series called Bromans (ITV2, Thursdays).
Bromans is like a cross between Love Island and Carry On Cleo, so shamelessly low, tacky and brain-dead that it makes Geordie Shore look like Kenneth Clark’s Civilisation. Basically, a bunch of ridiculously buff lads strip off and participate in crap gladiatorial contests in which no one dies (thus entirely defeating the object), while their hot blonde girlfriends smoulder pointlessly in scanty outfits, and say stupid things like ‘I’ve gone 2,000 years back. I’ve never lived that far back.’ Then they have a typical cocktail party, just like used to happen in Imperial Rome, and — we are led to assume — shag one another.
What I like best about Bromans is its rugged integrity. There’s none of that relentless PC hectoring that Rod Liddle was rightly bemoaning the other day: it’s probably the most accurate reflection anywhere on TV of what young men and women are still really like; and because it’s all done ironically, clumsily and on the cheap it slips under the Guardianista outrage police’s radar.
Obviously, though, I’m not suggesting you should waste time watching it. Instead, what you need is your new favourite Netflix series, Suburra.
Climate change is a religion whose followers behave like members of the Inquisition; it’s a condition where the cure is causing far more damage than the alleged disease; it’s a recipe for killing jobs, lowering standards of living and hurting the poor.
Abbott is one of only a handful of world leaders to have spoken out against the global warming “consensus.” (The only other ones, recently, are former Czech president Václav Klaus and, of course, President Donald Trump).
This gives you an idea of just how badly infected are the nations of the free world by the green virus. Even those politicians who might nurture doubts in private almost never express them in public. Abbott himself lost his job as Australia’s prime minister at least in part because he was found guilty of wrongthink on climate change, which he once famously described as “crap”. The man who replaced him as prime minister, Malcolm Turnbull – unfondly known as the “Honourable Member for Goldman Sachs” – is himself a leading tentacle of the Green Blob.
Some years ago there was a farm shop in Worcestershire I loved to visit. It was run by a Mr and Mrs Orchard — yes, really! — and operated out of a tiny wooden hut, next to the barns where they milked their herd of Guernseys.
Beyond were the fields where they grew their carrots, cabbages, potatoes, turnips and so on, whatever was in season — and all of them sold at such stupidly low prices that my jaw used to drop every time I got the bill which, of course, Mr Orchard would tot up in his head from a handwritten list.
The Orchards could afford to do this because, by selling direct to the consumer, they were cutting out the middleman and avoiding those iniquitous deals that supermarket buyers tend to impose on farmers. It was a win-win situation for buyer and seller.
And though they weren’t organic, those vegetables were as crisp and delicious as any I’ve ever eaten.
This government has a problem with its ‘magic money tree’ defence of Conservatism: it doesn’t live by it
‘I don’t think I’m quite as Austrian as you are,’ a Tory minister said to me the other day. And I knew then that the party is doomed. It wasn’t what he said so much as the way that he said it: in the fond, amused, each-to-his-own tone you might use to dismiss a friend’s enthusiasm for Morris dancing or Napoleonic re-enactment or dogging…
But personally, I think free market economics (of the Austrian or any other classical liberal school) is far too important to be left to wonks, think-tankers and out-there right-wing commentators. So did Margaret Thatcher. ‘Hayek’s powerful Road to Serfdom left a permanent mark on my own political character, making me a long-term optimist for free enterprise and liberty,’ she said. And so did Ronald Reagan. Asked which philosophical thinker or writers had influenced his conduct as a leader, he replied: ‘I have read the economic views of von Mises and Hayek.’