Hang the Bankers

Fred Goodwin, bankrupter of the Royal Bank of Scotland, has been given a knighthood for services to banking by Gordon Brown's government, and, when finally forced to resign, has secured a modest financial package which will probably mean that by the time he dies he has looted under licence about nineteen million pounds.

At noon on Midsummer Day, 2010, city workers noticed a man standing on the steps of the Bank of England. He erected a speaker system, and shouted into the microphone “I am Fred Goodwin, and I repent.”

Slowly he stripped off the jacket of his extremely expensive suit; he stooped and undid the laces of his black Oxford shoes, and took them off. He then undid his tie, and laid it on the ground. First the right foot, then the left: he carefully removed his socks. Then he quickly unzipped his trousers and let them fall. Off came the shirt, and he stood before the gathering crowd naked except for a pair of lime green silk boxer shorts. “I have sinned and I repent” he yelled into the microphone.

Unnoticed before, a man in dirty jeans and filthy wellies had been standing in the shadow with a wheelbarrow which he now pushed before Goodwin. The wheelbarrow was full of horse manure. Goodwin plunged his hands into the manure and started rubbing it over his face and body. More or less completely covered in dung — except for his silk underpants — Goodwin dropped to his knees and crawled up the steps, moaning and groaning that he was a sinner, but was repenting. When he reached the top pf the steps, another man appeared from the shadows and held up a placard, a six foot by four foot cheque like those given to lottery winners. The writing indicated that Fred Goodwin was paying nineteen million pounds to the British Treasury.

Goodwin stood up, took the vast cheque, and handed it to a smart dark-suited woman who emerged from inside the Bank.

“I have sinned” moaned Goodwin. “I repent. Here I return the money I robbed from the British people.”

At that moment, there was a flash of lightning, which struck Goodwin precisely on his forehead. He collapsed writhing. The sky opened to reveal a figure dressed mainly in sunshine, and wearing a halo. “I am the angel of Heaven’s gate” he said. “Fred, you have repented; you may enter heaven.”

Goodwin leapt up, and seemed to be floating a few feet off the ground. He stretched his arms in the air as if grasping for something to lever him up into the sky. The crowd had been mumbling and muttering mockery and contempt of Goodwin for the last half hour. Their anger grew louder and more violent. The angel’s words were too much; the crowd rushed at Goodwin, dragged him down to the ground again, and pulled off his legs, arms, and finally head.

“That’s not fair” shouted Goodwin’s head, “I repented.” “Sure you did” said the angel. “And if your repentance is genuine, you will go to heaven.” The angel looked down and grinned. “But think of the people you ruined by your stupid greed” he went on, “those lads pulling you to pieces – they’re making a metaphor of what you did when you pulled your bank to pieces. They’re doing a better job than you ever did.”

The concern of Christian morality is with the individual’s innocence and guilt. “I did not know” can often be a plea of innocence. But in matters of public safety or state governance, “I did not know” is never an excuse. We are, rightly, not concerned whether the Captain of the Titanic is innocent or guilty, merely with whether he is competent to steer through icebergs or not. In the same way we are not concerned whether Captain Gordon Brown is an innocent victim of the bankers’ dishonesty.

Innocence is no excuse. One of the things for which we pay him is taking care of the nation‘s wealth. He was a security guard who fell asleep when the robbers broke in.

He is a sentry who fell asleep while on duty, and sentries who fall asleep, however innocent, are shot.

The Prime Miinister says he did not see the bank disaster coming, so he is a sentry who fell asleep. The Leader of the Opposition also says he did not see the bank disaster coming, so he, under orders to take the next shift as sentry, is found asleep too.

What are we to do, confronted by such shameless captains of the ship of state, strutting the bridge in their finery and bawling messages of platitudinous assurance, while driving us on to icebergs at full speed?

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