Market Forces

'Do you really think we can afford to have the developing world develop? You think we could have survived the rise of a modern, articulated Chinese superpower twenty years ago? You think we could manage an Africa full of countries run by intelligent, uncorrupted democrats? Or a Latin America run by men like Barranco? Just imagine it for a moment. Whole populations getting educated secure, and aspirational. Women's rights, for Christ's sake. We can't afford these things to happen, Chris. Who's going to soak up our subsidised food surplus for us? Who's going to make our shoes and shirts? Who's going to supply us with cheap labour and cheap raw materials? Who's going to store our nuclear waste, balance out our CO2 misdemeanours? Who's going to buy our arms? He gestured angrily. 'An educated middle class doesn't want to spend eleven hours a day bent over a stitching machine. They aren't going to work the seaweed farms and the paddy fields 'til their feet rot. They aren't going to live next door to a fuel-rod dump and shut up about it. They're going to want prosperity, Chris. Just like they've seen it on TV for the last hundred years. City lives and domestic appliances and electronic game platforms for their kids. And cars. And holidays, and places to go to spend their holidays. And planes to get them there. That's development, Chris. Ring any bells? Remember what happened when we told our people they couldn't have their cars any more? When we told them they couldn't fly? Why do you think anybody else is going to react any differently out there?' 'I don't.' Chris spread his hands.