The Cannibalism of the State: The 1975 Triage

 

The Cannibalism of the State: The 1975 Triage

History is rarely a march toward progress; it is a frantic scramble to avoid the abyss. We like to dress up our national decisions in the finery of "values" and "destiny," but beneath the silk lies the cold, hard logic of the biological organism. When a tribe is starving, it doesn't debate philosophy—it decides which member is the most edible.

In 1975, the United Kingdom was not a proud empire choosing a continental partner; it was a shivering, post-imperial husk performing self-amputation to survive a gangrenous economy. They called it the European Economic Community (EEC) referendum. In reality, it was a fire sale of sovereignty.

To understand this, look at the "human export" models of history. Whether it was the Meiji-era Karayuki-san sold into overseas brothels to fund Japanese warships, or South Korean miners sent to the depths of the Ruhr to stabilize a national budget, the state has always treated its citizens as high-octane fuel. In 1975, the British government didn’t export bodies; it exported the democratic agency of its people.

The "Sick Man of Europe" was flatlining. With inflation at 25%, the social contract wasn't just torn; it was being used as kindling. Harold Wilson, a man who looked like he had been marinated in fatigue, offered the public a choice that wasn't a choice: join the European market or starve in dignified isolation.

The irony was delicious and dark. A young Margaret Thatcher donned a pro-Europe sweater, seeing the EEC as a capitalist cudgel to break the unions. Meanwhile, Tony Benn—the aristocrat turned socialist prophet—screamed about the loss of democracy, only to be dismissed as a radical loon.

The "bare ape" is a creature of immediate survival. The state knows this. In 1975, the elite used the oldest tool in the evolutionary kit: fear. They promised a future without coffee or wine if the "No" vote won. Terrified of an empty larder, the public voted for a cage with better catering.

Sovereignty is a luxury for the fed. For the desperate, it is merely something to be bartered for the next meal. The ledger of nations is always balanced in the same currency: the autonomy of the individual sacrificed to keep the furnace of the state burning for one more night.

Prescription for Disaster: Hong Kong’s Healthcare Cost-Cutting Gamble

 

Prescription for Disaster: Hong Kong’s Healthcare Cost-Cutting Gamble

Hong Kong’s latest public healthcare fee reform, implemented in January 2026, was sold as a way to ensure "sustainability." But three months in, the cracks are showing. According to lawmaker Dr. David Lam (林哲玄), over 26,000 prescriptions went uncollected in the first two months alone—roughly 3% of the total.

In the eyes of a biologist or a historian, this is a classic case of selective pressure gone wrong. When you increase the cost of survival (even by a seemingly small margin), the "human animal" starts making desperate, often irrational trade-offs. The government hiked drug fees—now charging per drug for every four-week block—to curb "wastage." But as Desmond Morris might observe, humans aren't particularly good at calculating long-term risk when immediate resources are scarce.

The "unintended consequences" are a dark comedy of errors:

• The Survival Gambit: Patients are now "self-prescribing" by skipping doses or refusing medications to save money, erroneously prioritizing herbal supplements or immediate household costs over chronic disease management.

• The Systemic Backfire: By scaring patients away from follow-ups and medications, the government isn't saving money; it’s just deferring a much larger bill. A patient who skips $20 blood pressure pills today becomes the $50,000 emergency stroke admission tomorrow.

• Information Asymmetry: While the government touts "safety nets" and fee waivers, the bureaucracy often feels like a labyrinth designed to keep people out rather than pull them in.

This isn't just a policy hiccup; it’s a failure to account for the "darker side" of human behavior—the tendency to retreat from preventive care when the gatekeepers start charging admission. The irony? A reform meant to "save" the system may eventually be the very thing that drowns it in avoidable complications.