London's Burning

So, the scum has risen to the top. For the moment, at least.

For the last three days Britain has been kept awake by the noise of sirens, the only noises to overcome the sound of hurled bricks, the smashing of plate glass and the crackle of the flames engulfing the property of hard-working, decent human beings.

The rioting is nothing of the sort; unfuelled by any suggestions of wrongs being righted, of grievances being aired, this is nothing other than raw human nature being exposed for the fragile thing it really is. So-called civilisation is nothing more than the collective willpower of a relatively small number of higher thinkers and is maintained by nothing more than the elective cooperation of the masses of less lofty thinkers who inhabit an intellectual hinterland that is short on originality but long on simple decency.

The thugs engaged in the current rounds of looting and arson, violence and disorder occupy neither camp and can rationally be viewed only as sub-human. And they can only be effectively dealt with by maintaining this distinction. If we imagine them to be a part of our own species our endeavours can only founder on the shoals of human emotion. But if we can truly see them as vermin, the solutions are all too clear.

We eradicate vermin, don't we? We kill the breeding population and eradicate their habitats. Why should it be any different just because this particular strain of pest happens to superficially resemble ourselves?

So, bring on the army, give the orders to fire and provide overtime funding for the clean-up crews. It's the only 'right' solution and it's long overdue.