It’s all about human behavior. You need to ask questions like: Would a person change how they use water if it saved them £10 a year? £100? £1,000? Some people still wouldn’t change their behavior, even if the savings reached £5,000 a year, or would invest in constant running water toilet, because it is hassle to them to use a toilet brush.

In a motorhome, water is scarce, so you change your behavior because you don’t want the hassle of running out. Being on the grid feels different—you don’t need to worry about turning off the tap while brushing your teeth, because water feels abundant. You might only close the tap if you’re short on money.

Constant awareness of every action feels exhausting. In fact, people often develop mental illnesses from living in a state of constant vigilance. Most people just want to feel comfortable.

To change human behavior and persuade people to change, you need to study them and build strong relationships with them—just as politicians do. Politicians adjust policies based on their own interests of their position, or the interests of their city or town. But even after a policy is updated, how the population will react remains unknown. Will they make different decisions? It’s a complex interplay of emotions, money, and interests.

A poor person sees solutions through their own bias, just as a rich person does. A poor person might save water by turning off the tap, while a rich person might develop an automatic tap, start a tap company, and become even richer.

Yes, it may look that way from your perspective. But how was that perspective formed? The tendency is for people to share only the "bad" things—scandals, failures, and controversies. Yet there are many good politicians, like regulators and policymakers, who work behind the scenes. You won’t see daily news articles celebrating how incredible it is that your phone’s battery doesn’t explode every day, for example.

Examining your own perspective (and biases) is a good starting point. Engaging in strong, open dialogue—with your biases acknowledged and an interest in diverse viewpoints—can attract people with different perspectives and lead to better solutions.

Consider the human body: it wasn’t created by anyone; it’s self-regulating. Yes, it has problems—illnesses that cause suffering and death—but if you only focus on those, the body itself might seem like a failure. The systems on this planet are also self-regulating. We adjust some aspects and study the outcomes, but no one fully controls them, just as no one controls your body.

No one invented communism, fascism, democracy, or capitalism. Similarly, no one "creates" the flu, cancer, dementia, or Parkinson’s disease. These are part of an evolving process.

If you see rain every day, it doesn’t mean it rains every day of the year. Perspective shapes what we notice—and what we overlook.

I don’t see a clear argument here. Politics itself isn’t inherently corrupt—it’s a tool for **exposing** corruption and lies. The real question is: Does politics corrupt people, or are corrupt people drawn to politics? This is a well-founded debate with philosophical, psychological, and historical dimensions, and it’s one that will likely continue indefinitely.

Let’s draw a parallel: The human body creates cancer. Cancer evolved as a byproduct of cellular processes, and similarly, politics didn’t emerge from a single designer or master plan. It evolved as humans transitioned from small hunter-gatherer groups to complex societies. Just as cancer arises from the trade-offs of cellular reproduction, politics arises from the trade-offs of human cooperation, competition, and survival. Early human groups needed ways to resolve conflicts, allocate resources, and organize collective action. Politics, in its broadest sense, emerged as a solution to these challenges.

Is Corruption Inevitable?
Wherever there is power, there is potential for abuse. Even the most well-designed systems will have flaws because they are run by humans—beings with biases, ambitions, and limited information.

Personally, I can't find enough scientific evidence to support both sides of this argument. But I’ll leave that for someone else to explore in depth—perhaps a future PhD thesis.

I hear you, and honestly, I get it. It’s hard not to feel cynical when you look at politics today and see what feels like a system full of self-serving people—whether they’re "idiots" or just businesspeople chasing personal gain. It’s frustrating to watch, and it makes total sense that you’d feel this way. When the system seems rigged to reward survival-of-the-fittest behavior, it’s easy to lose faith in the idea that anything meaningful can change.

You’re absolutely right to point out that the **structure of our trade-based society** plays a huge role in this. When everything—from healthcare to housing—is tied to money and competition, it’s no wonder politics feels like just another transactional game. People are so focused on surviving within the system that it’s hard to imagine breaking free from it. That’s not just your observation; it’s a critique a lot of people share, even if they express it differently. The pressure to "win" in a system that values profit over people can turn politics into something that feels more like a business deal than a way to serve the public.

I ask myself the same questions sometimes: *How can anything change when the whole thing feels so broken?* It’s exhausting to think about, especially when it seems like the people in power are either incompetent or only out for themselves. But I also wonder—what would it look like if we *could* change things? Even small shifts? For example, I’ve seen communities or movements where people try to do things differently—like cooperatives, local activism, or even just individuals who refuse to play the game in the usual way. It’s not perfect, and it’s definitely not enough on its own, but it makes me wonder if there’s any space for hope, even in a flawed system.

I’m not saying this to argue with you or to try to "fix" your view. I just mean that I feel that tension too—the frustration of seeing how broken things are, but also the tiny glimmers of people trying to push back. Maybe it’s naive, but I like to think that even if the system is rigged, there are still ways to resist it, even in small ways.

That said, I totally get if you’re not feeling hopeful right now. It’s okay to feel cynical when the world gives you so many reasons to be. If you ever want to vent more or brainstorm ways to cope with it—or even just laugh about how absurd it all is—I’m here for it. Sometimes just acknowledging how messed up things are can feel like a relief.