Corporate Socialism by Denis Podany

Forget what they say. Watch what they do.

I’m not writing this as an academic or a career politician. I’ve spent my working life either working for myself in a trade or driving a bloody great HGV. I see what happens when work dries up, when contracts disappear, and when decisions made somewhere far away suddenly land on real people.

I see it in yards, on sites, and in lay-bys. I hear it in the half-joking conversations that stop being jokes when someone mentions a mortgage, a renewal date, or a firm that’s “having a restructure.” You notice patterns when you live at the sharp end long enough.

Why This Isn’t Theoretical to Me

You’ll hear politicians talk about modernisation, investment and fairness. But if you strip away the language and look at what actually happens on the ground, a familiar picture emerges – one most working people recognise straight away. This isn’t about left or right. It’s about who carries the risk, who takes the profit, and who gets a say.

Corporate socialism sounds like something you’d need a whiteboard to explain.

In reality, it’s simple. Big companies take risks. The government backs them with public money. If it works, the company keeps the profit. If it fails, the public picks up the bill.

If you get it wrong, you’re out of a job.

If they get it wrong, there’s a meeting.

Why I Listen to The Breeze On-site

I’ve watched decent local firms disappear quietly. No headlines. No rescue. Just locked gates and lads clearing their lockers. I’ve also watched much bigger companies miss targets, burn through millions and carry on regardless because they’re “too important” to fail. Same economy. Very different rules.

You’re told the market decides. From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like that. Ministers and civil servants decide which industries and firms get backing, and the money flows through systems so complex only large, well-connected organisations can realistically navigate them.

Anyone who’s ever tried to deal with an official portal knows how this goes. Passwords that don’t work, forms that time out, guidance written in a dialect nobody speaks. Now imagine doing that repeatedly, while also trying to run a business. Big firms have teams for it. Small firms have one person doing everything – and that person usually gives up.

It’s So Common, It’s Like a Scratched Record

So, the same big players keep winning, while local builders, hauliers, sparkies, chippies and family firms are told the market is “competitive”. Competitive, as long as they start ten miles ahead.

That isn’t a free market. It’s central control with a decent PR team.

What makes it worse is how risk is handled. Big companies are encouraged to expand, borrow and “innovate” because they know something most of us don’t – if it goes wrong, the state is standing behind them. There’ll be a bailout, a grant, or a support package with a new name and a fresh logo.

Out on the road, you hear the same phrase over and over: “Nothing we can do.” Funny how there’s always something they can do when it’s a national firm.

If you took that attitude to your own finances, it wouldn’t last long. If you did it down the bookies, your partner would cancel your card and remind you about the bills. This isn’t risk-taking. It’s risk removal – but only for a very specific group.

The Blue- and White- Collar, Small- and Big-Business Divide

The people who feel it most are the ones who actually work. You see solid local firms edged out by national outfits undercutting on price, backed by subsidies and guarantees. Six months later, the big firm has missed its targets, and wants more money. The small firm’s gone.

Politicians still talk about “supporting working people” and “supporting SMEs” (small and medium-sized enterprises). From where I’m standing, it rarely reaches them.

Power drifts sideways in bloat as well. Decisions stop being made by people you can name and start being made by boards, panels, partnerships and “stakeholders”. No faces, no consequences, no one you can vote out. Democracy doesn’t end with a bang. It just quietly steps aside once contracts are signed.

And when things fail – really fail – nothing much happens. Projects miss targets, waste money, deliver half of what was promised, and instead of being shut down they’re restructured, reinvested in, or supported through transition.

On site, that’s called bodging.

In politics, it’s called learning lessons.

Remove Accountability, Remove Effort

Once failure stops hurting, effort disappears. Anyone who’s ever run a crew or worked to a deadline knows that.

Strip away the slogans and the system is plain enough. The public underwrites private enterprise. Political closeness beats merit. Losses are shared; gains are not. Markets exist, but only with permission.

This isn’t free-market capitalism. It isn’t worker-led socialism either. It’s state-managed corporatism.

Or, as working people put it: the government carries the can, big firms take the cream, and the rest of us are told it’s for our own good.

That’s why the line sticks: if I fail, I’m sacked – if they fail, we’re taxed. No footnotes needed.

Political Wording Drives Me Crackers

They don’t explain it plainly, because they can’t. So, handouts become “investment”. Bailouts become “partnerships”. Covering losses becomes “de-risking”. Wrapped in talk of jobs, green futures and progress, anyone who questions it is painted as backward rather than careful.

Complexity does the rest. By the time anyone understands what’s happened, the money’s gone and nobody’s responsible.

Working people have always had a better test than any committee. If it was fair, they’d explain it in plain English. If they won’t explain it plainly, it’s because we wouldn’t agree.

They’ll point to GDP and market confidence. Meanwhile wages don’t stretch, bills keep climbing, and jobs don’t feel any safer. You don’t need a spreadsheet to notice that.

I see the consequences up close. From the cab. From the yard. From conversations that trail off at the end of a shift when someone starts wondering what comes next. That’s why this matters to me.

I’m tired of being told this is just how modern economies work, when I’ve spent my life in jobs where mistakes have real consequences. Where if you get it wrong, you don’t get endless second chances funded by strangers who were never asked.

I don’t buy that this is inevitable. I don’t buy that it’s too complicated to explain. And I don’t buy that the people carrying the risk should be the last ones consulted.

This doesn’t need shouting to change. It needs people to stop pretending they don’t understand. It needs one simple question asked calmly and repeatedly, everywhere it matters: if this fails, who pays?

And With That, Moses Parted the Sea

Once that question becomes normal, the spell starts to break. Meetings get uncomfortable. Language gets simpler. Decisions suddenly need to make sense outside a boardroom.

There’s humour in that too. British humour has always been a quiet weapon – a raised eyebrow, a flat drawn out “right, then,” a perfectly timed “that must be nice”. Systems don’t survive long once they become a standing joke.

I’m not interested in theatre, teams or slogans. This isn’t about parties for me. It’s about fairness, responsibility, and being honest about who pays when things go wrong.

Working people don’t need lectures. They don’t need heroes either. They just need the rules of real life to apply equally.

And if there’s one thing blue-collar Britain has always been good at, it’s seeing through nonsense, sharing a knowing look, putting the kettle on – and getting on with sorting the problem properly.

Usually with a brew.

Often with a laugh as a worker falls backwards out of his chair. Or sending the agency go-fer to buy a long weight (ahh that prank never gets old).

And, sooner or later, with the attitude of “if not us, who!? If not now, when!?” Lo and behold, results that get the job done.

Image credit on main page: atlascompany on Freepik