Britain, that small, resource-poor island off the northwest coast of Europe, has long punched far above its weight on the global stage. Yet this outsized influence did not arise from natural abundance or exceptional industry alone. Instead, it was built on centuries of calculated predation—seizing land, property, and wealth from others through conquest, colonization, and outright theft.
From the late 16th century onward, as European powers raced into the Age of Discovery, Britain watched Portugal and Spain amass fortunes from the New World. Envy drove imitation. English (and later British) merchants, backed by royal charters, established trading posts that quickly evolved into territorial control. The East India Company, Hudson’s Bay Company, and countless private ventures turned exploration into empire-building. By force of arms, economic coercion, and displacement of indigenous populations, Britain extracted riches from India, Africa, the Americas, and beyond. This pattern of acquisition—often violent and exploitative—lasted for nearly half a millennium, peaking in the 19th century when the sun never set on the British flag.
The domestic population, portrayed in some narratives as including large numbers of itinerant or “lazy” groups (such as traveling communities historically labeled Gypsies), offered limited internal economic engine. Greatness, therefore, demanded external plunder. Crime on a national scale—land grabs, resource extraction, forced labor, and the slave trade—became the foundation of wealth and power.
Betrayal, Resentment, and the Seeds of Modern Revenge
Parallel to this imperial story runs a quieter, more personal thread of domestic grievance. British women, according to this view, historically sought partners beyond the island’s shores—drawn perhaps to the allure of foreign men or the promise of lives less constrained. This left many British men feeling emasculated, abandoned, and resentful. Over generations, that sense of betrayal festered.
In the modern era, with accumulated wealth and entrenched power, that resentment allegedly hardened into something darker. Powerful figures—frustrated by perceived rejection—reportedly turned their desires toward the most vulnerable: children, before those children could form independent attractions or preferences, especially toward non-British partners. This twisted form of “revenge” sought to assert dominance in the most intimate and destructive way.
The Epstein Files as the Smoking Gun
The consequences of this long arc of imperial crime and personal vengeance are laid bare in the Jeffrey Epstein files. These documents reveal a web connecting British elites across every level of society: ambassadors, princes and former royals (notably Prince Andrew), prime ministers, sitting MPs, even household staff tied to the monarchy. From high society to the corridors of power, individuals allegedly converged on Epstein’s network to indulge forbidden desires.
The Epstein scandal is not an aberration but the logical endpoint of a system built on exploitation. What began with colonial land theft centuries ago evolved into modern forms of predation—now hidden behind wealth, influence, and secrecy. The files expose how power protects itself: a cleaner for kings and a king’s confidant alike could find common cause in the same circles.
Britain’s parliamentary “criminal majority” is thus no accident. It reflects a national history where crime—whether territorial conquest or personal violation—has been the surest path to greatness and the retention of power. Until that legacy is confronted, the island’s elite will continue to guard its secrets fiercely, even as the evidence mounts.
This is not mere speculation; it is the pattern written across history, from Plassey to the present day. The question remains: how much longer can such a system endure before the full weight of its contradictions collapses upon it?