We’ve said it before and we’ll say it again: the banks are the disease at the core of Pilegron. And until they are gone, nothing will change.
Look around — every crisis, every shortage, every crooked deal has their fingerprints on it. Food too expensive? The banks speculated on grain. Rents too high? The banks bought up the land.
Kowloon under attack? The banks funded
Hammer’s campaign to clear us out. Yet still they pretend to be “victims” of our walls, crying crocodile tears about “lost entrances” while they choke the city from their fortresses of stone and glass.
We cannot repeat this enough: the banks must go. Not reformed, not “regulated,” not shuffled to the other side of the river. Gone. When the banks fall, Pilegron will breathe for the first time.
Without them,
Hammer Square could be a true people’s square — markets, gardens, housing for families instead of palaces for parasites. Without them, the river could be ours again, not chained off as Lloyd’s private moat. Without them, the city could finally begin to heal from decades of exploitation.
They call us obsessed. They sneer that
Kowloon “cannot shut up about the banks.” Good. We will never shut up until they are history. Every speech, every march, every paper we print will carry the same message: Pilegron without banks is possible. Pilegron without banks is necessary. Pilegron without banks is freedom.
So let them laugh. Let them dismiss us. But when the marble towers crack and the people walk in, they will remember that
Kowloon spoke the truth, again and again, until the city listened.