“These people were killed because they were poor.”

Wherever the seat of ignition, however acute the causes, whatever the integrity of the cladding or the efficacy of the fire doors, rapper Akala’s verdict on the Grenfell Tower blaze is as clear a distillation of the truth as is ever likely to emerge.

Some 1,000-page report from some well-furnished inquiry will publish recommendations, strengthen building regulations, wring hands and rap knuckles but it will never dare be as crystalline as that eight word condemnation.

“These people were killed because they were poor.”

It turns the stomach – that’s how true it feels.

It may well be that when all the bodies are buried, some in ridiculously tiny coffins, this Third World fire becomes a symbol for the division that has grown in our midst as silent and relentless and catastrophic as the break-up of the Larsen C ice shelf.

A tower block of the voiceless poor, where appearance without mattered more than lives within. Where neatly typed invoices on headed paper counted for something but the anguished blogs of the desperate counted for nothing. Out of sight, out of mind, where the poor forever dwell, existing merely as magnets for poverty cash.

Regardless of merit, it has the texture of truth, doesn’t it?

Somehow we blame the poor for their own misfortune and, among friends, for our present troubles too. For it was the disenfranchised who brought calamity to UK Plc with their shunning of the EU.

And who can blame them? The ballot box is the last place where their voice counts as much as yours and mine.

When you have so little then the throw of the dice looks like luxury. A pound on the lottery, not the loaf, buys the promise of the exotic not the banality of continuing struggle.

Grenfell Tower is the ultimate damning indictment of this divided society – the fifth richest in the world – that has buried its moral compass far beneath the folds of the earth to pursue a self-aggrandisement without soul or culmination. The cost of poverty is £78billion a year in social consequences so its relegation as an issue is beyond dogma and almost wilful.

Surely we can all acknowledge this now, can’t we?

Two women embrace in front of a messages left on a wall of condolence following the blaze at Grenfell Tower

If government exists for anything of utility, it is for this – the social contract, the basic covenant, the promotion of shared values. If that were all true and in place, there should be no particular outrage that Prime Minister Theresa May spent her time with those managing the crisis during her site visit.

But her failure to talk to residents mines a deeper truth. The soot-covered poor are untouchable, unrecognisable, likely to flight and fury and must be corralled in their Grenfell Towers.

And while the blame for the fire does not directly land at Parliament, the inference of moral neglect stretches far, as it did on June 23 last year in the EU referendum.

The banking crisis of 2008 – the genesis of the schism – was built on flogging mortgages to people who could never afford them; and its solution punished them again for their cult of hope. The exploiters had influence and were protected while the vulnerable were ordered to bleed for a distant cause. The mugs. The dolts. The useful idiots.

Some of those who perished in Grenfell Towers came to this country for a better life and some thought it their birthright. In modern times, that promise has never been more visibly betrayed.

A wave of nausea strikes again. It passes.

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