No one serious about democracy can be relaxed about a borough in which big business controls most of the votes

If the traditional deference of British society is embodied in the crown, the tradition of the British economy – of proud finance and malcontent industry – is embodied in the Corporation of London. Older than parliament, it is the nearest thing the Square Mile has to a local council – which is not that near at all.

The livery companies, freemen and the aldermen mark it out, not to mention a lord mayoralty that has existed since 1189, the year time immemorial technically stopped. That office naturally operates in splendid isolation from City Hall. Then there is ancient treasure stashed away in three venerable vaults: the charitable fund, whose tasks include upkeep of London Bridge; the City fund; and finally the so-called City’s Cash, to which the greatest mystery is attached. Last week, a little of that mystery disappeared, when the corporation published accounts which, for the first time, revealed the sum total of assets – to which the likes of the real-life Dick Whittington have contributed – as £1.3bn.

One king, Charles I, lost his head after attempting reform of the City. After a brief pause for a civil war and a commonwealth, his son, Charles II, tried again. That attempt was also seen off, and the glorious revolution duly entrenched London’s autonomy. The corporation insists that it has not proactively hidden its holdings, but – with this kind of record of resisting change – you have to ask why it opened its long-closed books at this particular moment? The most persuasive answer is the Occupy protesters, who last year made transparency a top demand. It would not have been in the style of the City to publish the numbers while the unhappy campers were still outside, but – just as Kennedy dismantled missiles in Turkey once a respectable interval had passed after Khrushchev’s retreat over Cuba – once the crisis had passed, the corporation demonstrated some flexibility. Flexibility that has no doubt helped it to survive so long.

It will be galling for cash-strapped town halls to learn the full measure of the Guildhall’s treasure trove in times like these, but is the corporation’s ancient blend of guild and gold truly a concern for the country? Might it be one of those anachronisms that no one would invent, but which nonetheless work?

Although the corporation acquits important tasks like maintaining Hampstead Heath competently enough, no one serious about the principle of democracy can be so relaxed about a borough in which big businesses, and not the people, control most of the votes. There are practical concerns, too. From last year’s row over the treatment of the porters of Billingsgate fish market, to last week’s press release resisting the idea of splitting up the banks, come stances which one might expect from an oligarchic electorate.