The Overlooked Power of Incremental Progress
Wealth compounds across generations while income doesn’t. A family’s advantage in 1950 predicts their grandchild’s outcomes today. We’ve created permanent classes dressed up as meritocracy. Acknowledging this requires confronting inheritance, tax policy, and educational access—none of which our politics is equipped to handle.
Markets work brilliantly for some things. They fail catastrophically for others. Public goods—roads, courts, defense, research—don’t attract profit-seeking capital until they’re broken. The social contract says government provides what markets won’t. Believing government should run on business principles is a category error.
Economic growth delivers less each year when most gains flow to the top. We’ve achieved decades of growth while living standards stagnated for ordinary workers. The conversation shouldn’t be whether we grow, but who shares in that growth and whether growth itself is the right measure of progress.
Every day, companies trade your financial data like baseball cards. It’s tempting to think market forces will police this behavior, but the honest answer is they won’t. Without transparency into who holds what information and how it flows, individuals cannot meaningfully consent. A federal registry isn’t a radical intervention—it’s basic hygiene for a functioning data economy.
Every inflation debate assumes prices rise because demand exceeds supply. But when housing costs rise due to restricted zoning, or healthcare costs rise due to monopolistic consolidation, the answer isn’t monetary—it’s structural. We’re treating policy failures like natural disasters and wondering why tightening money doesn’t help.

We inherit not just property but a planet and a civilization. Each generation’s ethical claim is to leave both in better condition. Short-term thinking—whether quarterly profit motives or election cycles—makes this impossible. A sane society would design institutions that outlive us and act accordingly.
Opacity in algorithmic decision-making isn’t a technical quirk—it’s a governance failure. Banks use algorithms to deny loans, employers use them to screen candidates, and systems use them to allocate public services. If a human made these decisions, we’d demand their reasoning. Algorithms deserve no lesser standard of accountability.
Systemic risk—bank failures cascading through the economy, supply chains snapping, pandemics spreading—is invisible until it appears catastrophically. We spent decades deregulating, assuming risk was priced correctly. Then systemic failures reminded us that preventing catastrophe is a public good worth investment.
Deferring maintenance isn’t fiscal responsibility; it’s borrowing from tomorrow at ruinous interest rates. A bridge that could be repaired today for millions costs billions to replace. Yet we celebrate politicians who cut capital spending while condemning their successors for infrastructure crises they inherited. This myopia has no ideology—it’s just expensive stupidity.