
BlackRock Headquarters building in Manhattan.
(Photo by Erik McGregor/LightRocket via Getty Images)
To donate by check, phone, or other method, see our More Ways to Give page.
BlackRock Headquarters building in Manhattan.
Today, the top 0.01% of the wealthiest people in America hold more of the country's total wealth than that same group did during the Gilded Age, a time of unrestrained financial speculation—but also of grinding poverty, corruption, and racial strife. That extreme concentration of wealth is in large part attributable to the dominance of Wall Street over American life, and bankers and investors' willingness to manufacture and exploit crises, when the spoils are greatest. The centrality of finance in the United States and across the globe arose through successive waves of neoliberal reform over the last half century involving the privatization of profits and externalization of risk.
The 2007 financial crisis led to widespread distrust of banks and government, but rather than creating a fairer economic system, it gave rise to new trends in finance that expanded speculators' influence in the global economy and continued to facilitate massive accumulations of wealth. Since the crisis, the financial sector has witnessed the rise of private equity (PE) as a major-league wealth maker, such that founders of the largest PE firms have become multi-billionaires.
This infrastructural power and concentration of ownership, largely unknown to the public, allows BlackRock and these other "big three" firms enormous influence over nearly every industry in the world.
In 2021, 25 members of the Forbes billionaire list made their money in PE, notably Kohlberg, Kravis, and Roberts (KKR) founder Henry Kravis (net worth $7.4 billion) and Stephen Schwarzman (around $30 billion net worth), the cofounder of the PE giant Blackstone, which manages about $1 trillion, a mammoth sum.
PE is a rebranded form of the leveraged buyouts (LBOs) of the Reagan era, memorialized in Oliver Stone's Oscar-winning film Wall Street—a fictionalized account of how real-life banker-predators like Ivan Boesky speculated on corporate takeovers in the go-go 1980s using illegal insider information, justified with survival-of-the-fittest ideologies and slogans like "greed is good." In that dog-eat-dog world of risk arbitrage, insider information was both money and power. The racket involved buying stock in "target" companies, pushing up bids beyond their actual value, and forcing takeovers.
In the 1980s, LBOs and mergers and acquisitions (M&As) were among Wall Street's hottest techniques for making massive amounts of money. LBOs took public companies private by borrowing against their assets to pay off shareholders (usually at inflated stock prices), with financing from banks and junk bonds. They tended to involve incredibly high debt levels, which were used to justify shop-floor cost cuts at a time when unions were far too weak to prevent them. After pieces of target companies were sold and their workforces "streamlined," the "re-engineered" companies would go public again with new and improved stock prices. LBO players claimed to be purchasing undervalued assets to unlock corporations' value and "rescue" them, but the buyouts were not for innovation and product development—they were for getting rich quickly.
For target companies, LBOs were rarely profitable, but they were big money makers for the bankers and cadres of lawyers and specialists who collected fees on the massively inflated buyout prices. Today, billion-dollar buyout and merger deals total in the trillions and PE has become a powerful engine of financialization, profoundly deepening the reach of wealthy investors in all parts of the economy. As of 2019, assets under PE management totaled more than $6.5 trillion, and in 2020, PE accounted for 6.5% of GDP, directly employing nearly 12 million workers and its suppliers employing an additional 7.5 million. By the middle of 2018, PE owned more companies than the number of businesses listed on all of the U.S. stock exchanges combined.
How PE operates
In broad strokes, a PE fund is an unregulated pool of money operating outside of public markets that elite investors buy into. Given the size of the initial outlay, those investors tend to be classified as "high net worth" or are institutional investors, such as universities, insurance companies or pension funds. Enabled by low interest rates and a politically friendly climate, the pooled funds are used to invest in or buy a target company—toy stores, newspapers, hospitals, pretty much anything under the sun—and then load it up with debt (as much as 90% of the sticker price) to finance the purchase. The borrowed money is, theoretically, used as working capital to restructure the company and "unlock" its value, while paying large dividends and funneling profits back to investors. Then, the idea is, they sell the company at a profit.
PE is so lucrative in part because of its generous "2 and 20" fee structure—2% in annual fees, plus a 20% cut of the profits above a certain level. Under the current tax code, that 20% is considered "carried interest" and is thus classified as capital gains, which saves PE firms tens of millions each year in taxes.
PE advertises itself as a benevolent force, as just a group of well-intended entrepreneurs investing in underperforming companies and restructuring them so they become more productive and efficient, and thus good for the economy. Some are. But most of the companies taken over by PE start off healthy and only become distressed after being raided for their value. The purpose is not to make companies productive citizens—it is to maximize the fund's profits and increase a company's appeal to buyers by cutting its operating costs, while shifting the risks associated with their investment onto shell companies and workers.
Companies acquired through leveraged buyouts are more likely to lower wages, cut retirement plans, and have higher rates of bankruptcy. Instead of reinvesting profits, as someone trying to build a company would, PE strips them of workers and assets and saddles them with untenable debt repayment schedules to "discipline managers." Such was the case with the dozens of large retailers that PE firms drove into the ground—including the otherwise profitable Toys-R-Us—wiping out millions of jobs and shorting workers of their severance pay.
The volatility that PE has introduced into the workforce is matched by high-risk lending to companies with poor credit and already high debt loads. PE's incentive structure is such that the more debt one raises against a target company, the less cash that is needed to pay for it, and the higher the returns once the company is sold. PE has also introduced dangerous levels of corporate concentration and monopoly by driving target companies out of business or merging them with other firms in the same industry.
After the 2007 financial crisis, for example, Blackstone bought up chunks of "troubled" real estate assets and used them to found a large single-family home rental company, Invitation Homes Inc. After "streamlining" its operations, Invitation Homes went public, then merged with another PE-backed business to create the United States' largest single-family rental company—all on the backs of millions of people forced out of their homes due to a crisis that the banks created. As of 2022, giant PE firms continue to buy up real estate—fostering an epic housing bubble and major affordability crisis, especially for renters—and create increasingly high-risk, shadowy, complex investment vehicles and shell companies to profit off overvalued or worthless assets.
Profiting off sickness
PE's raiding of the U.S. healthcare system—one of the country's most essential industries, accounting for a fifth of GDP—has proven disastrous. As a decentralized and fragmented industry composed of small operators, healthcare was ripe for investors looking to churn profits of mergers and by controlling markets. In 2020, large PE firms invested more than $340 billion to buy healthcare-related operations around the world, including rural hospitals, nursing homes, ambulance companies, and healthcare billing and debt collection systems.
This concentration has led to price gouging, hospital closings, predatory billing, cuts in hospital infrastructure and workforces, and declining quality of care. According to a study of PE-owned nursing homes, researchers found "robust evidence of declines in patient health and compliance with care standards" after PE firms took over the facilities. Moreover, despite receiving at least $1.5 billion in interest-free loans from Covid-relief funding streams, PE-backed healthcare providers cut workers' pay and benefits to make up for lost profits due to the emergency suspension of elective surgeries. They also contributed to shortages of ventilators, masks, and other equipment because their managers did not want to lose potential profits by keeping such equipment on the shelves in their hospitals.
PE managers have been caught grossly overcharging for medical treatment. In 2020, NBC News reported that while the median cost for treating a broken arm in an emergency room was about $665, Blackstone's TeamHealth charged almost $3,000. In a typical emergency room, NBC found, a physician group might charge three to four times the Medicare rate, but TeamHealth charged six times the rate. There is also the problem of "surprise billing"—when a patient's hospital is in their insurance network, but not the doctors who are treating them. PE firms found that, especially in emergency rooms, they could squeeze out profits by moving doctors out of network and then extracting higher prices from patients unaware that they are being treated by out-of-network providers.
Naturally, when Congress tried to thwart this criminal behavior, PE lobby groups spent a fortune protecting their interests, including a benevolent-sounding organization called Doctor-Patient Unity, which spent more than $28 million on ads funded by PE-backed companies. The bill did not pass, and to the Biden administration's credit, its Health and Human Services Administration passed a rule in July 2021 banning this egregious practice.
The other big three
The years since the financial crisis also witnessed the rise of just a handful of asset management firms as a dominant force in the world economy. Asset managers are companies that run investment funds for a variety of retail, institutional and private investors. While traditionally, ownership of corporate shares has tended to be dispersed across many diverse investors and owners of assets, this vast pool of corporate equity has become increasingly controlled and owned by a small, concentrated group of intermediary financial institutions.
Today, a "big three" of asset management firms—BlackRock, Vanguard, and State Street Global Advisors—together are the largest shareholder in almost 90% of the companies in the S&P 500 index, including Apple, Microsoft, ExxonMobil and GE. As of 2020, they were also the largest shareholder in 40% of all publicly listed U.S. companies, employing 23.5 million people, and with combined assets of over $15 trillion—an amount equivalent to more than three-quarters of GDP. The largest of these firms, BlackRock, not only controls shares in all of these companies but also has been hired by leading governments and central banks to advise them, in some cases making decisions about institutions in which BlackRock is a shareholder.
This infrastructural power and concentration of ownership, largely unknown to the public, allows BlackRock and these other "big three" firms enormous influence over nearly every industry in the world. Among fossil fuel companies alone, in 2020 BlackRock managed more than $87 billion worth of shares, giving it a major hand in decision making over how to combat the climate crisis, or not combat it at all.
Political economist Benjamin Braun termed this concentration of ownership "asset manager capitalism" to indicate the systemic effects of this acute consolidation and the novel corporate and financial architecture it has fostered. With a small group of financial companies controlling this architecture and an already large and still growing amount of wealth, they are on course to one day hold voting control of every major corporation and wield an immense, systemic level of power over governments and the global economy.
Dear Common Dreams reader, The U.S. is on a fast track to authoritarianism like nothing I've ever seen. Meanwhile, corporate news outlets are utterly capitulating to Trump, twisting their coverage to avoid drawing his ire while lining up to stuff cash in his pockets. That's why I believe that Common Dreams is doing the best and most consequential reporting that we've ever done. Our small but mighty team is a progressive reporting powerhouse, covering the news every day that the corporate media never will. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. And to ignite change for the common good. Now here's the key piece that I want all our readers to understand: None of this would be possible without your financial support. That's not just some fundraising cliche. It's the absolute and literal truth. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. Our Summer Campaign is now underway, and there’s never been a more urgent time for Common Dreams to be as vigilant as possible. Will you donate now to help power the nonprofit, independent reporting of Common Dreams? Thank you for being a vital member of our community. Together, we can keep independent journalism alive when it’s needed most. - Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Today, the top 0.01% of the wealthiest people in America hold more of the country's total wealth than that same group did during the Gilded Age, a time of unrestrained financial speculation—but also of grinding poverty, corruption, and racial strife. That extreme concentration of wealth is in large part attributable to the dominance of Wall Street over American life, and bankers and investors' willingness to manufacture and exploit crises, when the spoils are greatest. The centrality of finance in the United States and across the globe arose through successive waves of neoliberal reform over the last half century involving the privatization of profits and externalization of risk.
The 2007 financial crisis led to widespread distrust of banks and government, but rather than creating a fairer economic system, it gave rise to new trends in finance that expanded speculators' influence in the global economy and continued to facilitate massive accumulations of wealth. Since the crisis, the financial sector has witnessed the rise of private equity (PE) as a major-league wealth maker, such that founders of the largest PE firms have become multi-billionaires.
This infrastructural power and concentration of ownership, largely unknown to the public, allows BlackRock and these other "big three" firms enormous influence over nearly every industry in the world.
In 2021, 25 members of the Forbes billionaire list made their money in PE, notably Kohlberg, Kravis, and Roberts (KKR) founder Henry Kravis (net worth $7.4 billion) and Stephen Schwarzman (around $30 billion net worth), the cofounder of the PE giant Blackstone, which manages about $1 trillion, a mammoth sum.
PE is a rebranded form of the leveraged buyouts (LBOs) of the Reagan era, memorialized in Oliver Stone's Oscar-winning film Wall Street—a fictionalized account of how real-life banker-predators like Ivan Boesky speculated on corporate takeovers in the go-go 1980s using illegal insider information, justified with survival-of-the-fittest ideologies and slogans like "greed is good." In that dog-eat-dog world of risk arbitrage, insider information was both money and power. The racket involved buying stock in "target" companies, pushing up bids beyond their actual value, and forcing takeovers.
In the 1980s, LBOs and mergers and acquisitions (M&As) were among Wall Street's hottest techniques for making massive amounts of money. LBOs took public companies private by borrowing against their assets to pay off shareholders (usually at inflated stock prices), with financing from banks and junk bonds. They tended to involve incredibly high debt levels, which were used to justify shop-floor cost cuts at a time when unions were far too weak to prevent them. After pieces of target companies were sold and their workforces "streamlined," the "re-engineered" companies would go public again with new and improved stock prices. LBO players claimed to be purchasing undervalued assets to unlock corporations' value and "rescue" them, but the buyouts were not for innovation and product development—they were for getting rich quickly.
For target companies, LBOs were rarely profitable, but they were big money makers for the bankers and cadres of lawyers and specialists who collected fees on the massively inflated buyout prices. Today, billion-dollar buyout and merger deals total in the trillions and PE has become a powerful engine of financialization, profoundly deepening the reach of wealthy investors in all parts of the economy. As of 2019, assets under PE management totaled more than $6.5 trillion, and in 2020, PE accounted for 6.5% of GDP, directly employing nearly 12 million workers and its suppliers employing an additional 7.5 million. By the middle of 2018, PE owned more companies than the number of businesses listed on all of the U.S. stock exchanges combined.
How PE operates
In broad strokes, a PE fund is an unregulated pool of money operating outside of public markets that elite investors buy into. Given the size of the initial outlay, those investors tend to be classified as "high net worth" or are institutional investors, such as universities, insurance companies or pension funds. Enabled by low interest rates and a politically friendly climate, the pooled funds are used to invest in or buy a target company—toy stores, newspapers, hospitals, pretty much anything under the sun—and then load it up with debt (as much as 90% of the sticker price) to finance the purchase. The borrowed money is, theoretically, used as working capital to restructure the company and "unlock" its value, while paying large dividends and funneling profits back to investors. Then, the idea is, they sell the company at a profit.
PE is so lucrative in part because of its generous "2 and 20" fee structure—2% in annual fees, plus a 20% cut of the profits above a certain level. Under the current tax code, that 20% is considered "carried interest" and is thus classified as capital gains, which saves PE firms tens of millions each year in taxes.
PE advertises itself as a benevolent force, as just a group of well-intended entrepreneurs investing in underperforming companies and restructuring them so they become more productive and efficient, and thus good for the economy. Some are. But most of the companies taken over by PE start off healthy and only become distressed after being raided for their value. The purpose is not to make companies productive citizens—it is to maximize the fund's profits and increase a company's appeal to buyers by cutting its operating costs, while shifting the risks associated with their investment onto shell companies and workers.
Companies acquired through leveraged buyouts are more likely to lower wages, cut retirement plans, and have higher rates of bankruptcy. Instead of reinvesting profits, as someone trying to build a company would, PE strips them of workers and assets and saddles them with untenable debt repayment schedules to "discipline managers." Such was the case with the dozens of large retailers that PE firms drove into the ground—including the otherwise profitable Toys-R-Us—wiping out millions of jobs and shorting workers of their severance pay.
The volatility that PE has introduced into the workforce is matched by high-risk lending to companies with poor credit and already high debt loads. PE's incentive structure is such that the more debt one raises against a target company, the less cash that is needed to pay for it, and the higher the returns once the company is sold. PE has also introduced dangerous levels of corporate concentration and monopoly by driving target companies out of business or merging them with other firms in the same industry.
After the 2007 financial crisis, for example, Blackstone bought up chunks of "troubled" real estate assets and used them to found a large single-family home rental company, Invitation Homes Inc. After "streamlining" its operations, Invitation Homes went public, then merged with another PE-backed business to create the United States' largest single-family rental company—all on the backs of millions of people forced out of their homes due to a crisis that the banks created. As of 2022, giant PE firms continue to buy up real estate—fostering an epic housing bubble and major affordability crisis, especially for renters—and create increasingly high-risk, shadowy, complex investment vehicles and shell companies to profit off overvalued or worthless assets.
Profiting off sickness
PE's raiding of the U.S. healthcare system—one of the country's most essential industries, accounting for a fifth of GDP—has proven disastrous. As a decentralized and fragmented industry composed of small operators, healthcare was ripe for investors looking to churn profits of mergers and by controlling markets. In 2020, large PE firms invested more than $340 billion to buy healthcare-related operations around the world, including rural hospitals, nursing homes, ambulance companies, and healthcare billing and debt collection systems.
This concentration has led to price gouging, hospital closings, predatory billing, cuts in hospital infrastructure and workforces, and declining quality of care. According to a study of PE-owned nursing homes, researchers found "robust evidence of declines in patient health and compliance with care standards" after PE firms took over the facilities. Moreover, despite receiving at least $1.5 billion in interest-free loans from Covid-relief funding streams, PE-backed healthcare providers cut workers' pay and benefits to make up for lost profits due to the emergency suspension of elective surgeries. They also contributed to shortages of ventilators, masks, and other equipment because their managers did not want to lose potential profits by keeping such equipment on the shelves in their hospitals.
PE managers have been caught grossly overcharging for medical treatment. In 2020, NBC News reported that while the median cost for treating a broken arm in an emergency room was about $665, Blackstone's TeamHealth charged almost $3,000. In a typical emergency room, NBC found, a physician group might charge three to four times the Medicare rate, but TeamHealth charged six times the rate. There is also the problem of "surprise billing"—when a patient's hospital is in their insurance network, but not the doctors who are treating them. PE firms found that, especially in emergency rooms, they could squeeze out profits by moving doctors out of network and then extracting higher prices from patients unaware that they are being treated by out-of-network providers.
Naturally, when Congress tried to thwart this criminal behavior, PE lobby groups spent a fortune protecting their interests, including a benevolent-sounding organization called Doctor-Patient Unity, which spent more than $28 million on ads funded by PE-backed companies. The bill did not pass, and to the Biden administration's credit, its Health and Human Services Administration passed a rule in July 2021 banning this egregious practice.
The other big three
The years since the financial crisis also witnessed the rise of just a handful of asset management firms as a dominant force in the world economy. Asset managers are companies that run investment funds for a variety of retail, institutional and private investors. While traditionally, ownership of corporate shares has tended to be dispersed across many diverse investors and owners of assets, this vast pool of corporate equity has become increasingly controlled and owned by a small, concentrated group of intermediary financial institutions.
Today, a "big three" of asset management firms—BlackRock, Vanguard, and State Street Global Advisors—together are the largest shareholder in almost 90% of the companies in the S&P 500 index, including Apple, Microsoft, ExxonMobil and GE. As of 2020, they were also the largest shareholder in 40% of all publicly listed U.S. companies, employing 23.5 million people, and with combined assets of over $15 trillion—an amount equivalent to more than three-quarters of GDP. The largest of these firms, BlackRock, not only controls shares in all of these companies but also has been hired by leading governments and central banks to advise them, in some cases making decisions about institutions in which BlackRock is a shareholder.
This infrastructural power and concentration of ownership, largely unknown to the public, allows BlackRock and these other "big three" firms enormous influence over nearly every industry in the world. Among fossil fuel companies alone, in 2020 BlackRock managed more than $87 billion worth of shares, giving it a major hand in decision making over how to combat the climate crisis, or not combat it at all.
Political economist Benjamin Braun termed this concentration of ownership "asset manager capitalism" to indicate the systemic effects of this acute consolidation and the novel corporate and financial architecture it has fostered. With a small group of financial companies controlling this architecture and an already large and still growing amount of wealth, they are on course to one day hold voting control of every major corporation and wield an immense, systemic level of power over governments and the global economy.
Today, the top 0.01% of the wealthiest people in America hold more of the country's total wealth than that same group did during the Gilded Age, a time of unrestrained financial speculation—but also of grinding poverty, corruption, and racial strife. That extreme concentration of wealth is in large part attributable to the dominance of Wall Street over American life, and bankers and investors' willingness to manufacture and exploit crises, when the spoils are greatest. The centrality of finance in the United States and across the globe arose through successive waves of neoliberal reform over the last half century involving the privatization of profits and externalization of risk.
The 2007 financial crisis led to widespread distrust of banks and government, but rather than creating a fairer economic system, it gave rise to new trends in finance that expanded speculators' influence in the global economy and continued to facilitate massive accumulations of wealth. Since the crisis, the financial sector has witnessed the rise of private equity (PE) as a major-league wealth maker, such that founders of the largest PE firms have become multi-billionaires.
This infrastructural power and concentration of ownership, largely unknown to the public, allows BlackRock and these other "big three" firms enormous influence over nearly every industry in the world.
In 2021, 25 members of the Forbes billionaire list made their money in PE, notably Kohlberg, Kravis, and Roberts (KKR) founder Henry Kravis (net worth $7.4 billion) and Stephen Schwarzman (around $30 billion net worth), the cofounder of the PE giant Blackstone, which manages about $1 trillion, a mammoth sum.
PE is a rebranded form of the leveraged buyouts (LBOs) of the Reagan era, memorialized in Oliver Stone's Oscar-winning film Wall Street—a fictionalized account of how real-life banker-predators like Ivan Boesky speculated on corporate takeovers in the go-go 1980s using illegal insider information, justified with survival-of-the-fittest ideologies and slogans like "greed is good." In that dog-eat-dog world of risk arbitrage, insider information was both money and power. The racket involved buying stock in "target" companies, pushing up bids beyond their actual value, and forcing takeovers.
In the 1980s, LBOs and mergers and acquisitions (M&As) were among Wall Street's hottest techniques for making massive amounts of money. LBOs took public companies private by borrowing against their assets to pay off shareholders (usually at inflated stock prices), with financing from banks and junk bonds. They tended to involve incredibly high debt levels, which were used to justify shop-floor cost cuts at a time when unions were far too weak to prevent them. After pieces of target companies were sold and their workforces "streamlined," the "re-engineered" companies would go public again with new and improved stock prices. LBO players claimed to be purchasing undervalued assets to unlock corporations' value and "rescue" them, but the buyouts were not for innovation and product development—they were for getting rich quickly.
For target companies, LBOs were rarely profitable, but they were big money makers for the bankers and cadres of lawyers and specialists who collected fees on the massively inflated buyout prices. Today, billion-dollar buyout and merger deals total in the trillions and PE has become a powerful engine of financialization, profoundly deepening the reach of wealthy investors in all parts of the economy. As of 2019, assets under PE management totaled more than $6.5 trillion, and in 2020, PE accounted for 6.5% of GDP, directly employing nearly 12 million workers and its suppliers employing an additional 7.5 million. By the middle of 2018, PE owned more companies than the number of businesses listed on all of the U.S. stock exchanges combined.
How PE operates
In broad strokes, a PE fund is an unregulated pool of money operating outside of public markets that elite investors buy into. Given the size of the initial outlay, those investors tend to be classified as "high net worth" or are institutional investors, such as universities, insurance companies or pension funds. Enabled by low interest rates and a politically friendly climate, the pooled funds are used to invest in or buy a target company—toy stores, newspapers, hospitals, pretty much anything under the sun—and then load it up with debt (as much as 90% of the sticker price) to finance the purchase. The borrowed money is, theoretically, used as working capital to restructure the company and "unlock" its value, while paying large dividends and funneling profits back to investors. Then, the idea is, they sell the company at a profit.
PE is so lucrative in part because of its generous "2 and 20" fee structure—2% in annual fees, plus a 20% cut of the profits above a certain level. Under the current tax code, that 20% is considered "carried interest" and is thus classified as capital gains, which saves PE firms tens of millions each year in taxes.
PE advertises itself as a benevolent force, as just a group of well-intended entrepreneurs investing in underperforming companies and restructuring them so they become more productive and efficient, and thus good for the economy. Some are. But most of the companies taken over by PE start off healthy and only become distressed after being raided for their value. The purpose is not to make companies productive citizens—it is to maximize the fund's profits and increase a company's appeal to buyers by cutting its operating costs, while shifting the risks associated with their investment onto shell companies and workers.
Companies acquired through leveraged buyouts are more likely to lower wages, cut retirement plans, and have higher rates of bankruptcy. Instead of reinvesting profits, as someone trying to build a company would, PE strips them of workers and assets and saddles them with untenable debt repayment schedules to "discipline managers." Such was the case with the dozens of large retailers that PE firms drove into the ground—including the otherwise profitable Toys-R-Us—wiping out millions of jobs and shorting workers of their severance pay.
The volatility that PE has introduced into the workforce is matched by high-risk lending to companies with poor credit and already high debt loads. PE's incentive structure is such that the more debt one raises against a target company, the less cash that is needed to pay for it, and the higher the returns once the company is sold. PE has also introduced dangerous levels of corporate concentration and monopoly by driving target companies out of business or merging them with other firms in the same industry.
After the 2007 financial crisis, for example, Blackstone bought up chunks of "troubled" real estate assets and used them to found a large single-family home rental company, Invitation Homes Inc. After "streamlining" its operations, Invitation Homes went public, then merged with another PE-backed business to create the United States' largest single-family rental company—all on the backs of millions of people forced out of their homes due to a crisis that the banks created. As of 2022, giant PE firms continue to buy up real estate—fostering an epic housing bubble and major affordability crisis, especially for renters—and create increasingly high-risk, shadowy, complex investment vehicles and shell companies to profit off overvalued or worthless assets.
Profiting off sickness
PE's raiding of the U.S. healthcare system—one of the country's most essential industries, accounting for a fifth of GDP—has proven disastrous. As a decentralized and fragmented industry composed of small operators, healthcare was ripe for investors looking to churn profits of mergers and by controlling markets. In 2020, large PE firms invested more than $340 billion to buy healthcare-related operations around the world, including rural hospitals, nursing homes, ambulance companies, and healthcare billing and debt collection systems.
This concentration has led to price gouging, hospital closings, predatory billing, cuts in hospital infrastructure and workforces, and declining quality of care. According to a study of PE-owned nursing homes, researchers found "robust evidence of declines in patient health and compliance with care standards" after PE firms took over the facilities. Moreover, despite receiving at least $1.5 billion in interest-free loans from Covid-relief funding streams, PE-backed healthcare providers cut workers' pay and benefits to make up for lost profits due to the emergency suspension of elective surgeries. They also contributed to shortages of ventilators, masks, and other equipment because their managers did not want to lose potential profits by keeping such equipment on the shelves in their hospitals.
PE managers have been caught grossly overcharging for medical treatment. In 2020, NBC News reported that while the median cost for treating a broken arm in an emergency room was about $665, Blackstone's TeamHealth charged almost $3,000. In a typical emergency room, NBC found, a physician group might charge three to four times the Medicare rate, but TeamHealth charged six times the rate. There is also the problem of "surprise billing"—when a patient's hospital is in their insurance network, but not the doctors who are treating them. PE firms found that, especially in emergency rooms, they could squeeze out profits by moving doctors out of network and then extracting higher prices from patients unaware that they are being treated by out-of-network providers.
Naturally, when Congress tried to thwart this criminal behavior, PE lobby groups spent a fortune protecting their interests, including a benevolent-sounding organization called Doctor-Patient Unity, which spent more than $28 million on ads funded by PE-backed companies. The bill did not pass, and to the Biden administration's credit, its Health and Human Services Administration passed a rule in July 2021 banning this egregious practice.
The other big three
The years since the financial crisis also witnessed the rise of just a handful of asset management firms as a dominant force in the world economy. Asset managers are companies that run investment funds for a variety of retail, institutional and private investors. While traditionally, ownership of corporate shares has tended to be dispersed across many diverse investors and owners of assets, this vast pool of corporate equity has become increasingly controlled and owned by a small, concentrated group of intermediary financial institutions.
Today, a "big three" of asset management firms—BlackRock, Vanguard, and State Street Global Advisors—together are the largest shareholder in almost 90% of the companies in the S&P 500 index, including Apple, Microsoft, ExxonMobil and GE. As of 2020, they were also the largest shareholder in 40% of all publicly listed U.S. companies, employing 23.5 million people, and with combined assets of over $15 trillion—an amount equivalent to more than three-quarters of GDP. The largest of these firms, BlackRock, not only controls shares in all of these companies but also has been hired by leading governments and central banks to advise them, in some cases making decisions about institutions in which BlackRock is a shareholder.
This infrastructural power and concentration of ownership, largely unknown to the public, allows BlackRock and these other "big three" firms enormous influence over nearly every industry in the world. Among fossil fuel companies alone, in 2020 BlackRock managed more than $87 billion worth of shares, giving it a major hand in decision making over how to combat the climate crisis, or not combat it at all.
Political economist Benjamin Braun termed this concentration of ownership "asset manager capitalism" to indicate the systemic effects of this acute consolidation and the novel corporate and financial architecture it has fostered. With a small group of financial companies controlling this architecture and an already large and still growing amount of wealth, they are on course to one day hold voting control of every major corporation and wield an immense, systemic level of power over governments and the global economy.
While acknowledging that "hunger is a real issue in Gaza," the US ambassador to the UN repeated a debunked claim that the world's leading authority on starvation lowered its standards to declare a famine.
Every member nation of the United Nations Security Council except the United States on Wednesday affirmed that Israel's engineered famine in Gaza is "man-made" as 10 more Palestinians died of starvation amid what UN experts warned is a worsening crisis.
Fourteen of the 15 Security Council members issued a joint statement calling for an immediate Gaza ceasefire, release of all remaining hostages held by Hamas, and lifting of all Israeli restrictions on aid delivery into the embattled strip, where hundreds of Palestinians have died from starvation and hundreds of thousands more are starving.
"Famine in Gaza must be stopped immediately," they said. "Time is of the essence. The humanitarian emergency must be addressed without delay and Israel must reverse course."
"We express our profound alarm and distress at the IPC data on Gaza, published last Friday. It clearly and unequivocally confirms famine," the statement said, referring to the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification's declaration of Phase 5, or a famine "catastrophe," in the strip.
"We trust the IPC's work and methodology," the 14 countries declared. "This is the first time famine has been officially confirmed in the Middle East region. Every day, more persons are dying as a result of malnutrition, many of them children."
"This is a man-made crisis," the statement stresses. "The use of starvation as a weapon of war is clearly prohibited under international humanitarian law."
Israel, which is facing a genocide case at the UN's International Court of Justice, denies the existence of famine in Gaza. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former Defense Minister Yoav Gallant are wanted by the International Court of Justice for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity, including murder and forced starvation.
The 14 countries issuing the joint statement are: Algeria, China, Denmark, France, Greece, Guyana, Pakistan, Panama, the Republic of Korea, the Russian Federation, Sierra Leone, Slovenia, Somalia, and the United Kingdom.
While acknowledging that "hunger is a real issue in Gaza and that there are significant humanitarian needs which must be met," US Ambassador to the UN Dorothy Shea rejected the resolution and the IPC's findings.
"We can only solve problems with credibility and integrity," Shea told the Security Council. "Unfortunately, the recent report from the IPC doesn't pass the test on either."
Shea also repeated the debunked claim that the IPC's "normal standards were changed for [the IPC famine] declaration."
The Security Council's affirmation that the Gaza famine is man-made mirrors the findings of food experts who have accused Israel of orchestrating a carefully planned campaign of mass starvation in the strip.
The UN Palestinian Rights Bureau and UN humanitarian officials also warned Wednesday that the famine in Gaza is "only getting worse."
"Over half a million people currently face starvation, destitution, and death," the humanitarian experts said. "By the end of September, that number could exceed 640,000."
"Failure to act now will have irreversible consequences," they added.
Wednesday's UN actions came as Israel intensified Operation Gideon's Chariots 2, the campaign to conquer, occupy, and ethnically cleanse around 1 million Palestinians from Gaza, possibly into a reportedly proposed concentration camp that would be built over the ruins of the southern city of Rafah.
The Gaza Health Ministry (GHM) on Wednesday reported 10 more Palestinian deaths "due to famine and malnutrition" over the past 24 hours, including two children, bringing the number of famine victims to at least 313, 119 of them children.
All told, Israel's 691-day assault and siege on Gaza has left at least 230,000 Palestinians dead, maimed, or missing, according to the GHM.
"What would the reaction would be if an Arab state wrote this about synagogues and Jews?" asked one critic.
Israel faced backlash this week after its Arabic-language account on the social media site X published a message warning Europeans to take action against the proliferation of mosques and "remove" Muslims from their countries.
"In the year 1980, there were only fewer than a hundred mosques in Europe. As for today, there are more than 20,000 mosques. This is the true face of colonization," posted Israel, a settler-colonial state whose nearly 2 million Muslim citizens face widespread discrimination, and where Palestinians in the illegally occupied territories live under an apartheid regime.
"This is what is happening while Europe is oblivious and does not care about the danger," the post continues. "And the danger does not lie in the existence of mosques in and of themselves, for freedom of worship is one of the basic human rights, and every person has the right to believe and worship his Lord."
"The problem lies in the contents that are taught in some of these mosques, and they are not limited to piety and good deeds, but rather focus on encouraging escalating violence in the streets of Europe, and spreading hatred for the other and even for those who host them in their countries, and inciting against them instead of teaching love, harmony, and peace," Israel added. "Europe must wake up and remove this fifth column."
Referring to the far-right Alternative for Germany party, Berlin-based journalist James Jackson replied on X that "even the AfD don't tweet, 'Europe must wake up and remove this fifth column' over a map of mosques."
Other social media users called Israel's post "racist" and "Islamophobic," while some highlighted the stark contrast between the way Palestinians and Israelis treat Christian people and institutions.
Others noted that some of the map's fearmongering figures misleadingly showing a large number of mosques indicate countries whose populations are predominantly or significantly Muslim.
"Russia has 8,000 mosques? Who would've known a country with millions of Muslim Central Asians and Caucasians would need so many!" said one X user.
Israel's post came amid growing international outrage over its 691-day assault and siege on Gaza, which has left more than 230,000 Palestinians dead, maimed, or missing and hundreds of thousands more starving and facing ethnic cleansing as Operation Gideon's Chariots 2—a campaign to conquer, occupy, and "cleanse" the strip—ramps up amid a growing engineered famine that has already killed hundreds of people.
Israel is facing an ongoing genocide case at the International Court of Justice, while Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Yoav Gallant, his former defense minister, are fugitives form the International Criminal Court, where they are wanted for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity including murder and forced starvation.
European nations including Belgium, Ireland, and Spain are supporting the South Africa-led ICJ genocide case against Israel. Since October 2023, European countries including Belgium, France, Malta, Portugal, Slovenia, the United Kingdom, Ireland, Norway, and Spain have either formally recognized Palestinian statehood or announced their intention to do so.
"This is unfathomable discrimination against immigrants that will cost our country lives," said Rep. Pramila Jayapal.
The Trump administration is reportedly putting new restrictions on nonprofit organizations that would bar them from helping undocumented immigrants affected by natural disasters.
The Washington Post reported on Wednesday that the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) is "now barring states and volunteer groups that receive government funds from helping undocumented immigrants" while also requiring these groups "to cooperate with immigration officials and enforcement operations."
Documents obtained by the paper reveal that all volunteer groups that receive government money to help in the wake of disasters must not "operate any program that benefits illegal immigrants or incentivizes illegal immigration." What's more, the groups are prohibited from "harboring, concealing, or shielding from detection illegal aliens" and must "provide access to detainees, such as when an immigration officer seeks to interview a person who might be a removable alien."
The order pertains to faith-based aid groups such as the Salvation Army and Red Cross that are normally on the front lines building shelters and providing assistance during disasters.
Scott Robinson, an emergency management expert who teaches at Arizona State University, told The Washington Post that there is no historical precedent for requiring disaster victims to prove proof of their legal status before receiving assistance.
"The notion that the federal government would use these operations for surveillance is entirely new territory," he said.
Many critics were quick to attack the administration for threatening to punish nonprofit groups that help undocumented immigrants during natural disasters.
Rep. Pramila Jayapal (D-Wash.) lashed out at the decision to bar certain people from receiving assistance during humanitarian emergencies.
"When disaster hits, we cannot only help those with certain legal status," she wrote in a social media post. "We have an obligation to help every single person in need. This is unfathomable discrimination against immigrants that will cost our country lives."
Aaron Reichlin-Melnick, senior fellow at the American Immigration Council, said that restrictions on faith-based groups such as the Salvation Army amounted to a violation of their First Amendment rights.
"Arguably the most anti-religious administration in history," he wrote. "Just nakedly hostile to those who wish to practice their faith."
Bloomberg columnist Erika Smith labeled the new DHS policy "truly cruel and crazy—even for this administration."
Author Charles Fishman also labeled the new policy "crazy" and said it looks like the Trump administration is "trying to crush even charity."
Catherine Rampell, a former columnist at The Washington Post, simply described the new DHS policy as "evil."