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Given that oil is a depleting, polluting, non-renewable resource, industrial society is due for a reckoning at some point. Will Trump's Iran War finally force us to look down?
Pop culture has long memorialized the Warner Brothers cartoon gag in which Wile E. Coyote, lured by his nemesis the Roadrunner, races off a cliff. Instead of immediately falling, Coyote keeps running, then looks down and realizes there’s nothing beneath him but empty space. His expression turns from anger to panic, whereupon he plummets. Coyote’s belated moment of realization is a trendy metaphor for our response to inevitable, though not yet fully realized, consequences of foolish behavior.
For the past couple of decades, we at Post Carbon Institute have been pointing out that energy is the basis of the economy, that oil is our foremost energy source, and that a transition to alternative energy sources will necessarily be slow and incomplete. Given that oil is a depleting, polluting, non-renewable resource, industrial society is due for a reckoning at some point. We are all in an extended Wile E. Coyote moment.
But now, as the United States’ war on Iran has set off a global energy crisis, humanity has arrived at a more immediate and critical Coyote moment. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) has issued a report suggesting that continued oil shortages could reduce global economic growth by 2% and raise inflation by 2.3%. Some analysts say the IMF warning is far too weak and that the crisis could trigger a global recession or worse.
Oil is a key ingredient in most consumer products and their packaging; expensive oil therefore translates to price hikes for toys, car parts, electronics, clothing, and more. It powers or is a critical input into essential elements of industrial society, including the food system. And oil moves everything: Global supply chains depend on transportation by truck, rail, ship, and air, and over 90% of transport energy is oil based. That means an extended crisis would likely lead to stagflation, in which the economy is hobbled simultaneously by inflation and slow growth or economic contraction. When prices for food and medicines are eventually impacted, no one will remain unaffected.
America’s status as oil-production king and its cushion of reserves have indeed helped it weather the early stages of the crisis. But the nation won’t be insulated from serious economic damage for long.
However, for the moment, the stock market is hardly signaling imminent economic peril; instead, the Dow Jones is near peak levels. Further, the US, which started the war, seems somewhat spared from its consequences, when compared with many other countries. And oil prices, while higher than before the hostilities, are nowhere near inflation-adjusted historic peaks.
What’s keeping Coyote airborne?
Myanmar, Bangladesh, Slovenia, Sri Lanka, Cambodia, and Vietnam are rationing or restricting the purchasing of fuel. Germany’s Lufthansa airline has cut 20,000 summer flights due to rising fuel costs. The examples could be multiplied: Countries in Asia, Europe, and Africa are already experiencing symptoms of energy scarcity, while Australia faces dire impacts to its agriculture.
But in America, the worst fallout so far is expensive gasoline. Before the first attacks on Tehran in late February, the average price of gas in the US was $2.98 a gallon. It’s now above $4—a political worry for the president and other Republicans, but a price that’s not quite as high as ones motorists faced in the 1970s. US airlines have raised their checked baggage fees in response to higher fuel costs. Yet, otherwise, business hums along more or less as usual. Why have Americans seen so few repercussions?
Two reasons are widely cited. The first is that the US is currently the world’s biggest oil producer and is therefore far less vulnerable to shortages than nations that import most, or all, of their fuel. The second is that the US has the world’s second-largest strategic petroleum reserve (after China), which, in an emergency, can be brought to market to lower prices and avert scarcity.
However, these two pillars of US energy resilience are shaky. First: Even though the United States produces over 13 million barrels of oil per day, it uses almost 20 million barrels. Further, the kinds of oil extracted from American wells are not always the kinds that the nation’s refineries are set up to use. So, oil companies export light crude and import heavier crude to produce the blends of gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel that the US market demands. The result: America is the world’s second-largest oil importer, even though its politicians love to brag about “energy independence.”
Second: Strategic petroleum reserves are only meant to last a relatively brief time. Currently, the US has about 400 million barrels of oil stored in four underground salt caverns along the Gulf of Mexico. That’s 20 days’ worth of total American consumption at current rates. Therefore, the government has limited ability to influence oil prices during a months-long supply crunch.
America’s status as oil-production king and its cushion of reserves have indeed helped it weather the early stages of the crisis. But the nation won’t be insulated from serious economic damage for long.
Oil has been trading at roughly $100 a barrel since the start of hostilities, a price somewhat lower than ones seen in June and July 2022 when Russia invaded Ukraine. The closure of the Strait of Hormuz would intuitively seem a much graver threat to world oil supplies. Given that a fifth of the world’s petroleum flow is now unavailable, why haven’t prices shot even higher?

One factor is the so-called TACO trade. US President Donald Trump has repeatedly shown the tendency to make threats and then back away; hence the meme “Trump Always Chickens Out” (TACO). The term “TACO trade” gained currency during 2025, when the president announced steep tariffs, then canceled or moderated them, ostensibly to leave time for negotiations but also perhaps in response to negative impacts those announcements had on stock prices (stock market activity appears to influence Donald Trump’s behavior more than most other factors). Savvy stock traders learned that if, instead of taking Trump’s most belligerent threats seriously, they bet against price dips, they could make more money.
We’re all dancing somewhere off the end of history’s biggest cliff, sensing that something isn’t quite right but blaming that sensation on people whose politics we disagree with.
The TACO trade has also followed Trump’s recent statements about the Iran War. When he said, in a late-night Truth Social post, that “a whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again” if a deal to reopen the Strait of Hormuz was not immediately reached, many oil traders sat tight, assuming Trump would renege on his threat. He did. If Trump’s backdowns happen on a Tuesday, as on April 21, the internet explodes with “TACO Tuesday” comments.
However, the longer the crisis drags on, the harder real shortages will bite oil-importing economies worldwide. And there are reasons to expect the impasse between the US and Iran to continue. Trump’s instinct is to bully and bluster, but every time he attacks Iran or threatens to do so, oil prices rise (despite the muting effect of the TACO trade) and the stock market dips. Both trends are political kryptonite. However, it would be even worse politically for Trump if he were to accede to a long-term Iranian peace deal that looks like a defeat for America. So, the standoff persists, with the Strait of Hormuz blocked, 20% of world oil supplies offline, and the global economy held hostage.
The strait has been closed for over two months. Analysts say that if it remains shut to tanker traffic for months longer, oil prices could soar to $200, which would almost surely send the global economy into contraction.
An acute Wile E. Coyote moment is also happening in global stock markets. Many people (including most investors) tend to think of stock prices as a barometer of the overall soundness of the economy. Others disagree, pointing out that stock prices just measure future profit expectations of listed companies, not current employment or wages, much less the health of the biosphere. Further, stock ownership is highly concentrated, so market booms often benefit only the wealthy. Nevertheless, the opinions of the rich tend to be amplified throughout society, so even many non-investors watch the Dow Jones and S&P 500. And, despite the Iran war and resulting higher oil prices, and despite warnings from experts about rising fertilizer costs and the possibility of global food shortages, the Dow seems to be doing just fine. The major market indexes dipped significantly between late February and late March but have recovered since then and are once again near record highs.
The market’s resilience is puzzling for another reason as well. Most investment action during the past couple of years has centered on artificial intelligence (AI). Nvidia, which makes computer chips for AI, is now the world’s most valuable company by market capitalization, even though the AI industry is struggling to be profitable. Many analysts say that AI is a classic financial bubble—and a historically big one.
So, are investors stupid, or what? A more nuanced take might be that they exhibit herd mentality, and that they tend to chase short-term profits, hoping to sell shares just before prices plunge.
Here’s another factor. According to some analysts, the markets are simply high on cash. Governments created enormous amounts of money to stanch problems created by the Global Financial Crisis of 2008 and the Covid-19 epidemic, and much of that money eventually found its way to investors. When the US federal government racks up giant fiscal deficits, it is creating new money, much of which winds up inflating bubbles.
In short, the market runs on investor sentiment, which is now detached from both consumer sentiment and business prospects—as well as from long-term biophysical reality.
But sooner or later, reality imposes itself.

In the cartoon, it’s not until Coyote looks down that he realizes his predicament. This sudden awareness triggers his fall.
Of course, in the real world, temporary ignorance can’t cancel gravity. Actual coyotes don’t hover until they glance groundward. However, the human economy can do something like that—because it’s a hybrid of a real-world component comprised of energy and material flows (which ultimately depend on nature), and an imaginary-world component comprised of money, prices, hype, and speculation. This hybrid semi-reality can run up ecological deficits and undermine the conditions of life for future generations while still maintaining affluence and entertainment for hundreds of millions of mostly clueless people. For now.
It’s our bigger, longer-playing Coyote moments to which we should be paying most attention—climate change, resource depletion, chemical pollution, and the disappearance of wild nature. Markets and prices are of little help in shifting our awareness in that direction: Cutting down an old-growth forest for timber can result in corporate profits and a bump in GDP, but the human and environmental impacts that will linger for generations don’t figure into this quarter’s P&L reports. We’re all dancing somewhere off the end of history’s biggest cliff, sensing that something isn’t quite right but blaming that sensation on people whose politics we disagree with. We do anything we can to avoid looking down.
Returning to the main subject of this article: Will oil prices skyrocket? Will Trump continue to TACO? Will the economy crater? Or will the US and Iran reach a deal and open the strait, so that normalcy can resume? Your guess is as good as anyone’s. But if you’re starting to have nagging worries, you’re not crazy and you’re not alone. Do something. Plant a vegetable garden. Talk to your neighbors about sharing tools and skills. Examine your oil dependency and see how you can reduce it. Imagine how your life might look if the economy were smaller, not bigger, and start making adjustments. Most of all, focus on building community with those around you.
The real story is not the candle in the window. It is the hand that cut the fuel.
When the lights go out in Havana, the foreign cameras arrive to film the darkness.
They come for the blackout glow: candles in apartment windows, families sleeping on balconies, mothers fanning infants through another airless night. They come for the line outside the pharmacy, the bus that never comes, the refrigerator gone warm.
They come for the darkness.
A recent CBS segment on Cuba offered viewers a familiar script: a “failed” island, an aging revolution, refugees in Florida, and Washington once again contemplating what to do with the place 90 miles away. But the segment was also built on an omission so large it swallowed the truth: that while these cameras speak of shortages and collapse, babies are dying under a policy designed to create both.
If the Cuban system is truly destined to fail on its own, why has so much power been invested in making sure it does?
A new report from the Center for Economic and Policy Research has found that the expansion of US sanctions beginning in 2017 was likely the primary cause of a dramatic rise in infant mortality in Cuba. According to the report, Cuba’s infant mortality rate surged by 148% from 2018 to 2025. Had the rate remained stable, approximately 1,800 babies who died during those years would likely still be alive.
Read that again. Babies.
The report links the rise to the tightening of unilateral US coercive measures under the first Donald Trump administration, the continuation of most of those measures under Joe Biden, and further escalation under the second Trump administration. Instead of telling that story, prime-time segments like CBS recycle Cold War clichés.
In this segment, people are invited to remember prerevolutionary Cuba as a lost paradise. But beyond the casino lights were cane cutters; domestic workers; rural families without doctors; children without schools; Black Cubans denied the full rights, dignity, and opportunities the government claimed to promise; workers, surviving in an economy where much of the wealth flowed upward. For many Cubans, the revolution was a rupture with dependency.
It is common in US media to shrink the Cuban Revolution into one beard, one speech, one man. As if millions of lives, shaped by inequality, dictatorship, and foreign domination, could be reduced to nothing more than a personality cult. Fidel Castro was central to Cuba’s history, but so were peasants who wanted land, teachers who crossed mountains to teach literacy, doctors who stayed in poor neighborhoods, workers who believed sovereignty meant something more than a flag.
Like any other country, Cuba has real internal problems. Bureaucracy exists. Economic errors exist. Frustration is real. Emigration is real. And yet, these realities are routinely seized upon by Washington as the ready-made justification for intervention, pressure, and policies that deepen the very conditions they claim to condemn.
For decades, the United States has built an external wall around the island brick by brick. Sanctions. Financial penalties. Shipping restrictions. Fuel pressure. Banking obstacles. Threats against companies that trade. Punishments for third countries. Obstacles to medicine, parts, credit, investment, and entrepreneurs. Policy papers described the logic openly generations ago: Create hardship, provoke desperation, generate political unrest.
This is where media like CBS plays a critical role by showing the suffering while obscuring the system that produces it. By rendering US policy as background noise rather than as an active force shaping the very reality being filmed. And this is not an isolated editorial choice. It is a pattern.
But when infant deaths rise sharply during a period of intensified external strangulation, honesty demands more than repeating those talking points. It requires naming cause and responsibility. And it requires asking a more uncomfortable question: If the Cuban system is truly destined to fail on its own, why has so much power been invested in making sure it does?
You don’t spend decades trying to suffocate something that poses no alternative. Why isolate, sanction, and punish a model you believe is irrelevant? Unless the fear is not that it will fail. Unless the fear is that it might, even with all its contradictions, suggest a different way of organizing society. One where people are not reduced to clients, markets, or consumers to be captured, but honored as human beings to be nourished, protected, and allowed to flourish.
When I walked through Havana during a blackout, I saw neighbors calling across courtyards, playing dominoes by candlelight. Someone on the corner had a speaker with half a battery and enough music for three buildings. Two young people kissed along the Malecón. Someone cursed the government. Someone cursed the blockade. Someone cursed both. Someone laughed. I saw human beings remain stubbornly human.
Why does CBS not cover that? Because they film the darkness. But the real story is not the candle in the window. It is the hand that cut the fuel, the policy that constricted the hospital, the silence that normalized preventable deaths, and the infants whose names will never appear in the broadcast.
We have a power imbalance in this country and a big part of that is that we no longer believe that we can demand a better life and it's a serious problem that we have too little skill in organizing ourselves and constructing the future we deserve.
When you grow up in this country one thing that’s wired into you early is that the government can’t do anything right. The free market is the only way things get done. Public is a dirty word. By the time you’re an adult, it sits in your head like it’s always been there. You don’t question it any more than you question gravity.
The problem is that it puts so many solutions out of reach and out of our imagination.
If we look around at the things that make our society work and our lives better, we can see we’ve been duped from the start. This didn’t all come from some pure, untouched version of the free market. Our roads, our bridges, libraries, fire departments, the internet, Social Security. All of these things happened because we came together as people and decided we wanted them.
These weren’t accidents. They weren’t side effects of private competition. They came out of a period when ordinary people had power. Real power. Power to demand that the systems they paid for actually delivered. The government was the instrument of that power. Not a side player. Not a check writer. Not a referee. A doer. A builder of things, on behalf of the people who built it.
In 1981, more than 40% of the hospitals in this country were owned by federal, state, or local government. Cities and counties ran their own hospitals.
That’s the idea we don’t name anymore. The idea that the public has the right to organize, to own, and to demand. That’s the competing idea. And without it, the system has no counterweight.
That tension mattered. It forced decisions. It forced investment. It forced the country to build.
Now that pressure is gone. Not completely, but enough that it doesn’t function anymore. There’s no real counterweight shaping outcomes. And what you’re left with is a system that just expands in the direction of profit. Profit over efficiency. Profit over outcomes. Profit over people.
You can see it most clearly in healthcare. We spend nearly six trillion dollars a year on it. Six trillion. And we are not the healthiest country on earth. We are not even close. We are paying the most and getting the least. That’s not an efficiency problem. That’s a power problem.
We’ve run this experiment for decades now. Consolidation, extraction, pricing that has no relationship to reality. It’s not competitive in any meaningful sense. It’s a closed loop. The product isn’t working. People feel it every day. They don’t need a study to tell them.
And here’s the thing nobody remembers. We used to own a lot of this. In 1981, more than 40% of the hospitals in this country were owned by federal, state, or local government. Cities and counties ran their own hospitals. States ran academic medical centers. The federal government ran the VA, military hospitals, the Indian Health Service. We the people owned the means of caring for ourselves.
That’s what made the whole system function. Not the charity of it. The leverage of it. We knew what it cost to set a bone. We knew what it cost to do a bypass. We knew what it cost to deliver a baby. Because we ran the hospitals where it happened. We paid the salaries. We bought the supplies. The numbers were public and the numbers were real.
You can’t lie to someone about the price of something they already produce. Public ownership wasn’t an alternative to the market. It was the thing that kept the market honest. It was the public’s seat at the table. It was the public’s power over the price. Strip it out and the private side stops competing and starts extracting. That’s not a hypothetical. That’s what happened. We sold the seat. We lost the power. The bills came due.
There was a time when we knew certain things were too important to leave entirely to the market. We didn’t let private companies own nuclear weapons.
Today that public share is closer to 15%. Most of the rest has been sold off, shut down, or absorbed into chains. What’s left is doing the hardest work the private system refuses to do. Public hospitals still handle most of the trauma care and most of the burn care in this country’s cities. They are the safety net. They are also the proof that we know how to do this. We just decided to stop.
Same thing starting to happen with AI. Something as transformative as the Industrial Revolution, arguably bigger, is being built and controlled by a handful of private actors. Massive margins. Massive control. No real public stake. No real competition in the way we used to understand it. No seat at the table for the rest of us.
There was a time when we knew certain things were too important to leave entirely to the market. We didn’t let private companies own nuclear weapons. We didn’t let them build private armies with that kind of power. We understood the scale of the risk. The consequence of getting it wrong.
AI sits in that category. Healthcare sits in that category. These are not normal sectors. They shape everything else. And the question of who owns them is the question of who has power in the country that comes next.
It’s not about fairness. Fuck fairness. This is about power. About whether ordinary people have any leverage left in a system that has spent forty years stripping it from them. About whether the country we live in is something we shape or something that happens to us.
Here are the numbers. The top 20% of earners in this country now account for nearly 60% of all consumer spending. Consumer spending is about two-thirds of GDP. So a small slice of households is propping up the entire economy. And the jobs most exposed to AI displacement, finance, law, software, analysis, corporate work, are concentrated in exactly that slice.
The same people whose spending holds the economy up are the ones whose work is about to be automated.
That’s not a labor problem. That’s a structural problem. You can’t retrain your way out of it. You can’t UBI your way out of it at the scale required. The CEOs warning you about 20-30% unemployment are running companies with 40% margins. They’re not wrong about the disruption. They’re wrong about it being something the private sector can absorb.
The market is facing a situation it cannot handle.
The market is the thing that brought us here.
Here’s the part people don’t say out loud. A future of plenty is possible. Not in some abstract, theoretical way. In a very real, material sense.
Health. Wellness. Safety. Time. Travel. Freedom. Education. Meaning. Food. Clothing. Shelter. All high quality and abundant. Enough for everyone.
Most people want that. You can feel it when you talk to them. But they don’t say it plainly because it sounds naive. It sounds like something you’re supposed to grow out of. Like if you take it seriously, you won’t be taken seriously.
Here’s the part people don’t say out loud. A future of plenty is possible. Not in some abstract, theoretical way. In a very real, material sense.
It reminds me a little of The Matrix. The idea that a version of the world that actually worked for people would be rejected because it didn’t match what they believed was real or possible. So instead, we settle into something worse and call it reality.
I grew up in East Tennessee, in the Bible Belt. And one of the things that always stuck with me was how religion was used. Not as a mission to improve people’s lives through effort and sacrifice, but as a way to sort people. To rank them. To separate. To justify who had what and why.
That same instinct shows up here. The idea that wanting a system that delivers for everyone is childish. That building something better is unrealistic. That you’re supposed to accept what exists and work within it, even if it’s clearly failing.
Here’s what gets forgotten. This country has done it before. Not once. Many times.
The New York City subway was built and is owned by the public. The interstate highway system is public. The Hoover Dam, the TVA, every river dam that powers the South and the West, public. The arsenal that won the Second World War was organized and largely paid for by the federal government. Rural electrification was a public project because no private company would run wire to a farmhouse for a price the farmer could pay. The internet started as a public research program. Public universities trained the engineers and doctors and scientists who built the modern American economy. Medicare is a public health insurance program that works better and costs less than what the private market offers people under 65.
Every one of those is a story about power. The public looked at a sector that mattered too much to leave to private capital, and the public took it. Owned it. Ran it. Set the terms. Made it deliver.
This is not foreign. This is not theoretical. This is the history of our country.
What comes next has to be built in public, owned in public, and run in public. The market had its turn at healthcare. The market is having its turn at AI. We’ve seen how this ends.
If we want a different future, we have to build it.
That’s not a metaphor.
We need hospitals, clinics, wellness centers. That means training tens of thousands of doctors, nurses, mental health professionals, dentists, physical trainers. Not hoping the market decides to produce them. Deciding to produce them. Owning them. Running them. Setting the price by knowing the cost.
What comes next has to be built in public, owned in public, and run in public. The market had its turn at healthcare. The market is having its turn at AI. We’ve seen how this ends.
We need millions of homes. New cities. New towns. That means builders, electricians, plumbers, framers, engineers. It means supply chains based in America that can deliver materials at scale. It means breaking the leverage that landlords and developers have spent decades accumulating.
We need to transition energy. Renewable generation. Storage. Transmission. A modern grid that can handle it. High-speed rail. A competitive EV industry that isn’t just a handful of companies protected by scale and capital. Independence from utilities that have spent a century turning a public good into a private toll booth.
Every one of these is a sector where the public used to have power and gave it up. Every one is a sector where the public can take that power back, if it decides to.
There is more to build in this country than we currently have people trained to build it. The bottleneck is not technology. It is not money. It is the decision to organize the effort. Those decisions will never be made by the market.
Solutions are going to take public action and competition. A new way of thinking.
Real work. Coordination. Training. Time. Effort. Change.
It’s a shame but nobody is coming to do this for us.
In face of such destruction and evil, the resistance from civic society has not risen to the deadly challenge either quantitatively or qualitatively.
What are the indicators of a presumed democracy either faltering or fortifying itself against the buffeting or destructive forces of dictatorial autocracy, plutocracy, and oligarchy?
Certainly, the commercial or corporate economy has developed thousands of indicators to ascertain whether the overall economy or its many subeconomies are getting better or worse. Far more than GDP, employment, profits, or inventory levels, these indicators spot trends at astounding microlevels in real time.
Who is developing the indicators for the civic community? Some groups inform us about voter turnout in micro-terms or how much commercial campaign money is flowing to candidates, or the sinking levels of local journalism, etc. But these indicators are far too few and too inadequate.
Let’s try one category of indicators that could be very useful for an introspective civic community and its supporters. The question is: “When conditions worsen, does the resistance get stronger or comparatively weaker?” Democracy in its concrete manifestations for people’s livelihoods, preparedness, and posterity decays or recovers and deepens, depending on the answer.
Space precludes citing more instances of civic resistance getting weaker while the exploiters and greedhounds get bolder, richer, more ravaging, and out of control.
The outlook is not good. With the advent of dictator Donald Trump and his dangerously unstable, violent, egomaniacal personality, the resistance from civic society has not risen to the deadly challenge either quantitatively or qualitatively.
Examples: Are many more new citizen groups (call them startups) forming all over the country to push for the removal of Trump from office via Impeachment? Are there expanding demonstrations of massive revulsions over Trump wrecking, weakening, and endangering America and the world? No. Three demonstrations with the weak moniker of No Kings, without follow-up civic mobilizations in congressional districts, doesn’t cut the mustard.
A detailed report in March by the respected V-Dem Institute at the University of Gothenburg in Sweden concluded that Trump and his administration are dismantling democracy in the US at a speed that “is unprecedented in modern history.” (See Common Dreams: “Trump Is Dismantling US Democracy at a Speed ‘Unprecedented in Modern History’: Watchdog”.)
The institutional resistance of checks and balances collapsed before January 20, 2025, but has worsened continually since that woeful day—Congress, the Supreme Court, and many state governors and legislators AWOL or actually enabling Trump.
Let’s get into specifics on the ground. Advertising dollars are controlling more content on and access to the media than ever, with fewer public critiques, regulatory action, or resistance from civic watchdog groups.
More programming and promotions are harming children (via smartphones especially) through direct marketing to children bypassing parental control than ever, yet there are few adequately staffed civic groups or parents countering this assault. There are outcries in the media, state legislatures, and congressional hearings, but the intensity of these electronic child molesters (pushing violence, pornography, junk food and drink, and mental anguish) continues without countervailing enforced regulations and substantial powerful civic and educational responses and protections of our vulnerable children.
Our public airwaves and public lands are under more corporate dominance than ever, yet the Federal Communications Commission, the federal forest and land management protectors are either asleep at the wheel or they are supporting corrosive corporatism. The public interest watchdog presence is almost zero on the public’s access to radio and television, and is overwhelmed by the relentless encroachment on the public lands by fossil fuel, mining, timber, and other commercial predators.
A swollen, unaudited Pentagon budget fueling the ever more aggressive American Military Empire has too few civic organizations resisting the annual violation of federal law requiring all federal agencies to provide an annual auditable budget to Congress.
The burgeoning corporate welfare subsidies, handouts, and taxpayer bailouts (government-guaranteed capitalism) are running amok. Large companies and mismanaged corporations go to Washington, not to bankruptcy court, which is the common option for small businesses. The conservative National Taxpayer Union reflects passivity.
More dark money PACs corrupting electoral campaigns has not provoked new civic groups of any size to stop this devastating selling of our elections that twists people’s votes and blocks progressive agendas. Even though 842 local government resolutions calling for a constitutional amendment to overturn Citizens United have been passed since the 2010 Supreme Court Ruling; 22 States and Washington DC have called for a Constitutional Amendment; and 121 Members of Congress are co-sponsoring legislation to overturn Citizens United, much more needs to be done.
Gambling is now accessible everywhere and spreading from college and professional athletics, to youngsters’ smartphones. The greedy “gaming” industry and its recent sleazy cousin—the “predictions market”—are a menace and out of control. Where is the countervailing civic power to oppose this decaying of our culture? Organized religion—long the bulwark—mostly gave up its role in countering the gambling craze years ago.
After 12 students and one teacher were killed in 1999 at the Columbine Colorado High School many American families demanded gun safety controls. The story of this tragedy was all over the media for days. Now there is an average of one mass shooting a day while Congress yawns. According to the Johns Hopkins Center for Gun Violence, “In 2022, 48,204 people died due to gun violence in the US, the second highest total ever recorded. Each day, an average of 132 people died from gun violence—one death every 11 minutes.” Again, no new powerful civic organizations are being started.
There are more tax escapes for big business and the super rich than ever. Major profitable corporations, like Tesla, paid no federal income tax last year. Meanwhile the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) budget shrinks, and demands for rigorous congressional hearings and investigations go nowhere. No start-up civic groups, other than Patriotic Millionaires. Where are the new start-ups to join with existing tax reform groups to stop the attack on the IRS? Candidates for office don’t spend much time talking about these gigantic tax escapees to mobilize focused public opinion to stop tax abuses by corporations and wealthy individuals which expand deficits and starve public budgets.
Space precludes citing more instances of civic resistance getting weaker while the exploiters and greedhounds get bolder, richer, more ravaging, and out of control.
Our Ralph Nader Radio Hour will soon devote a program to the absence of civil society indicators and the collapsing civic resistance to the overthrow of representative government by the corporate state.
Stay tuned and, by your questions and demands, get your politicians to make this deterioration front and center in their campaigning for this November’s election.