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How we redefined business as usual to move $500 million.
For too long, philanthropy has hidden behind the twin gatekeepers of fiduciary duty and perpetuity to avoid giving more when communities need it most. Last year, the Marguerite Casey Foundation provided a one-time fivefold increase in funding to meet a deepening moment of crisis. We learned this was a lifeline to many organizations facing increasing attacks and whose funders were pulling back from supporting racial and economic justice organizing.
The damage we’re seeing—from cuts to essential government services and ICE raids to a corrupt federal government orchestrating the largest transfer of wealth from the poorest people to the richest in our nation—will have impacts for a generation. Philanthropy must provide resources at a scale and with a fervor that meaningfully responds to the reality of the world around us.
Yet, at a time when funders should be doing more, The Center for Effective Philanthropy recently documented a stunning disconnect: the vast majority of philanthropic leaders believe everything is fine, while the nonprofit sector is suffering job losses, burnout, and uncertainty. To address this gap between foundation comfort and community suffering, our sector must evolve how we move money.
A foundation more concerned with preserving its endowment than in meeting its mission must question whether it is living into its charitable purpose.
The traditional philanthropic model limits annual giving to 5% of a foundation’s total assets. A commonly cited reason for this approach is fiduciary duty. Foundation trustees and leaders invoke fiduciary duty to shut down conversations about increased payout: "We can't give more than 5% of our assets because we have to exercise fiduciary responsibility."
But after a series of deep conversations with our board, examining legal frameworks and sharpening our definitions, we arrived at a different conclusion: fiduciary duty is a duty to mission. So if our mission is to transform the government so it delivers on the promise of a good life for all people then right now is precisely when we need to make the deepest commitment we possibly can. Increasing our annual grantmaking by 50% to a minimum of $500M over the next decade is how we’re putting into practice our sharpened understanding of fiduciary duty to mission.
The second assumption we examined was the unexamined belief that foundations must exist forever by growing their endowments at any cost, even when that cost is investing in corporations that work at cross-purposes to our mission. Perpetuity, often written directly into a foundation's bylaws, is the second gateway where conversations about increased payout often go to die.
The logic sounds reasonable on its face: to last forever, a foundation must preserve and grow its endowment infinitely. But a foundation more concerned with preserving its endowment than in meeting its mission must question whether it is living into its charitable purpose. We hope that our commitment to give $500M over ten years will serve as a powerful proof point for our sector that a vastly increased payout and perpetuity can and must coexist.
If our mission is to transform the government so it delivers on the promise of a good life for all people then right now is precisely when we need to make the deepest commitment we possibly can.
Through rigorous investment stress testing, we found that most foundations can, in fact, drastically increase their payout even while adhering to a commitment to perpetuity. When we took a closer look at our own bylaws, it became clear that our perpetuity clause doesn’t define “perpetuity” as endless upward growth of the endowment. Instead, perpetuity simply means lasting forever—it says nothing about getting larger forever. Our sector has confused endless growth with existing over the long-term. At MCF, we’re untangling the two and showing how a foundation can last indefinitely while also spending down its endowment to a predetermined level. The two are not in conflict.
Instead of a grantmaking formula determined by a rigid percentage of total assets, we now operate from a sharpened approach: fiduciary duty centers mission, and perpetuity means building durable community power, not endlessly growing our own money for an unpromised tomorrow. We are not alone in this realization or practice. Many of our philanthropic partners have been giving above and beyond the 5%, realizing that "forever" has become an excuse for "not now."
The crises we’re facing are too big for business as usual. Our invitation to foundation leaders reading this: let’s evolve our practice of fiduciary duty and perpetuity so we can move the money to the community organizers, scholars, municipal leaders, and meaning-makers creating a future worthy of living.
The class-based inequalities exacerbated by the Trump bill are not new. Rather, they are part of a 50-year trend linked to social cleavages, political corruption, and a declining belief in the common good.
America has never been richer. But the gains are so lopsided that the top 10% controls 69% of all wealth in the country, while the bottom half controls just 3%. Meanwhile, surging corporate profits have mostly benefited investors, not the broader public.
This divide is expected to widen after President Donald Trump’s sweeping new spending bill drastically cuts Medicaid and food aid, programs that stabilize the economy and subsidize low-wage employers.
Moreover, the tax cuts at the heart of the bill will deliver tens of billions of dollars in benefits to the wealthiest households while disproportionately burdening low-income households, according to analyses by the nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office and Joint Committee on Taxation. By 2033, the bottom 20% will pay more in taxes while the top 0.1% receive $43 billion in cuts.
I am a sociologist who studies economic inequality, and my research demonstrates that the class-based inequalities exacerbated by the Trump bill are not new. Rather, they are part of a 50-year trend linked to social cleavages, political corruption, and a declining belief in the common good.
The decades following World War II were broadly prosperous, but conditions began changing in the 1970s. Class inequality has increased enormously since then, according to government data, while income inequality has risen for five decades at the expense of workers.
Economists usually gauge a country’s economic health by looking at its gross domestic product as measured through total spending on everything from groceries to patents.
But another way to view GDP is by looking at whether the money goes to workers or business owners. This second method—the income approach—offers a clearer picture of who really benefits from economic growth.
The money that goes to labor’s share of GDP, or workers, is represented by employee compensation, including wages, salaries, and benefits. The money left over for businesses after paying for work and materials is called gross operating surplus, or business surplus.
The share of GDP going to workers rose 12% from 1947 to 1970, then fell 14% between 1970 and 2023. The opposite happened with the business surplus, falling 18% in the early postwar decades before jumping 34% from 1970 to today.
Meanwhile, corporate profits have outpaced economic growth by 193% since 1970. Within profits, shareholder dividends as a share of GDP grew 274%.
As of 2023, labor had lost all of the economic gains made since 1947. Had workers kept their 1970 share of GDP, they would have earned $1.7 trillion more in 2023 alone. And no legislation or federal action since 1970 has reversed this half-century trend.
When more of the economy goes to businesses instead of workers, that poses serious social problems. My research focuses on three that threaten democracy.
Not just an issue of income and assets, growing class inequality represents the fraying of American society.
For instance, inequality and the resulting hardship are linked to worse health outcomes. Americans die younger than their peers in other rich countries, and U.S. life expectancy has decreased, especially among the poor.
Moreover, economic struggles contribute to mental health issues, deaths of despair, and profound problems such as addiction, including tobacco, alcohol, and opioid abuse.
Inequality can disrupt families. Kids who experience the stresses of poverty can develop neurological and emotional problems, putting them at risk for drug use as adults. On the other hand, when minimum wages increase and people begin saving wealth, divorce risk falls.
Research shows inequality has many other negative consequences, from reduced social mobility to lower social trust and even higher homicide rates.
Together, these broad social consequences are linked to misery, political discontent, and normlessness.
Inequality is rising in the U.S. largely because business elites are exercising more influence over policy outcomes, research shows. My related work on privatization explains how 50 years of outsourcing public functions—through contracting, disinvestment, and job cuts—threatens democratic accountability.
Research across different countries has repeatedly found that higher income inequality increases political corruption. It does so by undermining trust in government and institutions, and enabling elites to dominate policymaking while weakening public oversight.
Yet democratic decline and inequality are not inevitable.
Since 2010, weakened campaign finance laws driven by monied interests have sharply increased corruption risks. The Supreme Court ruled then in Citizens United to lift campaign finance restrictions, enabling unlimited political spending. It reached an apex in 2024, when Elon Musk spent $200 million to elect Trump before later installing his Starlink equipment onto Federal Aviation Administration systems in a reported takeover of a $2.4 billion contract with Verizon.
Research shows that a large majority of Americans believe that the economy is rigged, suggesting everyday people sense the link between inequality and corruption.
National aspirations have emphasized the common good since America’s founding. The Declaration of Independence lists the king’s first offense as undermining the “public good” by subverting the rule of law. The Constitution’s preamble commits the government to promoting the general welfare and shared well-being.
But higher inequality historically means the common good goes overlooked, according to research. Meanwhile, work has become more precarious, less unionized, more segmented, and less geographically stable. Artificial intelligence may worsen these trends.
This tends to coincide with a drop in voting and other forms of civic engagement.
The government has fewer mechanisms for protecting community when rising inequality is paired with lower taxes for the wealthy and reduced public resources. My research finds that public sector unions especially bolster civic engagement in this environment.
Given increasing workplace and social isolation, America’s loneliness epidemic is unsurprising, especially for low earners.
All of these factors and their contribution to alienation can foster authoritarian beliefs and individualism. When people become cold and distrustful of one another, the notion of the common good collapses.
News coverage of the Trump bill and policy debate have largely centered on immediate gains and losses. But zoomed out, a clearer picture emerges of the long-term dismantling of foundations that once supported broad economic security. That, in turn, has enabled democratic decline.
As labor’s share of the economy declined, so too did the institutional trust and shared social values that underpin democratic life. Among the many consequences are the political discontent and disillusionment shaping our current moment.
Republicans hold both chambers of Congress through 2026, making significant policy changes unlikely in the short term. Democrats opposed the bill but are out of power. And their coalition is divided between a centrist establishment and an insurgent progressive wing with diverging priorities in addressing inequality.
Yet democratic decline and inequality are not inevitable. If restoring broad prosperity and social stability are the goals, they may require revisiting the New Deal-style policies that produced labor’s peak economic share of 59% of GDP in 1970.
While the slide into authoritarianism has perhaps reached the point of no return, which we cannot know for certain, now might instead be regarded as an exigent moment for revitalizing the spirit of democracy.
“Democratic laws and institutions can only function effectively when they are based on a culture of democracy.” —Thorbjørn Jagland, Secretary General of the Council of Europe (2018)
If political rage propels authoritarianism, what supports democratic governance? If a culture of democracy is required, is it attainable? Or has the slide into authoritarian rule crossed the point of no return? The time of cultural reckoning has arrived.
U.S. democracy, historically thin, is susceptible to demagoguery and oligarchy. As political philosopher Benjamin Barber observed decades ago, “the survival of democracy remains an open question.” It will endure “only as strong democracy,” secured by a competent, responsible, politically engaged, and well-informed citizenry; a lasting commitment to self-governance requires a civically educated public.
Strong democracy presupposes a culture of democracy.
This question is so important that in 2018 the Council of Europe—an intergovernmental human rights organization representing 46 European member states—published a three-volume report dedicated to answering it. According to the report, a civic culture strong enough to sustain democratic institutions, laws, and practices consists of a full set of values, attitudes, and knowledge acted upon by the citizenry in public spaces. This is a high standard, especially for a markedly diverse country of over 300 million. It presumes adherence to key values, command of relevant knowledge, and proficiency in corresponding competencies.
Democratic values include a commitment to human dignity and rights, cultural diversity, equality, fairness, justice, the rule of law, and democratic procedures. Human rights apply universally, are safeguarded without distinction, and are exercised short of violating the rights of others. Respect for cultural diversity enables the contribution of diverse perspectives to public deliberation and decision-making. Decisions by majority or plurality vote are made without resort to coercion and with continuing respect for civil liberties.
Among democratic attitudes, openness to cultural diversity entails a suspension of prejudice and a willingness to cooperate with citizens of different cultural identities in a relationship of equality. An attitude of tolerance and respect presumes the intrinsic dignity and equality of others regardless of their differences. An attitude of civic mindedness and self-sufficiency involves a sense of interconnectedness among citizens, a concern for one another’s welfare, a willingness to serve the common good, an expectation of personal accountability, and a belief that one’s contribution can make a positive difference. Civic mindedness extends to dealing creatively and constructively with complexities, ambiguities, and uncertainties.
A functioning democracy requires a substantial investment in cultural knowledge, not just technical competency.
Implementing these values and attitudes requires various democratic competencies. Analytical thinking consists of logical and systematic analysis of issues and arguments together with critical thinking to make evaluative judgments about options and to sort out political propaganda, while recognizing that one’s own judgments are contingent on a working perspective. Active listening and close observation are required to appreciate subtleties, identify inconsistencies and omissions, and understand cultural differences. Empathy is requisite to apprehending the cognitive and affective orientation of people with dissimilar cultural backgrounds. Flexibility and adaptation to changing circumstances and experiences are necessary to reconsider fixed habits of thought. Competency in communication is needed to express opinions, ideas, and wants, to request and provide clarifications, to persuade and negotiate constructively, to compromise, cooperate, manage conflict, and build consensus.
The democratic knowledge expected of citizens is familiarity with the complexities of the larger world. It encompasses an understanding of political and legal concepts such as rights, equality, and justice as well as an awareness of how democratic institutions operate; knowledge of current affairs and the political views of others; knowledge of the history, texts, doctrines, practices, and diversity of religious traditions; understanding how history is constructed and shapes contemporary perceptions; knowing how media select, interpret, and edit information for various purposes, and their impact on the public’s judgment and behavior; understanding economic processes, their consequences for profit and employment, and their intersection with social, political, and environmental issues.
Even more than the above synopsis, the full text of democratic values, attitudes, knowledge, and competencies conveys an expectation that is well above the present capacity of publics in the U.S., Europe, and elsewhere. This disjunction between aspiration and reality raises a question of feasibility. Can the public’s competencies be raised to a closer approximation of the ideal, to a level close enough for civic culture to support democratic politics?
The decline of liberal arts and civic education is indicative of the difficulty of answering the feasibility question affirmatively. Democratic culture is undermined rather than advanced by a commitment to technical and applied training at the expense of teaching the humanities, arts, and social sciences. A functioning democracy requires a substantial investment in cultural knowledge, not just technical competency. Nor can a balanced education be restricted to elites if the aim is to develop an able, well-informed public.
Beyond the deficit in formal education, lifelong civic learning is hampered by economic struggle, health crises, life’s everyday demands, violence riddled entertainment, sensationalized news media, and polarized politics. The country is caught in a downward political spiral exacerbated by its diminishing influence in the world, the economic disruption of globalization, inequity of wealth distribution, ongoing demographic shifts and migration, and imminent climate change, culminating in the election of a rightwing authoritarian regime. Under these circumstances, it is difficult to foresee a rise of civic culture above even the minimum needed to sustain thin democracy.
The value of an aspirational model as a gauge of the democratic deficit is that it can provide a goal and sense of direction for rectifying present deficiencies. The problem with an aspirational model is that the ideal can be too far removed from exigent circumstances, frustrated expectations, and fragmented politics to inspire commitment to a democratic future. It takes strong faith to bridge the gap and to move forward in an imperfect world.
Perhaps the spirit of democracy is most immediately in need of revival, if that is possible. An analytical ideal of democratic culture is abstract, literal, even antiseptic, and thus stripped of narrative texture and figurative transcendence. Absent a binding mythos, a people’s shared sentiment fades, and collective faith in democracy diminishes. The people are deprived of a political north star.
Just as Trumpism mobilizes the country’s dark impulses, historian Jon Meacham argues, the people must call upon their better angels and reach within the nation’s soul for a noble guiding vision. That “ancient and perennial” soul is an “immanent collection of convictions, dispositions, and sensitivities that shape character and inform conduct.” It is “the vital center, the core, the heart, the essence of life.”
Historian Heather Cox Richardson documents how the country’s antidemocratic leaders have rewritten the nation’s story to abandon the principle of equality. She also observes that Americans have managed, despite several close calls, to hold on to democratic principles for over three centuries, “however imperfectly they lived them.” In her view, “the true nature of American democracy … is, and has always been, a work in progress.” The task at hand in this “time of testing,” she writes, is one of “keeping the dream of equality alive.”
By these accounts, reawakening the spirit of democracy is a plausible undertaking. An imperfect citizenry might draw sustenance from its centuries-long, checkered quest for liberty and equality, and it might reasonably hope to muddle through dark times.
When robust democratic deliberation is rendered inherently destabilizing, the modes of responsible and active citizenship by a competent public are diminished.
That said, rhetorical scholar Jennifer Mercieca observes that the capacity of the citizenry to act democratically is “ambiguous.” American citizenship, depending on “whoever ‘the people’ are thought to be,” is a “conflicted, paradoxical, and complex” phenomenon that does not ensure the kind of national stability the Constitution was designed to protect. By representing active citizenship as a danger to stability, the country’s Constitutional founders strayed from the revolutionary conception of citizens actively watching and critiquing government, resisting corruption and oppression, and working for the common good. Over the course of time, a pseudo-democratic conception of citizenship, informed by an infantilizing discourse of a distempered public, a public that must be contained and constrained by political parties, has demoted citizens from decisionmakers to bystanders and relegated them to consumer status. When robust democratic deliberation is rendered inherently destabilizing, the modes of responsible and active citizenship by a competent public are diminished.
While the slide into authoritarianism has perhaps reached the point of no return, which we cannot know for certain, now might instead be regarded as an exigent moment for revitalizing the spirit of democracy. Reconstituting civic will would take a fugitive act in the Jeffersonian sense of instigating a little rebellion now and again—a rebellious interval of deliberative dissent with sufficient intensity and duration to jump start the democratic dream. There can be no guarantee, only a conviction that an effort to prevent the demise of democracy might succeed.
A reflection on a 'Christmas Song'—our family's favorite—and one that speaks solemnly and soulfully to the deep drive that fuels our common dreams.
It’s true I have a favorite Christmas song, but as it turns out, it’s not one that many people know—at least I assume most people don’t know it.
Funny enough, the title is simply “Christmas Song,” and it was performed—at least the version I know—by songwriter Greg Brown during a live show back in 2001.
Though an atheist, my fondness for Christmas—perhaps like it is for many—is wrapped in the nostalgia of the holiday of my upbringing as well as the ongoing joys I find during this “season of giving.” Like religious celebrations across many faiths, Christmas has the ability to open the human heart and reminds us (if we let it) of that spirit that enriches us and challenges us to understand what it means to share, not material gifts, but time and warmth with one another.
In Brown’s song—which I encourage you to listen to here or below—the story of Jesus is subtly inverted.
Rather than a story of miraculous birth—”It was the night before Christmas,” the song begins, “but nobody was really noticing that”—it is a story about the routine of birth (“something women do” and that “men kinda, sorta, a little bit… help”) in which the only miracle is the gift of life that we’ve all been granted.
Just getting born is such an amazing thing
You'd think we'd all just be nice forever after—
Just to get to be a part of it.
You'd think that anybody that ever held a little baby in their arms
Would be so careful not to ever do any damage
To another human being—or to the creation
Of which we are so obviously a part.
The song presents a story of Jesus that escapes Christianity, which is perhaps why I find it so lovely and piercing, and opens the door to thinking about the hidden promise of a holiday that too often asks us “what we want” as opposed to reflecting on the joys of what we’ve been given.
Sometimes when I get distraught
About our world and what we're doing to it
I remind myself that little children like that are being born every day.
The story in the song is not about a boy who grew up to “found any big religions, with shiny churches,” but rather a story “about a world so much better than this one.” In this story, the unnamed boy “was just a child full of love, who went around and talked about love.”
And so it follows that the lesson of such a child is not that he was exemplary (though perhaps he was), but that we too often fail to recognize the potent and profound goodness of so many people among us, past and present—not children of God, but examples of humility and decency.
Sometimes when I get distraught
About our world and what we're doing to it
I remind myself that little children like that are being born every day.
They may not make a lot of big news
But in their life, they’re kind;
They take care of people;
They don’t blow things all out of proportion.
They spread the news that this life,
So mysterious and hard, is a wonderful enterprise
That should be cherished.
And Brown, led all along by the slow strum of guitar, speaks sorrowfully but clearly as he tells his listener:
So Christmas, if it’s anything at all,
It’s every day. It’s every night.
And even when things look dark, way down…
In the human heart,
That we all share...
There’s a light.
And, only to the song’s credit, it makes me think that’s true. I don’t call it religion, but that idea has shaped my understanding of what the promise of human goodness really is. We know it exists, not because we read about it or were told to believe in it—but because we’ve seen it. We’ve witnessed it.
So Christmas, if it’s anything at all, it’s every day. It’s every night.
Even amidst all the horror and violence and injustice, we know in our life, the good people—young and old and those neither young nor old—and they don’t ask us to believe, but show us the way.
When I listen to this song—as I often will at this time of year—it does something solemn to my heart, the hearts of my family, and those we share it with.
Since I first heard it, the song has always been to me a magnificent expression, though that was not its intent, of what Common Dreams seeks to represent—a world full of people who embody that spirit of loving one another and defending the common good while challenging “the political leadership of the day,” as the song puts it.
We don’t often use that kind of language, but that’s what this project we call Common Dreams is about: love. The news we report and the opinions and analysis we share are all grounded in a deep love for people, community, life of all kinds, and the planet that sustains us all.
I know very well how dark it feels right now for so many. We are right to be frightened and angry and frustrated. And at the same time, we must remember that the light “we all share, in the human heart” is the beginning of our path forward. We are going to have to fight like hell, but that fight will be built on love and solidarity or nothing at all.
With endless gratitude for all you do in the world, dear reader, and the example you set for the rest of us.
"My friends, you don’t have to be a PhD in political science to understand that this is not democracy. This is not one person, one vote. This is not all of us coming together to decide our future. This is oligarchy."
Sen. Bernie Sanders of Vermont is escalating his fight against the U.S. oligarchy with a new campaign directed at the nation's wealthiest individuals—including Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Mark Zuckerberg—who he says are key culprits in a global race to the bottom that is stripping people worldwide of political agency while impoverishing billions so that the rich can amass increasingly obscene levels of wealth.
Announcing a new series that will detail how "billionaire oligarchs" in the U.S. "manipulate the global economy, purchase our elections, avoid paying taxes, and increasingly control our government," Sanders said in a Friday night video address that it makes him laugh when mainstream pundits talk openly about the nefarious oligarchic structures in other places, but refuse to acknowledge the issue in domestic terms.
"Strangely enough, the term 'oligarchy' is very rarely used to describe what's happening in the United States or in fact, what's happening around the world," said Sanders. "But guess what? Oligarchy is a global phenomenon, and it is headquartered right here in the United States."
Bernie Sanders talks about the oligarchy
While rarely discussed in the corporate press or by most elected officials, argues Sanders, the reality is that a "small number of incredibly wealthy billionaires own and control much of the global economy. Period. End of discussion. And increasingly, they own and control our government through a corrupt campaign finance system."
Since the victory of President-elect Donald Trump in November, Sanders has been increasingly outspoken about his frustrations over the failure of the Democratic Party to adequately confront the contradictions presented by a party that purports to represent the interests of the working class yet remains so beholden to corporate interests and the wealthy that lavish it with campaign contributions.
In a missive to supporters last month, Sanders bemoaned how "just 150 billionaire families spent nearly $2 billion to get their candidates elected" in this year's elections, which included giving to both major political parties. Such a reality, he said, must be challenged.
As part of his new effort announced Friday, Sanders' office said the two-time Democratic presidential candidate would be hosting a series of discussions with the leading experts on various topics related to the form and function of U.S. oligarchy and expose the incoming Trump administration's "ties to the billionaire class," including their efforts to further erode democracy, gut regulations, enrich themselves, and undermine the common good.
"In my view," said Sanders, "this issue of oligarchy is the most important issue facing our country and world because it touches on everything else." He said the climate crisis, healthcare, worker protections, and the fight against poverty are all adversely affected by the power of the wealthy elites who control the economy and the political sphere.
"My friends, you don’t have to be a PhD in political science to understand that this is not democracy," he said. "This is not one person, one vote. This is not all of us coming together to decide our future. This is oligarchy."
“The Republican Party is the most dangerous organization in human history,” says Noam Chomsky. It seems like a ridiculous statement. “Has there ever been an organization in human history that is dedicated, with such commitment, to the destruction of organized human life on Earth? Not that I’m aware of.”
But Chomsky has a point. Even the Nazis didn’t want to destroy civilization itself; they wanted to kill millions of people and dominate civilization, not bring it to an end. The Republican Party is much more ambitious, and more nihilistic: it is the capitalist id, or rather the capitalist death instinct, adopted as the organizing principle of a vast political force: Profit over people at all costs, including acceleration of global warming—not to mention demolition of organized labor, the welfare state, the regulatory state, progressive taxation, public resources like education and transportation, and the whole legacy of the New Deal. For Republicans even more than Democrats, enslavement to the business oligarchy is the highest good.
This being the case, one might be perplexed that so-called “postliberals” and other conservatives who pride themselves on their concern for “the common good” do not devote all their energy to defeating Republicans and organizing a popular movement for social democracy. In fact, they tend to do the opposite: they praise and endorse Republicans (especially pseudo-populists like Donald Trump, Josh Hawley, and J. D. Vance) while denouncing the “progressives” or “democratic socialists” who are struggling to build movements that will defend the common good and repair the social fabric rent by hyper-capitalism. On issue after issue—from protection of the environment to the resurrection of labor unions to the dismantling of psychopathic mass incarceration—it is organizers on the left, not the right, who are actually trying to conserve society. In this sense, it is leftists—materialist leftists, not identitarian liberals—who are the true conservatives.
"Republicans and business reactionaries love to keep the political focus on things like the decline of religion, the ostensible immigrant invasion, and the excesses of liberal identity politics, so that they can go on smashing the working class, appropriating most of the world’s wealth, privatizing and atomizing society, and destroying the prospects for human survival."
The political attitudes of most postliberals are approximately those manifested in Patrick Deneen’s new book Regime Change: Toward a Postliberal Future. It’s a very flawed book, as I explain in a forthcoming review. Here, I want only to note the incoherence of its political stance, which is that of right-wing postliberalism in general (as opposed to left-wing postliberalism, such as Adrian Pabst’s). As in his earlier book Why Liberalism Failed, Deneen deplores the atomization of modern society and the decline of community, stability, family, and traditional norms of social obligation. But he blames this social crisis on “liberalism,” a constellation of ideologies (some of which, historically, are mutually contradictory), rather than the material social relations of capitalism, as Marxists have done since the Communist Manifesto of 1848. In Marx’s famous words, “The bourgeoisie, wherever it has got the upper hand, has put an end to all feudal, patriarchal, idyllic relations… All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned…” Since capitalist class structures are the real basis for a way of life—an atomized, profit-obsessed, consumerist, hedonistic way of life—postliberals have gotten the very name of their philosophy wrong. It should be called postcapitalism, assuming the goal really is to create a cohesive, communal society.
What a postcapitalist world would look like is hard to imagine, but it would at least do away with the antagonistic and exploitative production relations that are ultimately responsible for the atomization postliberals lament. Ordinary people would control their work, in the form of worker cooperatives and democratic government coordination of large industry (possibly still in a market-oriented economy). The 1912 platform of Eugene Debs’ Socialist Party isn’t a bad place to start. If the notion of some degree of “government planning” seems unrealistic or tyrannical, we should remember that even today, the U.S. government engages in economic planning on a colossal scale, for instance through its subsidies to high-tech industry, its trade and tariff policies, its military procurement programs, and its regulation of all sectors of the economy. During World War II, in fact, government planning was remarkably successful, leading to full employment and setting the stage for the prosperous 1950s and 1960s. Let's remember, we don’t live in a true market economy.
Instead of taking their “communitarian” values to their logical, anti-capitalist conclusion, however, most postliberals remain on the level of culture, identity politics, and other half-measures. Deneen, like his co-thinkers Gladden Pappin, Chad Pecknold, Adrian Vermeule, Yoram Hazony, and others, advocates restrictions on immigration in the hope that this will somehow shore up the national community and protect wages. (He disregards the fact that the presence of undocumented immigrants and refugees stimulates the economy and creates jobs.) He argues that we have to renew the “Christian roots of our civilization” by making politics “a place for prayer” and reinfusing religion into public and private activities. Broadly, “an ennobling of our elite,” such that it is selflessly concerned with the well-being of “the people” and “work[s] to improve the[ir] lives, prospects, and fate,” will revitalize society and community. He fails to explain how such an ennobling of the ruling class can ever occur in the context of advanced capitalism, characterized by the global hegemony of unfettered greed.
"Postliberals are in danger of being useful idiots for the most insatiable sociopaths on the planet."
In fact, Deneen even deprecates social democracy and its “progressive liberalism,” claiming without evidence that redistribution of wealth to workers has “led to extensive damage to the broader economic order.” He seems unaware that postwar social democracy, created through overwhelming pressure by unions, socialists, and communists, was the closest modern society has ever come to protecting families, communities, and social stability.
It isn’t hard to criticize the idealism, political naïveté (as if class conflict isn’t endemic to capitalism!), and historical ignorance of conservative postliberalism. But the basic incoherence of the ideology is that its attacks on liberalism and the left, and its defense of conservatism, only serve to empower the forces most dedicated to sabotaging the very values postliberals claim to uphold, values like “national resilience,” “common purposes,” and the “social covenant.” Republicans and business reactionaries love to keep the political focus on things like the decline of religion, the ostensible immigrant invasion, and the excesses of liberal identity politics, so that they can go on smashing the working class, appropriating most of the world’s wealth, privatizing and atomizing society, and destroying the prospects for human survival. Postliberals are in danger of being useful idiots for the most insatiable sociopaths on the planet.
Will it be denied that the Republican Party is as bad as all this? Consider the evidence. Donald Trump is supposedly a populist, someone trying to turn Republicans into the party of the working class. It turns out that his administration, like all Republican administrations since Reagan’s, was utterly slavish to the most misanthropic sectors of business. His NLRB waged an “unprecedented” attack on workers’ rights. He weakened or eliminated over 125 policies that protected the country’s air, water, and land. His budgets savagely slashed benefits for low-income Americans, continuing a longstanding Republican practice. All this is the exact opposite of protecting the “common good” that postliberals say they value so much.
What about the great “populist” senators Hawley and Vance? They give, at best, tokenistic and rhetorical support to the working class: neither has even cosponsored the Protecting the Right to Organize Act, and Hawley, according to the AFL-CIO, has almost always voted against the interests of workers. Vance, a venture capitalist, finds it much more congenial to spew racist “great replacement” nonsense—an identity politics of the right—and blame those with a low income for their own failures than to actually do anything to help the latter. If this is the record of Republicans who present themselves as pro-worker, it isn’t hard to imagine how bad establishment Republicans are.
Perhaps the greatest crime of the Republican Party is that it is almost rock-solidly opposed to even the mildest proposals to address global warming, which threatens not only working people but all life on earth. The sweltering summer the world has just experienced—the hottest consecutive three months since records began—will likely be seen as a gloriously mild one thirty years from now, when wildfires are raging everywhere, ocean levels are much higher, and whole continents are descending into chaos.
"Perhaps the greatest crime of the Republican Party is that it is almost rock-solidly opposed to even the mildest proposals to address global warming, which threatens not only working people but all life on earth."
The Republican plan to address the coming cataclysms is…to make them worse. Project 2025, a conservative blueprint for the next Republican president, calls for “shredding regulations to curb greenhouse gas pollution from cars, oil and gas wells and power plants, dismantling almost every clean energy program in the federal government and boosting the production of fossil fuels.” The inadequate Inflation Reduction Act, which provides $370 billion for investment in clean energy, would be repealed. Allied nations would be encouraged to use more fossil fuels, and the National Security Council would be forbidden to consider climate change worthy of discussion.
Nihilism on this scale, an explicit embrace of something close to species-suicide by a major political party, is unheard-of in history. It is collective criminal lunacy, worse than Nazism, as Chomsky rightly notes. And yet how many postliberals, how many conservative proponents of the traditional values of family, community, and morality, are strongly speaking out against it, against this brazen threat to all families, communities, and morality itself? Their priority, rather, is to denounce “critical race theory” and keep out immigrants, as if that will heal the country.
Postliberals claim to favor policies that support marriage and family, singling out for praise Hungary’s initiatives to offer paid leave for parents and financial incentives for three or more children. They also support government spending on large infrastructure projects. So why didn’t they aggressively lobby Congress to pass Biden’s original Build Back Better bill in 2021? This bill, which couldn’t pass because of Republican opposition, would have been an immense boon to working families through its investments in childcare and preschool, paid family and medical leave, community college, child tax credits, physical infrastructure, affordable housing, health care, and environmental protection. It was the most ambitious measure in generations to repair the social compact and encourage family formation. Not a single Republican supported it.
"[The 2021 Build Back Better bill] was the most ambitious measure in generations to repair the social compact and encourage family formation. Not a single Republican supported it."
It is hard to imagine that any party has ever been more committed to destroying families than the Republican, yet the self-proclaimed defenders of family values aim their ire at Democrats. However bad Democrats are, they are the party responsible for the New Deal, for Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society, for the almost-passed Build Back Better bill, for Biden’s NLRB that is as supportive of unions as Trump’s was hostile towards them. We should recognize, then, a perhaps unpalatable truth: since Republicans will never do a single thing opposed to the interests of the billionaire class, the only hope for the United States is to keep them out of power at the same time as popular movements are pushing Democrats to the left. Had the Democratic Party won a few more seats in the Senate in 2020, transformative laws on voting rights, union organizing, family welfare, and environmental protection that were passed in the House might have been enacted. It was a tragic missed opportunity, but, with the defeat of Republicans and the election of leftists, such opportunities can appear again.
Postliberals can contribute positively to politics, but only if they follow the recent example of one of their own: Sohrab Ahmari, who has written an impressive book on corporate America’s plunder of the working class, entitled Tyranny, Inc: How Private Power Crushed American Liberty—And What to Do About It. Ahmari still seems to have some illusory hope regarding the likes of Hawley, Vance, and Marco Rubio, who wouldn’t be in the Republican Party if they really wanted to help people. (Token populist moves shore up their voting base.) But at least Ahmari has apparently realized that the battle against liberal identity politics is less important than the battle for a left-wing economic agenda—and in fact that the right-wing crusade against wokeness sabotages the struggle for workers’ rights and a livable future, since it empowers Republicans.
One hopes that more postliberals will, similarly, come to their senses.
Whether it's oil barons, giant utilities, private schools, drug companies, insurance predators, or greedy ranchers who want to use public lands to graze their cows without paying a public fee that would help maintain and restore those lands, the commons are under continuous low-level assault by greed and the neoliberalism that celebrates it.
Americans used to understand the difference between private and public, between what government should regulate or even administer, and what is appropriately left in the private marketplace.
Ever since the Reagan Revolution, however — as I lay out in The Hidden History of Neoliberalism: How Reaganism Gutted America — even our very lives have become fodder for the buzzsaw of unrestrained raw capitalism controlled by the morbidly rich.
Last week, the nation learned that it’s become a routine practice in the assisted living industry to drain elderly people of their entire life’s savings and then, when Medicaid kicks in at a slightly lower payment level to cover their costs, evict them onto the street.
Old people are, from that industry’s point of view, apparently just another commodity, a thing that can be converted into cash when convenient and disposed of when no longer useful.
Housing prices are exploding across the nation, the result of hedge funds and foreign investors jumping into the single-family residence market to the tune of billions every year.
In 2018, for example, corporations bought 1 out of every 10 homes sold in America and converted them to high-priced rentals: the number has gone up significantly since then.
Housing, an essential for a decent life, is now just another commodity and the commodification of housing and its exploitation as a source of revenue for billionaires and other investors has led to an explosion of homelessness.
The price of food, also essential to human life, is sliding out of the reach of many Americans.
CNN reports that Cal-Maine Foods company, which controls about 20% of the entire United States egg market, has radically increased the price of a dozen eggs from $1.61 to $3.30 over the past year. The result? Revenues and profits have gone up by 109 percent. They claim it’s inflation, but it’s actually price gouging.
Large companies are able to pull this off because of their monopoly power in the marketplace, a situation resulting from Ronald Reagan’s 1983 order to the DOJ, FTC, and SEC to stop enforcing our nation’s antitrust laws.
The result is massive price gouging across dozens of industries because these huge companies no longer face competitive market pricing pressures, although it became a humanitarian crisis when price-gouging moved from consumer products and airfares to food and housing.
Good health has become a commodity that’s exploited by giant corporations and the morbidly rich. A half-million American families are wiped out every year so completely that they must lose everything and declare bankruptcy just because somebody got sick.
The number of health-expense-related bankruptcies in all the other developed countries in the world combined is zero. Yet the United States spends more on “healthcare” than any other country in the world: about 17% of GDP.
Switzerland, Germany, France, Sweden and Japan all average around 11%, and Canada, Denmark, Belgium, Austria, Norway, Netherlands, United Kingdom, New Zealand and Australia all come in between 9.3% and 10.5%.
Health insurance premiums right now make up about 22% of all taxable payroll (and don’t even cover all working people), whereas Medicare For All would run an estimated 10% and would cover every man, woman, and child in America.
Electricity has become a necessity for a decent life in modern America, and many other countries see it as part of the commons. Around the world, roughly 71 percent of utilities are owned by “the people” rather than by private, investor-owned for-profit corporations.
In the US, though, the shift to neoliberal “free market” policies that accompanied Reagan’s abandonment of FDR’s Keynesian New Deal policies led, in the 1980s and 1990s, to a massive consolidation of electric generating capacity in the hands of for-profit companies.
Today over half of the electric utilities in America are run as for-profit corporations that put investor returns first before serving their communities (as Texans learned in 2021). Electricity is now just another commodity to make wealthy investors even richer.
Pharmaceuticals have become so effective over the past century that they’re now literally keeping millions of Americans healthy and alive.
But that very necessary nature of them has attracted the hyenas of Wall Street and the investor class, turning pharmaceuticals into just another commodity that can be manipulated to increase profits and the wealth of the investor class.
Drugs like Molnupiravir, the new anti-Covid drug, are developed as part of the commons with taxpayer dollars (a $10 million grant from the Department of Defense and $19 million from the National Institutes of Health) and then turned into a commodity with ever-increasing prices.
Manufacturing cost for Molnupiravir, according to a report from researchers with the Harvard School of Public Health, is around $17.74 for a 5-day course of treatment. Nonetheless, Merck just signed a contract with the federal government to sell 1.7 million treatment courses for the government to distribute to infected people for … wait for it … $712.00 each.
Water is essential to human life, but three years ago it became a commodity traded by CME, the world’s largest futures exchange.
Like with electricity, about half of all public water supplies in America are held by for-profit operations. Prices go up for consumers as profits rise for investors.
Without education it’s difficult to function in society, which is why virtually every other developed nation in the world has free public schools from kindergarten all the way up through PhD level university courses.
But in America, education has become a commodity with private academies and charter schools wiping out public education, and college education is out of the reach of more than half of America’s young people. While teachers and students struggle, student-loan bankers and investors in private schools and colleges are getting richer by the day.
Every one of these items are rightfully part of the commons, the stuff essential to life that’s either administered or heavily regulated by government to protect average citizens.
And while Democrats want to expand the commons, Republicans want to steal and monetize it. It’s really that simple.
It’s why Democrats want to expand infrastructure (part of the commons) and Republicans don’t — the GOP want the commons of things like schools, rail lines, the Post Office, and energy systems entirely billionaire- or corporate-owned.
Some, like libertarian Rand Paul, even think privatizing our fire departments and public roads — turning them all into fee-for-private-service and toll-roads — is the way to go, along with privatizing Medicare and Social Security.
“We the People” should, in their minds, control nothing but the Army and the cops; everything else should be owned by and run for the profit of the elite class that funds them and their political campaigns.
It’s almost entirely absent from our political dialogue, but the issue of who owns the commons and how they’re to be used (and by whom) is at the core of almost all the major debates between Democrats and Republicans, conservatives and liberals, and even those advocating democracy versus those trying to expand the American oligarchy.
The commons is the stuff we all use or is necessary to life: the air and water, the public roads and schools, the police and fire departments, the airways that our planes fly over and through which we send radio and TV signals, outer space, and our oceans.
The commons, in aggregate, are one of the major stores of the wealth of a nation.
One of the main reasons people throughout history have established governments is to protect and regulate the commons.
Which explains why wealthy people and corporations are in a constant battle with government, launching massive propaganda campaigns to say the government should be “smaller” and thus less able to protect the commons.
Whether it’s oil barons, giant utilities, private schools, drug companies, insurance predators, or greedy ranchers who want to use public lands to graze their cows without paying a public fee that would help maintain and restore those lands, the commons are under continuous low-level assault by greed and the neoliberalism that celebrates it.
Similarly, polluters from mining companies to frackers to industrial operations increase their profits by dumping their poison into our commons — our air, soil and water — rather than paying the cost of cleaning up their own waste.
History and contemporary studies show that when the commons are administered by the people who use them, particularly healthcare, water, and electric systems, they are better cared for and their benefits are provided to the people at a lower cost.
To stop this, however, the morbidly rich and America’s largest corporations have set out to interrupt that process of government protecting the commons for the people. They’ve done it by seizing government itself.
This is where we must push back, if American democracy is to survive and the American people are to have a quality of life even remotely comparable to other developed democratic nations.
Because one of the principal functions of government is to administer the commons, government itself — and, thus, our vote — is the single most important part of the commons.
Anybody who wants to exploit the commons for their own private profit has to go through government, or corrupt government, in order to make that happen.
This is one of the main reasons that we have laws against bribery of public officials: access to the commons for private exploitation is one of the most visible ways private interests corrupt government. Witness Donald Trump putting a coal lobbyist in charge of the EPA and an oil lobbyist in charge of our public lands running the Interior Department.
Privatizing public lands, public schools, prisons, and other obvious commons-related functions of government is a crime against Democracy.
A much bigger crime, however, is privatizing government itself, or “Shrinking it down to the size where you can drown it in the bathtub,” as K Street lobbyist Grover Norquist proposed some years ago on NPR.
In most developed countries, the healthcare system that is so essential to maintaining a robust and healthy populace is considered a core part of the commons. That notion is foundational to the proposal for Medicare For All here in America.
Depriving people access to the commons of the vote, the vehicle by which we choose government that administers all the rest of the commons, is another crime against both the commons and democracy.
There are currently over 400 pieces of Republican-sponsored legislation in various state legislatures that would make it more difficult for people to vote. An additional 300+ have passed in the past decade.
Almost exclusively, these bills would reduce the ability of young people, elderly people, city-dwellers, and racial minorities to vote, as the Republican Party sees these people as their political enemies.
Denying people access to the commons based on the color of their skin, in fact, is one of the oldest crimes against democracy that has been perpetrated throughout the history of America.
When we understand what the commons is, and have a collective consensus about what is and isn’t appropriately part of it, we can have an informed discussion about the proper role and size of government.
Until we frame our debates around the commons, they will continue to seem like most of our political debates are simply arguments about separate, discrete issues. In fact, most are about how the commons are controlled, protected, and used — and to whose benefit.
We used to teach Civics in America; that mandate pretty much ended when Ronald Reagan put the anti-public-school advocate, Bill Bennett, in charge of the Education Department.
If our republic is to be successful and Americans are to have decent lives, we must stop the commodification of America’s commons and turn power over life’s essentials to We The People.
We need a value to replace greed as our highest goal. Compassion? Justice? Love of truth? We do not know how to name it precisely, but that does not mean we cannot strive for something that can guide us, other than concerns with money.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, in 2021 almost 60 percent of girls encountered depressive sadness, and one-third seriously considered attempting suicide.
Child labor — and particularly labor in dangerous conditions — is rising rapidly among immigrant children.
Child poverty, which had declined as a result of spending programs during the Covid crisis, is again increasing, in the richest nation on earth.
Sometimes we are so concentrated on specific large issues — Ukraine, global warming, racism — that we ignore the largest dimension of what is happening around us: What is happening to our children, who are the nation's future.
The United States of America is in a state of perilous decline. Our young people can no longer cope adequately with the lives they must live; they are increasingly ignored by our laws and corporations; more and more, they seem unworthy of our collective spending.
When large-scale phenomena, indicators of the health of a society, point toward a difficult future, people should pay attention. But we do not.
There has been substantial commentary on why the young are so depressed and hopeless. There are good reasons to believe that contemporary forces have propelled this rising incidence of depression and suicidal thinking: the rise in social media (and its capacity of bullying), the huge and seemingly uncontrollable forces shaping our society and planet (global warming, racism, sexism), the lack of social cohesion (the decreasing importance of schools-as-communities, the erosion of cultural mores about marriage and sexuality), the decline of community values in a time of concern about individual freedoms.
But lost in these discussions of causality is the simple fact of greed. "If it makes money, it is good." Superficial economic values — individual wealth — have subsumed all other values, be they the good of the community, long-term economic growth, or even long-held ethical concerns like honesty, justice, compassion, and generosity. Greed dominates every consideration. The driving force is always whether a policy will make money for someone.
Superficial economic values — individual wealth — have subsumed all other values, be they the good of the community, long-term economic growth, or even long-held ethical concerns like honesty, justice, compassion, and generosity.
And meanwhile, we drift from strength to weakness, from building a future to undermining it.
It is simple and yet difficult to figure out how to respond to the crisis of an America in decline. Simple, in that making decisions that take "health" rather than individual gain into account is, in fact, simple. Difficult, in that we all disagree about how to go about making such decisions.
Should we pass legislation to require that Facebook and TikTok and Twitter do not allow harassment, bullying, and sexism? Should we limit gun sales and aggressively pursue those who push drugs, including pharmaceutical behemoths? Should we really, aggressively, try to prevent global warming and the proliferation of racial and sectarian hatred? Should we rethink schools, and how they work and what values they inculcate in their students?
There is much to prevent us from moving forward. The anti-vax campaigns, with their successes, show that all too often individual autonomy is more important than communal well-being, that the needs of the individual trump the welfare of the community. The move to limit educational initiatives against racism and sexism, now so highlighted in Florida, show that many are unwilling to limit their boundless autonomy in order to provide dignity and justice to their neighbors.
But everywhere, there is greed. "Cui bono?" Who benefits? That, not "justice for all," not "honesty and truth," not "compassion," seems to determine how our society is shaped, and for whom.
I myself am a well-educated intellectual, a former professor and former chief of staff to Sen. Bernie Sanders. And yet I have no answers, no answers. I see an America in savage decline, and have no idea of how we should go forward. Limit corporations and corporate power, yes. Control our carbon emissions, ditto. Help the young recognize and love one another: for sure.
But what we need, most desperately, is a change in values. We need a value to replace greed as our highest goal. Compassion? Justice? Love of truth? We do not know how to name it precisely, but that does not mean we cannot strive for something that can guide us, other than concerns with money.
The young know this, which is why they so frequently are depressed and even suicidal. We care about the wrong things, and there are consequences. There are consequences.
Water overuse and a failure to recognize that countries are interdependent when it comes to the global water cycle has placed the world on a path to a potential 40% freshwater supply shortfall by the end of the decade.
Ahead of the first United Nations conference on water in more than four decades, experts from the Global Commission on the Economics of Water released a landmark report Friday to warn the international community that the world is "heading for massive collective failure" in the management of the planet's water supply and demand that governments treat water as a "global common good."
Policymakers' failure to ensure equal access to water, protect freshwater ecosystems, and recognize that communities and countries are interdependent when it comes to the global water cycle has resulted in two billion people lacking a safe drinking supply and "the prospect of a 40% shortfall in freshwater supply by 2030, with severe shortages in water-constrained regions," according to the report.
The 32-page document, titled Turning the Tide: A Call to Collective Action, "marks the first time the global water system has been scrutinized comprehensively and its value to countries—and the risks to their prosperity if water is neglected—laid out in clear terms."
In a video released ahead of the report, co-author Johan Rockström, who directs the Postdam Institute for Climate Impact Research in Germany, noted that the expected freshwater shortage is partially due to the fact that "we're changing the very source of freshwater precipitation" as human activities including fossil fuel extraction drive planetary heating.
"However, water is not just a casualty but also a driver of the climate crisis," reads the report. "Extreme water events cause an immediate loss of carbon uptake in nature. Droughts lead to fires and massive loss of biomass, carbon, and biodiversity. The loss of wetlands is depleting the planet's greatest carbon store, while the drop in soil moisture is reducing the terrestrial and forest ecosystem's ability to sequester carbon."
"We will fail on climate change if we fail on water," the report continues.
Humans' misuse of water, pollution of water, and changes to the hydrological cycle amount to "a triple crisis," Rockström told The Guardian, which must be solved by recognizing water as a "global commons."
According to the report, the majority of countries depend on the evaporation of water from neighboring countries for about half of their water supply. This "green" water is held in soils and transpired from forests and other ecosystems.
Countries "are not only interconnected by transboundary blue water flows but also through green water, i.e., atmospheric green water flows of water vapor, flows which... extend far beyond traditional watershed boundaries," the report states.
The report points to regressive and inefficient use of water subsidies, which "typically favor the well-off and corporations more than the poor," and $500 billion annually in agriculture subsidies, the majority of which "have been assessed to be price-distorting" and which can fuel excessive water consumption.
"Our economic systems by and large fail to account for the value of water," reads the report. "This leads to the excessive and unsustainable use of finite freshwater resources and a corresponding lack of access for the poor and vulnerable in many places. We must systematically incorporate the values of water into decision-making, so it can be used far more efficiently in every sector, more equitably in every population and more sustainably, both locally and globally."
The authors recommended seven steps that policymakers must take to avoid a water shortage by the end of the decade, including:
The Global Commission on the Economics of Water will present its findings at the U.N. Water Conference on March 22.
From escalating costs for the stretched public sector to environmental and social impacts, we found time and again that communities had been ignored, displaced, and had their basic rights violated by thoughtless projects designed and implemented in the pursuit of profit.
Last month, we joined more than 1000 representatives from all sectors of civil society who came together in Santiago de Chile to debate the future of – and threats to – public services the world over.
Participants discussed the chronic underfunding which continues to drive economic inequality, injustice and austerity, and the neocolonial policies that maintain the status quo.
Today those debates have resulted in the launch of “Our Future is Public: The Santiago Declaration for Public Services” – a momentous agreement signed by more than 200 organisations vowing to work to “transform our systems, valuing human rights and ecological sustainability over GDP growth and narrowly defined economic gains.”
One of the most damaging initiatives that has deeply affected the delivery of public services and infrastructure projects on all continents is the rise of public-private partnerships, or PPPs.
They have long been promoted by institutions such as the World Bank as a silver bullet to close the so-called gap to finance investments in services and infrastructure. The premise is that the private sector can deliver these services more efficiently and to a higher standard than the public sector, despite extensive evidence to the contrary.
We lay the pitfalls of PPPs bare in our new report History RePPPeated II: Why public-private partnerships are not the solution – the second in a series of investigations documenting the impacts of PPPs across Africa, Asia, Latin America and Europe.
Launched at the Santiago conference with some of the partners responsible for investigating and authoring the case studies, the report not only highlights negative impacts of PPPs, but sets out recommendations for how to better finance infrastructure and public services in the face of false solutions that have been proposed given the context of the current polycrisis.
These narratives wholly reflect red flags that are raised in the Santiago Declaration.
Through these investigations, we discovered failures on multiple levels in PPPs covering infrastructure such as roads and water supplies, as well as vital public services like healthcare and education.
From escalating costs for the stretched public sector to environmental and social impacts, we found time and again that communities had been ignored, displaced, and had their basic rights violated by thoughtless projects designed and implemented in the pursuit of profit.
A prime example is that of the the Melamchi Water Supply Project (MWSP) in Nepal. First announced nearly a quarter of a century ago, the project’s aim was to deliver clean, reliable and affordable water to 1.5 million people in Kathmandu.
And yet, 24 years later, residents are still waiting, while communities at the Melamchi water source are facing scarcity of water and eroded livelihoods. Instead of safe, clean drinking water – an internationally recognised human right – they have witnessed an extraordinary revolving door of private companies and institutional funders, including the World Bank, who have each failed to deliver.
To add to the MWSP’s colossal failure, 80 hectares of farmland have been lost to the project, a heavy blow to local residents, and up to 80 households have been forcibly displaced due to construction.
Who owns and controls our resources and public services became even more vitally important with the outbreak of the Covid pandemic in March 2020. Market-based models cannot be relied upon to deliver on human rights or the fight against inequalities as they are accountable only to their shareholders and not to their users.
This resulting focus on profit is overwhelmingly apparent in our case study from Liberia. Here, US firm Bridge International Academies (now NewGlobe) ‘abandoned’ its students and teachers during the height of the Covid-19 pandemic, shutting down schools and cutting teachers’ salaries by 80-90 per cent, despite being paid by the government.
And yet, in 2021 the Liberian government indefinitely extended the project, effectively subsidising a US for-profit firm at a cost that is at least double government spending on public schools.
In Peru, the Expressway Yellow Line has emerged as one of the most controversial projects ever carried out. This toll road was supposed to ease congestion issues in the capital city Lima, but instead toll rates have been unreasonably increased on at least eight occasions.
This generated almost $23 million for the private company involved and transpired with the complicity of public officials. Meanwhile, the Peruvian state suffered economic damages of US$1.2 million due to under the table negotiations between public officials and the private company, which led to the incorrect implementation and improper modifications of the contract years after it was initially signed.
Today, questions regarding the project and conflicts surrounding its implementation remain, while Lima residents’ expectations of quality road infrastructure to improve living conditions for those who have been most affected, continue to go unmet.
The human cost of the PPP projects showcased by History RePPPeated II is self-evident, but they are far from the exception. Rather they serve to illustrate common failures with the PPP model that risk compromising fundamental human rights and that undermine the fight against climate change and inequalities.
Their continuing promotion is one of the many reasons why we support the Santiago Declaration. Together with all its signatories, we will strengthen resistance to PPPs with their focus on private-led interests and promote public-public or public-common partnerships for a future that is public.