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CEOs of the 100 S&P 500 firms with the lowest median wages, a group we’ve dubbed the “Low-Wage 100,” have enjoyed skyrocketing pay over the past six years.
The gap between CEO compensation and median worker pay at Starbucks hit 6,666 to 1 last year. In other words, to make as much money as their CEO made last year, typical baristas would’ve had to start brewing macchiatos around the time humans first invented the wheel.
Starbucks takes the prize for the most obscene corporate pay disparities of 2024. But jaw-dropping gaps are the norm among America’s leading low-wage corporations.
This year’s edition of the annual Institute for Policy Studies Executive Excess report finds that CEOs of the 100 S&P 500 firms with the lowest median wages, a group we’ve dubbed the “Low-Wage 100,” have enjoyed skyrocketing pay over the past six years.

In 2024, average compensation for Low-Wage 100 top executives rose to $17.2 million, up 34.7% since 2019 (not adjusted for inflation). Global median worker pay at these firms stood at just $35,570, after increasing at a nominal rate of only 16.3% since 2019—significantly below the 22.6% US inflation rate. The Low-Wage 100 pay ratio increased 12.9% to 632 to 1 over the past half decade.
Here’s yet another sign of the Low-Wage 100’s skewed priorities: Between 2019 and 2024 these firms spent a combined $644 billion on stock buybacks. This once-illegal financial maneuver artificially inflates the value of a company’s shares and, in the process, pumps up the value of CEOs’ stock-based compensation. Even the most inept executives can rake in vast fortunes through this scam.
Every dollar spent on buybacks represents a dollar not spent on workers. The tradeoffs can be downright staggering. At Lowe’s, for instance, every one of their 273,000 employees could’ve gotten an annual $28,456 bonus over the past six years with the money the retailer blew on stock buybacks. Lowe’s median worker pay in 2024: $30,606.
80% of workers said they view corporate CEOs as overpaid, and nearly 70% said they do not believe their own company’s CEO could do the job they do for even one week.
If McDonald’s had spent their buyback outlays on worker bonuses during this period, they could’ve given all their employees an extra $18,338 per year—more than that company’s median wage.
Siphoning resources from workers to make CEOs even richer is especially outrageous at a time when so many Americans are struggling with high costs for groceries, housing, and other essentials.

Stock buybacks also divert resources from capital investments vital to long-term growth, such as employee training or upgrading technology, equipment, and properties.
At 56 Low-Wage 100 companies, outlays for stock buybacks actually exceeded capital expenditures between 2019 and 2024. If we exclude Amazon, a CapEx outlier, the Low-Wage 100 as a whole spent considerably more on buybacks than on capital expenditures over this six-year period.
Extensive research has also shown that excessive CEO compensation is bad for business because extreme internal pay disparities undermine employee morale and boost turnover rates.
As poll after poll after poll has shown, Americans across the political spectrum are fed up with overpaid CEOs and want government action. In one rather amusing recent survey, 80% of workers said they view corporate CEOs as overpaid, and nearly 70% said they do not believe their own company’s CEO could do the job they do for even one week.
How could policymakers incentivize more equitable pay practices? Several bills in the US Congress and state legislatures would increase taxes on corporations with huge CEO-worker pay gaps. Polls suggest this would be enormously popular. In one survey of likely voters, 89% of Democrats, 77% of Independents, and 71% of Republicans said they’d like to see tax hikes on companies that pay their CEOs more than 50 times what they pay their median employees.
Congress could also increase the 1% excise tax on stock buybacks that went into effect in 2023. If that tax had been set at 4%, the Low-Wage 100 would have owed approximately $6.3 billion in additional federal taxes on their share repurchases during the past two years. That revenue would’ve been enough to cover the cost of 327,218 public housing units for two years.
Policymakers have ample tools for tackling the problem of runaway CEO pay. Now they just need to listen to their constituents and get the job done.
Corporate CEO paychecks continuing to go gangbusters while the corporations these execs run are—at best—just treading water.
Every day’s headlines now seem to bombard us with ever more outrageous Trumpian antics. Who could have possibly imagined, for instance, that a president of the United States would turn the White House lawn into a Tesla auto showroom?
But these antics actually do serve a useful social and political purpose—for President Donald Trump’s fellow deep pockets and the corporations they run. Trump’s kleptocratic arrogance and audacity have shoved the institutionalized thievery of Corporate America’s ever-grasping top execs off into the shadows.
Those shadows could hardly be more welcome. American corporate executive compensation, as the business journal Fortune has just detailed, is now “surging amid a roaring bonus rebound.”
Heads CEOs win, in other words, tails they never lose.
One example: Tyson Foods CEO Donnie King has seen his annual executive rewards leap from $13 million in 2023 to $22.7 million in 2024. To keep King smiling, Tyson’s board of directors has also extended his CEO contract into 2027 and guaranteed him “a post-employment perk that includes 75 hours of personal use of the company jet as long as he sticks around on the board.”
And what in the way of wonders has Tyson’s King been working to earn all this? Not much, concludes a new Compensation Advisory Partners analysis. Anyone who had $100 invested in Tyson shares at the end of fiscal 2019 today holds a nest egg worth just $80.54. Tyson’s most typical workers aren’t doing particularly well either. They took home $43,417 in 2024, 525 times less than the annual compensation that CEO Donnie King pocketed.
Over at Moderna, Big Pharma’s newest big kid on the corporate block, chief exec Stéphane Bancel saw his 2024 annual pay jump 16.4% over his 2023 compensation despite a 53% drop in Moderna’s annual revenue.
Back in 2022, at Covid-19’s height, Bancel personally collected over $392 million exercising stacks of the stock options he had been sitting upon. Between that year’s start and 2024’s close, Moderna shares plummeted from just under $254 each to under $42.
Moderna’s transition to our post-Covid world, the Moderna board acknowledges, has been “more complex than anticipated.” That complexity, the board apparently believes, in no way justifies denying Bancel his rightful place among Big Pharma’s top-earning CEOs. Bancel’s near $20-million 2024 payday is keeping him well within hailing distance of all his Big Pharma peers.
How can corporate CEO paychecks be continuing to go gangbusters while the corporations these execs run are—at best—just treading water? Lauren Peek, a partner at Compensation Advisory Partners and a co-author of the firm’s latest CEO pay analysis, has an explanation.
Corporate board compensation committees, Peek observes, want to keep their top execs adequately incentivized. These board panels simply cannot bear the sight of their CEOs getting down in the dumps. So what do these panels do? They exclude from their final CEO pay decisions any negative economic factors that CEOs can’t directly determine. But these same corporate panels never take into account unexpected positive economic factors that their CEOs had no hand in creating.
Heads CEOs win, in other words, tails they never lose.
Among those winners: Disney chief exec Robert Iger. His 2024 total pay jumped to $41 million, up nearly $10 million from his 2023 compensation. Disney’s total shareholder return, over that same year, didn’t even reach halfway up the total return that Disney’s peer companies recorded.
Disney hardly rates as an outlier among the 50 major publicly traded corporations that the recently released Compensation Advisory Partners report puts under the microscope. The median revenue growth of these 50 firms dropped to 1.6% in 2024, less than half their 2023 rate. Their earnings remained virtually flat as well. But their CEO compensation climbed an average 9%.
“With financial performance largely flat across these early Fortune 500 filers,” notes an HR Grapevine analysis of the Compensation Advisory Partners findings, “board-level decisions to maintain or raise executive bonuses may prompt further scrutiny from investors and stakeholders alike.”
“For ‘shop-floor’ employees,” adds the HR Grapevine, “news of CEO wage hikes despite average financial performances will undoubtedly prompt a good deal of rumination about their own levels of compensation.”
Equilar, an information services firm specializing in corporate pay, has also been busy analyzing the latest trends in CEO remuneration. Equilar’s latest look at corner-office compensation has found that median CEO pay within the corporations that make up the Equilar 500 jumped up from $12 million in 2020 to $16.5 million last year.
CEO-worker pay gaps have increased even more significantly. At the median Equilar 500 corporation, CEOs pocketed 186.5 times the pay of their most typical workers in 2020 and 306 times that pay in 2024. At America’s larger corporations—those companies sitting at the 75th percentile of the Equilar 500—CEOs made 307.5 times their typical worker pay in 2020 and last year collected 527 times more.
A key driver of this ever-widening CEO-worker pay gap? The sinking compensation going to typical corporate workers, as Equilar’s Joyce Chen concluded last week in an analysis for the Harvard Law School Forum on Corporate Governance. These median workers took home $66,321 in 2020, but just $57,299 last year.
But top execs aren’t just shortchanging workers at pay-time. They’re also pressuring those workers to squeeze and defraud clients and customers at every opportunity, as former Wells Fargo bank manager and investigator Kieran Cuadras has just vividly detailed.
Nearly a decade ago, Cuadras relates, a mammoth phony accounts scandal at Wells Fargo led to fines totaling $20 million against the bank’s then-CEO John Stumpf. But those fines, she points out, hardly made a dent in the estimated $130 million that Stumpf “walked away with in compensation when he resigned.”
Wells Fargo’s current CEO, Charles Scharf, appears to be doing his best to follow in Stumpf’s footsteps. Scharf’s gutted risk and complaint departments are cutting corners “to create the illusion of fewer complaints.” The reality: Those departments are closing complaint cases prematurely. In 2024, these and other sneaky moves helped Scharf pocket a sweet $31.2 million .
Our nation’s political leaders, says Wells Fargo employee and customer advocate Kieran Cuadras, need “to step up and do something about a CEO pay system that rewards executives with obscenely large paychecks for practices that harm workers and the broader economy.”
Where to start that stepping up? Lawmakers ought to be levying new taxes on corporations “with huge gaps between their CEO and worker pay,” Cuadras posits, and increasing an already existing tax on stock buybacks.
Moves like these, she astutely sums up, “would encourage companies to focus on long-term prosperity and stability rather than simply making wealthy executives and shareholders even richer.”
"Nonprofit hospitals should be providing more charity care to those who desperately need it, not less," said the senator. "And if they refuse to do so, they should lose their tax-exempt status."
Nonprofit U.S. hospitals are legally required to provide affordable medical care for low-income patients, but many are failing to do so, while taking advantage of major tax benefits and enriching executives, according to a report released Tuesday by Sen. Bernie Sanders.
"In 2020, nonprofit hospitals received $28 billion in tax breaks for the purpose of providing affordable healthcare for low-income Americans," noted Sanders (I-Vt.), a Medicare for All advocate who chairs the Senate Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions (HELP) Committee.
The report explains that "in return for the tax benefits, the federal government requires those hospitals to operate for the public benefit by providing a set of community benefits, which includes ensuring low-income individuals receive medical care for free or at significantly reduced rates—a practice known as 'charity care.'"
However, as Sanders stressed, "despite these massive tax breaks, most nonprofit hospitals are actually reducing the amount of charity care they provide to low-income families even as CEO pay is soaring."
"In recent years, nonprofit hospitals have provided less charity care even as these hospitals saw a steady increase in their revenues and operating profits."
The report—which takes aim at 16 of the largest nonprofit hospital systems in the country—found that such hospitals "spent only an estimated $16 billion on charity care in 2020, or about 57% of the value of their tax breaks in the same year," and "have made information about their charity care programs difficult to access, leaving many patients unaware that they may qualify for free or discounted care."
Meanwhile, "in 2021, the most recent year for which data is available for all of the 16 hospital chains, those companies' CEOs averaged more than $8 million in compensation and collectively made over $140 million," according to the publication. "CommonSpirit Health led the way, with a combined $32 million compensation package for the outgoing and incoming CEOs. In the same year, the company spent only 1.5% of its revenue on charity care."
Of the chains examined, the Methodist Hospital led the group in terms of percent of revenue spent on charity care, at 8.05%. However, the report also begins with a story from a patient at one of those hospitals:
In 2007, Carrie Barrett needed a heart catherization after experiencing chest pain and shortness of breath. She went to a Methodist Le Bonheur (Methodist) hospital in Memphis, Tennessee, and walked out with the needed procedure completed and a $12,019 bill for her medical stay. Ms. Barrett made less than $12 an hour and had no hope of paying back that bill. But the hospital not only refused to help Barrett afford her bill, it instead piled on interest and sent the bill to collections. By June 2019, Ms. Barrett owed over $33,000, nearly three times the original cost of the procedure and more than twice what she earned in a year.
Stories like Ms. Barrett's are far too common. But they are even more egregious when the hospital is a nonprofit that is required to be "organized and operated exclusively for charitable purposes."
"In recent years, nonprofit hospitals have provided less charity care even as these hospitals saw a steady increase in their revenues and operating profits," the report says. "One study found 86% of nonprofit hospitals spent less on charity care than they received in tax benefits between 2011 and 2018."
"Another recent study found that nonprofit hospitals increased their average operating profit by more than 36%, from about $43 million to almost $59 million, between 2012 and 2019," the document details. "In the same time period, the hospitals almost doubled the cash balances they held in reserve, from an average of about $133 million to more than $224 million."
As hospitals stash cash and line the pockets of executives, many patients are putting off care. The publication points out that "in 2022, about 1 in 7 Americans delayed or went without hospital services due to high costs," and that "those delays create much higher risks of more serious conditions, worse health outcomes, and higher costs for patients."
For those who initially go to the doctor, unpaid bills may prevent them from getting more care later, due to hospital policies. For example, Allina—which spent just 0.346% of its revenue on charity care—previously "blocked employees from scheduling future appointments for patients who had outstanding bills exceeding $4,500," according to the report.
"Even when patients entered into payment plans, Allina blocked them from making appointments until the entire debt was cleared. These practices result in patients being denied needed care, including children who could not receive the necessary medical forms to enroll in day care or school," the document adds. "Only after extensive reporting detailing Allina's practices did the hospital change its policies."
Current conditions are "absolutely unacceptable," declared Sanders.
"At a time when 85 million Americans are uninsured or underinsured, over 500,000 people go bankrupt because of medically related debt, and over 60,000 Americans die each year because they cannot afford to go to a doctor when they need to, nonprofit hospitals should be providing more charity care to those who desperately need it, not less," he argued. "And if they refuse to do so, they should lose their tax-exempt status."
The report calls on Congress and the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) to "hold nonprofit hospitals accountable for the benefits they reap and their moral obligation to serve as pillars of accessible healthcare in their communities," and offers some steps they both could take.
Federal lawmakers could ensure hospitals offer charity care at levels consistent with tax breaks, establish standards for financial assistance programs, and define the community engagement necessary to justify nonprofit status, the report says, while "the IRS could address the administrative gaps that allow nonprofit hospitals to benefit off of the people they are failing to help."
Workers at Tesla plants all labor without union contracts, earning per hour about one-third less than what workers at Detroit’s unionized auto makers are making.
Elon Musk, the world’s single richest individual, believes in sharing the wealth. Or so Tesla chief financial officer Zachary Kirkhorn can certainly attest.
Kirkhorn announced earlier this month that he’s stepping down after four years as Tesla’s CFO. Over those four years, Kirkhorn has pocketed some $590 million, a tidy sum that averages out to an annual take-home not all that far from $150 million.
But Musk’s share-the-wealth inclinations, Tesla workers can attest, don’t extend much beyond Tesla’s executive suites. Workers at Tesla plants all labor without union contracts. They earn per hour from Tesla about one-third less than what workers at Detroit’s unionized Big Three auto makers are making.
UAW President Shawn Fain has tagged this auto industry got-to-be-more-competitive pitch “nothing more” than a prescription for “a continued race to the bottom in a quest to follow the lowest bidder to pay poverty wages.”
Workers at those Big Three firms―General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler, now part of the new auto group Stellantis―are now feeling Tesla’s low-wage pressure. Their union, the United Auto Workers, has begun bargaining a new Big Three contract, and those negotiations, a Reuters analysis noted last month, most definitely have Musk’s Tesla as a shadow participant.
Tesla’s shadow, adds Reuters, has essentially replaced the looming presence of the “Japanese automaker Toyota and its lean production system.”
That analogy between today’s Testa and yesterday’s Toyota only goes so far. The Tesla and Toyota shadows have impacted Detroit’s top auto execs in strikingly different ways. Toyota posed a personal threat to Detroit auto execs. Tesla offers those execs a personal opportunity.
Toyota’s threat came on the executive compensation front. Japanese corporate chiefs have over recent decades consistently made substantially less than their U.S. counterparts. In 2012, for instance, Toyota’s top exec pocketed $1.8 million. Ford’s CEO that same year took home nearly $21 million.
This past June, Toyota’s top-paid exec, Akio Toyoda, saw his annual compensation rise to an all-time Toyota executive pay record. His take-home: $6.9 million. The 2022 total take-home of GM’s CEO: $29 million.
The mega millions that go to Tesla’s top execs, by contrast, provide top execs at America’s unionized auto companies a much more personally useful payday benchmark. The UAW, these execs are now demanding, must allow their companies to be “competitive” with the likes of Tesla.
UAW President Shawn Fain has tagged this auto industry got-to-be-more-competitive pitch “nothing more” than a prescription for “a continued race to the bottom in a quest to follow the lowest bidder to pay poverty wages.”
The UAW has a counter proposal for this summer’s bargaining. Detroit’s auto CEOs, the union points out, have seen their compensation rise 40% over the past four years. The UAW is now calling for a 40% raise for Big Three auto workers over the next four years.
A new contract that incorporates that notion would bring significant gains for auto workers. But even more significant gains―for all U.S. workers―could start flowing if U.S. lawmakers started linking the massive subsidies currently flowing to Corporate America to the stunningly wide pay gaps between U.S. workers and corporate top execs.
Tesla’s exiting chief financial officer Zach Kirkhorn earlier this year told reporters his company was expecting federal tax credits ranging up to $250 million per quarter in 2023, as much as $1 billion for the entire year. All those subsidy dollars, as matters now stand, will be disproportionately enriching the already rich. That doesn’t have to be the case.
In the quarter-century after World War II, the vast majority of major U.S. corporations paid their top execs no more than 20 or 30 times what their workers were taking home. Today’s top corporate execs routinely make more in a day than their workers can make in a year.
We could help change that if we pressed our lawmakers―at all levels―to limit corporate eligibility for government subsidies to companies that maintained modest gaps between executive and worker compensation. Corporations that can afford to pay their top execs hundreds of times more than what they pay their workers, we need to make politically clear, can afford to do without our tax dollars.
Ordinary Americans across the political spectrum are tired of seeing highly paid executives walk away unscathed from crises they create.
It’s a rare day in Washington when progressive and conservative lawmakers actually find common ground. But that’s what happened when Senators Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) and J.D. Vance (R-Ohio) teamed up recently to introduce a bill that would force leaders of failed banks to repay some of their compensation.
The Failed Bank Executives Clawback Act would require top brass to cough up all or some of the compensation they received during the three years preceding a big bank collapse. The clawback would apply to directors, officers, controlling shareholders, and other high-level decision-makers at banks with $10 billion or more in assets.
With five Republicans and eight Democrats already behind the bill, it stands a real chance of Senate passage.
It’s time for Washington officials to stand up to industry lobbyists and protect working families from the threat of Wall Street greed.
Ordinary Americans across the political spectrum are tired of seeing highly paid executives walk away unscathed from crises they create.
Silicon Valley Bank (SVB) CEO Greg Becker, for instance, had raked in tens of millions in incentive pay while pursuing high-risk strategies in the years leading up to the bank’s collapse. The most dangerous: his decision to invest funds from largely uninsured deposits in long-term bonds without preparing for inevitable interest rate increases.
According to a Public Citizen analysis, Becker exposed the bank to even greater interest rate risks by terminating a hedge against certain other securities. This maneuver helped boost the short-term value of SVB stock, and Becker made sure to get while the going was good. He even offloaded shares worth $3.6 million just days before the bank disclosed a large loss that triggered its stock slide and collapse.
The Warren-Vance bill responds to public outrage over such dangerous Wall Street greed. Hopefully it will sail through both chambers and become law.
But this Congressional action wouldn’t be necessary if regulators had done their jobs in the aftermath of the 2008 financial crash.
In response to that national crisis, Congress passed the Dodd-Frank financial reform. Section 956 of that law prohibits Wall Street pay which encourages excessive risk. But more than a dozen years later, regulators still have not put this part of the law into force.
If a strong regulation had been in place before the recent bank crises, executives at the failed banks would’ve had stronger incentives to focus on long-term stability and growth rather than taking short-term risks to maximize their personal gains.
For example, under Section 956, regulators could’ve required executives to set aside a significant share of their compensation every year for 10 years, an idea first proposed by former New York Federal Reserve Bank President William Dudley. This deferred pay would be used to help cover the cost of potential fines or bankruptcies.
With their own “skin in the game,” executives at SVB and Signature bank might’ve acted less recklessly and avoided collapse. If their banks had still failed, they would’ve had to automatically forfeit these deferred funds. A forfeiture action would be a lot easier than getting executives to pay back money they might’ve already spent on yachts or private jets.
The recent bank failures have provoked renewed pressure on regulators to enact this long overdue Wall Street pay restriction. In late March, 25 labor, consumer, and other groups sent a letter urging swift and rigorous action.
In Congressional hearings, Sen. Raphael Warnock (D-Ga.) and Rep. Rashida Tlaib (D-Mich.) both asked FDIC Chair Martin Gruenberg if he supported this Wall Street pay restriction and he indicated he did. This past week Gruenberg told reporters that the rule would be issued by the end of this year.
It’s time for Washington officials to stand up to industry lobbyists and protect working families from the threat of Wall Street greed.
Senator Warnock recently described this disparity well. “I pastor in communities where poor and marginalized people have the full weight of the law come down upon them for the smallest infractions,” he said. “When bankers made risky bets that endangered our whole economy, they got to cash in. They should be held accountable.”
"I wonder how it feels to have a group of people challenge your pay and worth," said one labor leader sarcastically.
Television writers who have been on strike for a month applauded a vote at Netflix's annual shareholder meeting on Thursday in which the streaming company's investors rejected an executive pay package that critics said exemplified the greed of Hollywood CEOs and their unfair treatment of the workers behind their lucrative content.
A majority of the shareholders voted against a pay package for executives including co-CEOs Greg Peters and Ted Sarandos as well as Netflix co-founder and board chair Reed Hastings.
Under the proposed pay package, Sarandos would earn up to $40 million in base salary, a bonus, and stock options, while Peters would take home $34.6 million.
"I wonder how it feels to have a group of people challenge your pay and worth,"
tweeted labor leader Lindsay Dougherty sardonically. Dougherty is secretary-treasurer of Teamsters Local 399 and represents more than 6,000 TV and film workers.
Meredith Stiehm, president of the Western branch of the Writers Guild of America (WGA), noted in the union's letter to studio executives last week that the shareholders were also asked to give retroactive approval to the company's 2022 CEO pay package, which amounted to $166 million.
"While investors have long taken issue with Netflix's executive pay, the compensation structure is even more egregious against the backdrop of the strike," wrote Stiehm, noting that in contrast to the executives' annual pay, "the proposed improvements the WGA currently has on the table would cost Netflix an estimated $68 million per year."
Thursday's vote was non-binding, and could be overturned by the company's board of directors, but writer Jelena Woehr tweeted that shareholders' rejection of Netflix's pay structure could ultimately pressure TV studios to meet the demands of the WGA, including higher residual pay and better compensation for writers who are hired before a show has been given a greenlight for production.
The WGA West noted that executive pay packages rarely fail to get approval from shareholders.
"Shareholders should send a message to Comcast that if the company could afford to spend $130 million on executive compensation last year," she wrote, "it can afford to pay the estimated $34 million per year that writers are asking for in contract improvements and put an end to this disruptive strike."
The senator asked if it is "morally acceptable that tens of thousands of people die each year in this country because they cannot afford the medicine their doctors prescribe, while at the same time, the drug companies make billions of dollars in profits."
Asserting that Americans are "sick and tired of being ripped off" by Big Pharma during the Covid-19 pandemic, U.S. Sen. Bernie Sanders said Wednesday that Stéphane Bancel, Moderna's billionaire CEO, will testify next month before the Senate committee he chairs.
Last month, Sanders wrote to Bancel—who according to the committee "became a billionaire after U.S. taxpayers gave his company billions of dollars to research, develop, and distribute its Covid-19 vaccines"—urging the CEO to "refrain from more than quadrupling the price of the vaccine to as much as $130 while it costs just $2.85 to manufacture."
Speaking on the Senate floor Wednesday, Sanders, who chairs the Senate Health, Education, Labor, and Pensions Committee, said the American people want to know "how does it happen that in the United States we pay by far... the highest prices in the world for prescription drugs?"
"Why is it, people are asking, that nearly 1 out of every 4 Americans cannot afford the prescriptions their doctors write?" he added. "Think about how crazy that is."
"How does it happen that nearly half of all new drugs in the United States cost more than $150,000 a year?" Sanders asked. "How does it happen that in Canada and other major countries, [the] same exact same medications, manufactured by the same exact companies, are sold for a fraction of the price that we pay in America?"
The answers to these questions are not complicated. In fact, they can be summed up in three words—unprecedented corporate greed.
Over the past 25 years, the pharmaceutical industry has spent $8.5 billion on lobbying and over $745 million on campaign contributions to get Congress and the government to do its bidding. Incredibly, last year, the drug companies hired over 1,700 lobbyists including the former congressional leaders of both major political parties—over three pharmaceutical industry lobbyists for every member of Congress. And it has paid off—big time.
"Meanwhile," said Sanders, "as Americans die because they cannot afford the medications they need, the pharmaceutical industry makes higher profits every year than other major industries, year after year after year."
"Between the years 2000 and 2018, drug companies in this country made over $8 trillion... in profits," the senator noted.
As the HELP Committee reported:
Ten of the top pharmaceutical companies in the U.S.—AbbVie, Pfizer, Johnson & Johnson, Eli Lilly, Merck, Moderna, Bristol-Myers Squibb, Amgen, Gilead Sciences, and Regeneron Pharmaceuticals—made a total of more than $102 billion in profits in 2021—a 137% increase from the previous year. In 2021 alone, 50 top executives in these 10 pharmaceutical companies took home over $1.9 billion in compensation and stock awards. Those 50 pharmaceutical executives are also in line to receive golden parachutes amounting to more than $2.8 billion when they depart the companies. Those golden parachutes are tied to the company's stock price and provide executives with massive payouts if they leave the company on good terms after hitting certain stock price targets—a tactic to ensure executives focus on increasing their company's stock prices at the expense of Americans who cannot afford their lifesaving medication.
"The question that I think Americans should be asking themselves," said Sanders, is if it is "morally acceptable that tens of thousands of people die each year in this country because they cannot afford the medicine their doctors prescribe, while at the same time, the drug companies make billions of dollars in profits and provide their CEOs with huge compensation packages?"
"The American people, regardless of their political affiliations, are sick and tired of being ripped off by the pharmaceutical industry," Sanders concluded. "Now is the time for us to have the courage to take on the 1,700 lobbyists all over Capitol Hill, to take on the unlimited financial resources of that industry. Now is the time to stand with the American people and substantially lower prescription drug prices in this country."
Moderna said Wednesday that its mRNA vaccine "will continue to be available at no cost for insured people" and that "for uninsured or underinsured people, Moderna's patient assistance program will provide Covid-19 vaccines at no cost."
A recent New York Times editorial—accompanied by the catchy headline "At McDonald's, Fat Profits but Lean Wages"—noted precisely what its title implies: that a company posting large profits is still failing to pay its workers a livable wage.
This, of course, is nothing new: In fact, Fight for $15 began, as the movement's website notes, "with just a few hundred fast food workers in New York City, striking for $15 an hour and union rights."
The movement has since become a nationwide force, pressuring state governments and the federal government to contend with wage inequality that, as the Economic Policy Institute reported earlier this year, has been steadily rising for over 35 years.
The Times begins its editorial by noting that McDonald's "has reported a 35 percent increase in profits for the first quarter of 2016, an unexpectedly large gain driven partly by its recent decision to sell Egg McMuffins all day long."
The piece observes that this is great news for "executives and shareholders," but "when, if ever, will it be good news for McDonald's employees and taxpayers?"
Of course, McDonald's is not the only culprit here. Throughout the United States, productivity has grown while wages have leveled off—a scenario that inevitably leads to greater profits for the few while everyone else works longer hours with little to show for it.
"From 1973 to 2014, net productivity rose 72.2 percent," the Economic Policy Institute has found, "while the hourly pay of typical workers essentially stagnated--increasing only 9.2 percent over 41 years (after adjusting for inflation)."
CEO pay, in contrast, has continued to soar: As Lawrence Mishel and Alyssa Davis have observed, "From 1978 to 2014, inflation-adjusted CEO compensation increased 997 percent, a rise almost double stock market growth and substantially greater than the painfully slow 10.9 percent growth in a typical worker's annual compensation over the same period."
But the Times noted another interesting and crucial point that is seldom discussed: The issue of what is often called corporate welfare.
While the conservative right is content to shame poor mothers for receiving federal assistance, rarely do they dare call, say, General Electric or Walmart "welfare queens," even though they receive enormous direct and indirect taxpayer subsidies year after year.
This is also true for McDonald's: The Times observes, "Through it all, taxpayers continue to pick up the difference between what fast-food workers earn and what they need to survive. An estimated $1.2 billion a year in taxpayer dollars goes toward public aid to help people who work at McDonald's."
What is highlighted here is a kind of indirect subsidy McDonald's enjoys because it refuses to pay workers a livable wage. Why raise the wages of these workers or provide them with benefits, the argument goes, if the taxpayer is there to provide "the difference between what fast-food workers earn and what they need to survive"?
And why reward workers of little stature when you can reward influential executives and fat cats instead?
A study by the National Employment Law Project, released last year, uncovered the disparity between executive compensation and average worker pay that has resulted from such an approach.
"The fast-food industry is marked by two extremes," the study begins. "On the one hand, the leading companies in the industry earn billions in profits each year, award chief executives generous compensation packages, and regularly distribute substantial amounts of money in the form of dividends and share buybacks."
Then there's the other extreme: "At the same time, the overwhelming share of jobs in the fast-food industry pay low wages that force millions of workers to rely on public assistance to afford health care, food, and other necessities."
As many others have noted, this amounts to a kind of corporate welfare: Taxpayers step in to provide the benefits and survival necessities that employers do not, which allows companies like McDonald's to post higher profits and pay their executives lavish salaries.
Steve Easterbrook, following his promotion from chief brand officer to CEO of McDonald's, saw his pay increase by 368% -- while, as Laura Bult observes in the New York Daily News, "McDonald's workers have joined other low-wage workers nationwide in their demands to raise the minimum wage."
It's obscene, but it's characteristic of a system dedicated to maximizing profit for the few, regardless of societal or economic costs.
"The largest, wealthiest, most powerful organizations in the world are on the public dole," writes David Brunori. "Where is the outrage? Back when I was young, people went into a frenzy at the thought of some unemployed person using food stamps to buy liquor or cigarettes. Ronald Reagan famously campaigned against welfare queens. The right has always been obsessed with moochers. But Boeing receives $13 billion in government handouts and everyone yawns, when conservatives should be grabbing their pitchforks."
Well, the outrage is brewing at the grassroots level thanks to movements like Fight for $15 and the newly prominent Democracy Spring, a coalition of progressive groups fighting to get money out of politics. Bernie Sanders's campaign has energized many young people and motivated millions to get involved with these causes, which transcend any single presidential campaign.
These groups recognize that a nation with such profound income and wealth inequality, combined with a slow-growth economy that favors the already rich, can never be genuinely democratic.
"I say to the Walton family, get off of welfare. Pay your workers a living wage," Bernie Sanders has demanded on the campaign trail.
The same can be said for McDonald's. As the Washington Post reported last year, "Americans are spending $153 billion a year to subsidize McDonald's and Wal-Mart's low-wage workers."
"Let that sink in," writes Ken Jacobs, "American taxpayers are subsidizing people who work...because businesses do not pay a living wage."
In college, Economics 101 is often described as the social science discipline that deals with the production, distribution and consumption of goods and services. MIT Economist Paul Samuelson liked to focus on scarcity, or more specifically, the allocation of scarce resources. "Abundance" was always a pretty word with an idyllic connotation for Professor Samuelson. I often wonder why there weren't a few classes about the real-life consequences of abundance, along with scarcity and people's material welfare.
The present generation of internet technology is a proper subject of study within an economic framework. It might help us understand what is happening to our society.
Let's start with today's highly-touted information age. At our fingertips is the greatest free trove of information in human history. We can get it quickly and efficiently. Are we more informed? Are we hungry for more information? Do we read more books in an era of record production of books? Do we know more about what our congressional and state legislators are about? Are we more knowledgeable about history and its lessons?
My sense is that the present generation of students knows about popular art and music, and has a nascent awareness of current events. But an unfortunate consequence of the abundance of information available to them is that too many students have left themselves less informed than their predecessors about serious information regarding our overall society and the world. This includes geography, politics, economics, literature, history, the side effects of technology, the interactions between consumers, workers, taxpayers and corporations, the doings of City Hall, or even how to cultivate gardens. Alas, the virtual reality of the culture of addictive distractions and stupefying daily routines still reign.
Just about everyone now has a smartphone with which they can enter an endless world of spectator entertainment, video games, and checking of messages by the minute, to name a few of the engagements. Granted, serious news, feature stories, lectures, rallies, programs, and other materials are also available. Judging by the Twitter followers of Hollywood celebrities and even famous cats, dogs, and horses, for some internet users there is a crowding out of information that matters most for a functioning democracy. And unless you're in one's inner circle, try having two-way communication with someone using any of the new technologies without long waits. The age of dial phones and letters had more than charm.
Energy presents another example of abundance. Historically, the United States had abundant, cheap energy and, with Canada, set the world's record for wasting it; while Japan had limited domestic energy resources and became much more efficient in using what they produced and favored efficient cars, homes, and appliances. Energy efficiently used means less pollution and fewer greenhouse gasses.
Abundant cheap water has led to much waste of water. When water rates go up there is more efficient usage. California is experiencing water shortages and as a result of scarcity in combination with regulatory restrictions, people in California are wasting less water.
Making our abundant "commons" - owned by the American people - available to exploit freely or nearly so by corporations has led to vast wastelands. The public lands - one-third of the U.S. landmass plus huge offshore areas - are open to oil mining and timber companies for ridiculously low-price leases. For hard-rock minerals like gold and silver, the 1872 Mining Act only requires as little as $5 an acre to extract billions of dollars of minerals a year. No Royalties are required. Such unlimited use takes away the people's resources with nothing but cleanup costs for the mining wastes left behind for taxpayers. (See bollier.org.)
When FCC chairman, Newton Minow, called television a "vast wasteland" in 1961, he wasn't just speaking metaphorically. The radio and television broadcast stations control our public airways 24 hours a day. Because "We The People," who are the landlords, do not reserve time daily for audience networks and also do not charge the stations for their use of public airwaves, broadcasters can waste their round-the-clock abundance (see Claire Riley's "Oh Say Can You See: A Broadcast Network for the Audience," Virginia Law Review (Fall, 1988)).
A relatively new entry in the world of abundance is corporate capital. The cries from business about a capital shortage in the 1970's, so as to get more tax breaks, have long been muted by the trillions of dollars the U.S.'s big businesses have lying inert here and abroad. Such abundance has led to hundreds of billions of dollars in unproductive stock buybacks since 2000.
A leading analyst of big business behavior, Robert Monks, has called such buybacks a clear sign of incompetent or unimaginative management. By this he means that such profits should be used for productive investment, better wages, or more dividends to shareholders, mutual funds, and pension trusts who should exercise more of their ownership leverage.
Instead, the corporate bosses prefer to apply such profits, derived from the sweat of their workers and also government provided corporate welfare, to reduce the earnings per share ratio which enhances the criteria for increasing their already sky-high executive compensation. Stock buybacks rarely sustain a higher share price.
What to do with this expanding phenomenon of "abundance" in a world wracked by public and private poverty and its damaging fallouts? We must impose wisely-used charges or taxes on the abundant commons. For example, charging royalties for hard-rock mining and raising leases to market-based prices for other publically-owned resources can be used for needed land reclamation. Charging rent for the use of public airways can pay for better interactive programming and establishing audience networks. Imagine how an audience network could facilitate the potential for the people to summon campaigning politicians to real debates on their own radio and TV stations.
Requiring telecommunications companies to donate some of the profits they make from customers who pay exorbitant fees to use smart phones could provide revenues for the development of civic applications, and would help to offset the trivialization that has arrived with the technology.
As for the capital glut, an excess accumulated profits tax will provide an incentive to put such capital to productive work or return it the shareholders - the owners of the corporations.
We'd better think more about "abundance" and its negative consequences.