“When the people shall have nothing more to eat, they will eat the rich." These haunting words, often attributed to Jean-Jacques Rousseau, still resonate two centuries later. In our modern world, as in pre-revolutionary France, we find ourselves haunted by the specter of the rentier - the unproductive character who, as Marx described, "pockets a part of the surplus-value without playing the slightest role in its production.”
The rentier system of 18th century France, where a privileged class reaped the rewards of land ownership without contributing to the nation's economic growth, offers a cautionary tale for our times. As French economist Thomas Piketty notes in Capital in the Twenty-First Century, "France on the eve of 1789 was a society dominated by wealth in land." This concentration of passive wealth bred economic stagnation, as the rentier class had little incentive to invest in new enterprises. It also fueled resentment among the laboring classes, who bore a disproportionate tax burden while the nobility enjoyed exemptions.
The parallels to our own era are striking. Today, we see the rise of what economist Guy Standing calls the "rentier capitalism" - a system where an increasing share of income goes to those who own assets, rather than those who work for a living. As housing costs soar and homeownership becomes an unattainable dream for many, a new rentier class emerges, their wealth built on the backs of lifelong tenants.
The dangers of this trend are manifold. It threatens to create a society of permanent renters, trapped in cycles of poverty and unable to build wealth through property ownership. It shifts power dynamics heavily in favor of landlords, opening the door to exploitation through excessive rent hikes and neglected maintenance. And it weakens the fabric of communities, as neighborhoods become transient way stations rather than places of belonging and investment.
As Victor Hugo poignantly illustrated in "Les Misérables," the plight of the poor is inextricably linked to the affluence of the rich, a dynamic that perpetuates social injustice. But what happens when the working class, the backbone of society, no longer feels valued by the system?
History offers a stark answer: in the words of Marx and Engels, "The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles." The French Revolution of 1789 stands as a bloody testament to the consequences of unchecked inequality. This sentiment echoes even in contemporary pop culture, the phrase “eat the rich” starts trending anytime inequality is mentioned in the press.
The dehumanizing conditions faced by the working class in such a system are not merely theoretical. Émile Zola's "Germinal" serves as a stark reminder of the toll that exploitative labor practices can take on individuals and communities, as miners are reduced to mere cogs in the machinery of profit.
In our data-driven age, we often fall prey to the illusion that everything can be quantified, that the health of a society can be reduced to a set of economic indicators. We are seduced by numbers we don't fully understand, convinced that GDP growth or stock market gains are the ultimate measures of progress. But as the French philosopher Émile Durkheim warned, "To pursue a goal which is by definition unattainable is to condemn oneself to a state of perpetual unhappiness."
What the numbers often fail to capture is the human condition - the qualitative aspects of life that cannot be so easily measured. They don't tell us about the anxiety of the renter who fears an unexpected eviction, or the despair of the worker who sees no path to advancement. They don't account for the social cohesion lost when communities become transient, or the dignity stripped away when people are reduced to mere economic units.
As we grapple with the challenges of our time, we must resist the tyranny of quantification. We must recognize, as the poet John Keats put it, that "nothing ever becomes real till it is experienced." The lived realities of those most impacted by our economic system must be our guide, not just the abstract data points.
Numbers ofcourse are important, rigorous data analysis is crucial for understanding complex social phenomena and crafting effective policies. But it must be balanced with a deep appreciation for the human stories behind the statistics. We must, in the words of sociologist C. Wright Mills, cultivate a "sociological imagination" that allows us to "grasp history and biography and the relations between the two within society."
So what is to be done? Henry George, the 19th century American economist, proposed a radical solution: "It is not necessary to confiscate land; it is only necessary to confiscate rent." By taxing the unearned income derived from land ownership and using the proceeds for public benefit, George argued, we could address the root cause of inequality and poverty amidst progress.
While George's "single tax" may not be the full answer, his diagnosis of the problem remains trenchant. If we are to avoid the fate of pre-revolutionary France, we must find ways to promote a more equitable distribution of wealth and opportunity. This means rethinking our relationship to land and housing, fostering a healthy mix of ownership and rental options, and ensuring that the benefits of economic growth are shared by all who contribute to it.
It will not be an easy task. Simone Weil's astute observation that "privilege is invisible to those who have it" underscores the inherent power imbalance between the haves and have-nots, a reality that often goes unacknowledged by those in positions of power. But as another great thinker, Martin Luther King Jr., reminded us, "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice." It falls to us to do the hard work of bending it.
In the end, we must remember that the measure of a society is not the comfort of its most privileged, but the condition of its most vulnerable. "And many there are who have become weary of life and done harm to the earth," wrote Nietzsche. "The earth is full of the superfluous." Let us strive to build a world where all have a place, where the value of labor is justly rewarded, and where the specter of the rentier no longer haunts us. For in the words of Max Stirner, "The great are only great because we are on our knees. Let us rise!"
References:
1. Piketty, T. (2014). Capital in the Twenty-First Century. Harvard University Press.
2. Standing, G. (2016). The Corruption of Capitalism: Why Rentiers Thrive and Work Does Not Pay. Biteback Publishing.
3. George, H. (1879). Progress and Poverty. Robert Schalkenbach Foundation.
4. Marx, K., & Engels, F. (1848). The Communist Manifesto. International Publishers Co.
5. Nietzsche, F. (1883). Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Penguin Classics
6. Durkheim, É. (1897). Suicide. Free Press.
7. Keats, J. (1819). Letter to George and Georgiana Keats. In H. E. Rollins (Ed.), The Letters of John Keats (1958). Cambridge University Press.
8. Mills, C. W. (1959). The Sociologica
l Imagination. Oxford University Press.
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