There is a familiar narrative now circulating through mainstream media and progressive political circles: that America is mired in an “affordability crisis,” and that the underlying cause is what critics call “oligarchic capitalism.” It is a phrase designed to provoke—suggesting that free markets have devolved into rule by the few, leaving ordinary citizens economically stranded.
But this narrative rests on a selective reading of both history and present economic reality.
Oligarchy, properly understood, refers to governance by a narrow elite. The ancient Greeks contrasted such systems with broader civic participation, even as they acknowledged that every political order risks concentration of power. That danger is not unique to capitalism. It is a constant of human nature. As James Madison observed in Federalist No. 51, “If men were angels, no government would be necessary.” The problem, then, is not with capitalism, but the enduring tendency toward corruption wherever power accumulates.
Critics of capitalism often overlook this continuity. Every economic order in history—barter, feudalism, mercantilism, imperial systems—has produced its share of graft and privilege. What distinguishes capitalism is not its perfection, but its corrective mechanism: competition. By dispersing economic opportunity beyond birthright and inherited status, market economies have historically limited the permanence of elite control. As Milton Friedman noted, capitalism, for all its flaws, has done more than any other system to lift ordinary people out of poverty. There has been no time in the history of man, where “upward mobility” has been more possible than in The USA today—for anyone.
The present debate over “affordability” should therefore be grounded not in slogans, but in measurable outcomes. The most straightforward test of economic stewardship is simple: do Americans have greater purchasing power at the end of an administration than at the beginning? In other words, have real wages—income adjusted for inflation—risen or fallen?
On that measure, the contrast between recent administrations is instructive.
During Donald Trump’s presidency, real wages experienced modest but consistent gains. By contrast, during the Biden years, inflation surged to levels not seen in decades, peaking near 19 percent annually and producing a cumulative price increase that significantly eroded purchasing power. While nominal wages did rise during this period, they often failed to keep pace with inflation, leaving many households effectively poorer in real terms.
The burden of inflation is not abstract. It manifests in the daily arithmetic of family life. Food, energy, housing, and healthcare costs define the lived experience of economic policy. Under the inflationary spike of the early 2020s, these categories saw substantial increases, placing pressure on middle-income households.
To be sure, some prices have since stabilized or declined. Egg prices, for example, have fallen significantly after earlier supply shocks. Yet broader cost structures—particularly in housing and healthcare—remain elevated. Health insurance premiums have continued to rise, often at annual rates between 5 and 8 percent, affecting both employers and employees. Government healthcare spending, through programs like Medicare and Medicaid, has also expanded, implying future tax burdens that cannot be ignored.
Against this backdrop, claims of a sweeping and unprecedented “affordability crisis” require scrutiny. According to U.S. Census data, a typical American family of four earns somewhere between $74,000 and $130,000 annually, with averages clustering around $110,000 to $120,000. Tax policy changes enacted during the Trump administration resulted in increased take-home pay for many of these households, with estimates suggesting gains on the order of several percentage points.
When combined with periods of lower inflation, these policies contributed to measurable improvements in real income. If real wages grow by even 3 to 5 percent annually, and tax burdens remain stable, families experience a tangible increase in purchasing power. That is the metric that ultimately matters—not rhetoric, but results.
This is not to deny that economic pressures exist. They do. But the causes are often more complex than critics admit. State and local taxation, for example, plays a significant role in shaping household finances. In high-tax states, increases in property taxes, regulatory costs, and fees can offset gains in wages. In such cases, the erosion of affordability stems less from market forces than from policy decisions at the state level.
The invocation of the “common good” has become a central justification for these policies. In principle, the concept is rooted in a long tradition of political philosophy, emphasizing shared responsibility and mutual obligation. In practice, however, it can be detached from its moral foundation and repurposed as a political slogan—one that justifies expanding bureaucratic control over economic life.
When the common good is severed from concrete rights—property, contract, and voluntary exchange—it risks becoming an instrument of coercion rather than cooperation. Policies framed as serving the collective interest can, in effect, redistribute resources in ways that benefit politically connected groups while imposing diffuse costs on the broader public.
This dynamic is not hypothetical. It can be seen in regulatory frameworks that favor large developers, in tax structures that shift burdens without transparent accountability, and in administrative systems that concentrate decision-making power from the citizens they affect. Such arrangements resemble, in their practical consequences, the very oligarchies critics claim to oppose.
The central question, then, is not whether inequality exists or whether economic systems require oversight. It is whether policies enhance or diminish the agency of ordinary citizens.
An economy that allows individuals to retain a greater share of the fruits of their labor strengthens both liberty and responsibility. It reduces dependence on centralized authority and limits opportunities for rent-seeking behavior by entrenched interests. Conversely, an economy that channels resources through expanding bureaucracies increases the scope for political favoritism and diminishes the direct link between work and reward.
This is the deeper philosophical divide underlying current economic debates. It is not merely about tax rates or inflation figures, but about the locus of control—whether economic power resides primarily with individuals and markets, or with institutions and administrators.
Measured against the practical standard of purchasing power, recent history suggests that lower inflation and restrained taxation are more effective in improving household well-being than expansive fiscal interventions by progressive communists; justified in the name of affordability. The evidence does not support the claim that capitalism, even in its imperfect American form, is the primary driver of economic hardship. Rather, it points to the enduring challenge Madison identified: the need to structure institutions in a way that checks the concentration of power.
The task is not to abandon markets in pursuit of an abstract ideal, but to preserve the conditions under which they function best—competition, transparency, and limited government intrusion. In doing so, we do not eliminate inequality or hardship. But we do maintain a system in which improvement remains possible, and in which the ordinary citizen retains both economic agency and political dignity.
