Have Your Cake and Take Mine Too
There is an old expression for someone who wants an impossible bargain.
They want to have their cake and eat it too.
What happened in America was worse.
A small group of people got to have their cake, eat it, and then take yours.
That distinction matters.
The great financial rescues of the past twenty years are usually discussed as arguments about economics. Should the banks have been saved? Should interest rates have gone to zero? Should the government have borrowed trillions? Should the Federal Reserve have flooded the system with money?
Those are legitimate questions.
But they obscure the uglier one.
Who caused the problem? Who benefited from the solution? And who ultimately paid for it?
I spent much of my professional life around financial markets. I knew the people making these decisions. I understood the argument in 2008: if the financial system collapsed, everyone would suffer.
That was probably true.
What followed was not inevitable.
The institutions that had taken extraordinary risks were rescued. Their creditors were protected. Money became extraordinarily cheap. Asset prices recovered. Then they soared.
Stocks went up.
Bonds went up.
Real estate went up.
Private companies went up.
If you already owned substantial assets, the rescue was magnificent.
If you were a banker, an investor, a private-equity executive or simply wealthy enough to own a large portfolio, the years that followed created one of the greatest accumulations of financial wealth in modern history.
Meanwhile, millions of Americans who had not designed mortgage derivatives, levered bank balance sheets or constructed the machinery that nearly collapsed the economy lost jobs, homes and savings.
Then came the next rescue.
More borrowing. More money. Lower rates. More support.
Again, asset owners were protected first because asset markets are considered essential to the functioning of the economy.
And again the bill did not disappear.
Bills never disappear.
They change hands.
Eventually the cost arrived in the price of a house. The rent. The grocery bill. The insurance premium. The car payment. The interest rate on a credit card. The cost of starting a business.
The person with $20 million in assets watched those assets become worth $30 million.
The person with $20,000 in the bank watched the purchasing power of that money decline.
That is not merely inequality.
It is a transfer.
And what makes the transfer so vicious is its direction.
The people closest to the creation of the problem possessed the political access, financial sophistication and asset ownership necessary to benefit from the solution.
The people furthest from the creation of the problem possessed the least protection from its cost.
Think about how extraordinary that is.
You make the bet.
The bet goes bad.
The government protects you from the loss.
The rescue increases the value of what you own.
Then somebody who never made the bet pays more for food, shelter and money itself.
You have your cake.
You eat it.
Then you take theirs.
We have spent years debating whether these interventions were technically necessary.
Perhaps some were.
But necessity does not excuse the distribution of the consequences.
If society must intervene to save a system, then the people who created the danger cannot emerge richer while innocent people are handed the invoice.
That is not capitalism.
Capitalism requires the possibility of loss.
It requires accountability.
Otherwise profit belongs to the individual while failure belongs to everyone else.
And eventually people notice.
The bill always comes due.
The real question is why we keep sending it to the people who ordered nothing.
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