Posts Tagged ‘wealth concentration’

“The Arithmetic of Progress”

December 25, 2025

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Ricardo Morín
Still Six: The Arithmetic of Progress
Oil On Linen
14 by 18 by 3/4 inches
2010

Ricardo F. Morín

November 2025

Oakland Park, Florida

Billy Bussell Thompson, Editor

This essay examines the assumption that technological and scientific advances have produced a universal improvement in human life.   While contemporary discourse often equates innovation with progress, the distribution of benefits remains deeply asymmetrical.   Technological growth increases capacity but does not correct the structural inequities embedded in modern economic systems.   What appears as collective advancement frequently reflects the consolidation of advantage among those already positioned to receive it.   By distinguishing capability from justice, and aggregate trends from lived conditions, the essay argues that the notion of historical progress is less a measure of shared dignity than a narrative that obscures persistent hierarchies.


1

The modern argument for progress (understood as improvement) rests on a familiar premise:   technological and scientific advances have made life better today than at any other point in human history.   Thinkers such as Harvard’s Steven Pinker defend this view with empirical confidence—he points to increased life expectancy, reduced mortality, improved medical interventions, and the steady rise of global literacy.   In this framing, innovation and macroeconomic expansion constitute not only evidence of historical progress but the very engines that produce it.

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Yet the structure of this reasoning is fragile.   It equates technical capacity with civic advancement and treats expanded tools as synonymous with expanded dignity.   It assumes that the benefits of innovation distribute themselves naturally and uniformly across societies.   It suggests that progress is a shared inheritance rather than a selective outcome.   These assumptions flatten the complexities of economic life into a narrative that conceals the asymmetries on which contemporary systems depend.

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The historical record offers a different picture.  Technological growth has consistently increased the efficiency of extraction, the speed of accumulation, and the reach of centralized power.   Growth has amplified productivity without altering the basic hierarchy of distribution.   Knowledge expands, but the architecture of inequity persists.   What appears as collective advancement is often a redistribution of advantage toward those already positioned to capture its rewards.  This is not a failure of technology; it is the continuity of a primitive logic embedded within modern economic structures.

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The Enlightenment promise—that reason and innovation would lift the condition of all—has, in practice, produced a dual economy.   One part benefits from scientific capacity, medical improvement, and informational access.   The other part experiences precarity, dispossession, and structural vulnerability despite living under the same technological horizon.   Progress, in this sense, is not a universal fact but a statistical abstraction. It describes averages, not lived realities. It treats the mean as the measure of the moral.

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Some defend the concentration of authority on the grounds that a virtuous ruler could achieve what plural institutions cannot.   This argument, however substitutes character for structure.   If justice depends on the accident of benevolence, it ceases to be a principle and becomes a contingency.

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Macroeconomic narratives reinforce this illusion.   Rising GDP is interpreted as evidence of collective ascent, even as wealth concentrates in increasingly narrow fractions of the population.   Globalized production expands, but the gains consolidate among those with access to capital, infrastructure, and insulating privilege.   The appearance of aggregate improvement obscures the internal asymmetry: growth for some, stagnation or decline for many.   The arithmetic of progress becomes a rhetoric of reassurance rather than a diagnosis of social reality.

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To question this framing is not to deny the achievements of science or the value of technological discovery.   It is to refuse the conflation of capability with justice.   It is to observe that our tools have advanced while our institutions have remained elementary—often primitive—in their allocation of power and opportunity.   Inequity is no less entrenched today than in earlier eras; it has simply been rationalized under the banner of innovation.

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If echoes of Thomas Paine emerge in this argument, they are not intentional.   They arise from a shared intuition:   that systems calling themselves enlightened can reproduce the conditions they claim to transcend.  Paine confronted monarchy; we confront the monarchy of capital, which presents itself as progressive while it operates through concentration, asymmetry, and manufactured narratives of improvement.

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The challenge is not to reject technological advancement but to assess its civic consequences without accepting its mythology.  Progress exists, but its distribution is neither natural nor inevitable.   Until the structures that allocate benefit are reexamined rather than presumed, the claim of historical improvement functions less as an account of justice than as a story societies tell themselves to avoid reckoning with its absence.


“The Masquerade of Small Government”

November 27, 2025

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Ricardo Morín
Silent Quadtych: The Masquerade of Small Government
Each Panel: 22’ x 30”
Watercolor, graphite, gesso, acrylic on paper
2010

Ricardo F. Morín

November, 2025

Oakland Park, Florida

The idea of shrinking government in the United States has recurred across administrations, yet the national deficit persists and the central obligations of public life (Social Security, Medicare, rising healthcare costs, and the long-term fiscal imbalance) remain structurally unresolved.   Initiatives framed as efficiency programs often divert attention from these enduring commitments.   This essay examines the distance between the performance of reform and the realities that persist beneath that performance, and asks what remains concealed when a portrayal of reform is presented as transformation—particularly the corporate interests that benefit when regulatory and oversight functions are reduced.


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The recent closure of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) reveals more than an administrative shortfall.   The initiative began with the extravagant promise of saving several trillion dollars, yet concluded with an unverifiable claim equivalent to roughly three percent of the federal budget.  The disparity is not a technical miscalculation but a symbolic one.  The disparity exposes a political pattern in which sweeping reform is announced, performance is staged, and the result is a gesture that bears little relation to the scale of the aspiration.   What had appeared to be a disciplined restructuring of government became instead an example of how ambition can detach from feasibility.

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The language of efficiency has long exerted a nearly irresistible appeal.   That language suggests a vision of governance freed from excess, guided by prudence, and aligned with fiscal virtue.   Yet efficiency functions as a metaphor rather than a principle.   The metaphor conceals assumptions about what government should do, what citizens require, and what modern complexity demands.   One assumption is that public obligations can be met with fewer instruments; another is that smaller institutions inherently serve the public better.   Both assumptions overlook the fact that intricate societies require robust capacity, and that such capacity necessarily entails cost.

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When such programs collide with the operational realities of administration, their limits become evident.   Federal agencies exist because the responsibilities they discharge cannot be managed by private initiative alone.   These agencies coordinate infrastructure, regulate markets, monitor systemic risks, and mediate conflicts among large and often competing interests.   Attempts to severely curtail these functions rarely yield the projected savings, because the underlying needs do not disappear.   Reformers confront a simple truth:   indispensable functions cannot be eliminated without consequence.

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What emerges instead is appearance without substance.   The promise of cutting government satisfies a cultural demand for acts that signal restraint, even if the result satisfies little else.   That promise affirms a narrative in which bureaucracy is imagined as the obstacle to national well-being and institutional reduction as the remedy.   Yet an appearance of reform often substitutes for substantive reform.   Procedural actions are elevated to the status of outcomes, and the declaration of change is treated as proof that change has occurred.

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Behind this representation stands a deeper strategy.   When government is weakened, the scope of public oversight contracts.   Such contraction reallocates authority rather than removing it.   In the absence of robust public institutions, nongovernmental power centers (corporations, high-wealth individuals, and other privately controlled entities operating without electoral accountability) assume a wider sphere of influence, operating with fewer obligations and almost no transparency.   The rhetoric of shrinking the State therefore conceals a different movement entirely:   the expansion of discretion outside the channels of democratic accountability.

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This expansion is most visible in the consolidation of wealth.   When regulatory and investigative capacities narrow, the constraints on large fortunes diminish.  Concentrated capital extends its reach across industries, infrastructure, data, and information systems.  Efforts to limit the scope of government therefore operate as a shield under which private power accumulates with minimal resistance.   What is framed as the removal of constraints becomes, in practice, the removal of limits on private authority from public scrutiny.

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Such conditions foster the autocratic temptation.   When wealth operates beyond institutional counterweights, the boundary between influence and authority begins to fade.   Private actors acquire the ability to shape policy, steer public discourse, and redefine norms without democratic mandate.   The critique of ‘big government’ becomes a means of creating conditions in which private actors function as informal sovereigns—powerful, unelected, and increasingly indispensable to the ordinary functioning of civic life.

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It is no coincidence that this rhetoric often appears in the language of populism.   Appeals to public frustrations convert structural imbalances into cultural grievances.   Bureaucracy is framed as the adversary, even when the real impediment to civic dignity lies in the widening distance between concentrated power and the public interest.   What presents itself as a defense of the people frequently advances interests far removed from those it claims to champion.

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These dynamics reflect a recurring pattern:   the appeal of concentrated wealth, the weakening of public constraints, and the claim that progress can be invoked without being shared.   The call to shrink government fits within this broader pattern.   That call functions as a contemporary iteration of a familiar strategy in which reformist rhetoric obscures the concentration of advantage.   The pattern endures because its surface language is persuasive while its underlying mechanisms remain concealed.

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If an effective path forward exists, it does not lie in diminishing institutions but in strengthening the mechanisms through which they remain accountable to a diverse society.   The measure of the State is not its size but its integrity—its ability to respond to complexity without ceding its responsibilities to private authority.  What weakens when institutions are diminished is not efficiency but democracy itself.  Defending the public sphere requires clarifying what is lost when reform devolves into appearance alone, when efficiency becomes a language intended to conceal power rather than distribute it.