Until today, I had not understood the trends shown in the graph above (from Aherne, Labonte, & Lynch 2024).

As a proportion of the economy, total federal spending has been fairly constant since 1962. Entitlements (Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid) and defense keep the whole cost pretty stable. The cost has risen during recessions because bad times increase eligibility for entitlements. This means that the early Reagan years saw a temporary peak in total federal spending (notwithstanding Reagan’s anti-government rhetoric), and the Great Recession and COVID caused big temporary increases.

Meanwhile, federal discretionary spending quite steadily declined from 1965 and 2000. It has fluctuated since then from a lower baseline.

That means that the basket that includes highways and air traffic control, prisons and border control, diplomacy and foreign aid, agricultural subsidies, Food Stamps, etc. represents a smaller percentage of the economy than it did in the 1960s.

Looking more closely at components, we can often find anomalous patterns. For example, total federal spending on education (k12 and college, including financial aid and research) was 1 percent of GDP in 1975 and 1.1 percent in 2024, with spikes during recessions.

Since the economy has grown each decade, a shrinking proportion of GDP could still purchase more goods and services. But that has not really happened during the 21st century. Another telling graph from the same report (below) shows discretionary spending in billions of dollars, adjusted for inflation. It separates defense from non-defense spending. Until COVID hit, neither component had risen (or fallen) in real terms compared to 2005. The Obama stimulus did cause a temporary boost, but that went away. Then COVID spending and the Biden stimulus boosted non-defense spending, which has come down but remains about 25 percent higher than it was in 2019.

These graphs explain why the kinds of public goods that we expect from the national government in the United States often seem to have shrunk or deteriorated, even while the total cost and size of the federal government has remained at least constant.

These data challenge certain assumptions popular among conservatives–that federal spending has risen and that Republican presidents have cut government while in office. (By the way, Elon Musk’s recent rampage will hardly be visible on these graphs when the lines are extended into 2025. Total federal spending rose during the first quarter of 2025.)

These graphs also challenge progressives’ assumptions that government has been shrinking in the era of neoliberalism. Indeed, even discretionary domestic spending is quite a bit higher than it was in 2005 or 2012-19, when adjusted for inflation. What progressives observe is not a shrinking government but a decline in non-defense discretionary spending (as a proportion of the economy) between 1965 and 2000, which has left many national government functions weaker than they were in the mid-1900s.

Source: Aherne, Drew C., Labonte, Marc & Lynch, Megan S., “Discretionary Spending in 10 Graphs” (2024), Congressional Research Service https://www.congress.gov/crs-product/R48164. See also taxing and spending are more compatible with democratic values than regulation is; how public opinion on social spending has changed: a generational approach

In The Civil War in France (1871), Karl Marx interprets the Paris Commune as “essentially a working class government.” The bourgeoisie and capitalism had been overthrown; the workers ruled. For Marx, the deep structure of a society was its class structure, and therefore everything about the Commune must be fundamentally new. It would be a mistake to interpret any of its offices, bodies, or laws that might seem familiar as if they replicated those of the previous regime. “It is generally the fate of completely new historical creations to be mistaken for the counterparts of older, and even defunct, forms of social life, to which they may bear a certain likeness.”

A counterpoint–not to this passage, but to major interpretations of Marx–comes from the radical Brazilian theorist and activist Roberto Mangabeira Unger. To paraphrase loosely, Unger might say that once the workers own the government and major enterprises, it becomes possible for people to distribute both the fruits of their labor and the rewarding productive activities more fairly and to collaborative more than compete. However, a revolution does not automatically resolve problems of organization and management. It remains challenging to coordinate individuals’ behavior, to identify and reward diligence, to apply expertise without letting the experts dominate, and so on. Thus the revolution should be judged on whether it yields new forms of self-government, which is not inevitable but depends on the participants.

In False Necessity (2004), Unger writes:

The radical left has generally found in the assumptions of deep-structure social analysis an excuse for the poverty of its institutional ideas. With few exceptions (such as the Yugoslav innovations) it has produced only one innovative institutional conception, the idea of the soviet or conciliar type of organization: that is to say, direct territorial and enterprise democracy. But this conception has never been and probably never can be worked into detailed institutional arrangements capable of solving the practical problems of and administrative and economic management in large countries, torn by internal divisions, beleaguered by foreign enemies, and excited by rising expectations. Thus, the conciliar model of popular organization has quickly given way to forms of despotic governnment that seem the sole feasible alternatives to the overthrown bourgeois regimes (pp. 24-5).

Unger is making an empirical claim that may be overstated. It has been 150+ years since the Paris Commune, and there have been many experiments under state socialism (of various types) and in capitalist economies–from mini-communes to, for instance, Mondragon, which has 75,000 employees/owners today. But I do think his theoretical insight is valid: the fundamental task is to redesign specific institutions.

Source: Roberto Mangabeira Unger, False necessity: anti-necessitarian social theory in the service of radical democracy: from Politics, a work in constructive social theory. London: Verso, 2004. See also: the visionary fire of Roberto Mangabeira Unger and needed: pragmatists for utopian experiments

George Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier (1937) explores the thesis that poor people would support progressive policies except that they don’t like the people who argue for progressive ideas. I am not sure he was right or that the same diagnosis applies today, but it’s worth considering.

Part I of the book is journalism: Orwell embeds himself in Northern English working-class homes, visits coal mines, and documents the degradation and suffering of poor British people during the Depression.

In Part II, Orwell tells how he came to do this kind of reporting as a child of the “lower-upper-middle-class” who had done a stint on the British colonial police in Burma. He identifies as a socialist but in a very vague and broad-church way. At one point (p. 154), he defines socialism as the premise that “The world is a raft sailing through space with, potentially, plenty of provisions for everybody.” That leads to the conclusion “that we must all cooperate and see to it that every-one does his fair share of the work and gets his fair share of the provisions.” Later (p. 200), he writes that “The real Socialist is one who wishes–not merely conceives it as desirable, but actively wishes–to see tyranny overthrown.” These sentiments may be compatible with US-style liberalism as well as social democracy, especially since Orwell is more of an anti-authoritarian than an egalitarian throughout the book.

The question he sets himself is why “Socialism has failed in its appeal.” He perceives the left as rapidly losing support to fascism, particularly among the poor.

Orwell observes that many people who could vote for the left think, “I don’t object to Socialism, but I do object to Socialists.” He writes, “Logically it is a poor argument, but it carries weight with many people. As with the Christian religion, the worst advertisement for Socialism is its adherents” (p. 156.)

So what did working-class voters have against the socialists of 1937? One part of Orwell’s diagnosis involves technology. He observes that advocates of socialism tend to be enthusiastic about machines, predicting that technology will liberate us from drudgery so that we can devote our lives to art and nature. They extoll the scientific progress of the USSR: tractors, rural electrification, and the Dnieper Dam. Orwell’s own view is that technological progress is inevitable but problematic, since the valuable parts of life involve work, which is being replaced by tools. “The machine has got to be accepted, but it is probably better to accept it rather as one accepts a drug–that is, grudgingly and suspiciously. Like a drug, the machine is useful, dangerous, and habit-forming” (p. 184).

This all seems sensible and relevant in our time, but the ideological polarity has switched. Today, the most blatant enthusiasts of machines are right-wing tech bros, and much of the skepticism comes from the left. This means that working-class hostility to progressives probably doesn’t involve attitudes toward technology.

Another part of Orwell’s diagnosis involves the cultural choices of self-appointed advocates for socialism. “One sometimes gets the impression that the mere words ’Socialism’ and ’Communism’ draw towards them with magnetic force every fruit-juice drinker, nudist, sandal-wearer, sex-maniac, Quaker, ’Nature Cure’ quack, pacifist, and feminist in England” (p. 157).

I think he has two concerns. One is that socialists are preachy and quick to dismiss the everyday pleasures of workers. Presumably, it’s fine to drink fruit juice if you want, but Orwell is worried about the kind of person who preaches its advantages over a pint at the pub–“that dreary tribe of high-minded women and sandal-wearers and bearded fruit-juice drinkers who come nocking towards the smell of ’progress’ like bluebottles to a dead cat” (p. 165).

A person might even acknowledge that we will all drink fruit juice instead of beer some day, because that will be better for us; but this fate “must be staved off as long as possible” by voting against socialists.

Of course, as I have suggested already, it is not strictly fair to judge a movement by its adherents; but the point is that people invariably do so, and that the popular conception of Socialism is coloured by the conception of a Socialist as a dull or disagreeable person. ’Socialism’ is pictured as a state of affairs in which our more vocal Socialists would feel thoroughly at home. This does great harm to the cause. The ordinary man may not flinch from a dictatorship of the proletariat, if you offer it tactfully; offer him a dictatorship of the prigs, and he gets ready to fight (p. 165)

His other concern is that left-wing intellectuals’ choices are simply unusual. Orwell says, “I have here a prospectus from another summer school which states its terms per week and then asks me to say ’whether my diet is ordinary or vegetarian’. They take it for granted, you see, that it is necessary to ask this question. This kind of thing is by itself sufficient to alienate plenty of decent people” (p. 157).

I think it’s good to be a vegetarian (and obligatory to accommodate vegetarians), but their number has grown a great deal since 1937. Besides, Orwell assumes that vegetarians are motivated by health alone, “for the food-crank is by definition a person willing to cut himself off from human society in hopes of adding five years on to the life of his carcase” (pp. 157-8). In other words, in 1937, eating plants and drinking juice was not about saving the planet or animals but extending one’s own life, and that came across as sanctimonious as well as questionable on the merits.

The enduring challenge is that people who are critical of the existing social order (as Orwell is) appropriately adopt views that are currently unpopular. Orwell, for example, mentions “feminism,” and, although I am not sure how he would define that word, thoughtful and critical people should gravitate to what I would call feminist ideas even if those ideas are not broadly popular. However, there is a risk that progressivism writ large will become identified with unpopular causes. This danger is worse when progressive leaders adopt a tone of disrespect for most people’s folkways, and worse still if these leaders rarely come from working-class communities.

I think that current working-class objections to the left–not only in the USA but in most wealthy democracies–have many explanations. We should consider, among other factors, the actual limitations of leftish proposals for addressing economic distress, the erosion of organizations like unions and genuine parties, and the impact of media. Among these causes, the lifestyles of self-appointed progressive advocates may not be particularly important. Nevertheless, Orwell’s method is worth considering. As he says,

[It] is no use writing off the current distaste for Socialism as the product of stupidity or corrupt motives. If you want to remove that distaste you have got to understand it, which means getting inside the mind of the ordinary objector to Socialism, or at least regarding his viewpoint sympathetically. No case is really answered until it has had a fair hearing. Therefore, rather paradoxically, in order to defend Socialism it is necessary to start by attacking it (p. 155).

See also: why “liberal” can sound like “upper-class”; a conversation with Farah Stockman about American Made: What Happens to People When Work Disappears; encouraging working class candidates; the social class inversion as a threat to democracy; Where have lower-educated voters moved right? (a look at 102 countries over 35 years) etc.

Not for the clashing of sabres,
   For carnage nor for strife;
But songs to thrill the hearts of men
   With more abundant life.

-- from Songs for the People by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

To become a more just and sustainable society, we must produce a lot. For instance, to improve affordability and address homelessness, we need much more housing. One estimate claims that we need 7.3 million additional lower-cost rental units. But the graph above this post shows a long-term decline in new housing starts per capita.

We also need windmills and solar panels, more and better transmission lines, batteries, electric vehicles, commuter railway lines and intermodal transit points, heat pumps, and urban trees.

All this production will weigh on the environment, but I don’t see any path to a sustainable economy that doesn’t involve first making a lot of new things that replace the machines we depend on now.

The graph below shows rising production of renewables along with steady production of oil and coal. We need the former to accelerate, which should also push the latter down:

Regulation is important for health, safety, and other values, but it doesn’t produce stuff. Regulation can be a barrier to production, although the severity of that problem is open to debate. Certainly, regulations must be smart, efficient, and mutually consistent.

Redistribution is necessary to address inequities, but it is not the way to create abundance. To be sure, when disadvantaged people receive support, they are able to buy things, but that may not boost the total supply of the things we need. Besides, once we produce more, we can choose to distribute more.

Governments can boost supply by buying things. The massive Biden investments in green technologies and microchip manufacturing are at least well intentioned and may turn out to be crucial. However, the private sector is going to produce most of what we need, even if governments are important customers or investors. The question is how to expand the private production of good things, such as affordable housing and renewable power.

Steve Teles and Ron Saldin discuss an abundance agenda in political terms, presenting it as a response to certain tendencies on both right and left. They argue that abundance may create a new alignment and counter partisan polarization, which is rooted in zero-sum competition. They compare an abundance agenda to the Progressive Movement, which formed strong factions within both major parties. In the 1912 general election, three presidential candidates competed to be the best progressive, offering different but comparable interpretations of what progressivism meant.

Progressivism wasn’t about abundance, but their analogy is political. An abundance agenda could scramble the political spectrum today, as progressivism did from 1900-1924. Teles and Saldin argue that only the Democratic Party is really hospitable to abundance right now, for Trump has a “hold on the GOP.” But they envision a somewhat longer timeframe.

I find their political analysis interesting, and I am open to the argument that abundance could counter hyper-partisanship. However, I would separate political arguments from substantive policy issues. For the good of people and the planet, we must produce a lot more good things very soon, and that goal should determine our political strategies. In other words, we shouldn’t produce more to reduce polarization, but scrambling the political spectrum might help us to produce more of what we need.

See also: tracking the Biden climate investments; the major shift in climate strategy; class inversion as an alternative to the polarization thesis; The New Progressive Era.

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