Jubilee
The traditional narrative of early human economies, as suggested by classical economics, presents barter as the original system of exchange, with money emerging later to solve the inefficiencies inherent in direct trade. This model, however, overlooks the complex social realities that governed early human interactions. Historical and anthropological evidence reveals that long before the invention of money, early societies primarily operated on systems of credit and personal debt. These systems were not formalized through currency but were deeply embedded in the fabric of social relationships, trust, and mutual obligations. Over time, the concept of debt became closely tied to power dynamics, sometimes leading to coercion, exploitation, and even slavery. In response, many societies developed mechanisms such as debt forgiveness to maintain social harmony and prevent the disintegration of communities under the weight of excessive debt.
The barter narrative, while convenient, does not align with the evidence from anthropological studies of early human societies. The idea that individuals directly exchanged goods and services based on immediate and equal trade does not reflect the reality of how these communities functioned. Barter was likely a marginal activity, mostly used between strangers or in exceptional situations where trust was minimal. In contrast, within close-knit communities, exchange was driven by credit, where trust and social bonds played a far more critical role than immediate material reciprocity.
In these societies, transactions were based on an implicit system of credit, where goods or services were provided with the expectation of future repayment. But unlike modern credit systems, these were not strictly quantified or formalized; they were flexible and contingent upon the maintenance of social relationships. This created a system where economic exchanges were intertwined with social obligations, where trust, reputation, and community survival were more important than exact equivalence in trade.
At the core of early human economies was a reliance on interpersonal trust and long-term reciprocity. Individuals within small communities often kept informal mental records of who owed what to whom, creating a web of obligations that bound people together. These obligations were not limited to the exchange of goods but extended into all areas of life, including alliances, marriages, and conflict resolution. This system required a high degree of mutual trust, as repayment could take place far into the future, or in entirely different forms than the original favor.
For instance, a person might lend their labor or livestock to a neighbor, knowing that the act would not be repaid immediately, but with the expectation that the neighbor would return the favor when needed. The precise value of these exchanges was secondary to the maintenance of social harmony and the reinforcement of mutual dependence. The essence of these interactions was not about the goods themselves but about sustaining the relationships that ensured collective survival in a world with limited resources.
In early societies, debt was not simply an economic transaction but a moral and social relationship. Owing someone a debt carried with it a sense of obligation, both to repay and to acknowledge one's place within the community. To be in debt was not necessarily a negative condition, as it often signified participation in the communal economy of favors and exchanges. In many cultures, debt represented a moral duty, with the repayment seen as an act of integrity and a means of preserving social bonds.
Debt also held symbolic meaning beyond material exchange. It was tied to concepts of honor, reciprocity, and moral responsibility. For example, a person who failed to honor their debts could face not just economic consequences but social ostracism, damaging their standing in the community. In this way, debt was a key mechanism for reinforcing social cohesion, as it bound individuals to one another in ongoing cycles of exchange and mutual obligation.
As human societies grew larger and more hierarchical, the nature of debt transformed. In small, egalitarian communities, debt was a tool for fostering social cooperation and trust. But as societies developed more complex structures, with emerging elites and centralized authorities, debt began to be exploited as a tool of power. Those with wealth or political influence increasingly used debt to exert control over others, leveraging their position to create systems of dependency.
This shift was particularly evident in the rise of early states, where rulers and elites used debt to extract labor and resources from their subjects. In many cases, debt became coercive: individuals who could not repay their debts were subjected to punitive measures, such as forced labor or even enslavement. In ancient Mesopotamia, for example, farmers who fell into debt could be forced to sell their families into servitude or face harsh punishments. Debt was no longer just a social or moral obligation; it became a legal and economic tool for maintaining power and enforcing social hierarchies.
Debt slavery was not limited to individuals; entire communities or populations could be enslaved through debt. In some cases, military conquest resulted in entire regions being forced into debt as a means of control. Empires like those in ancient Mesopotamia or Rome often imposed heavy taxes or tribute on conquered peoples, effectively trapping them in cycles of debt repayment that could never be fully satisfied. The burden of debt became a mechanism for maintaining political power, as it allowed rulers to extract wealth and labor from their subjects while enforcing social hierarchies.
The moral and social implications of debt slavery were profound. Debt, which had once been a tool for social cohesion and mutual support, became a source of violence, coercion, and exploitation. It reinforced social divisions and created a permanent underclass of indebted individuals who had little hope of escaping their circumstances. The impact of debt slavery was not only economic but also psychological, as it stripped individuals of their dignity and autonomy, reducing them to mere commodities in the eyes of their creditors.
Recognizing the destabilizing effects of unmanageable debt, many early societies developed systems of debt forgiveness. These were not acts of charity, but pragmatic measures designed to prevent social collapse. For example, the ancient Israelites practiced the Jubilee, a tradition in which, according to the Hebrew Bible, every 50 years, all debts were to be forgiven, and all slaves were to be freed. This practice, though rarely enacted in full, symbolized a recognition of the destructive power of debt and the need for periodic resets to maintain social harmony. Similarly, in ancient Sumer, rulers would sometimes declare a clean slate or "amargi," where all debts were erased to restore social equilibrium.
These practices reflect the understanding that unchecked debt could lead to the breakdown of social order. By periodically resetting the balance of debt, these societies sought to mitigate the exploitative tendencies of debt and prevent the creation of a permanent underclass of indebted individuals. Debt forgiveness was a way to preserve community cohesion and ensure that the social fabric did not fray under the pressures of economic inequality.
Debt forgiveness was not merely an act of mercy; it was a pragmatic solution to the social disruptions caused by debt. By erasing debts, societies could restore social order and prevent the permanent stratification of wealth and power. It allowed individuals to start anew, free from the burdens of past obligations, and it reinforced the idea that debt should not be a tool for perpetual exploitation.
As more complex economies formed in areas like Ancient Greece and Rome, money became more prominent. Ancient Greece developed sophisticated banking systems, where private individuals extended credit for trade and commerce. However, as in earlier civilizations, debt often had severe social consequences. In Athens, one of the most drastic outcomes of indebtedness was debt slavery, where individuals unable to repay loans could be forced into servitude. This practice was so widespread that entire families could lose their freedom due to unpaid debts. Recognizing the social instability this caused, the Athenian lawmaker Solon introduced significant reforms in the 6th century BCE, abolishing debt slavery and enacting Seisachtheia, a policy of debt forgiveness. Solon’s reforms were crucial in reshaping Athenian society, preventing the complete disenfranchisement of the lower classes and restoring social balance.
In Rome, as the economy grew more complex, money became a formalized medium of exchange, with coins increasingly used in transactions. However, credit remained essential, especially in the realms of trade and military expenditures. Roman law imposed strict regulations on loans, interest rates, and debt collection. Despite these legal safeguards, failure to repay loans could still lead to the forfeiture of property or even personal enslavement, known as nexum. In this system, indebted citizens could be bound into slavery until their debts were paid off, effectively turning free individuals into enslaved laborers.
Over time, Roman leaders were forced to grapple with recurring debt crises that threatened social stability. Periodic debt cancellations or adjustments were sometimes instituted to prevent uprisings or unrest among the indebted poor. Despite the legal frameworks in place, debt slavery and financial exploitation remained persistent problems that periodically destabilized parts of the Roman Empire, illustrating the enduring connection between credit systems and social inequality in the ancient world.
The fall of Rome led to a more fragmented economic landscape in Europe, where barter and credit coexisted. During the Middle Ages, the Catholic Church played a significant role in shaping views on debt, largely prohibiting usury (charging interest on loans). However, informal credit systems thrived, especially in trade and agriculture. Jewish and Lombard moneylenders often filled the gap, lending to monarchs and merchants, paving the way for more structured financial institutions in later centuries.
In the Islamic world, a sophisticated financial system emerged, blending religious restrictions on interest with credit mechanisms. The hawala system, for example, was an early form of credit transfer across vast distances without physical money changing hands, crucial for trade.
The Renaissance saw the rise of banking families such as the Medici in Italy, who revolutionized finance with letters of credit and bills of exchange, enabling long-distance trade without the need for physical currency. This period also saw the beginnings of modern credit systems, including government debt. Monarchs borrowed heavily from banks to finance wars and expansion, leading to the creation of national debts. The Dutch established the first central bank in 1609, followed by the Bank of England in 1694, laying the foundation for modern monetary policy.
The 18th century saw an explosion in the use of paper money and the rise of capitalist economies. Credit extended beyond the elite to the growing merchant class, with stock exchanges and joint-stock companies fostering investment and risk-sharing in enterprises. This period also marked the expansion of the transatlantic slave trade, which was deeply intertwined with global credit and financial systems.
European powers, particularly Britain, France, Spain, and the Netherlands, financed the transportation of enslaved Africans to the Americas through complex credit arrangements. Merchants and investors would often take out loans or issue bonds to fund slave ships and plantations. In return, they reaped enormous profits from the labor of enslaved people, producing lucrative cash crops like sugar, cotton, and tobacco. The profits from slavery helped finance European industrialization and the development of modern banking systems.
Slavery itself was a form of debt bondage for those enslaved. In many cases, enslaved people were treated as commodities or collateral that could be bought, sold, or used to settle debts. Plantation owners would often borrow money using their enslaved workforce as collateral, reinforcing the brutal intersection between debt, credit, and human exploitation.
The reliance on slave labor in the Americas generated vast wealth for European economies, driving the expansion of capitalist enterprises. Banks, insurers, and financial institutions grew in power, offering loans and credit lines that fueled further colonial expansion and the slave trade. This period laid the groundwork for global capitalism while embedding slavery into the fabric of the economic system, a legacy that shaped both the development of modern credit systems and the structural inequalities that persist today.
The Industrial Revolution further expanded credit and money systems as economies grew more interconnected. The rise of factories, urbanization, and global trade fueled the need for sophisticated banking and credit systems. The 19th and 20th centuries saw the rise of national currencies, central banks, and global financial markets. During this period, debt became a central feature of national economies, with countries issuing bonds to finance infrastructure, wars, and social programs. Consumer credit expanded dramatically, with the advent of credit cards in the 1950s and the growth of personal debt. The creation of international financial institutions like the International Monetary Fund and World Bank in the mid-20th century further globalized debt systems, allowing countries to borrow for development and trade.
After the abolition of slavery in the United States in the 19th century, American capitalists faced a significant challenge: finding a new source of labor to exploit in order to maintain the economic system that had previously relied on enslaved people. This transition marked the beginning of the modern working class as the primary engine of capitalist productivity. The end of slavery did not result in a more equitable distribution of wealth and opportunity but rather shifted exploitation to a wage-based system that increasingly took advantage of industrial workers. Over time, this system evolved, with working-class Americans becoming not only the source of labor but also the primary consumers within a growing capitalist economy.
In the years following slavery, the rise of industrialization and rapid urbanization created a new class of workers who were drawn into factories, mines, and railroads. Former enslaved people and poor immigrants were often forced into low-wage, grueling jobs that mimicked the harsh conditions of slavery, minus the direct ownership of human beings. This new working class was subject to exploitation, long hours, dangerous working conditions, and minimal legal protections.
Over time, workers began organizing through unions, demanding better wages, shorter working hours, and safer conditions. While labor movements in the late 19th and early 20th centuries led to some progress, the core dynamic of capitalist exploitation remained unchanged. The system still relied on extracting the maximum amount of labor from workers while paying them as little as possible to maximize profits.
As the 20th century progressed, technological advancements, increased education, and improved management techniques led to a sharp rise in worker productivity. By the mid-20th century, American workers were more productive than ever, and many of the gains from that productivity were shared through higher wages, better benefits, and a robust middle class. The post-World War II era, often referred to as the "Golden Age of Capitalism," saw rising wages, widespread homeownership, and social mobility.
However, beginning in the 1970s, this relationship between productivity and wages started to break down. Economic policies such as deregulation, the weakening of labor unions, and globalization led to wage stagnation, even as worker productivity continued to rise. Corporations prioritized shareholder value and executive compensation, resulting in a growing gap between the rich and the working class. Real wages (wages adjusted for inflation) for the average American worker have barely increased since the 1970s, even as the cost of living has skyrocketed.
By the 21st century, American workers were more educated and productive than any previous generation. Advances in technology, higher education levels, and a more interconnected global economy enabled workers to accomplish far more in less time. Yet, despite these gains, wages have not kept pace with inflation or the rising costs of modern life. When adjusted for inflation, many workers today earn less than their parents or grandparents did in the mid-20th century, despite contributing far more to the economy.
Moreover, the cost of living has dramatically increased due to the addition of modern necessities that were not part of earlier generations' expenses. Housing costs have surged dramatically, particularly in major cities, far outpacing wage growth and making it increasingly difficult for many to afford basic shelter. At the same time, healthcare expenses have risen exponentially, leaving workers burdened with high insurance premiums and medical bills that consume a significant portion of their stagnant wages. Education costs have also skyrocketed, saddling millions of workers with student debt, a financial challenge that previous generations did not face on the same scale. In addition, modern technological expenses, such as cell phones, internet access, and data plans, have become essential for participation in today’s society, adding substantial monthly costs that were virtually nonexistent just a few decades ago. These combined financial pressures have strained the budgets of many Americans, further exacerbating the gap between rising living costs and stagnant wages.
Additionally, American workers are now working more hours than their predecessors, with the average workweek increasing and many jobs requiring unpaid overtime or constant availability via digital communication. Despite working harder, they have seen little improvement in their standard of living.
To sustain economic growth, American capitalism increasingly relied on consumerism, where workers were not only laborers but also the primary consumers of goods and services. However, with wages stagnating and the cost of living rising, many Americans turned to credit and debt to maintain their standard of living. This shift toward debt-fueled consumption became particularly evident in the late 20th century, with the widespread use of credit cards, mortgages, and student loans.
The reliance on debt has created a paradoxical situation: workers are producing more, working harder, and becoming more educated, yet they are increasingly dependent on borrowing to make ends meet. The modern working class has become trapped in a cycle of debt, as wages fail to cover the rising costs of essential goods and services.
In the 21st century, we are witnessing the rise of a new form of economic exploitation that bears unsettling similarities to slavery, as corporations continue to gain unprecedented power in America. While the physical chains of slavery no longer exist, many workers find themselves trapped in systems of wage labor and debt that severely limit their freedom and quality of life. Corporations, increasingly dominant in both the economic and political spheres, have leveraged their power to suppress wages, undermine labor protections, and erode workers' rights, creating conditions where individuals are compelled to work longer hours for stagnating pay.
Modern workers, like their historical counterparts, are often bound by financial obligations, such as student loans, healthcare costs, and housing expenses, which leave them with little choice but to accept exploitative working conditions. The gig economy, zero-hour contracts, and the rise of temporary or precarious jobs further exacerbate this dynamic, as workers are forced into insecure, low-paying roles with few benefits or protections. Moreover, many are burdened by the necessity of modern life, such as access to technology and the internet, which, while essential for both professional and personal participation in society, represent additional costs that deepen financial dependency.
Corporate influence over legislation and regulation has also helped shape a system that favors capital over labor, allowing corporations to escape accountability while workers struggle to meet basic needs. As corporations consolidate power and prioritize shareholder profits, workers increasingly resemble economic slaves, bound by circumstances beyond their control, with fewer paths to financial freedom. This growing disparity between corporate power and worker agency echoes a darker past, where the powerful few controlled the destinies of the many, highlighting the urgent need for reforms that address corporate exploitation and restore dignity to the modern workforce.
Corporations keep Americans trapped in a feedback cycle by diverting attention toward identity politics, while the politicians we support, often backed by corporate interests, quietly enact policies that prioritize profits over workers' rights. This cycle serves to deepen the influence of corporations while keeping the public distracted by cultural and social debates, rather than focusing on the growing economic inequalities and labor exploitation.
Behind this, corporations and their political allies use sophisticated tools of psychological warfare and mass manipulation to shape public opinion and behavior. Through targeted advertising, social media algorithms, and data mining, they craft messages that exploit emotions, fears, and personal identities, often pitting groups against one another. This manufactured division keeps people preoccupied with ideological conflicts, preventing them from uniting over shared economic struggles, such as wage stagnation, healthcare costs, and the erosion of labor protections.
By controlling the political narrative and driving the cultural conversation, corporations ensure that the policies passed by their favored politicians continue to dismantle labor unions, weaken regulations, and reduce corporate taxes, all while maximizing profits. Meanwhile, the working class sees little improvement in their living conditions and faces increasing precarity. This strategic manipulation reinforces the cycle of exploitation, maintaining corporate dominance and sidelining meaningful discussions about economic justice and workers' rights. The result is a society where human behavior is increasingly engineered to serve the interests of the powerful, while the majority remains distracted from the deeper systemic forces shaping their economic realities.
Identity politics often fosters an "us vs. them" mentality that pits different groups against each other—Americans vs. immigrants, Black vs. white, men vs. women, Republican vs. Democrat—while diverting attention from the more fundamental divide between the rich and the poor. This tactic serves as a modern-day version of "divide and conquer," where powerful interests, particularly corporations and wealthy elites, manipulate societal divisions to maintain control.
By focusing public discourse on cultural and identity-based conflicts, these groups divert attention away from the growing economic inequality and the real power dynamics at play. Instead of uniting to address shared economic struggles, such as wage stagnation, the rising cost of living, and the erosion of worker protections, people are drawn into battles over social and political identities. While these issues are important, they often distract from the underlying economic forces that perpetuate inequality and exploitation.
This strategy works to the advantage of corporations and the wealthy, as it keeps the working class fragmented and less capable of organizing around their common interests. By dividing people along lines of race, gender, or political ideology, those in power ensure that broader economic injustices—like corporate greed, declining labor rights, and rising wealth concentration—go largely unchallenged. The result is a society where the poor, regardless of identity, are left vulnerable, while the rich continue to accumulate more wealth and influence, protected by the very divisions they help create.
With Americans preoccupied by identity politics and cultural conflicts, corporations continue to reap the benefits, further consolidating their wealth and power, effectively turning the United States into an oligarchy. In this system, a small group of elites—primarily corporate executives, billionaires, and political allies—exerts disproportionate control over the nation's economy, government, and social structures. The focus on divisive identity issues keeps the public distracted from the deeper problems of economic inequality and corporate domination.
While the majority of Americans are caught in debates about race, gender, immigration, and political affiliation, corporate interests quietly shape policies that increase profits and limit accountability. Politicians, heavily influenced by corporate donations and lobbying, pass laws that weaken labor protections, cut taxes for the wealthy, and deregulate industries, all of which benefit a small elite while leaving the majority of workers with stagnant wages, rising costs of living, and diminishing political power.
This gradual erosion of democracy—where political decisions are increasingly driven by the interests of corporations and the wealthy, rather than by the needs of the broader population—has allowed the rich to accumulate unprecedented influence. With corporations holding sway over both political parties, the average citizen's voice is often drowned out by the power of money in politics. As a result, the government increasingly serves the interests of a wealthy few, leaving the rest of the population in a state of economic and political disempowerment.
In essence, the "divide and conquer" tactic, coupled with mass distraction, has allowed corporations and elites to systematically restructure American society into an oligarchy, where wealth and power are concentrated in the hands of a small group, leaving the majority with fewer opportunities, less influence, and a diminished role in shaping the country's future.
What is happening today is a strategic avoidance of a full-blown class war, which might lead to significant reforms like widespread debt forgiveness, by offering small, incremental debt relief just enough to give the appearance that Americans are being helped. Rather than addressing the deep-rooted systemic issues of wealth inequality and exploitative debt structures, these limited measures—such as small-scale student loan forgiveness or temporary relief programs—serve to pacify the public without truly challenging the economic system that keeps most Americans financially strained.
This piecemeal approach to debt relief is a tactic used to prevent mass discontent from escalating into a broader movement that might demand more radical economic change. Full debt forgiveness, which could truly address the crushing weight of student loans, medical bills, or consumer debt, would challenge the very foundation of the corporate-dominated economy. Instead, we see symbolic gestures—just enough relief to provide temporary financial breathing room, but not enough to break the cycle of indebtedness that keeps Americans tethered to low wages and rising costs of living.
These small concessions are designed to prevent large-scale mobilization that would unite people across lines of race, gender, and political affiliation in a shared fight against the concentration of wealth and power. By offering limited debt relief, corporations and politicians maintain the status quo, avoiding meaningful changes that would challenge the oligarchic structure of the American economy. As long as these small amounts of forgiveness are presented as significant achievements, the deeper problems of economic inequality and corporate exploitation remain unaddressed, leaving the majority of Americans still burdened by debt and disconnected from the true levers of economic power.
The sad reality of the individual American today is deeply shaped by various forms of debt—healthcare debt, student loan debt, and credit card debt—which collectively weigh heavily on both personal finances and the broader economy.
Over 100 million Americans (about 41% of adults) currently struggle with healthcare debt, according to a 2022 Kaiser Family Foundation report. This debt arises from medical bills, insurance gaps, and expensive treatments, and can significantly strain household finances. Many Americans with healthcare debt delay or skip necessary medical treatments, which can worsen health outcomes and lead to higher long-term costs for individuals and the healthcare system. Health debt also disproportionately impacts lower-income and uninsured individuals.
As of 2023, approximately 45 million Americans are carrying student loan debt, totaling over $1.7 trillion in outstanding loans. 54% of student loan borrowers struggle to make their payments, with many forced to choose between paying down loans and covering basic living expenses. The weight of student loan debt delays key economic milestones for many Americans, such as buying a home, starting a family, or saving for retirement. It also reduces disposable income, which hurts consumer spending and economic growth.
In 2023, Americans carried about $1 trillion in credit card debt, with the average household owing around $6,000 in credit card balances. High interest rates, often exceeding 20%, make it difficult for individuals to pay down their balances, trapping many in a cycle of revolving debt. Credit card debt not only hampers household financial stability but also limits consumers' ability to spend, affecting economic growth.
The burden of debt across healthcare, education, and consumer spending has significant negative impacts on the broader economy. When individuals are saddled with debt, they are forced to reduce their spending on goods and services, which stifles economic growth in a consumer-driven economy like the U.S. Additionally, young adults burdened by student loans often delay key life decisions, such as purchasing homes, starting businesses, or investing in their futures, which limits economic mobility and hinders innovation. This cycle of debt disproportionately affects low- and middle-income Americans, exacerbating income inequality and making it increasingly difficult for these groups to achieve financial stability or upward mobility. Ultimately, the pervasive nature of debt not only constrains individual financial progress but also stunts overall economic development.
The American working class increasingly resembles modern-day slaves, bound by a system that exploits their labor while offering little in return. Despite rising productivity and higher education levels, wages have stagnated, leaving workers struggling to cover the ever-growing costs of housing, healthcare, education, and basic necessities. Many are trapped in a cycle of debt, forced to rely on credit to maintain a standard of living that their wages no longer support. Corporations, wielding immense power, continue to extract maximum profit by suppressing wages, weakening labor protections, and fostering economic dependence. This system ensures that workers remain trapped in low-paying, precarious jobs with few opportunities for upward mobility, much like the servitude of past eras, while a small elite reaps the benefits of their labor.
