The Fight for Fairness

As someone who’s always stood up for the working class, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why our economy feels so stacked against regular people. The system seems designed to keep us scrambling—paycheck to paycheck, rent hike to rent hike—while a tiny elite at the top hoard wealth and power beyond imagination. It’s not just unfair; it’s unsustainable. Recently, I dove into a discussion that broke down these issues in a way that hit home, and I want to share my take on it. From the myth of “deserved” wealth to the way billionaires bend politics, here’s why our economy is broken and what we, the working class, can do about it.

First, let’s talk about the idea that the ultra-wealthy “deserve” their fortunes. I used to buy into the narrative that billionaires earned every penny through hard work and genius. But the more I look at it, the more I see that’s a fairy tale. Take the statistic that a third of global billionaire wealth is inherited. Another third comes from cozy government connections—call it cronyism or corruption. Only the last third is “earned,” and even then, it’s often through industries like arms or oil that profit off people and the planet. This isn’t about merit; it’s about extraction. I think about folks like us, working long hours for scraps, while someone born into wealth or with the right handshake gets to call the shots. It’s not about deserving—it’s about a rigged game.

This brings me to the concept of economic rents, which I find infuriating. It’s wealth you gain not by creating something valuable but by owning something everyone needs and locking others out. Think landlords in a hot housing market. They don’t build the houses or improve them; they just own the land and watch their wealth grow as demand spikes. I see this in my community, where rents soar while wages stagnate. If you’re a renter, you’re pouring half your income into someone else’s pocket, not because they worked harder but because they hold the keys. Historically, land ownership in places like the UK traces back to feudal times—hardly a meritocracy. I believe this kind of wealth accumulation, built on exclusion rather than effort, is a slap in the face to the working class who actually keep society running.

Now, let’s get to the heart of the problem: power imbalances. I’ve always felt that the working class is told to stay in our lane, that we’re not “qualified” to make big decisions. But the idea that there’s a natural ruling class—smarter, better, more capable—is nonsense. I studied systems where workers ran factories or communities decided local budgets, and they often made smarter choices than the so-called experts. In my view, nurses, teachers, and bus drivers know what their communities need better than any CEO or politician. Yet, our system concentrates power at the top, where billionaires and their political allies call the shots. I think this disconnect is why so many of us feel hopeless, like no matter how hard we work, the deck is stacked.

The collusion between wealth and politics is where things get really ugly. I’ve seen how billionaires don’t just benefit from the system—they shape it. Take the example of a billionaire buying up industries, not to grow them but to squash competition. If I started a small business, worked my tail off, and made it big, I’d want to lift others up, not buy out their dreams to secure my monopoly. But that’s how the ultra-wealthy operate. They use their economic clout to influence laws, secure tax loopholes, or win government contracts. I was shocked to learn how openly some billionaires flaunt their political ties, almost daring us to challenge them. It’s like they believe they’re untouchable, and that arrogance fuels my resolve to fight for a fairer system.

This power grab isn’t just about money—it’s about dignity. I think about inheritance, a topic that always sparks debate. If I worked hard and saved up, I’d want to pass something to my kids. But here’s the rub: in a society where housing, education, and opportunity are locked behind paywalls, inherited wealth isn’t just a leg up; it’s a golden ticket. Kids born to billionaires get elite schools, connections, and safety nets, while working-class kids scrape by. I believe we need to tax inheritances heavily, not to punish success but to level the playing field. If we had secure social housing and free education, inheritance wouldn’t dictate destiny. Right now, though, it’s a system where some kids are set for life, and others are left to fend for themselves.

Taxes are another sore spot for the working class. I hear it all the time: “Why am I paying so much when I don’t see it helping my community?” Honestly, I feel the same frustration. If I knew my taxes were building homes, saving lives in hospitals, or supporting struggling families, I’d be less resentful. But the lack of transparency—and the sense that our money is funneled to corporate bailouts or tax breaks for the rich—breeds distrust. I believe we need a system where we have a say in how our taxes are spent. Imagine community meetings where we decide whether to fund schools or fix roads. Places like Brazil and Iceland do this through participatory budgeting, and I think it’s a model we should demand here. It’s our money, after all.

The deeper issue is how our economy disempowers us. I’ve talked to so many working-class folks who feel like they have no agency, like the system is a machine they can’t stop. This hopelessness is dangerous—it makes us vulnerable to divisive voices who blame immigrants or “outsiders” for our struggles. I see through that. The real problem is the unassailable elite, the billionaires and politicians who collude to keep power concentrated. While they work together across public and private sectors, we’re pitted against each other in a cutthroat, individualistic race. I believe we need to reject this narrative and build solidarity. When I managed a small team years ago, I saw how empowering workers to make decisions boosted morale and productivity. If it works on a small scale, why not for our economy?

This brings me to billionaires themselves. I don’t hate them as people, but I can’t stomach what they represent. A billionaire’s wealth—hundreds of millions or even billions of dollars—isn’t earned through labor alone. It’s amassed through systems that let them enclose markets, dodge taxes, or exploit workers. The gap between a millionaire and a billionaire is staggering: counting to a million takes 12 days; to a billion, 32 years. That scale of wealth could solve hunger or homelessness, yet it sits in the hands of a few who use it to buy more power. I believe no one should have that kind of control over society’s resources. Inequality is inevitable, but when it robs billions of people of agency, it’s a moral failure.

Capitalism itself isn’t inherently evil, but the way it’s practiced today is broken. I’m all for growth—starting a business, improving your life, achieving your dreams. But when growth means monopolies that crush competition or wealth that buys political influence, it’s no longer about merit; it’s about domination. I think about small entrepreneurs who pour their hearts into their work, only to be bought out or undercut by giants. The working class deserves a system where success comes from effort, not from gaming the rules. I believe we need regulations to curb monopolies and ensure markets reward creation, not extraction.

The psychological toll of this system is something I can’t ignore. I’ve seen how power changes people. The longer someone’s exposed to wealth and influence, the more they believe they’re above the rules. It’s called the hubris effect, and it explains why some billionaires act like they’re invincible. But I also see the flip side: the working class. We’re told to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, but the system is designed to keep us down. I believe we need to challenge this narrative and demand a system where everyone has a fair shot.

So, what can we do? I’m not talking about recycling more or buying ethical coffee—those are bandaids. I believe the real change starts with connection. Find people who share your struggles, whether it’s coworkers fed up with stagnant wages or neighbors worried about climate change. Start small: organize a workplace discussion, join a protest, or launch a community project. I’ve seen how collective action, like strikes or community budgeting, can shift power. When we build these networks, we realize we’re not alone, and that’s when hope replaces despair.

I think about the homeless folks I meet when I volunteer. Their stories break my heart—not because they’re “failures,” but because the system failed them. One man, an engineer earning £4,000 a month, lost everything after an injury with no safety net. Another, a pregnant woman, chose the streets over a rat-infested “hotel” provided as social housing. These aren’t isolated cases; they’re symptoms of a broken system where wealth inequality, gutted social services, and a housing crisis push people to the edge. I believe we need to amplify these voices, not ignore them, and demand policies that prioritize people over profits.

Empathy is what drives me. I refuse to believe people are inherently evil—we’re shaped by our circumstances. I think about shows like Top Boy, which show how poverty and lack of opportunity trap people in cycles of crime. It’s not about individual failure; it’s about a society that offers no alternatives. I believe we need leaders who’ve lived these struggles, not career politicians or billionaires. Imagine policies shaped by single moms, factory workers, or former foster kids—people who know what it’s like to fight for every penny.

The working class has power, but we’ve been taught to feel powerless. I see it in the way we’re divided, told to compete rather than collaborate. But I also see hope in small acts of resistance—unions forming, communities rallying, people refusing to stay silent. I believe we can dismantle this unfair capitalism by rejecting despair and building solidarity. It’s not about burning the system down; it’s about reshaping it to serve us all.

So, where do we go from here? How do we, the working class, reclaim our power in a system that’s rigged against us? Can we build a movement strong enough to challenge the billionaires and their political allies? What small action will you take today to connect with others and fight for a fairer world?