Review
Books
Culture
Economics
Politics
5 min read

Abundance and the attempt to build a better world

Is this policy the antidote to the zero-sum game of politics?

Josh is a curate in London, and is completing a PhD in theology.

Construction worker climb a steel framework.
Josue Isai Ramos Figueroa on Unsplash.

What do you do when more money won’t solve a government’s problems? Abundance: How We Build A Better Future, the new book by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson is an extended polemic against a form of government—particularly as practiced by US liberals—that stymies policy delivery. However technocratic that sounds (and the book often is), it forces readers to confront deeper questions about the nature of politics.  

At the heart of the book is a critique of what the authors, drawing on the film Everything Everywhere All At Once, call 'Everything Bagel Liberalism'. In the film topping are added to bagel to the point that it becomes a blackhole. So too, Klein and Thompson suggest, with so much well-intended policy, in which in seeking to tick every possible box and satisfy a range of regulators it becomes a delivery blackhole and little is actually done. The authors ask whether parties of the left are focused on measuring spending to the exclusion of measuring what gets built.  

The first chapter gives a good sense of their approach.  It tells a familiar story about the way in which so many are being priced out of cities because of a lack of affordable housing. However, in doing so, it highlights a surprising harm: that geographical proximity remains an important enabler of technological innovation so a lack of affordable housing in cities means a loss of creativity. 

The diagnosis is perhaps even more surprising coming from American liberals. Special interests—including those seeking to protect the value of their own houses—weaponize interlocking sets of well-intentioned legislation to prevent homes being built. Subsequent chapters apply that similar logic—regulation and a lack of focus resulting in inaction—to infrastructure, government capacity, scientific research and the implementation of new inventions. 

The book's strength is that it is not particularly detailed in its policy proposals. Klein and Thompson instead offer abundance as a lens through which policy development can be viewed: what do we need more of and how do we get it? This lens can be applied from within a wide range of ideological frameworks. It is not itself a worldview but a challenge that any politics should be obsessed with effective delivery not simply desiring the correct end-state.  

The book is unapologetically focused on America and the failures of progressive governance, particularly in California. (One of this book's peculiar legacies will be to leave many who have never been there perpetually invested in California's struggles to build high-speed rail.) Nevertheless, the approach already has its advocates in the UK - for example, the Centre for British Progress which set out its stall last week, and it is not hard to see how an agenda here that could be seized by a less hesitant Starmer government.  

Any plausible political analysis must hold together the reality of scarcity and abundance. Losing sight of either unmoors us from the actual world we find ourselves in.

Indeed, perhaps the book might feel more realistic if it had other countries in mind. Reviewing Abundance, Columbia economist Adam Tooze describes the book as painful to read, characterising it as a manifesto for the Harris presidency that never was. Indeed, according to the authors, the book was originally scheduled for release in summer 2024 to influence the Democratic platform leading up to the 2024 elections. Instead, it appears in 2025 amid Trump's assault on institutions, Tooze's Columbia among them.  

In an interview on Pod Save America, the authors argued that the book is still relevant, offering a framework with which Democrats can oppose Trump. Thompson described the Trumpian view of politics as fundamentally shaped by scarcity. He suggests that behind 47th president's policies—most notably the tariff agenda—is the conviction that every interaction is zero-sum; for you to gain, I must lose.  On this analysis, the way to oppose a politics that pits groups against one another over limited resources—housing, trade, jobs—is to figure out how the government can provide more and argue for it. In its critique and its hopefulness, Abundance offers those who believe in institutions a way to navigate—even work with the grain of—the anti-institutional temperament of contemporary politics.  

There might be something to this messaging, but scarcity plays an unmissable role in Klein and Thompson's argument. Remember that they characterise what they oppose as "Everything Bagel Liberalism", policy that tries to achieve every outcome and loses focus in doing so. They may conceive scarcity differently to Trump, but their book is a warning policy cannot deliver as much as we think. It is a call for us to oppose, to compete against those special interests—whether they be residents’ associations wanting to hold up house prices or politicians wanting to cut research grants—whose policy priorities overload the bagel.  

At heart, the book is a reminder that ultimately the salient scarcity in politics is not housing or trade or even money. It is time. Abundance cautions governments that unfocussed policy yields the time entrusted to them by the governed.  

Humans cannot lead politics completely beyond its zero-sum logic. The world is so often a violent competition over resources and government must restrain that violence while avoiding being co-opted as a means of exploitation.  And yet, politics is also—even primarily—an avenue through which communities answer a primal summons to be fruitful, abundant.  

Ultimately, any plausible political analysis must hold together the reality of scarcity and abundance. Losing sight of either unmoors us from the actual world we find ourselves in. Yes, there is so much broken and warped to reckon with, and we must grapple too with our finitude’s bluntness, but so too is creation replete with goodness, among them our capacity to invent and deliver what we need together. 

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Article
Character
Ethics
Generosity
Leading
5 min read

Elon Musk and the trillion-dollar question

What happens when generosity becomes the ultimate power move?

Sam Tomlin is a Salvation Army officer, leading a local church in Liverpool where he lives with his wife and children.

Elon Musk, in front of a glowing moon.
Musk eclipsing the moon.
Musk Foundation.

Human beings like to mark the first time things are done. The first moon landing has been immortalized; Amelia Earhart was the first woman to fly solo over the Atlantic; my football geekiness reminds me the first £1m football transfer was Trevor Francis from Birmingham City to Nottingham Forest. 

We leant recently that Elon Musk could be the first person to earn a $1 trillion remuneration package. It is not quite that simple, however, with Tesla shareholders only granting this if certain conditions are met over the course of a number of years, but the media like a good headline and seemingly this will contribute another ‘first’ for the history books. Reports suggest that Musk actually lives a fairly modest life (for a billionaire!) and he seems more driven by political and moral questions than securing a lavish lifestyle for its own sake, whether you agree with him or not. 

Questions have arisen about what could be done with $1 trillion. Apparently, this could buy every single car sold in the USA in a year, 175 billion big macs or if you are more philanthropically minded, you could surely make a dent in world hunger or global debt. If we are waiting for a big give-away from Musk, we might be waiting a while, however. In 2022 he said that it is ‘very hard to give away money effectively’ if you want tangible outcomes rather than the optics of doing good. 

What does Christian teaching have to say about excessive wealth or wealth more generally? There are over 2,000 verses in the Bible about wealth and a significant amount of Jesus’ teachings concern money. 

In his book Money and Power, theologian and sociologist Jacques Ellul suggests Christians tend to look at wealth through the lens of their society. In the West this means we look at it through economic systems. Individual action achieves little by itself so we look for systems to fix our problems, be they capitalism, Marxism, collectivism, or whatever: ‘All I have to do is campaign for socialism or conservatism, and as soon as society's problems are solved, I will be just and virtuous – effortlessly.’ As well as absolving individuals of their responsibility, this also fails to capture a key aspect of the Bible’s view of money: its personal character. Looking at wealth through economic systems assumes money is just a ‘thing’ to be used for good or bad and something about which we can approach with cool neutrality. The name Jesus gives to wealth is ‘Mammon,’ which he contrasts with God: you must choose to serve one or the other. 

Mammon is described as an agent or power from which we need to be liberated. Some Christians argue that the liberation of salvation allows them to hold onto wealth because they can possess it without being possessed. This is the standard view of wealth in the Western church. Christians have largely lost any collective sense that accumulating wealth might be a problem probably because we live in a society where our economic model relies on our greed and consumption. 

Why does Jesus say we have to choose between serving God and mammon? Quite simply because it cuts to the heart of where we put our trust. The repeated question of Bible is: where do you put your trust? In the chariots of princes, in alliances with other nations, in the health of your bank balance, or in God? Money provides the opportunity to direct the course of our lives to a significant degree. Most Christians in the West will sing about fully relying on God when in reality we put our trust in money which allows us to determine where we live, the friends we have, the very trajectory of our lives. 

This, I suggest, is the essence of the Bible’s teaching on wealth or Mammon. Even before arguments based on giving to alleviate poverty (which are far from unimportant) the question of wealth is intrinsically linked to belief that God can be trusted or not. It is not impossible to be wealthy and faithfully follow God. It is also possible to be materially poor and far from God. It is a smaller step, however, to faithfulness and the Kingdom of God from a simple life than from one of abundance and control that money gives you. When you have little, you have little other choice than to rely on God. Trust and lack of human control are literally built into the fabric of your everyday life in a way that is alien for those who live with more than they need. Learning to trust God therefore will come more naturally as it is a pattern that is familiar. 

This is not to romanticise poverty. I am a Salvation Army officer and see the crushing reality of debt, addiction and need on a regular basis. William Booth, co-founder of this Christian tradition once said, “It is impossible to comfort men's hearts with the love of God when their feet are perishing with cold.” 

In light of this, there is an act which strips the power of money more than anything else according to Christian teaching, and that is giving. It is more blessed to give than receive, says Jesus. The reason this is the case is the same for anything that can take control of our lives, be it sex, power, status or whatever. By giving we show Mammon its rightful place: service of God and humanity. If we are prepared to give something away it does not have power over us. This is why Christians consistently give portions of their income away to their church; on top of this many give to charities and/or store a pot to give away spontaneously as God leads. While it is not mandated for all, a number of notable Christian figures in history have felt a call to give the majority of their wealth away as a sign of their own freedom: St Francis, Melania and Pipanius, Leo Tolstoy to name but a few. Giving is good for the soul in Christian teaching. 

I am not an economist and don’t claim expertise on the efficiency of grand systems to alleviate the world’s problems. Despite the inherent unease at the prospect of such vast inequality represented by Musk, simply projecting all of society’s ills onto others absolves us of our complicity in inequality. From a Christian perspective maybe Musk and any of us who store up more than we need in barns as Jesus puts it, can be reminded that giving robs wealth of its tendency to ensnare and control, and this freedom can be enjoyed right now. As Paul reminds the Christians in Galatia: ‘It is for freedom you have been set free, do not let yourselves be burdened again by the yoke of slavery,’ by which Mammon and other distractions long to trap us. 

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