Uber Addicts on a Sinking Ship
Three years ago, I wrote a column about the Uber-rich (“How Many Zeroes in ‘Uber?”’ November 2021) wherein I explained that if you’d collected $1000 a day since Jesus Christ was born—stuffing it in your mattress—you still wouldn’t have a billion dollars. It remains true today, of course. At the time, I was concerned about tax loopholes for billionaires and the consequent cost to society at large. Given that most people I know feel they could live comfortably on $1000/day, I couldn’t understand why multi-billionaires were so intent on finding tax loopholes.
Then it occurred to me: Billionairism is an addiction. I asked the Almighty Google about this and learned that I am not the first one to have this epiphany, even if the disorder is not (yet) listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, or DSM.
But I wanted to be sure. So, I investigated what defines addiction. According to Harvard Medical School, addiction is a physical dependence on a substance or activity:
People with an addiction tend to show the three Cs:
- craving for the object of the addiction
- loss of control over use of the object of the addiction
- continued engagement with the object of the addiction in spite of harmful consequences
The object of the addiction, in this case, is an activity—the acquisition of money. Big money in the bank probably feels good, but it’s not what these guys crave. It’s the act of acquiring the dough that provides the desired dopamine jolt.
Hence, for these billionaires, the drive to make money is incessant. Uncontrollable. It has nothing to do with bank balances.
But what is the cost to these billionaires? Well, from where I sit, I’d say the cost—eventually—will be life as we all know it. Societies, and even the planet itself, cannot survive billionairism.
Alcoholics sometimes accidentally kill people on the road while driving drunk. Gambling addicts might leave family members in dire straits. Billionairism can’t help but endanger everyone. These addicts casually buy and sell properties and businesses that affect wide swaths of innocent bystanders. They minimize costs—like insurance benefits and worker’s wages—to maximize profits, never minding whose toes will be bruised—or broken—in the process. It’s a formula ripe for the destruction of humankind and our global habitat.
On rare occasion, I’ve been known to hand a sawbuck to a panhandler who earnestly pleaded, “I can’t lie. I really need a drink.” But generally speaking, I wouldn’t buy a bottle of scotch for a man in the throes of alcoholism. So why would I spend my dollars supporting outfits owned by billionaires addicted to the acquisition of wealth? Unless a tearful Jeff Bezos knocks on my door with a shaking hand begging for a buck, I think the most supportive thing I can do is bypass the ease of ordering on Amazon and give my money to small businesses that actually pay taxes and do good things for the community.
So, this holiday season, please consider the billionaire addiction problem, and refrain from making extravagant purchases that will pad the pockets of these people who can’t help themselves. And maybe even keep up this goodwill during the new year by maintaining the moratorium on buying their stuff all year long. If you need stuff—buy it from the little guy, especially the one who doesn’t rely primarily on billionaire companies for supplies.
Billionairism is the story of the Titanic—on steroids. And we’re all on that sinking ship.