Michael's Corner

Human beings are genetically hardwired to compete. But what would happen when all that hardwiring collides with the Malthusian concern that suggests we live on a finite planet with finite resources that must accommodate an ever-expanding population? The following is a piece I wrote back in ’23 and put on a static page in late ’24:

The Case for a Hybrid

By

Michael DeStefano

If a historical figure, be it Jesus Christ, Aristotle, or someone as recent as Benjamin Franklin, approached me and asked, “Hey, Mike, how is humankind managing nowadays,” I would feel obliged to offer the repartee, “We’re pumping oil from the ground to funnel globs of wealth to rent-seeking corporatists who never return fair value to society and communist dictators who seek to enslave entire populations. How do you think we’re managing?”

     Typically, I don’t care to answer a question with a question; however, if a scenario as fanciful as the above were to arise, it would mark an appropriate instance to apply the Socratic method.

     For the record, I am—its over-exploited baked-in rent-seeking component notwithstanding—a capitalist. Capitalism, however flawed, has proven to unlock human potential, whereas Communist/Marxist agendas deamplify the unrealized when applied lightly and quell it altogether when applying too strong a touch. There are other stark dissimilarities between these competing systems and one glaring and fraught commonality, though with an ironic bifurcation: Communist utopias tend to commit mass murder within the borders of their countries; Capitalist hierarchies do all their killing in the “other guy’s” backyard. Pretty grim, huh?

     For now, let’s stay with capitalism or market economy: It is a system that relies entirely upon growth; it must travel forward into the future while drafting new people and nations into its vortex. But thin air does not produce growth; growth comes from somewhere, or something, and the place or entity responsible for creating it cannot keep the system humming at a capacity that suits our demand to live a life based on certain qualities and expectations; sometimes, the machine malfunctions or breaks down and requires repair.

     So, what happens when growth slows or, worse, stops? The world, particularly the West, transforms into a massive game of musical chairs—a free-for-all, where all the collaborative magic that built the West disappears and, in its stead, we see the reinvigoration of tribalism and the reopening of old wounds we thought had fully scabbed over by the late-nineties and early aughts. The scab may have fallen off; unfortunately, the new skin left in its wake lacks resilience; it shrivels at the sound of truth and thus must be coddled.

     For anyone paying attention—not to stock pricing but to the lived experiences of the West’s citizenry—that we are not growing in the 21^st century as we did in the 20^th is glaringly apparent. The 20^th century saw ten centuries of growth and innovation condensed into ten decades. It’s incredible what can happen when you insert a combustion engine into an apparatus that provides people with never-before-experienced mobility. The leaps in transmission—telegraph, radio, television, internet—were equally impressive. Another surge in juice arose when channeling electricity to small and large appliances. It used to take me twenty minutes to saw through a log; now, I can do it in eight seconds because I have a chainsaw. One can argue that free-market capitalism laid the infrastructure for these rapid progressions and innovations. But there is a counterargument: No one writes a book, composes a symphony, or spends years tinkering to prove a scientific hypothesis motivated by the acquisition of wealth and power; they do it because their passion compels them. So, one could make a case that 20^th-century modernization would have occurred irrespective of capitalism but would not have happened as rapidly; the advances we enjoy today may have required multiple centuries to complete.  

    So, we have one irrefutable fact: the 20^th century gave us rapid, unprecedented growth. It also gave us a dilemma: How do we piggyback onto the last century, another of similar proportion? Thus far, digital and cloud-based technologies have fallen short. The jury is still ruminating over AI and how its application can boost growth. Multiple iterations of a product—the iPhone 1, the iPhone 6, the iPhone 11, the iPhone 15, etc.—do not seem like a viable pathway to growth, nor does adding more layers—Door Dash and Uber Eats—between a product and consumer. And yet, we continue to use 20^th-century economic metrics to measure success today. Are we setting ourselves up for failure? More importantly, how do we keep from cannibalizing ourselves as we await the next boom—be it technological, scientific, or a fusion of each—to save us?

     America has learned some nifty tricks that can mimic growth but are not: deregulation and war for profit. When necessary, we deregulate at scale to create short-term economic windfalls that appear “growth-like” but come with a set of dangers, and we wield power and influence to manipulate ourselves and others into war, which, aside from immoral, has obvious consequences.

     So, we have competing systems prone to misbehaving when they don’t get their way: The capitalist says trade with me or else… The communist holds your kids at gunpoint while recommending that you “rehabilitate” your method of thinking. In my modest opinion, capitalism is the more durable system, but with a caveat: Planet Earth is finite; it has a fixed landmass that can accommodate only so many nations. What happens when every country that can be recruited into the capitalist system has received its draft card? How do we grow from that point, assuming Elon cannot get us off the planet? More importantly, might or would the principles of market contraction and consolidation apply not only to economic cycles and corporations but to nations? Granted, we could be a century or two away from approaching this dilemma, but with technology as a proven accelerant in fanning the flames of evolution, it could come sooner.

     And now begs the question: what can we do with two systems that kill to stay alive? Communism/Marxism has more blood on its hands as it tends to kill in higher concentrations, but capitalism is no walk in the park; although counterintuitive to its needs, it has contributed plenty to ease the minds of those holding Malthusian concerns.

     Thus far, the 21^st century has gone out of its way to display the need for a hybrid economy. What that economy would look like and the collaboration required to hasten it is uncertain, but, as many of us can sense, we are heading toward a precipice, guided by forces that claim to have our best interests but do not. If we can devise a system in time to keep us from that precipice, I imagine, like The Enlightenment, the project would be primarily a Western initiative, keeping in mind America’s founders created a blueprint that, although imperfect, had better bones than any other standard bearer. I also imagine that if it is not a death cult, cares for its children, understands a woman’s worth, reconciles men are not disposable, embraces culture, and values human life beyond capital and labor, no one in the East would need their arm twisted. How can I dare assume as much?

     Many years ago, not long after President Nixon opened trade in what was then often referred to as the People’s Republic of China, where most Western music was banned, Eugene Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra played concerts in Beijing. The Chinese people did not defiantly grouse, “We don’t see ourselves reflected in your orchestra,” or carp, “This music is steeped in European Classicism and doesn’t reflect Chinese culture.” Instead, they embraced the music. A generation later, they were playing it back to us. Before long, they produced world-class virtuosos, rivaling any that had gone before them.

     People recognize greatness. When they see it, they embrace it. It is within our potential to create an equitable hybrid out of what currently exists; we have both the ingenuity and resources. Then, the next time I bump into Jesus, Aristotle, and Ben, I can report that we did discard the bathwater but managed to save the baby.