A Rhetorical History of Modern Money Theory with John T. Harvey

We speak with John T. Harvey about a new article he co-wrote with Billy Saas titled, “A Rhetorical History of Modern Money Theory,” out this month in the September 2026 issue of the Journal of Economic Issues. Harvey is Hal Wright Professor of Economics at Texas Christian University. We discuss his recent publication in the context of his broader career in heterodox economics. 

Modern Money Theory (MMT) (otherwise known as Modern Monetary Theory) is a heterodox macroeconomic school of thought that recognizes currency-issuing governments cannot run out of the money they create. Because the state issues the currency and requires taxes to be paid in that unit of account, it is never revenue-constrained. Instead, public spending is bound only by real productive capacity and available resources (labor, technology, materials), with inflation—not solvency—serving as the true economic limit.

In “A Rhetorical History of Modern Money Theory,” Saas and Harvey trace how MMT emerged not merely as a set of first principles, balance-sheet descriptions, and policy prescriptions, but also as a deliberate discursive and rhetorical intervention against dominant neoclassical paradigms and institutions. Orthodox economics relies heavily on moralizing metaphors of household frugality, naturalized market scarcity, and the false specter of government insolvency to enforce fiscal austerity. In response, MMT theorists developed new vocabularies, pedagogies, and public-facing rhetorical strategies to demystify money as a creature of law and public governance, demonstrating how public finance can be reclaimed for democratic purpose.

Throughout our conversation, Harvey reflects on the communicative struggles of heterodox economists, the pedagogical challenges of unseating entrenched neoclassical assumptions, the relationship between Post-Keynesian and Institutionalist traditions, and what a rhetorical history reveals about the future of political economy and public provisioning.

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript forthcoming

* Thank you to Zachary Nosbisch for the episode graphic, Nahneen Kula for the theme tune, and Thomas Chaplin for the transcript. 

Reclaiming Money’s Public Powers for Imaginative Intersectional Politics

By Rob Hawkes

Alongside my Money on the Left colleagues Will Beaman and Tyler Suksawat, I recently joined Gus Dunn-Hindle of the Maine People’s Alliance to discuss public money and public banking on the Beacon Podcast. During the conversation, I cited our podcast’s regular opening announcement that Money on the Left is ‘a monthly interdisciplinary podcast that reclaims money’s public powers for imaginative intersectional politics.’ The imaginative part of this is especially important – when we free up our imaginations to think about monetary design in new ways, we can begin to move beyond the austerity mindset that condemns millions to poverty, even in the wealthy societies of the global north, while treating extreme inequality and social exclusion as natural and inevitable facts of life.

Many of today’s most intractable challenges, from crumbling public services to the accelerating ecological crisis, look very different when we cease to view them through the orthodox prism of monetary scarcity, privation, and limitation. For the former Green Party leader Caroline Lucas, ‘the failure to rise to the challenge of the nature and climate emergencies’ is reflective of an ‘imagination deficit’ and ‘a failure to imagine that a better world is possible’. Indeed, as Cory Doctorow points out, the ‘true meaning’ of Margaret Thatcher’s famous slogan ‘There is no alternative’ (TINA) ‘isn’t “No alternative is possible,” but rather, “Stop trying to think of an alternative.”’ Speaking as a sci-fi writer, Doctorow likes to quip that ‘thinking of alternatives is literally my job.’ In Doctorow’s fiction, most notably in 2023’s The Lost Cause, the envisioning of an alternative future engages directly with the emancipatory potential of democratic public finance, when a character recalls a moment in the past when ‘Towns and universities started minting their own currencies’ (a nod to Money on the Left’s Uni Currency Project). In the novel, this ‘wildcat money’ becomes an engine of democratic possibility and change.

This is one of the many reasons why cultural analysis – from the MCU to literary modernism – has always been central to the Money on the Left project. As I wrote last month, ‘what connects my approach to the interpretation of cultural, monetary, and political forms to our group’s proposals for public banking, municipal bond issuance, and university finance’ is the framework we at MotL call ‘the public money paradigm’. And ‘when we understand that inequality and exclusionary violence are built into the logic of private money we can begin to imagine new possibilities for monetary design founded on democratic inclusion, collectivity, and care.’

This is also why the intersectional part of ‘imaginative intersectional politics’ is vital. From the perspective of the private-money-based orthodoxy, the pursuit of justice appears as a series of either/or battles where the liberation of the marginalised can only ever come at another’s expense. It is, perhaps, not a coincidence that this summer’s hounding of Jason Arday, an autistic black professor, first out of British academia and then to his shocking and untimely death has taken place in the midst of an increasingly brutal financial crisis in the UK’s higher education sector (which, as The Sunday Times recently revealed, saw universities collectively spending over £400 million excluding people from its workforce through redundancy schemes in 2024-25 alone). This is not to suggest that the austerity wrecking ball that’s currently trashing courses, departments, disciplines, and institutions across UKHE was responsible for Professor Arday’s death in any direct or uncomplicated sense. As Kieran Rose argues, the ‘ONLY reason’ Jason Arday’s story became a ‘story’ after he was publicly accused of plagiarism by a known eugenicist was ‘because of racism’. Nevertheless, the fact that UKHE has been systematically starved of funds while simultaneously facing relentless attacks on its commitments to equality, diversity, and inclusion, has undoubtedly damaged the already precarious safety of marginalised groups and individuals such as Arday within our academic communities.

The vision of zero-sum exchange that defines the private money paradigm also corresponds closely with the rationale underpinning attempts to split the queer community by pitting LGB against TQIA2+ as well as the ‘overdiagnosis’ panics that, in the UK, have coalesced around Dame Uta Frith’s divisive and exclusionary views on autism and Channel 4’s irresponsible documentary ‘The Great ADHD Myth?’ Since March, when a piece appeared in the TES titled ‘why I no longer think autism is a spectrum’, Frith, an autism researcher since the 1960s, has repeatedly been given a platform across new media (including podcasts), legacy media, and academic publications from which to take issue with the present interpretation of the diagnostic criteria for autism and especially to question the validity of late diagnosis. Meanwhile, ‘The Great ADHD Myth?’ aired on 18 August and asked ‘whether ADHD is a genuine neurodevelopmental disorder, or a social construct’. As Rose explains: ‘These aren’t isolated stories, instead, they sit within a much wider journalistic ecology in which Autism and ADHD repeatedly appear alongside welfare expenditure, SEND budgets, NHS demand, school absence, social-care pressures and questions about who genuinely deserves support.’

In each of these cases, then, those whose full participation in society is impeded by racism, transphobia, and/or ableism are regarded as competing for scarce resources in a world where there is never enough to go around. In a private money universe of barter-like trade-offs, care for the vulnerable must always come at the cost of someone else’s suffering. By contrast, reclaiming money’s public powers for imaginative intersectional politics means recognising that monetary design choices shape and condition everything from our hierarchies of academic privilege to university funding crises, battles over trans rights, SEND provision in schools, and the wider recognition, accommodation, and support afforded to disabled people. Picturing another world is not the same thing as bringing one into being, of course, but freeing our imaginations from the austere limits of the private money paradigm is an important first step towards a better, more inclusive, and sustainable future.

Money Is Weird

by Rob Hawkes

Isn’t it strange that social inclusion and climate justice appear unaffordable, but not the status quo?

In July, I presented at the Weird Modernisms conference at Loughborough University. My talk (which you can read here) argued that money is weird. This may sound like a rather bizarre claim; let me explain.

The word ‘weird’ suggests strangeness or oddness but, of course, also carries connotations of the magical and the supernatural (think of Macbeth’s ‘weird sisters’). Indeed, evidence of money’s uncanny ability to ‘emerge from thin air is all around us, from government spending to bank lending, from complementary currencies to video game coins, and from high street store credit to crypto. And yet, our media and political debates remain dominated by the insistence that there is simply not enough money to fight economic injustice or to avert climate catastrophe. Stop trying to imagine a different, better world, they scream at us. We’d all like to see less poverty, properly funded/functioning public services, a liveable planet, etc., but what can you do if the markets aren’t in favour? Sure, we can always pay for wars, but a socially inclusive and ecologically sustainable society is unaffordable. Weird, huh?

Perhaps it is unsurprising that the inherent strangeness of money and the language we use to discuss it is ignored, overlooked, and repressed in mainstream discourse. Just as the economic orthodoxy functions to preserve existing social hierarchies – which are simultaneously patriarchal, white supremacist, imperialist, classist, ableist, hetero- and neuronormative – the way we routinely discuss public finance and the limitations we impose on monetary design are thoroughly normative and rest on the exclusion of the inexpressible weirdness of money and the humans who create it.

At the conclusion of my talk in Loughborough, I turned to the words of the neuroqueer theorist Nick Walker, who explains in Neuroqueer Heresies (2021) that: ‘Neuronormativity and heteronormativity, in essence, are systems of artificial restriction on human potential. By their very nature, they limit our possibilities. To neuroqueer is to refuse to be constrained by those limits.’ It is no coincidence that neurodivergent people have often been dismissed and/or vilified as weird (and, by extension, as magical, uncanny, supernatural, even monstrous), but as Walker also affirms, ‘anyone can liberate themselves from the strictures of normativity.’ In asserting that money is weird, it is my hope that we can all ‘unzip’ our ‘normal-person monetary imaginations’ and refuse to be constrained by the artificial restrictions the economic orthodoxy imposes on our understanding of money’s limitless creative potential. The status quo relies on the exclusion of weirdness, strangeness, and otherness to maintain its illusion of affordability. To build an inclusive and sustainable future, we’ll need to recognise and celebrate money as malleable, redesignable, and thus much weirder than we’ve been taught to think.

Democracy Needs Public Media with Victor Pickard

Victor Pickard returns to Money on the Left six years after his first appearance on the show to discuss the state of the U.S. media system under Trump 2.0. Pickard is C. Edwin Baker Professor of Media Policy and Political Economy at the University of Pennsylvania’s Annenberg School for Communication and Co-Director at the Media, Inequality & Change Center. Placing current developments in broad historical context, Pickard situates today’s media crisis within a century-long struggle to establish and maintain genuine public media against the overpowering dominance and relentless pushback of private corporate media.

Drawing on his recent writing and policy interventions, Pickard breaks down three distinct layers of media capture: capitalistic, oligarchic, and authoritarian. Crucially, our conversation stresses how the foundational layer—the capitalistic privatization of news and communication as market commodities rather than vital public goods—directly conditions and enables the other two. As long as media institutions remain captured by capitalist imperatives, treating political information as a vehicle for private control and exploitation, attempts to counter oligarchic consolidation or authoritarian coercion will fail to address the root causes of our institutional breakdown.

During our discussion, we explore the history of the struggle to build public media in the United States, from early twentieth-century regulatory choices that privatized the public airwaves to the gradual weakening of public-interest protections and the chronic underfunding of public broadcasting. Against this hyper-commercialized landscape, we insist upon the necessity of fighting for democratic, diverse, and locally sensitive public media infrastructures. Rather than relying on broken advertising models or corporate philanthropy, we explore what it would mean to construct non-capitalist, community-governed media systems designed from the bottom up to serve local publics.

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Music by Nahneen Kula: www.nahneenkula.com

Transcript

This transcript has been edited for readability.

Scott Ferguson

Victor Pickard, welcome back to Money on the Left.

Victor Pickard

Thanks so much for having me. It’s good to see you guys again.

Scott Ferguson

It’s great to see you. You are an expert at the political composition and history of the US media system, thinking specifically about the press, but also other aspects of the media system, how it’s developed over time, how it’s been fought over over time, insisting that it’s been constructed and reconstructed, nothing about it is natural. You have plenty of important critiques of the way that our media system has been privatized to the detriment of the public, and we spoke to you, I think, six years ago, back in 2020, checking in with your analysis back then.

And we wanted to invite you back because it seems to us that maybe things have shifted a little bit and not for the better. And we’ve been following your work and finding your updated analyzes very helpful. Another thing that we really find helpful about your work is that you’re not just a critic. You insist on having a kind of capacious, future-oriented imagination that is centering the public, centering the possibilities for public options for public media, public media ownership, different kinds of designs, different kinds of constructs, especially during these dark times.

So we wanted to bring you on and learn more from you about what you’ve been doing recently and helping us to understand what’s going on with the US media system today and how we get here. So that’s a wide open question, but you can start wherever you want.

Victor Pickard

Great. Well, thank you for this invitation and I’m so delighted to have this conversation with you all. I can’t believe it’s been six years. That blows my mind. But of course, a few things have changed or a few things have happened, at least, since then. Much of my analysis, for better or for worse, has not changed as far as what’s wrong with the US media system in particular, and what we need to do to try to fix or at least confront some of these problems.

But in many ways it still has accelerated. It has qualitatively shifted in important ways, and there are a lot of different places where we could kind of dip in and depart from, for example, obviously the journalism crisis, which I’m assuming is something we talked about six years ago, has only gotten worse. Quite predictably, that has gotten much worse.

The latest calculation I saw is that since the early 2000, we’ve lost about 81% of our local journalists in the US, you know, more than 40% of our local newspapers, so that now tens of millions of Americans are living in news deserts, in areas with little or no access to local news media whatsoever. So this is catastrophic for any kind of semblance of democratic society.

And certainly during Trump 2.0, we’ve seen nothing constructive happening on this front whatsoever in terms of trying to address the journalism crisis in any structural, substantive way. That’s not to start out on such a dismal note, but certainly things have gotten much worse. There are many pathologies that we could talk about.

I’ll leave it there for now to see which direction you’d like to go and of course, I’m sure we’re going to talk about the future of public media, whether there is a future for public media. But you tell me where you’d like to go first.

Billy Saas

I’m incredibly excited to talk about the future and to do some vision work with you and chart the path forward out of this mess, but I think it might be a good place for us to start with the the death of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting as a kind of case study of where we are, something that had been on the chopping block or in the sights of conservatives in this country for a long time, finally seems to have have suffered, at least at the institutional level, its public support, which was minimal in the first place, but now is zero through the Corporation for Public Broadcasting.

So if we could talk about that in the state of the Public Broadcasting Act in 2026.

Victor Pickard

Sure. Yeah, that’s not the most cheerful place to start. But of course, we should probably warn our listeners that this is not going to be a cheery conversation. Despite all the doom and gloom, I will try to hit on a few points of at least potential optimism and hopes. But we won’t get there yet. So we’ll start out with the doom and gloom. 

So regarding the CPB, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, as you suggest, Billy, it was never adequately funded. It was established with the Public Broadcasting Act of 1967 and just to back up for a moment to talk about the strange history that led to the very belated and suboptimal establishment of public broadcasting in the United States.

Unlike most democratic countries around the world, when we established our broadcast media system in the United States, and of course, we’re speaking specifically about radio in the early 30s, we went down a very different path compared to most other democracies. To be more specific, we created a highly privatized and commercialized broadcast media system, which again, was very different. We were pretty much a global anomaly by not establishing a more public oriented broadcast media system and, of course, a media system that was dependent on the public airwaves.

I mean, it was inherently a public resource that we then essentially handed over primarily to two large corporations in the early 30s, CBS and NBC. And we can get more into the weeds on this history momentarily if we want to geek out on that, but long story short, because we went down this commercial trajectory, there was this ongoing media reform activism that tried to create a different kind of system.

At the same time, there was a growing awareness of all the systemic limitations that a commercial broadcast media system has vis a vis democratic society. In other words, we found out quite glaringly that there were a number of things that a commercial broadcasting system would never do, would never make sure that all communities have access to a baseline level of news and information, and also cultural and educational fare.

So as we went through the 50s and 60s and some of your listeners may have heard about the famous speech by then FCC Chairman Newton N. Minow in 1961, when he referred to, especially television in general, as a vast wasteland, there was this growing awareness that we needed a systemic alternative to deliver on some of our informational and communication needs.

So that is a very long winded wind up to basically set the stage for why we finally established a public broadcasting system in the late 60s in the United States that was always woefully underfunded. It was never insulated sufficiently from economic precarity and from political pressures, because it was being funded on this annual appropriations process and it was being funded or at least mediated through this CPB organization, where the federal government would fund CPB to then allocate a certain amount of money to various stations, television, radio stations around the country.

Just to bring it up to our current or recent moment, so, as I said, it was always chronically underfunded up until last year, when it was finally defunded completely, it was getting a whopping dollar $1.60 per person per year at the federal level. I mean, this was literally off the chart compared to most Democratic countries around the world.

Compared to the Brits, they were spending close to $100 per person per year for the BBC and many other western European, or northern European countries were spending well over $100 per person per year, and it shows in the health of their democratic societies. We were this global outlier for the pittance that we were allocating towards our public broadcasting system and then even that was phased out by congressional Republicans and by the Trump administration, so that now they’re getting zero at the federal level. This has created all kinds of problems, especially for rural stations, that really disproportionately relied on federal funding to stay afloat. Ironically, it is often in Trump voting regions where its public broadcasting stations are suffering the most.

So those are just a few of the highlights of both the history that led us to this moment, and where we are at this very moment with our public broadcasting system.

Scott Ferguson

And you have been developing, recently, a kind of tripartite – and I don’t know how you would characterize it – if it’s a question of stages, if it’s a question of periodization or more a question of impulses that might be interpenetrating in different ways at different moments, I’ll let you answer it.

Victor Pickard

I like that.

Scott Ferguson

Okay. There. Let’s roll with that.

Victor Pickard

I might steal that. 

Scott Ferguson

Okay. Go for it. 

Victor Pickard

Of course, these are all metaphors all the way down, but one of the ways that I was trying to think of this was that, for understandable reasons – and we might get into this as well – in recent years, especially during Trump 2.0, there’s been a growing awareness and sensitivity towards what we might think of them as these media oligarchs; the Elon Musk and Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos and the Ellison’s, the Murdochs. There are these right wing moguls that control so much of our media and so understandably, our attention is being drawn to this glaringly evident problem.

But what I’m trying to show in my work is that the structural conditions that allow for the oligarchs to capture so much of our media really traces back to these capitalistic logics. Before we even start thinking about oligarchic capture of our media, and, of course, another growing concern with the Trump administration is just flat out authoritarian capture of our media, but we also need to understand how there initially was this capitalistic capture. I think the metaphor I use is that they are nested or overlapping, but however we want to phrase it, there are these different stages of capture of our media system and to really try to penetrate to the core root of the structural problem, I do try to bring it back to the capitalist capture. As much as it’s always fun to talk about these cartoon villains like the Musks and the Ellisons who are so easy to hate, but it’s much more than these bad billionaires doing bad things, right. It’s not a bad apples argument. It really is more deeply systemic. 

That’s why throughout my work, I try to really surface these inflection points where our media became captured by these hyper commercial logics. We already touched on one around our broadcast media.

I’d pinpoint 1934 when we passed the Communications Act of 1934, that, again, initially privatized and commercialized our broadcast media. But if we want to trace back to one of these inflection points with our print media, I’d say we’d have to go back to the 80s, the 1880s, when so much of our newspaper industry became so inordinately dependent on advertising revenue.

Up until the 1880s, it was much more of a mixed, or today we might call it a blended revenue model, where newspapers typically were getting support from individual readers. We call them subscribers today, perhaps. They were also getting funding from political parties. They were getting a large amount of funding, especially through coastal subsidies from the government to the tune of what would be the equivalent of tens of billions of dollars in today’s currency. The industry was being subsidized in basically very cheap circulation through the entire postal system throughout the 1800s. Even to this present day, there’s still pretty meager print subsidies still at work. So when we start bringing this into focus, we see that it was only when our core media systems became so hyper commercialized that they became biased against and essentially turned against democracy in many important ways.

And of course, looking at the newspaper industry again, once it became so dependent on advertising revenues, it really changed the relationship between newspaper owners and reading audiences. Instead of seeing their readers as first and foremost engaged citizens of a polity, and of course, we should always be clear that oftentimes publishers weren’t truly trying to reach all members of society, that it was always certain members, especially white propertied men, going back to the earliest days of our newspaper system, but they still saw their readers as citizens instead of consumers.

Once they became so dependent on advertising revenue, where they were trying to capture the attention of their readers and deliver those readers to advertisers, this really changed the core relationships between newspapers and democratic society. So these are just the broad strokes of how there were these structural transformations of our core media when they became captured by these hyper commercial logics, these capitalistic logics.

Of course, once our media became primarily commodities, that really teed it up and made it ready-made assets for oligarchs to just start buying up all these various media properties into massive conglomerates and large monopolistic corporations. That’s pretty much where we are today. But again, I think we need to understand those initial capitalistic logics that took over our media to really understand how we got to this point today.

Scott Ferguson

Something that’s in the news as of this week. This interview won’t come out for a couple of weeks. But in the news this week is that California is leading a lawsuit with several dozen other states or so to block this Paramount deal that seems ill advised and scary for countless reasons. But I think through your analysis and your stressing that at the bottom of this is capitalist capture, it’s privatization of public infrastructures, public possibilities, I think this case brings your analysis out more because, at least as I initially read the terms of the lawsuit, they’re just a kind of anti-monopoly, a kind of antitrust suit where the claim is being made that this is bad because it’s going to reduce competition. Right. And so, great. I mean, I don’t want this deal to go through and I hope they win. But it seems like the terms of the lawsuit, at least from what I’ve read, are all just taking for granted that privatization feature that has become so naturalized.

Victor Pickard

That’s right. I think you’re absolutely right. And I agree with you, Scott. Both things are true once, which is, for this merger to go through, it would be bad. It would make bad things even worse. But at the same time, simply stopping this merger and the rationale that’s being used to stop the merger, at least potentially stopping the merger – it’s an ongoing battle – it’s really indicative of this core misdiagnosis of our media crisis, which is, they aren’t just monopoly problems that we are grappling with. They are capitalism problems at root. And so to stop this merger and even to try to break up some of these conglomerates, which to be clear, I think we should do, I think that would be a step in the right direction to really try to break them down  to paraphrase a terrible thing that Grover Norquist once said, break it down to the size of being able to drown it in a bathtub.

He, of course, is talking about government. You might think that way about these media monopolies, right? At least cut down on their political and economic power, which is a threat to democratic society. Make no mistake about it. However, having smaller capitalist media organizations won’t solve many of our problems, won’t solve the news deserts problem, won’t solve what Zuboff has talked about in terms of surveillance capitalism.

It’s still going to be capitalism that we’re dealing with. So we really do need to try to create a non capitalistic media system. Stopping a merger or two or even trust busting some of these big combines will not bring us to that solution. So I think we need to be clear about that.

Scott Ferguson

I want to compliment you and suggest to one of the points of convergence between our project in your project, which is, yes, we have a critique of the privatization of public goods, and for us, that includes all kinds of forms of mediation and for us in particular, money as a form of mediation, which is a public good that has been, arguably even more so than journalism and broadcast media and print media, has been privatized in our country.

But what I love hearing from you, and whenever I talk to you, whenever I engage with your work, is that you don’t use your critique of these capitalist structures as the opportunity to just kind of shrug and say, “well, we live in a capitalist society, and unless there’s a revolution tomorrow, it’s just going to be capitalism and those are the laws of capitalism.” I think we share this commitment that, no, it’s being constructed and reconstructed every day, and we always have to be making choices about how the public is empowering people and empowering the private sector, let’s say, over the public sector. So I think we really share that commitment that it is always up for grabs. There are no laws of capitalism that tell us that this is just going to go on for infinity.

Victor Pickard

Yeah, I, of course, couldn’t agree more with what you’re saying. I guess, at heart, I’m a Gramscian when it comes to thinking through these things and hegemonic power relationships always need to be recreated day in and day out. There is an inherent kind of open-endedness to all this.

As long as we say there is no alternative, the so-called “TINA” [“there is no alternative”] premise, then we won’t even be able to imagine alternatives. It’s always going to be a challenge to be realistic about what we can do in the immediate future. A great example would be trying to stop these mergers and trying to hopefully even break down some of these media conglomerates, but we must have a bolder, more systemic vision for what needs to happen on our political horizons that we’re working towards for the long term.

But we have to do our best to try to articulate what this different kind of system could and should look like. There’s different ways of phrasing this. A wonky phrase is “non-reformist reforms” could be one approach, one framework that we’re using where we’re doing what we can given the immediate terrain of struggle, but always with an eye towards the long term to trying to create greater possibilities for transformation down the road, and we have to try to keep these things in mind all at once.

It’s never easy, but we must try.

Scott Ferguson

Maybe before we get into some of your constructive ideas, I’d like us, in part for analysis and catching everybody up to speed, but also kind of for the archive, we think of our show as not just being topical, we’re building an archive. So I wonder if we could just spend a few minutes talking about what this Trump 2.0 is doing to the media system and perhaps with some focus on Brendan Carr and what he’s been up to.

I mean, I think a lot of people are aware of the harassment of late night and daytime TV.The takeover of CBS, the installing of Bari Weiss. There’s so many different aspects of this, but what’s your analysis of how this is playing out?

Victor Pickard

That’s a great question. A big chunk of the current book project that I’m working on right now is trying to make sense of all this. I constantly have to go into these chapters and update the latest thing that the Trump administration is doing.

Essentially they’re trying to weaponize every instrument at their disposal. So that includes everything from frivolous lawsuits to relying on an apparatchik like Brendan Car at the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) to carry out Trump’s agenda and serve as his attack dog, and basically do everything they can in their power to ensure that our entire media system looks and sounds like Fox News and brooks no dissent.

They’re trying to undercut any capacity for dissenting views for independent journalism. This takes the form in so many different ways. In addition to the things that I just mentioned, it takes a form of trying to facilitate these media mergers that we’ve been talking about with the Ellison’s, these friendly oligarchs that the Trump administration can lean on.

Really, they’ve taken a page out of the Viktor Orbán  playbook for controlling the media, which, again, goes back to some of the things we were just talking about about oligarchic media capture. An authoritarian regime like Viktor Orbán and like Trump can quickly realize that they don’t have to take over newsrooms by gunpoint. Instead, they can rely on friendly, aligned oligarchs.

They can change media policy to, again, undercut any kind of potential for independent journalism. They defund public media in various ways. They capture public media. We’re just seeing all these things happening at once. It’s quite overwhelming to try to even make sense of all of it, and also just constantly verbally attacking journalists, which has an indirect effect of really chilling news media discourse.

Journalists quickly internalize what they’re allowed to cover or what’s going to cause problems, what’s going to be inherently controversial. So take all these pieces together, and we are basically left with a very compliant media system, much worse than Trump 1.0. We’re seeing the media falling in line underneath these official Trump narratives and talking points being amplified.

Of course, during all this, a very strong right wing media sphere is gaining more and more traction all the time with the Ellisons taking over CBS News, for example, and now potentially CNN as well, even owning a chunk of TikTok. I mean, you have Musk taking over what used to be known as Twitter. So we’re seeing so much of our infrastructure become captured in this way so it’s constantly amplifying and just flooding the zone with Trump approved narratives. It has an effect on our politics and on any hope for any semblance of democratic society.

Billy Saas

So to find our way to some hope, where do we look? You mentioned that the United States started off on the wrong foot or on the capitalistic foot, and we stayed on that path and that has shaped everything that we are seeing and experiencing today.

We can’t go back in time, but can we look at present at those other countries and societies that did things differently as models today? Is that enough? Is there sort of fallacy of composition as the US becomes so hegemonic that there’s no model that we could look to that would scale? Where do we start looking and where have you found some promise when it comes to working our way out of this?

I mean, of course, you’ve got, “stopping the mergers.” You’ve mentioned a couple of options, but what else can we be looking toward?

Victor Pickard

Sure. It’s always an important question to ask. I think it kind of presupposes what we’ve been discussing all along, which is that there’s nothing inevitable or natural about our current media system. It was socially constructed, was based on political decisions and policy decisions that can be unmade or made differently. That always needs to be our analytical starting point.

Beyond that we need to also look internationally, not just historically, but internationally, to look at historical contingency, but then look at these other practices, perhaps best practices, how things could be done differently. Another important starting point is to look at public media systems around the world. I don’t think there’s an ideal model out there that I would say, “we must do that,” but I think at the very least, we begin by looking at how the strongest democratic societies – I mentioned this in passing earlier – empirically, we can show the strongest democratic countries on the planet also have the most robust public broadcasting systems. Now, I don’t think that we should take from that the assumption that we need to simply throw more money at NPR or PBS. But I do think a starting point would be to try to bring the funding of our public media up in line with global norms. If we were each spending $100 per capita per year towards our public broadcasting system, we would have an amazing public media system.

But beyond that, any kind of romanticism I may have harbored towards the BBC has been beaten out of me by my British friends. So I don’t want to make that mistake of saying that that’s some kind of ideal model. When I hear about their problems, I kind of wish we had those problems here in the US.

But nonetheless, I think, at the very least, if we were to begin with the kind of funding level that the BBC has and then radically democratize to make sure that the public media system that we have to rebuild here. This really is another key point too – there is a silver lining. This starts getting more into the kind of hopefulness. The silver lining to the destruction that Trump has brought upon so many of our core systems and infrastructures really gives us this rare historical opportunity to rebuild things from the ground up and to remind ourselves that what we had before was not necessarily awesome. It was always already, inherently, structurally flawed, especially our media system. To be able to reset and rebuild, reconstruct, reimagine is really an incredible opportunity. It’s something that we’ll be able to start working on hopefully in just a couple of years. 

Scott Ferguson

That’s a word I keep seeing more and more and it’s very exciting. The word is reconstruction. It’s got the resonance with post-Civil War with what the Radical Republicans were up to and that feels very exciting. That’s across the board. That’s not just about the media in a narrow sense, that’s about all of our institutions. There’s a sense that so many of our institutions were inadequate and that’s in part what got us into this mess in the first place.

Victor Pickard

That’s absolutely right. We can imagine something better, you know, building back better, as it were. Something that, of course, I think we could do much better than the Biden administration was able to do. But I do think that begins with imagining a public alternative to our failing commercial media system. It really should be based on these principles of not just deprivatization, decommodification, but really radical democratization.

Why I think of it as radical is that I think it has to be based on radical participatory democracy that really begins at the local level and that, of course, is where our media crisis is most acute: around the utter collapse of local journalism and by extension also the collapse of emergency communications, to give one example. We can unfortunately assume that that’s only going to become more of a problem in the years ahead with the growing, ever worsening climate crisis. So we really need to have this infrastructure in place and it can’t be a commercial infrastructure. These are not things that a commercial media system can do or will ever do.

To begin on that basis, if we’re really going to confront the news deserts problem, if we’re really going to maintain this normative benchmark that all members of society should have access to a baseline level of news and information, then that really has to be a public media system. I think it’s something that we’ll have to really work on and hash out at the local level.

I think it should be federally guaranteed, but locally owned and controlled, locally governed. There are ways we can do this. We can devolve control down from the federal to state and local levels or other models we can look to. On one level, some of this seems utopian by necessity and I think in a practical sense, we need to be utopian right now, but at the same time, I think there are concrete examples of this happening internationally and in our own history and so I really think we can broaden our political imaginary about what’s possible.

Scott Ferguson

Some of the concrete ideas that you’ve discussed is using and amplifying and transforming extant public infrastructures, like local libraries, for example. I remember from your 2020 book, talking about the ways that actually this public media movement uses university radio stations as a kind of testing ground. 

So public universities and public libraries being extant, public infrastructures that we could be building out in new ways.

Victor Pickard

Absolutely. I think we have these already existing public infrastructures that we can leverage. I would also include post offices. There are tens of thousands of post offices across the country in far flung locations, and that is critical public infrastructure. It also would be poetic if we were to deploy our postal system towards disseminating news and information, which really was its original purpose in this country. It was primarily a newspaper delivery infrastructure, where up to 95% of the weight of the postal system into the 1800s was made up of newspapers.

So I think just using those spaces as a place where we can house local, community journalists. In fact, speaking of real world examples, in the middle of the cornfields in Urbana, Illinois, media activists more than 20 years ago raised funds and bought the downtown post office. To this day, it serves as this multimedia hub for community news media production.

I think that’s a great proof of concept of something that we could replicate across the country. Also, Public Access Media Centers like the PEG (Public, Educational, and Governmental) stations). There’s a fantastic one in Philadelphia here called Philly Cam that’s also multimedia. It does video, audio, and various kinds of media production and it involves members of the community.

These are things that we can point out and say this isn’t just pie in the sky dreaming. These kinds of models already exist. We need to find ways to replicate them and to scale them and I think that’s possible.

Scott Ferguson

What do you think about the scale of politics and advocacy now? I think for us, in our experience, in our theoretical framework, there’s no proper scale. All scales matter and you take up whatever scale of politicizing that seems to be open that you’re aware of. If that means doing something locally and then trying to scale it up, fine.

If that means you’ve got a mass movement that’s pressuring Congress members, then you do that. I mean, ideally, you do all of it at the same time and you probably share this approach. But I’m curious if you have a sense when it comes to the politics of media broadcast print journalism, and what’s worked, what hasn’t worked. Are there any lessons here in terms of just the scale of politicizing this?

Victor Pickard

Right now, just out of sheer necessity, we have to focus on the state and local levels. In fact, and again, this is keeping with our theme of trying to be a little more hopeful as we’re looking across this blasted landscape, we’re seeing so many things here. I’m thinking of like Mamdani’s  New York, it’s sort of like a return to the sewer socialists of old.

But I do think at the municipal level, there’s some real opportunity at the state level. We’re already seeing a number of blue or purplish states, because I’m thinking of including Pennsylvania in this category, but at the state level, we’re seeing a number of public investment schemes towards subsidizing local journalism. So the exemplar has always been sort of the gold standard has been the New Jersey Civic Information Consortium, where they’ve been allocating millions of dollars towards local journalistic initiatives and have been quite successful.

California just passed a recent civic media bill that’s going to put at least potentially tens of millions of dollars towards the local journalism we’re seeing here in Pennsylvania. Chris Rabb, who recently won a primary, is most likely going to the US Congress – he was my state representative at the state legislature – has been pushing a bill modeled after the New Jersey Civic Information Consortium. So there are all these signs of hope at the state level where we’re moving in this direction, where we recognize that there is no commercial future for the local journalism that we need. We’re going to need public investments. We’re going to need to shift towards this predominantly public media model, especially at the local level.

When I’m thinking of scale, I don’t necessarily mean scaling it up to the federal level, although I do think at a certain point we are going to have to have these policy interventions at the federal level, but it’s also just about replication and just learning what is something that could work in communities across the country.

I’ve been talking more and more, probably six years ago with you guys about this idea of a public media center based in every community across the country that, again, is federally guaranteed but locally owned and controlled. So I think we need to have those dreams on our horizon and just work towards it however we can.

Billy Saas

Talking about federal guarantees and evolving control over these local, state and municipal media systems, you can imagine, and we frequently do, that people are going to ask, “how are you going to pay for that?” in this context. That’s where we come in and with respect to the current media landscape and the death of the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, you noted that a pretty fatal flaw of the Public Banking Act was to bring the issue up for a vote every year or two in terms of the funding.

That’s exactly what happened this time. They voted for zero funding and that was it. That makes it contentious and up for grabs more often than we would like it to be. That’s certainly not a guarantee, right? If you look at the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, as maybe a model today, they received their funding directly from the Federal Reserve on a guaranteed basis and the near death of the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau is much easier avoided because it was that guaranteed direct payment from the Federal Reserve rather than routing through Congress. I don’t imagine, as we’re thinking in utopian terms, and we’re thinking small and local, that we have much faith or belief that the Fed can be operationalized in that way soon. But there are maybe other ways that we could fund these local initiatives.

I wonder if that has come up in your recent thinking at all, like, okay, so we get these motivated local journalists together with the spirit of revivifying local public institutions, how do we pay for their lunches, right? Or how do we keep the lights on?

Victor Pickard

Yeah. Always such a wickedly daunting question, “How do you pay for it?” But I really try to make sure that’s a conversation starter, not a conversation stopper. I think we have to begin with the core assumption that we need insulated, permanent and adequate funding for the media that we need, that democracy requires. There are at least a couple of different models. I mean, ideally, yes, that could come directly out of the Treasury.

There could instead be an autonomous endowed fund to support the media that we need. The original blueprint for our public broadcasting system in the United States was modeled a little bit like the BBC. The BBC has historically had a license. Everyone pays this license fee so it has this guaranteed revenue stream. The initial blueprint for our public broadcasting system was that there would be an excise tax of up to 5% on television sets, and this was in the original Carnegie plan, which almost verbatim became the Public Broadcasting Act of 1967, except that key detail didn’t make it into the final cut.

So we always left it in this very precarious situation. I’ve very loosely calculated that we need a budget of about $30 billion a year to support a national public media system. That’s really not, if you look at what we’re spending now on our war on Iran or like whatever tax cuts that were in Trump’s Big Beautiful Bill.

This is pocket change, right? This is not that much. As much as I do think we need to talk about that, I also try not to get too caught up in the weeds about it, because that too often derails the conversation. I think what’s as important, if not more important, is to also talk about how the money is allocated and how those decisions are made.

I’ve looked at things like community action programs during the LBJ administration’s anti-poverty initiatives. It was based on this assumption that the communities themselves who were purportedly being helped with these funds, had to have a say, had to have representation in deciding how that money is going to be spent. I think that also needs to be a core feature of how this new kind of public media system should be designed, that local communities really help determine how this money is being allocated.

Scott Ferguson

This is maybe just a different way of getting at the reconstruction question, but I think that at least in certain social circles. I think of Cory Doctorow’s now often-used term enshittification. I think the fact that that term circulates so widely is an index of its usefulness in calling out the reality of what’s going on.

I think that there is a strong sense, at least in parts of public discourse, that our media system sucks. One question would be, what’s the difference between this vast wasteland and the vast wasteland of 1950s commercial television? A part of me wants to go back to that vast wasteland. It seemed less of a vast wasteland by comparison.

Victor Pickard

Less enshittified.

Scott Ferguson

Although, you know, plenty racist and patriarchal and sexist. I guess I wonder, it seems like there’s an opportunity just in terms of public opinion about our media. It just seems like such a shit show, right? The way that television has exploded into all these streaming services that you have to buy à la carte that nobody can afford. You’re constantly buying one and then subscribing and then stopping. The whole thing seems like such a big mess. Let me put it another way. Even if we’re going to accept the capitalist logic by capitalist logic standards, I don’t think that you can put out a bunch of surveys today and have the so-called customers, instead of citizens, say that they are happy, or say that they’re enjoying themselves.

Maybe there are swaths of the public that really like what’s going on. But it seems to me that there’s a lot of unhappiness.

Victor Pickard

I couldn’t agree more. I agree also that this is an opportunity, or at least it should give us some leverage over steering what’s already low opinion towards our media, towards something more constructive. But that is where it often gets lost. Even this notion of enshittification, although Doctorow is clear, though I don’t think clear enough, but he does say in his writings that this is stemming from these hyper capitalistic logics. Enshittification is what you get, this is what capitalism does to our media.

Scott Ferguson

Right, this is not a natural evolutionary tendency of technology or something like that.

Victor Pickard

Exactly, but too often the critique sort of stops with, “oh, it just sucks,” and not why does it suck? That’s where we all have work to do, to try to connect these dots to show people,” oh, it sucks because they don’t care whether you enjoy it or not. They’re just trying to extract as much value in and generate as much profit from this as possible.”

So once you start understanding that that is where this hyper capitalistic logic takes us, then we begin to realize, “oh, we have to build something new that’s not so dependent, that’s not so pegged so closely to these capitalistic market relationships.” It’s this very inchoate sense of, our media system sucks, we want something better, but to understand how we get there, to create something better, we really have to understand the structural roots of these problems, right? This is what capitalism does to our media. That’s what I’m trying to walk through in my own work. But going back to the original idea, though, I do think it’s another silver lining with Trump 2.0 that people are carrying and thinking and talking more about media ownership, for example, than they normally ever would.

And so that, again, is a fleeting window of opportunity that we really should try to exploit.

Scott Ferguson

This is part of the mystery of how we got Trump. How did the latter day Trump come to be? How did he become president? There’s all kinds of explanations for this, like these ridiculous claims coming out of the last election, not the left, but the Democrats need their own Joe Rogan.

A bunch of big donor Democrats are going to do the great search for our own Joe Rogan, as if Joe Rogan is single handedly responsible for putting Trump back in into the White House. I guess I tend to think more in terms of the long game. I guess it seems to me that the neoliberal legislation that was ushered in under the Clinton administration, not that it single handedly did anything because nothing is single handed, everything is always up for grabs. But it seems to me that in privatizing the internet, in its commercial construction in the way that they did, they essentially took what was mostly on AM radio and Fox News and just opened the door for that sensibility to take over. I think about the way that the centrist, neoliberal Democrats who helped engineer that system just screwed themselves, and screwed their party.

I don’t know if that makes any sense. I don’t know if this is even worth keeping in, but I’m just curious if you have any thoughts about that.

Victor Pickard

Yeah, I do. I have a lot of thoughts on all that and I agree with the thrust of that line of reasoning, which is certainly under what we’ve come to refer to as this kind of neoliberal paradigm. We basically privatize public goods and we undercut capacity for healthy public discourse about anything by ensuring that there’s little journalism, because journalism typically costs money to produce. Good journalism costs money to produce and it also is often bad for business because it often would take an adversarial position, even by simply reporting on things factually, often does not redound to the business interests. For these reasons and more, we have created such a public sphere, but really we’ve ensured that there is very little public sphere beyond just like shouting and commentary and shouting heads on ubiquitous screens, but not really creating the capacity to develop political consciousness and a healthy political consciousness outside of kind of proto fascistic formations.

I’m also being very vague here, but basically, I’m agreeing with the premise that systemically, at a structural level, we basically undercut the preconditions, the necessary preconditions for a healthy democratic society. We’ve undercut any kind of viable communication infrastructure and the internet is another one of these examples of privatizing what inherently began as a public resource.

The internet was a testament to socialistic fostering of a media system. It was born out of pub massive public subsidies and then was essentially handed over to a handful of corporations and continued to develop along those trajectories so that when social media firms took root, it was assumed that they were beyond reach of public policy, they could not be subjected to democratic decision making.

This has all helped. I would always be careful in the kind of causal relationships that I draw. But at the very least, they are contributing factors to the rise of Trump and where we are today.

Scott Ferguson

Sure. And then, of course, there’s Section 230 and the fact that these social media companies are not liable for what is said on their websites. Yeah.

Victor Pickard

Yeah. I mean, there are so many of these kinds of policy decisions or indecisions. Sometimes the shorthand is this kind of Silicon Valley, techno libertarian ethos, but it was just always assumed from the get-go that we couldn’t regulate them, that they were just beyond reach, that somehow these new technologies were magical in a particular way, that we just could not try to wield any sort of public policy over them.

Now we’re reaping the rewards of those earlier mistakes.

Scott Ferguson

Right. And that’s what’s happening with the generative AI push now. 

Victor Pickard

We’ve seen this movie before. The same discourses are being deployed. It’s treated as something like fait accompli. It’s already beyond our control. This is where things are headed and we need to just adapt to these new technologies instead of trying to steer them in democratic ways and making sure that they’re serving our social needs, and not simply the profit imperatives of a handful of tech oligarchs.

Scott Ferguson

Is there anything in your tracking of the contemporary situation beyond the basic point that all of this oligarchic and authoritarian capture is predicated on a deep privatization that is unjust and ill conceived? Is there anything else that’s going on in the contemporary media scape that you wish people were attending to more? Because I think in a sense, these are front page headlines, like California going after the Ellison’s for the Paramount deal.

Is there anything else that you can attune us to that maybe the public isn’t thinking about or that isn’t being framed for everybody in a flashing headline.

Victor Pickard

I would keep coming back to the same drum I’ve been beating on forever, which is the collapse of local journalism and how that is treated as something that’s utterly beyond our control. It’s like a natural disaster. It might be unfortunate, in fact, many people think it’s unfortunate to the extent that they even know about it even now.

I mean, in our little circles, it probably seems like such old news and it’s so banal to even bring it up again, but the fact is, survey data show consistently that the vast majority of Americans have no idea that there’s any kind of journalism crisis. They think they have access to more news and information than they’ve ever had before.

That is such a problem. The fact that people don’t even know that the crisis is happening and then the extent that they are aware of it, again, it’s thought of as just something completely beyond the reach of public policy, it’s beyond our control, it’s an act of God and we really need to start seeing this as a political decision if we’re allowing 81% of our local journalists to lose their jobs. It’s just mind blowing. There was that weekly newspaper in Kansas a couple of years ago where local authorities marched in and shut it down because it had ran some article that offended some local elite and that was treated as a national scandal that people would come in and shut down a local newsroom.

But when the market is doing that day in and day out, there’s this kind of sociology of resignation where it’s like, “that’s unfortunate, but, you know, the market has spoken and there’s just nothing we can do about it.” That’s a very long winded answer to your excellent question, which is, that’s an example of something that should be headlines every day about what’s happening to our local journalism.

In so many ways that’s much more fundamental than what the media oligarchs are doing right now  and if a couple corporations merge, these are bad things, but this is nothing compared to the utter collapse of our local journalism.

Billy Saas

Well, thank you so much for that reminder and for joining us again on Money on the Left six years later, let’s not let another six years pass without another conversation. This has been lovely. Victor Pickard, thank you so much for joining us again.

Victor Pickard

Thank you both for having me. It’s always great to talk to you. Let’s definitely make sure we don’t wait another six years. Hopefully the next time we talk, we’ll have even more hopeful things. Lots of things will have changed by then. We will have solved all these problems and we can just talk about how great it is.

* Thank you to Zachary Nosbisch for the episode graphic, Nahneen Kula for the theme tune, and Thomas Chaplin for the transcript. 

Prototyping Democratic Public Finance With the Seattle Loop

By Will Beaman

Seattle is once again being told that a projected budget deficit requires difficult choices about which public commitments the city can continue to honor. Councilmember Robert Kettle recently used the city’s projected $175 million shortfall to call for a budget “realignment” around essential needs, explicitly opening the door to withdrawing from public work judged to benefit only particular groups. Money on the Left’s Seattle Loop model offers a way to enlarge the city’s financial capacity while reorganizing the relationships among public commitments, institutions, and constituencies.

The Seattle Loop is a proposal to establish a municipal bank that can purchase Seattle’s bonds. When the city pays interest on those bonds, the money flows back from the bank into the city’s own general fund, where it can support further lending and public investment. This creates a continuing circuit between the city’s commitments and the financial capacity available to fulfill them. Rather than allowing municipal interest payments to leave the public realm as income for private creditors, the Loop keeps that income circulating through Seattle’s own institutions.

The Loop also offers a prototype for a different way of governing. Progressive programs are usually introduced into a fiscal system that treats the public budget as a fixed quantity to be divided. Every commitment consequently appears to reduce the amount available for another commitment. Political constituencies enter the budget process as competing claims on scarce money, even when meeting their needs would strengthen the same social fabric.

This structure shapes how people understand one another. A new public commitment comes to appear as a cost imposed on everyone whose own needs remain unmet. The budget thus translates social interdependence into fiscal competition. People who depend on different institutions are encouraged to ask whose program must shrink and whose expectations must be deferred.

Even progressive governments can enlarge the funds available for public provision and distribute them more fairly while remaining caught in this antagonistic structure. So long as public needs must be assembled into a finite package, the pressure to rank them does not disappear. It shifts toward defining which commitments are sufficiently basic, universal, or broadly beneficial to deserve inclusion. Those categories can always be narrowed, and people whose needs are less easily represented as common can be cut away from the public they are supposed to share. Coalition then becomes an exercise in negotiating which differences the budget will recognize and which forms of life must be excluded or deferred.

Once we question the background assumption that money is inherently scarce, however, the social fabric comes into view as an additive ecology. A well-supported institution expands the capacities of the people and institutions around it. Its workers receive income and the communities it serves gain resources to participate in public life. These effects cascade throughout society, far beyond the line item where the initial spending appears.

Conventional public budgeting has difficulty representing this additive quality. It records the financial commitment at the point where money is spent, while the real capacities provisioned through that commitment are represented only where they generate profits. What appears in the budget as a collection of separate costs functions socially as a mutually reinforcing ecology.

The Seattle Loop gives this ecology a more honest financial expression. The city’s commitments become part of the asset base of a public bank, while the bank’s activity generates income and financial capacity that can support further commitments. Budget priorities enter a circuit in which spending helps sustain the institutions that make additional spending possible.

All of this works because money itself is an expandable accounting instrument, even when the productive capacities it mobilizes cannot be expanded all at once. Those capacities can impose real limits on what a city can accomplish at any given moment. The Loop makes those limits questions of coordination and sequencing rather than reasons to treat every new commitment as a subtraction from a fixed fund. It asks what Seattle can produce now, where additional capacity must be developed, and how public investment can expand what becomes possible over time.

This changes the meaning of fiscal responsibility. Responsibility extends beyond keeping each commitment within its assigned budgetary container to designing relationships through which public institutions can support one another over time. The city can govern its financial system as part of the social ecology it is responsible for sustaining.

For progressives, this points toward an additive conception of coalition. Constituencies do not enter public life solely as claimants seeking their share of a common fund. Their flourishing can expand the capacities on which others depend. Public finance can organize these connections, making solidarity into a durable institutional relationship rather than an appeal for groups to accept sacrifices on one another’s behalf.

The Seattle Loop is a local proposal, but its political implications extend beyond Seattle. It suggests that progressive governance can build institutions through which public commitments accumulate, reinforce one another, and generate new possibilities for collective action. A budget that forces constituencies to experience one another as costs will continually weaken the public it is supposed to serve. An additive financial architecture can help our democracy become more stable and resilient through the very act of providing for itself.

The Fight for Public Banking with Washington State Senator Bob Hasegawa (In the Loop: Revolutionizing Public Finance, Ep. 3)

In this episode, hosts Tyler Suksawat, Will Beaman, and Scott Ferguson sit down with Washington State Senator Bob Hasegawa to explore his nearly two-decade campaign to establish a public bank in Washington State, launched in the wake of the 2008 Wall Street crash.

The conversation situates Hasegawa’s tireless public banking advocacy within his broader political formation. Born to a Japanese American family that suffered forced incarceration by the U.S. government during World War II, Hasegawa went on to enter the trades and join the Teamsters during a historic turning point for organized labor. As a leader in the rank-and-file movement to democratize the union and eradicate systemic corruption, Hasegawa was elected to union leadership in the Teamsters’ first-ever democratic vote, only to subsequently witness a disappointing return to corruption enabled by the Clinton administration. This early crucible in rank-and-file organizing and institutional power profoundly shaped his career in the Washington State House and Senate, grounding his legislative focus on labor rights, racial justice, and public accountability.

Dedicating the core of the discussion to the mechanics and necessity of public finance, Hasegawa articulates why public banks are vital tools for democratizing money, keeping public revenues working for local communities, and serving as a countercyclical buffer during market downturns. In a fascinating historical turn, Hasegawa walks through the founding of the Bank of North Dakota over a century ago, revealing how the agrarian movement behind the bank actually drew inspiration from progressive public ownership projects underway in Seattle at the time. This historical connection links the century-old legacy of the Bank of North Dakota directly back to Washington State, demonstrating that the current movement for public banking in Washington is coming full circle to its original inspiration. Finally, Hasegawa frames public banking as a truly global movement, exploring how different public financial structures around the world—such as Germany’s municipal Sparkassen system—can learn from one another, cooperate, and move in international solidarity to build an equitable, democratically governed financial architecture.

Check out the Substack for the Washington State Public Banking Workgroup currently chaired by Senator Hasegawa.

See here for the 2026 SB 5754 Work Session and Public Testimony for Hasegawa’s public banking legislation. 

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Original music by Josh Klinghoffer 

What is the Loop? (In the Loop: Revolutionizing Public Finance, Ep. 2)


Building on the vision of Democratic Public Finance (DPF) introduced in our debut episode, hosts Will Beaman, Tyler Suksawat, and Scott Ferguson present a radical new proposal to expand sub-federal fiscal capacity: the Loop

For decades, local governments have been disciplined by Wall Street bond markets, forced into defensive austerity, while furnishing private creditors with hundreds of millions of dollars per year. The Loop breaks this poisonous cycle by authorizing a government-owned public bank to purchase municipal bonds directly from a state, county, or city. In turn, the bank can immediately deposit interest payments back into the government’s general fund, in effect, stopping the leak to Wall Street by establishing a distinctly public loop.

By internalizing debt service, the Loop transforms an extractive cost into a self-replenishing public fund, capturing interest payments to fund housing, transit, care infrastructure, and the arts. The result empowers cities to evaluate public investment based on real social and ecological capacity rather than bond market discipline. Drawing on our recent writings and coalition work around the Seattle Loop, our hosts explain how such daring innovations in DPF stand to reclaim municipal finance as a powerful instrument for democratic agency and collective care.

Related Reading & Resources

Visit our Patreon page here: https://www.patreon.com/MoLsuperstructure

Original music by Josh Klinghoffer 

Measure for Measure: A Shakespearean Defense of the NYC Tenants’ Rights Movement

by Antonia Marrero 

On July 16, 2026, Mayor Zohran Mamdani gathered at the historic Tenement Museum alongside housing advocates and organizers to release New York City’s landmark Rental Ripoff Report. Shaped by testimony from thousands of working-class New Yorkers during the citywide Rental Ripoff Hearings, the report outlines a package of 23 policy reforms designed to hold negligent repeat-offender landlords accountable, enforce basic housing conditions, and legally recognize tenant unions.

Taking the stage to deliver a powerful address was Antonia Marrero, an organizer with the 196 & 214 Rockaway Parkway Tenant Union and a member of Housing Organizers for People’s Empowerment (HOPE). In a speech invoking Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, Marrero likened the moral hypocrisy of powerful elites in 17th-century Vienna to the systemic abuses of modern corporate landlords, issuing a ringing call for tenant power, union solidarity, and housing justice.

Following the event, right-wing media outlets troublingly singled out Marrero’s address for mockery, attacking her characterization of evictions as a form of social violence and deriding the press conference as a “freak show.”

We at Money on the Left reject this sensationalized right-wing framing. To claim that displacement, homelessness, and the state-sanctioned removal of families from their homes are anything other than violent is an exercise in bad faith. Eviction is not a neutral transaction; it is a profound act of physical, emotional, and social violence visited upon working communities. Housing is a fundamental human right, tenants’ rights must be fiercely protected, and tenant organizing remains our strongest defense against predatory landlord harassment.

Below is the full transcript of Antonia Marrero’s speech, published here with her blessing.

Good morning, everyone. My name is Antonia Marrero, and I am thrilled to be a member of HOPE Tenant Union: Housing Organizers for People’s Empowerment. HOPE facilitates tenant unity, HOPE offers civic education, and HOPE insists on the high road, the path of justice and housing for all. I was honored to participate in this year’s Rental Ripoff Hearings, and I want to thank Michael Tiger, General Counsel of the NYC Department of Consumer and Worker Protection, who listened to my testimony and welcomed my questions with kindness. Mayor Mamdani’s Rental Ripoff Hearings will echo for generations–the way the lessons of this museum have increasingly resonated for generations.

When I think about HOPE, I think about Shakespeare. In the comedy Measure for Measure–set in Vienna, a city famous for its social housing–the character Isabella talks about the political machine. She says: “[A]uthority, though it err like others, hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, that skins the vice o’ the top.” Isabella, the novice nun, says: “[K]ings, landlords, bishops, judges, and inspectors, all these powerful figures … are subject to mistakes; but because they have power, their mistakes have little consequences, at least, little consequences to them.”

But Sister Isabella also says: “Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.” What my heart knows is that we are living in an epic chapter of history. An epic is not a romance, it’s not a melodrama. An epic is the story of a new order. Our city is turning the corner on Tenant Power. When we organize, we win results. The Mamdani Administration is emboldening us so that we no longer tolerate the violence of evictions as a matter of “business as usual.”

My landlord owns dozens of buildings, but he is not a steward of public trust. In fact, it is the opposite. Since 2005, I survived three faulty eviction cases. I have lost three friends to eviction, two of whom lived on my floor, and for the past year, our supportive housing neighbors have been dissuaded from joining our tenant union.

But today’s report shows there is a path forward.

I am grateful for Mayor Mamdani’s leadership, the commitment to improving our housing quality and holding “low road” landlords accountable, and the commitment to having tenant leaders — not just real estate leaders — at the decision-making table. Mayor Mamdani’s Rental Ripoff Hearings will be remembered in the Book of Lady Liberty, whose torch beacons the homeless, the tempest-tost, to our shores, so the greatest cosmopolis of interdependent neighborhoods that the world has ever known will set a new standard of what humanity can achieve when we prioritize collaboration over dominion, when we prioritize love over profit.

See a video of the full press conference here.

Euthanize the Rentier: Seven Steps to Democratic Renewal

By Will Beaman

John Maynard Keynes’s call for the “euthanasia of the rentier” has long occupied an uneasy place on the left. In the decades after World War II, as a domesticated “bastard Keynesianism” became part of Cold War economic governance, the phrase often came to symbolize an idealist hope that class antagonism could be managed away through lower interest rates and expert macroeconomic policy. Yet Keynes’s metaphor permits a more capacious program than interest-rate management alone. Read today, amid the renewed possibility of left governance after Trump, the “euthanasia of the rentier” can be taken up as a deeper provocation. Rather than asking how to protect democracy from finance, we must ask how to redesign finance so that democratic commitments become the highest-priority promises in the system.
 
Today, promises to private creditors are treated as inviolable while democratic commitments—to employment, education, housing, public health, reparations, libraries, and ecological repair—are treated as mere aspirations to be fulfilled only sometimes as discretionary expenditures.
 
Euthanizing the rentier begins with inverting this hierarchy. Private financial claims should remain enforceable only insofar as they do not undermine the standing promises a democracy makes to the people it governs. And that means giving democratic commitments institutional form.
 
Reparations should be recognized by central banking and public finance institutions as a permanent public obligation capable of capitalizing the institutions charged with carrying it out.
 
Libraries, schools, and guaranteed employment should be recognized as productive public assets rather than accounting costs. Public balance sheets should be organized around expanding democratic capacity instead of maximizing returns to creditors. What does this mean concretely and institutionally?
 
First, it means establishing a hierarchy of public promises. Employment, housing, health, education, climate obligations, reparations, and basic public services become primary public commitments. When private financial promises conflict with this, they’re restructured and/or written off completely.
 
Second, it means turning democratic obligations into financeable public assets. Law should authorize institutions to record the capacities that reparations, the right to a job, etc. create as durable public assets and to issue claims against the continuing public commitment to maintain them.
 
Third, changing central bank collateral rules. Central banks should accept bonds and obligations issued for democratically authorized purposes, purchase them directly or through public intermediaries, and provide permanent refinancing facilities. Private investors should have no role to play.
 
Fourth, it means building public balance sheet institutions wherever it’s possible. Public banks, reparations trusts, employment authorities, housing funds, and municipal finance facilities should be empowered to hold public assets, issue promises of their own and collateralize public commitments.
 
Fifth, cut out bond markets. There are other ways to tell if an investment is sustainable than if it makes money for a rich person. Charter public banks and have them purchase bonds and deposit interests in public coffers like Money on the Left‘s “Seattle Loop” plan.

Sixth, formalize the breaking of creditor power by making creditor claims revisable by design rather than only during emergencies.

Lastly (seventhly), reform public accounting. Fiscal rules should measure whether spending creates and sustains real capacities, rather than treating all public outlays as costs. Record jobs, functioning institutions, public knowledge, and social stability as assets and capacities, not as costs.

In summary, euthanizing the rentier should prompt a constitutional reordering of public finance: Democratic commitments must be formalized as durable claims on the state, institutions must be created to carry and refinance those claims, and private creditors must lose the power to decide whether those promises are affordable.

Weird Epistemologies of Money and Trust in Fitzgerald, Ford, and Larsen; or, Isn’t Money Weird?

By Rob Hawkes

What follows is a slightly expanded version of a talk I gave at the ‘Weird Modernisms’ conference at Loughborough University, UK (1-4 July 2026), a collaboration between the UK-based British Association for Modernist Studies (BAMS) and the US-based Modernist Studies Association (MSA). ‘Weird Modernisms’ brought over 400 delegates together in the midst of an escalating crisis in the UK’s higher education sector (UKHE), which has seen multiple course closures, departmental restructures, and over 30,000 job losses in the last 3 years. Around the world, many academics face similar threats and much worse, and yet, at a time of rising authoritarianism and ecological breakdown, the critical capacity to think beyond the status quo that universities exist to foster and expand could not be more vital. My acute frustration with the ‘shrinking’ of UKHE[1] is that it is driven by a disastrous funding model designed according to the logic of what I describe in my recent writing as the ‘private money paradigm’.[2] As Scott Ferguson and I wrote last year, the private money paradigm:

upholds the backwards idea not only that fiscal outlays merely recycle private pounds, but also that the public good is somehow a burdensome drain on scarce public resources. The result pits communities against one another in a struggle over limited finances and frequently does so along conspicuously classed, gendered, and racialised lines.[3]

As I hope to demonstrate in this essay, however, money is much weirder and more capacious than the austere and exclusionary monetary politics that’s now threatening the future of our universities (and much more besides) will ever allow.

At ‘Weird Modernisms’, I shared these thoughts during a panel on ‘Weird Epistemologies’, chaired by Ruth Clemens and also featuring brilliant presentations by Anna Dijkstra and Graham Borland. My essay considers three modernist writers whose works are centrally concerned with sexual, racial, and classed forms of passing. In F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925), we learn of the transformation of ‘Mr Nobody from Nowhere’ Jimmy Gatz into Jay Gatsby, a transgression of class boundaries that takes place in a novel where several characters, including the narrator, may also be straight-passing queer people.[4] In Nella Larsen’s Passing (1929), Clare Kendry, a light-skinned African American woman, passes so successfully for a white person that even her racist husband is unaware of her background, and, in Ford Madox Ford’s The Rash Act (1933), Henry Martin Aluin Smith, an American who has been bankrupted by the Wall Street Crash, and Henry Monckton Allard Smith, a British millionaire, switch places after both plan to commit suicide on the same day. Thus, all of these texts feature characters who assume, perform, or inhabit identities that may be regarded as deceptive, fraudulent, or fake. Nevertheless, each novel also complicates the epistemological basis on which these performed selves might be understood to be straightforwardly ‘false’ (or indeed ‘true’). Building on the claim recently advanced by the Money on the Left editorial collective that ‘money is queer’, this essay adds the analogous observation that money is weird.[5] Here, I argue that Fitzgerald’s, Ford’s, and Larsen’s characters encapsulate and express money’s epistemological weirdness, due in part to the way their performances both problematise and depend upon trust. Thus, while financial circumstances appear both to drive and facilitate the deceptive acts of Jay Gatsby, Clare Kendry, and Henry Martin Aluin Smith, they also point towards what I describe elsewhere as the ‘(un)conditional openness’ without which neither monetary tokens nor experimental novels could do the weird things they do in and to our worlds.[6]

Before I say more about the three novels already mentioned, I want to go back to the book I’ve probably thought more about than any other in the last quarter of a century. As it happens, I gave my first ever academic conference paper almost twenty years ago, in September 2006, at the University of Birmingham. At that conference, I considered Ford Madox Ford’s The Good Soldier, beginning with this passage:

For who in this world can give anyone a character? Who in this world knows anything of any other heart—or of his own? I don’t mean to say that one cannot form an average estimate of the way a person will behave. But one cannot be certain of the way any man will behave in every case—and until one can do that a “character” is of no use to anyone.[7]

Two decades later, I continue to find this an endlessly fascinating moment in John Dowell’s narrative and I think the reason for this is its epistemological weirdness. Famously, The Good Soldier is obsessed with the problem of knowing: can we really know other people? Did Dowell ever truly know the real Edward Ashburnham (the supposed ‘good soldier’ of the novel’s title)? In Ford’s hands these questions also attain a metatextual dimension: what is the point of writing novels if we cannot know the characters that inhabit them?[8] Indeed, this points towards two ideas that are in productive tension throughout modernist fiction: a profound sense of the textuality of the self, its construction in discourse and its shifting unknowability, alongside the modernist commitment to descending deeper into the self than ever before, as exemplified by the development of the stream-of-consciousness technique.

It is with this tension in mind that I turn to Ford’s 1933 novel The Rash Act. Prior to its publication, Ford described The Rash Act as: ‘the beginning of a trilogy that is meant to do for the post-war world and the Crisis what the Tietjens tetralogy [better known as Parade’s End] did for the war’.[9] So, for Ford at least, The Rash Act was up there with one of his very best works and it was also very specifically about ‘the Crisis’ (in other words, the Wall Street Crash of 1929 and the Great Depression that followed). Like Parade’s End, The Rash Act is a time-shifted, impressionist, and fragmented narrative which makes extensive use of free-indirect style. In another sense, however, The Rash Act is a quite simple prince-and-pauper fairy-tale in which Henry Martin, a ‘down-and-out’ American, and the British millionaire Henry Monckton exchange identities after both attempt the rash act of suicide.[10] While Hugh succeeds in killing himself, Henry fails, but sustains a blow to his face which (along with the fact that the two look very similar) enables him to assume the other’s identity. This is from the moment just after Henry Martin’s failed suicide attempt:

A voice said:
‘This is Monsieur Monckton Smeez. . . .’
Another:
‘Vous ne le dites pas! . . . You don’t say! I wish I had his money. But not at the moment his face.’ […]
If he wasn’t at the bottom of the Mediterranean he was at the side of a road under some plane trees and he had changed his identity.[11]

So, immediately upon being mistaken for Hugh Monkton, Henry is thinking in terms of changing his identity and money is already part of the equation.

Henry Martin writhed. […] He tried to say:
‘You must not say that.’ But they were binding his jaw over his head with a lint bandage. . . . After all he had wished to be Hugh Monckton. Now he was.[12]

This refers the reader back to a scene earlier in the book, when the two men meet for the first time in a Provençal nightclub and Henry experiences an intense desire to switch places with Hugh. However, beyond the fantasy of trading places that the novel appears to offer, it also asks typically weird modernist questions about identity and the self: two important markers of Hugh Monckton’s identity here are his money and a facial scar that he acquired during the First World War. During the course of his failed suicide attempt, Henry sustains a similar injury and is thus mistaken for Hugh. If he gets his money and also gets his scar, does this transform Henry into Hugh?

Nella Larsen’s Passing, like The Rash Act, is a fragmented modernist narrative containing hermeneutic gaps, time-shifts, multiple ambiguities, and epistemological uncertainties. Ittells the story of two African American women, Clare Kendry and Irene Redfield, both of whom are light-skinned enough to pass for white. While Irene only passes occasionally, Clare is married to a wealthy white supremacist who does not know and would not take kindly to knowing that she has, in the novel’s own terms, quote-unquote ‘Negro blood’.[13] Importantly, Clare, we learn, started passing in the first place to escape from poverty as well as from racism and so, like The Rash Act, Passing centres on a character who is motivated by money to take on or create a new identity. This is from the second chapter of Passing, as Irene and Clare discuss the topic of ‘passing’ for white:

“Tell me, honestly, haven’t you ever thought of ‘passing’?”
Irene answered promptly: “No. Why should I?” And […] hastened to add: “You see, Clare, I’ve everything I want. Except, perhaps, a little more money.”
At that Clare laughed […]. “Of course,” she declared, “that’s what everybody wants, just a little more money, even the people who have it. And I must say I don’t blame them. Money’s awfully nice to have. In fact, all things considered, I think, ’Rene, that it’s even worth the price.”[14]

Here, Larsen makes a very direct link between passing and money. The act of passing has apparently enabled Clare to get all that she wants in life (‘what everybody wants’) but it also entails a cost: ‘all things considered […] it’s even worth the price’. But, once again, there is also a sense that passing destabilises the categories and the hierarchies that both race and money have hitherto functioned to hold in place. Both novels, therefore, explore identities as discursively constructed, performed, and open to negotiation, contestation, and creative reimagining, while also placing money at the centre of their narratives of passing.

This essay is titled ‘Weird Epistemologies of Money and Trust’ and there is, perhaps, an obvious sense in which the novels discussed so far raise questions to do with trust and/or trickery, given their concentration on characters who ‘pretend’ to be people other than their ‘true’ selves. However, I would argue that, where questions of money and trust are concerned, these stories are about more than fraudulent and deceptive central characters. As I mentioned earlier, my recent work has made a distinction between the ‘private money paradigm’ of mainstream discourse and the ‘public money paradigm’, which my fellow members of the Money on the Left Editorial Collective and I advance in our writing and our activism. The private money paradigm dominates orthodox economic thought, teaching, and rhetoric as well as framing our political debates (see for example, the idea that a new Prime Minister needs the permission of ‘the markets’ to act in the public interest).[15] It insists that money originates in private exchange, that it is finite, scarce, and that ‘difficult decisions’ about who to exclude and marginalise must always be made according to the rules of ‘budget responsibility’.

This narrative of privation, limitation, and zero-sum binary choices is embedded in the transactional logic of exchange that we can trace back at least as far as Adam Smith’s infamous claim that there is ‘a certain propensity in human nature […] to truck, barter, and exchange one thing for another’.[16] And, indeed, despite there being no historical or anthropological evidence to support this view, most economics textbooks continue to explain that money is a ‘medium of exchange’ that emerged as a solution to the ‘double-coincidence-of-wants problem’ of barter.[17] This, for example, is from Case, Fair, and Oster’s widely-used Principles of Economics:

A barter system requires a double coincidence of wants for trade to take place. […] Some agreed-to medium of exchange […] neatly eliminates the double-coincidence-of-wants problem. […] Money is a lubricant in the functioning of a market economy.[18]

We can only speculate as to why the language of lubrication is so pervasive in economic writing, but it is echoed in Robert Putnam’s influential Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community, where it is also associated with the concept of trust:

A society that relies on generalized reciprocity is more efficient than a distrustful society, for the same reason that money is more efficient than barter. Honesty and trust lubricate the inevitable frictions of social life.[19]

This is just one instance of a pervasive trend in the scholarly discourse on trust, which I’ve been tracing across a number of disciplines for quite some years now, and which frequently frames trusting in transactional terms as, if you like, a kind of barter system: I’ll trust you if you trust me back; I’ll trust you if I can be certain you won’t double cross me.[20] Here is another, even more recent, example from Philippa Ryan’s Trust and Distrust in Digital Economies (2019): ‘Trust has proven to be integral to economic development and human security, because trust is central to exchange’.[21] My contention in all of this is that strategic, transactional, or, indeed, ‘calculative trust’ is not trust at all;[22] and that a much better way to understand the concept is to think of it in terms of the openness to the other that Derek Attridge describes as essential to ‘responsible reading’.[23] Indeed, as I’ve previously put it, the ‘openness to newness, strangeness, and otherness’ (a list to which we might also add weirdness) that is ‘fostered and demanded by experimental fiction’ (and, indeed, other works of art) is much closer than we usually think to the trust inherent in the acts of using and creating money, which entail both performative promises to pay and collective acknowledgements of interdependence: IOU or, rather, we owe one another.[24]

For the purposes of this essay, what I want to highlight is that, while there is a way of reading both The Rash Act and Passing as stories in which identities are exchanged in barter-like transactions – Henry for Hugh (which, incidentally, is the title of the 1934 sequel to The Rash Act),[25] and African American for white – and while this reading might also foreground the idea of trust – other characters must trust that Henry is Hugh or that Clare is white to enable them to pass – such interpretations would miss important aspects of these texts. Indeed, from our perspective at Money on the Left, the weird epistemologies and malleabilities that we find in modernist texts, when it comes to questions of identity and selfhood, are neither separate nor separable from public money’s always-already ungraspable, capacious, and open-ended weirdness. So, however tempting it may be to conclude that, although Passing and The Rash Act complicate fixed ideas about identities – presenting them as shifting, ambiguous, and discursively constructed – they perpetuate an orthodox understanding of money as a realm of transactional zero-sum exchange, my colleagues at Money on the Left and I would say ‘whoa, hold on!’

As I mentioned at the beginning, at MotL we have been affirming for some time now that ‘money is queer’. As Scott Ferguson explains in his 2025 article ‘Analog Critique; or, Isn’t Money Queer?’:

By this, we mean not only that public money should be mobilized to serve LGBTQ2+ communities, but more profoundly that money as a social medium is never as straight or alienating as it feigns to be. Like language, money’s many words, sights, sounds, smells and feels never communicate exactly what they intend.[26]

Even more recently, Lea Steininger has added, in an article published just a couple of months ago (and which I heartily recommend):

Just as sexual/gender identities are not fixed but constructed through discourse and power, so too are economic goods and services not stable, preexisting entities. [… M]oney itself is queer in the sense that it embodies polyvalent and contestable public structures and performances, which cannot be reduced to the narrow definitions offered by dominant economic ideologies.[27]

My contention here is that the weird epistemologies that we find in modernist fiction can help us to ‘think queerly’ about money in a number of important ways. Moreover, if it is better understood as (un)conditional openness, and not as calculative exchange, then the trust involved both in reading modernist novels and in creating money is much weirder than we may hitherto have recognised. The recent celebration of weird modernisms in Loughborough, then, demands to be recognised not just as an expression of the weird obsessions of weird scholars, but as academia fulfilling what Stefan Collini has called its ‘governing purpose’, that of ‘extending human understanding through open-ended enquiry’.[28] As ‘choreographers of credit’, trust, and openness to newness, strangeness, and otherness, universities foster the very weirdness that the private money paradigm consistently fails to recognise, comprehend, or value.[29]

At the 2024 BAMS conference in Leeds, Scott Ferguson and I presented a paper on The Great Gatsby which we have since developed into a book chapter that came out in April this year in a volume titled Inflationary Modernities, edited by Wayne Stables and Kieran Brown.[30] In that chapter, we discuss this moment, when Nick meets Gatsby for the first time:

He smiled understandingly […]. It was one of those rare smiles […] that you may come across four or five times in life. […] It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey. Precisely at that point it vanished – and I was looking at an elegant young roughneck, a year or two over thirty, whose elaborate formality of speech just missed being absurd.[31]

Returning to this passage in preparation for ‘Weird Modernisms’, I was struck once again by the way it exemplifies what Scott and I have described as Fitzgerald’s method of ‘impressionist accounting’.[32] Nick’s idea of Gatsby here wavers and blurs before his eyes so that, again, this is not simply a matter of ‘elegant young roughneck’ Jimmy Gatz pretending to be the extravagant party host Jay Gatsby. Instead, Gatsby complicates and queers (or perhaps I should say weirds) orthodox understandings of gendered, raced, classed, and sexual identity while also offering glimpses beyond the private money paradigm’s austere logic of exclusionary violence.

The image at the top of this essay is the ‘Weird Pride’ flag, co-created in 2021 by autistic writers, advocates, and community organisers Fergus Murray and  Quinn Dexter for the first Weird Pride Day (March 4th), ‘a day for people to embrace their weirdness, and reject the stigma associated with being weird’.[33] In Murray’s words: ‘Creativity is driven by divergent perspectives, and squashed by demands for conformity.’[34] To conclude, then, I want to turn to the words of the neuroqueer theorist Nick Walker and to affirm that, by embracing what Walker calls ‘beautiful weirdness’, we can open up new possibilities not only for rejecting normative attitudes to identity but also for jettisoning the economic orthodoxies embedded in the private money paradigm. I suspect that every delegate at the ‘Weird Modernisms’ conference was there because at some point in the past they’d been willing to approach the beautiful weirdness of modernist art with an attitude of openness and trust. As Walker explains:

[A]nyone can liberate themselves from the strictures of normativity. The already neurodivergent can reconnect with, and cultivate previously suppressed or undeveloped capacities, in order to more fully manifest their potentials for beautiful weirdness, and those whom we call neurotypicals are just potential neuroqueer mutant comrades who haven’t yet woken up and figured out how to unzip their normal-person suits.[35]

My hope is that by embracing weird modernisms and by affirming, not only that money is queer but also that money is weirder than the austerity mindset that’s currently doing its utmost to destroy our universities, and indeed our planet, will ever be able to appreciate or contain, we can build a postnormal, inclusive and sustainable world and unzip our ‘normal-person suits’ (along with our normal-person monetary imaginations) together.


[1] I refer here to QMUCU’s indispensable ‘UK HE Shrinking’ webpage: https://qmucu.org/qmul-transformation/uk-he-shrinking/

[2] See, for example, Rob Hawkes and Scott Ferguson, ‘Green-Lighting Gatsby: Austere Modernisms, Exuberant Avant-Gardes, and their Orgastic Futures’, in Inflationary Modernities: Literature, Culture, and Economy, ed. Wayne Stables and Kieran Brown (Palgrave Macmillan, 2026), 21-47; and Rob Hawkes, ‘“Too paranoid for you?”: Suspicion, Trust and (Post/Meta?)Modern Money in Thomas Pynchon’s Bleeding Edge’, in Dis/Trusting the Digital World in Imaginative Literature, ed. Adam Kelly and Katerina Pavlidi (Edinburgh University Press, 2026), 185-204.

[3] Rob Hawkes and Scott Ferguson, ‘UK Universities in Crisis? Time to Transform Higher Ed Finance’, Money on the Left, 16 January 2025: https://moneyontheleft.org/2025/01/16/uk-universities-in-crisis-time-to-transform-higher-ed-finance/

[4] F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby [1925] (Penguin,1990), 123.

[5] Scott Ferguson, ‘Analog Critique; or, Isn’t Money Queer?’, Public Culture 37.1 (2025), 86.

[6] Rob Hawkes, ‘(Un)conditional Openness: Towards a Neochartalist Theory of Money and Trust’, Money on the Left: History, Theory, Practice 1.1 (2025), 1-42. See also Rob Hawkes, Scott Ferguson, and Will Beaman, ‘(Un)conditional Openness: Towards a Neochartalist Theory of Money and Trust’, Money on the Left, 4 July 2025: https://moneyontheleft.org/2025/07/04/unconditional-openness-towards-a-neochartalist-theory-of-money-and-trust-2/

[7] Ford Madox Ford, The Good Soldier, ed. Martin Stannard (Norton, 2012), 105-8.

[8] My first academic conference paper subsequently developed into my first academic publication, which was on this very topic. See Rob Hawkes, ‘Personalities of Paper: Characterisation in A Call and The Good Soldier ’, in Ford Madox Ford: Literary Networks and Cultural Transformations, ed. Andrzej Gasiorek and Daniel Moore (Rodopi, 2008), 43-60.

[9] Ford Madox Ford, letter to Ray Long, 2 July 1932, Letters of Ford Madox Ford, ed. Richard M. Ludwig (Princeton University Press, 1965), 208.

[10] Ford Madox Ford, The Rash Act [1933] (Carcanet, 1982), 74. For further discussion of this fascinating novel, see Rob Hawkes, ‘Trusting in Provence: Financial Crisis in The Rash Act and Henry for Hugh’, in Ford Madox Ford, France and Provence, ed. Dominique Lemarchal and Claire Davison-Pégon (Rodopi, 2011), 229-42; and ‘Bogus Modernism: Impersonation, Deception and Trust in Ford Madox Ford and Evelyn Waugh’, in Reconnecting Aestheticism and Modernism: Continuities, Revisions, Speculations, ed. Bénédicte Coste, Catherine Delyfer, and Christine Reynier (Routledge, 2017), 175-86.

[11] Ford, The Rash Act, 212.

[12] Ford, The Rash Act, 211-12.

[13] Nella Larsen, Passing [1929], in Quicksand and Passing (Serpent’s Tail, 2014), 158.

[14] Larsen, Passing, 160.

[15] ‘Andy Burnham would enter Downing Street already “boxed in” by financial markets’ according to a recent piece in the Guardian by Alex Daniel: ‘“Walking a tightrope”: Burnham’s borrowing plans clash with fiscal realities’, Guardian, 24 June 2026: https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2026/jun/24/walking-a-tightrope-andy-burnham-borrowing-clash-fiscal-realities

[16] Adam Smith, The Wealth of Nations [1776] (Penguin, 1999), 116.

[17] Karl E. Case, Ray C. Fair, and Sharon M. Oster, Principles of Economics, 10th edn. (Prentice Hall, 2012), 502.

[18] Case et al., Principles of Economics, 502.

[19] Robert D. Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (Simon and Schuster, 2000), 135.

[20] See Hawkes, ‘(Un)conditional Openness’; and Hawkes, ‘“Too paranoid for you?”’ for detailed discussions of these issues.

[21] Philippa Ryan, Trust and Distrust in Digital Economies (Routledge, 2019), 3.

[22] According to Laura Poppo, Kevin Zheng Zhou and Julie J. Li, calculative trust ‘informs expectations by deliberately and rationally assessing forward-looking conditions’ and ‘hinges on the relative values of cheating […] and cooperation’. Poppo et al., ‘When Can You Trust “Trust”? Calculative Trust, Relational Trust, and Supplier Performance’, Strategic Management Journal 37.4 (2016): 725, 724.

[23] See Derek Attridge, The Singularity of Literature (Routledge, 2004).

[24] Rob Hawkes, ‘How can novels help us think about money… and maybe even save the planet?’, Money on the Left, 26 February 2024: https://moneyontheleft.org/2024/02/26/how-can-novels-help-us-think-about-money-and-maybe-even-save-the-planetguest-lecture/

[25] Ford Madox Ford, Henry for Hugh (J.B. Lippincott, 1934).

[26] Ferguson, ‘Analog Critique’, 86.

[27] L. E. Steininger, ‘Against inflation: queer-feminist monetary (and price) theory’, Review of International Political Economy (2026), 18.

[28] Stefan Collini, What Are Universities For? (Penguin, 2012), 91.

[29] Scott Ferguson, Benjamin Wilson, William Saas, and Maxximilian Seijo, ‘Overcoming COVID-19 Requires Rethinking University Finance,’ b2o (2020): https://www.boundary2.org/2020/07/scott-ferguson-benjamin-wilson-william-saas-maxximilian-seijo-overcoming-covid-19-requires-rethinking-university-finance/

[30] Hawkes and Ferguson, ‘Green-Lighting Gatsby’, 21-47.

[31] Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, 49.

[32] Hawkes and Ferguson, ‘Green-Lighting Gatsby’, 33-6.

[33] Weird Pride Day (n.d): https://weirdpride.day/

[34] Stimpunks Foundation, ‘Weird’ (n.d.): https://stimpunks.org/glossary/weird/

[35] Nick Walker, Neuroqueer Heresies: Notes on the Neurodiversity Paradigm, Autistic Empowerment, and Postnormal Possibilities (Autonomous Press, 2021), 190.