Recently, Don Watkins authored a blog post entitled "Does Bernie Sanders Want Everyone To Be Poor?" In it, Watkins presents this analogy:
"Imagine two people are thrown into a lake: a kid who can’t swim and Michael Phelps. What would you make of someone who said, “There is something profoundly wrong when we’ve seen a child drown while an Olympic gold medalist easily swims to the shore”? Take Phelps out of the picture, and the kid is still drowning. The only reason to mention Phelps is if your goal is not to help the kid, but to smear the athlete. So it goes for inequity alarmists. They don't want to guide everyone to dry land, they want to drown the best swimmers."
Alright...sigh...I'm not sure where to begin on this post's "I read Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead and took Macroeconomics 101" approach to the complex issue of wealth inequality, but I'll give it a whirl.
First of all, there is a Phelps. The hypothetical "take Phelps out of the picture" isn't useful in understanding what's going on. Not only is Phelps there, but he's perfectly capable of helping out the drowning "kid." Plus, that's totally something the real Phelps would do.
He's real, and furthermore, he's awesome.
Besides, using Phelps doesn't quite display the disparity. Instead, let's keep the drowning person (it's extremely patronizing to use the term "kid") and replace Phelps with John C. Stennis. No, not the U.S. Senator that supported racial segregation. That would be ridiculously inaccurate. Here, I'm referring to the USS John C. Stennis, one of the US Navy's nuclear-powered supercariers. This is an important distinction, because barring a catastrophe that would spell trouble for everyone in that lake, the Stennis, like the billionaire class, is virtually unsinkable at this point—especially compared to the drowning man. Plus, it more closely approximates the actual disparity--probably not enough, but close.
This bad boy, right here, for reference
Not only does The Stennis have enough buoyancy to keep above water, it has what could be construed as an almost comically ridiculous amount of buoyancy for that task—not even taking into account that the keel may actually be embedded in the lake bed (institutional and systematic entrenchment). And with reasonable upkeep at it's present condition, could probably float for thousands of years, without adding further buoyancy measures (despite the fact that it adds buoyancy measures of ridiculous proportions every day).
Of course, the Stennis claims that anyone can come aboard, and to prove this, it has provided means to do so: a dozen or so worn ropes it has flung over the side. They're wet and slippery and extremely difficult to climb. The Stennis could provide lifeboats, or better yet, a ramp, but it does not, claiming these things will sink the whole ship.
In addition, almost all the ropes only lead partway up the hull. To get to the deck, you've gotta fight your way up another 15 feet, so if you don't have super-specialized equipment and training, this is nearly impossible. Plus, once you're on deck, you're still not able to come out of the rain (yes it's also constantly raining: inflation, recession, etc). To get into the quarters—or god forbid the bridge—you need keys. On the ship, however, there are no rules about having to provide keys (because freedom). There's a sign saying you need to make access to keys available (various laws). The sign, of course, is in charge of enforcing its own message, for all practical purposes.
Now here's the clencher: The Stennis didn't start out as a supercarier. It started off as a rowboat. In order to build that rowboat out into the very impressive USS John C. Stennis, you need some people: You need builders and engineers and welders etc. You also need someone to direct construction from inside the boat, because it helps to have someone to keep a clear head in order to focus on the larger task. Over time, the hull gets higher and higher. More people need to help the director of construction, so he pulls a couple on board every now and then. He should probably pull up the most skilled engineers, but it's really his call. A lot of the time, he ends up making the final decision based on who sees eye to eye with him. ("He" has been used very intentionally, as it's usually a guy in the boat).
Oh, and another thing: There are sharks in the water (enemies of the state). Because it's really difficult to build a boat while you're being attacked by sharks (or think you're being attacked by sharks) a few of the really strong swimmers--typically from lower socio-economic backgrounds--are sent forth to handle the shark attacks (or perceived shark attacks). Often, this results in these individuals being chewed up pretty badly or killed. Some are even in so much shock just from being around people that have been killed and maimed by sharks that they forget they have to swim or feel like they'd rather drown than live on. For their service, the shark fighters are given a life preserver ring. Granted, it may require them to wait a few months or years to get one, and an unconscionable number of the shark fighters die waiting for one, but presumably, one is on the way. (Side note, turns out a lot of those sharks are actually other people building ships of their own, who have been told that Stennis' people are sharks. So it goes).
"Oceania is at war with Eurasia, and it has always been at war with Eurasia."
Back to the ship...
The hull of the ship grows higher and higher. Many people, despite working tirelessly to build it, never actually get to board the ship. Heck, their kids might not even get a shot to hang out on the ship. They've all been promised that, for their work, they'll get to enjoy the benefits of the ship, eventually. The director of ship construction hasn't swam for so long that he forgets how difficult it can be--but he's on the ship, so obviously it's not that hard. He recounts how he valiantly climbed aboard to oversee construction, which is why everyone has a slippery piece of hull to grab ahold of to this very day.
Cut back to the present day.
There are generations of people who live aboard an aircraft carrier. There are generations of people who have swam and built ships. These aircraft carriers can probably hold thousands and thousands of people, and on those aircraft carriers, you could probably build boats in no time. That doesn't happen, though. Instead, the myth persists that helping people out of the water who helped build the ship will sink it. Though to satiate the people fighting to stay afloat, the people on the ship broadcast how awesome it is on the ship to the people below. They toss over handfuls of pills. They continue to tell everyone that getting on the ship is up to them, and that it's not as difficult as seems to be. Some of the dogs of the people on the ship look down to drowning people. Some people on the ship are in the bowels of the ship from time to time, deep under the surface of the water. Rather than drown, they're protected by the ship, until they return to the deck with the help of elevators or ladders.
Ahem...
Meanwhile, people barely fight to stay afloat. If they get injured too badly, they drown. If they stop swimming for more than a few moments, they drown. Desperate people, about to drown, climb over others who are swimming.
And as depressing as this analogy is, it really doesn't even come close to approximating some of the worst circumstances. There are people who are so far away from the ship that they can't even see it, and inside the ship are amenities so opulent, it's almost a crime that such things consumed resources that could have gone to ladders and lifeboats while so many people were left to a watery grave.
So while the Phelps analogy is kind of clever, it fails to address the full scope of the issue at hand.