Anti-establishment parties and politicians are surging in Western Europe and Japan. In the United States, the MAGA movement, led by President Donald Trump, has seized power. Political violence is rising and by several measures — violent riots, anti-government demonstrations — the US is now experiencing its highest level of social turbulence and political conflict in the last 100 years. What lies ahead? How do we navigate our societies through the turbulent waters without sliding into a bloody civil war?
Our current predicament is not unprecedented. We can learn from how past societies survived through, and ended, their crisis periods.
The “wealth pump”
The collapse of ancient empires, the revolutions that convulsed early modern Europe, or the tensions tearing apart today’s democracies are often treated as products of unique historical circumstances. But my analysis of more than a hundred past crises spanning the last two millennia shows that these outbreaks of societal instability are driven by a mechanism that operates with surprising regularity across different historical eras and places: the wealth pump. The term describes a set of conditions — economic and political — that transfer wealth from the broad base of the population to the elite, a small proportion of people who concentrate power in their hands.
The wealth pump consists of various means by which the fruits of economic growth are, instead of being shared equitably, siphoned upward the social ladder. In the past, this was from peasants to landlords; today, from workers to business owners and corporate executives. First, economic inequality rises. Then political inequality follows, as the wealthy convert their riches into influence. This development erodes democratic institutions, making it harder for the non-elite majority to defend their interests through formal politics. Eventually, systemic stability is threatened.
Undermining society
The wealth pump undermines the stability of societies in three ways.
1) It causes growing popular discontent.
The obvious effect of the wealth pump is that it enriches the upper strata and increases their numbers via upward economic mobility — for example, enabling CEOs of large companies to enter the ranks of uber-wealthy. However, this happens at the expense of the majority. To understand this, consider the relative wage, defined as the wage earned by typical workers (technically, the median wage) relative to the GDP per capita. When the relative wage declines, non-elite workers receive less and less of the fruits of economic growth. This decline in relative wages means that while wages stagnate, the costs of housing, education, and healthcare soar.
In the United States, for example, the relative wage began falling from the 1970s onward. Even as the economy grew, most Americans fell behind. This results in anger and increased mass-mobilization potential.
2) The wealth pump creates too many wealthy elites — more than there are high-power positions.
This is most clear when we consider that some top wealth holders are interested in translating their economic power into political office (think Trump, but also Michael Bloomberg, Steve Forbes, and so on). There are 10 times as many decamillionaires today (and the number of billionaires has increased even more), but still the same number of political positions — one president, 100 senators, and so on.
3) The wealth pump creates too many youths pursuing not just college but even more advanced degrees in hopes of escaping looming “precarity.”
Increasing the number of elite wannabes (stemming from the overproduction of both wealth-holders and degree-holders) who compete for a fixed number of power positions results in a game of musical chairs. As the proportion of aspirants who are frustrated in their quest for power positions swell, many are tempted to start breaking the rules of the game.
This all creates an explosive mixture: raw energy and mass action, coupled with organization and charismatic leaders. We are thus left with a paradoxical coalition: alienated elites from above, and angry masses from below. Historical revolutions — from the late Roman Republic to 18th-century France to the Russian Revolution — have often emerged from this volatile combination. It is not just the poor who revolt; revolutions are incubated among those who are downwardly mobile or shut out of power despite their elevated status and aspirations.
The long arc of instability
Of course, human societies are complex systems and the road to state breakdown is affected by other factors. And this dynamic — wealth concentration, elite overproduction, mass immiseration — does not lead to collapse overnight. But there is a point at which the contradictions can no longer be contained. Eventually, something gives.
We can trace this cycle through history. In ancient Rome, the wealth pump destroyed the class of independent citizen farmers, while the elite class ballooned with equestrians and senators jockeying for position. The result was a century of civil wars that ended with the Republic’s death and the rise of autocracy. The original populist party (populares in Latin), was launched by the Gracchi brothers, and its most successful (for a while) leader was Julius Caesar. The careers of Roman populists, who channeled the discontent of non-elite Romans, are eerily similar to the modern populists, most notably Trump.
In 17th-century England, decades of population growth, declining wages, and dramatic expansion of the landed gentry numbers led to civil war, regicide, and a revolutionary reordering of the political economy. In pre-revolutionary France, the aristocracy and clergy entrenched their privileges while the rural and urban poor bore the burden of taxation — until the whole system exploded in 1789.
These were not isolated incidents. They are manifestations of a recurring structural dynamic. To end a crisis, a society, first and foremost, needs to shut down the wealth pump.
What can we learn from history about ending crisis periods?
Once a society steps on the road to crisis, it resembles a massive ball rolling down a narrow valley with steep slopes. It’s very difficult to stop or even deflect its rush to an impending disaster. But when the ball arrives at the crisis point — for example, when counter-elites seize power — the valley opens up.
In the past, most exits from crisis had to pass through a lengthy period of disintegration and disunity, lasting many decades and sometimes longer than a century. An example is the early modern crisis in France, which began in 1562 with the Wars of Religion and ended with the start of Louis XIV’s personal rule in 1661. The next disintegrative period in France, the Age of Revolutions, also lasted many decades — from 1789 to 1870.
Most commonly, wealth pumps were turned off by a major epidemic, calamitous civil war, or transformative revolution. “Death is the great leveler,” as the historian Walter Scheidel argued in his eponymous book. The Black Death in 14th-century Western Europe carried away half of the population. Collapsing labor supply drove up real wages, reversing the wealth pump. In France and England, this was followed by many decades of internecine wars, in which overproduced elites partly exterminated themselves, driving large swaths into the commoner class. In the next cycle, known as the General Crisis of the 17th century, the Thirty Years’ War (1618–1648) killed off more than one-third of German population, also resetting the structural conditions that then ended the crisis.
But there are other ways to exit the crisis and some trajectories manage to avoid a revolution or a civil war. Analysis by my research group suggests that at the cusp of the crisis the massive ball of the state can be nudged to achieve better outcomes. This insight is highly relevant to us today — in fact, a high degree of unpredictability and historical contingency is grounds for optimism. It means that we collectively can really shape the future.
My colleagues and I review several examples that successfully avoided revolution or civil war. In one article, we discuss the Conflict of the Orders in ancient Rome, which brought the Roman Republic to the brink of civil war, but was resolved when the patricians agreed to share power with the plebeians.
During the reform period in England (1838–1857), political reforms removed “rotten boroughs,” thus shifting the balance of power away from the landed gentry in favor of the upwardly mobile commercial elites. Later reforms increased the electorate by broadening who could vote. Another key legislation that alleviated immiseration was the repeal of the Corn Laws that had imposed tariffs on the import of grains, which benefited large landowners but inflated the price of staple food in domestic markets.
The Great Reforms in the Russian Empire (1861–1874) not only abolished serfdom, but also relaxed censorship of the media and revamped the judicial system. Other reforms include military modernization, local self-government, education reforms, reform of the Russian Orthodox Church, and economic modernization.
The US was in crisis before the New Deal (1933–1938). But the New Deal instituted a broad array of redistributive policies: steeply progressive tax rates, strong labor rights, regulation of finance, large-scale investment in infrastructure and education, and the expansion of social safety nets. These reforms didn’t happen overnight. They were the product of hard-fought political struggles (beginning during the early decades of the twentieth century), often driven by mass movements and reform-minded segments of the elites who recognized that continued extraction risked systemic collapse. Social Democratic movements in northern and western Europe, such as Denmark, did an even better job of turning off their wealth pumps, over the same period of time.
Finding a way out
Unfortunately, analysis of 150 of past crises showed that they avoided substantial bloodshed only in about 10 to 15 percent of cases. But it is encouraging that successful crisis resolutions, rare in the distant past, become more frequent as we get closer to today.
Our societies are different from Imperial Rome and from even our mid-20th century predecessors. But the principles behind a successful exit from crisis remain relevant. While the specific policies will differ across societies, the overarching goal remains the same: to rebalance the distribution of wealth and power in a way that promotes long-term stability, not short-term elite enrichment.
One principle is the need to emphasize the importance of productive, and not just extractive, economic activity. In recent decades, financialization and monopolization have shifted the economy’s center of gravity away from industries that produce real goods and services toward those that merely rearrange ownership or extract rents. To reverse this, we need tax and regulatory structures that reward innovation, job creation, and sustainable enterprise — while discouraging speculative asset bubbles, predatory lending, and corporate hoarding.
Progressive taxation is another cornerstone of any effort to slow the wealth pump. This may include not just higher income tax rates on the top brackets, but also wealth taxes, inheritance taxes, and the closing of loopholes that allow billionaires to pay lower effective tax rates than their employees.
Equally important is the restructuring of the labor market from below. For decades, the decline of organized labor has weakened the bargaining power of the majority, resulting in wage stagnation. When workers are empowered to demand their fair share of economic gains, the upward suction of wealth slows — and the society becomes both more equitable and more resilient.
Another key front may be the regulation of political power itself. As wealth has concentrated, so has influence — often in ways that distort democracy. Campaign finance reform, lobbying restrictions, anti-corruption measures, and increased transparency in government are all essential to ensure that public policy serves the broad citizenry rather than narrow elite interests. A democracy dominated by oligarchic donors is a contradiction in terms — and a recipe for social unrest.
But policies alone are not enough. The wealth pump is also sustained by narratives: the belief that extreme inequality is the price of progress, that markets always know best, that poverty reflects moral failure rather than structural disadvantage. These cultural frames must be challenged and replaced with a new ethic of social solidarity and reciprocal obligation. No society can thrive when it abandons the idea of a common good.
The thoughts above should not be taken as a concrete reform program. Historically, different societies used a variety of ways to end their disintegrative periods. Often, finding a way out requires many decades of experimentation and political conflict. The main problem is that the continuing operation of the wealth pump is extremely lucrative for most elites. Institutional inertia and vested interest will resist every step of the rebalancing. This is why I wouldn’t expect rapid action. Instead we should be ready for years and perhaps even decades of social turbulence and political infighting (and I hope we will avoid hot civil war). But the longer we fail to tame the wealth pump, the longer our own disintegrative period will be.
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