America has a moral dilemma when it comes to helping our neighbors.
We’ve been conditioned, programmed really, to believe that everyone’s success (or failure) is purely a matter of hard work. That there are no free meals. That bootstraps are for pulling yourself up, not for tossing to someone drowning. And because of that conditioning, we’ve created a culture where saving people directly, even when it would benefit all of us, is politically toxic.
That’s why, during the 2008 financial crisis, bailing out homeowners was off the table. Not because it wasn’t smart policy. It was. It would’ve pumped money right back into the economy—into local businesses, contractors, groceries, restaurants. That kind of relief doesn’t sit in a bank account in the Caymans. It circulates. It feeds kids. It pays off medical bills. It keeps neighborhoods intact.
But that didn’t happen.
Because Americans, many of whom had already paid their mortgages or never bought into risky loans, would’ve seen that as “unfair.”
“If he gets help, then I should get help.” That’s the default mindset. Not: “If he gets help, that helps us all.”
And so instead of helping people directly, we bailed out the banks.
Obama did, in fact, save the economy from total collapse. That’s not in question. But was it the best solution? No, but it was the most politically feasible solution. And that distinction matters.
And let me be clear: I don’t want to hear another word blaming Obama for the mess he walked into. He didn’t create the crisis, he inherited it. The seeds of that collapse were planted long before he took office, with deregulation, Wall Street greed, reckless lending, and decades of politicians choosing corporate donors over the people.
What happened in 2008 wasn’t just an economic failure—it was a failure of the American psyche. A country so allergic to the word “socialist,” so brainwashed by individualism, that the most obvious, people-centered solutions were dismissed before they could even be debated. Obama didn’t make that mindset, but he had to govern inside it.
Just like recently, with Biden’s student loan forgiveness plan. Millions of Americans would’ve had hundreds shaved off their monthly bills. That’s money that could’ve gone back into the economy. Restaurants, car repairs, childcare, rent, and more. It would’ve helped working-class people and their communities directly.
But much of it got blocked.
Texas, for example, challenged the plan, and the courts killed it. Why? Because some Americans can’t stand the thought of their neighbors getting help. But those same Americans will sit quietly while corporations get tax breaks, banks get bailouts, and billionaires dodge taxes.
That’s the American contradiction: We hate welfare—unless it’s for the rich.
Why are we like this?
Because we’ve been trained to be like this. The Cold War taught our parents that “socialism” was a dirty word. The Reagan era sold us on “trickle-down economics,” even though it’s been debunked over and over. And right-wing propaganda has convinced generation after generation that helping regular people smells too much like communism.
So we end up rejecting real solutions—not because they wouldn’t work—but because they make us feel uncomfortable. Because Fox News said they’re “un-American.” Because we’d rather everyone suffer than admit that collective care might actually be the answer.
The truth is that alternatives during the 2008 crisis, like homeowner bailouts or nationalizing the worst banks, would’ve helped more people, more directly, and more fairly. Economists knew it. Activists knew it. Hell, many people inside the administration knew it.
But we couldn’t do it.
Because America’s psyche wasn’t ready.
We’d rather cut off our own hand than see our neighbor eat.
And until we fix that mentality, until we stop treating fairness like a zero-sum game, we’ll keep making the same mistakes.
We’ll keep bailing out billionaires while blaming the poor.
We’ll keep rejecting real relief out of fear of the word “socialist.”
And we’ll keep hurting ourselves, over and over, just to keep someone else from getting help.
That’s not just bad policy, it’s national self-harm.
It’s time to wake up, or is waking up too woke for you?