The Disconnect No One Wants to Talk About

Why the red hot job market is a scam. Bullshit jobs. Bullshit numbers.

I’m just so sick and tired of hearing about the awesome jobs numbers. They keep telling us that the economy is thriving, that jobs are falling out of coconut trees—there’s literally more jobs today than ever, and more people working now than ever. We see President Biden’s ridiculous photo ops at union picket lines, posing as workers’ biggest ally, while VP Harris is out there stumping, telling Black women—the fastest growing group of new entrepreneurs—to take on business loans, selling us into debt in the name of getting ahead. And yet, for many of us there’s a gnawing (sickening) sense that none of this really adds up. For many, the message from the top feels disgustingly and completely disconnected from the daily struggle of the 99% to put food on the table and afford rent in an increasingly inflated market.

Why is this, you ask? Because it’s bullshit. They are bullshit jobs and bullshit numbers. You’re not crazy. 

If everything is so hunky-dory, tell me why are 28% of workers actively looking for new jobs right this second? Yet the hegemonic narratives aren’t even bothered with digging into exactly why so many people are still scrambling for better opportunities when the job market is so hot, hot, hot? Team Blue wants joy and anything that interrupts the shits and giggles means you definitely must be shilling for Team Red. (No, I am not.) But the truth is, the shiny numbers and cheerful rhetoric mask a reality where "jobs" too often mean piecing together gig work, side hustles, and part-time roles without benefits. It’s a landscape that’s precarious, unstable, and—worst of all—lacking in meaning. Many people are left wondering: WTF kind of work is this? What “life" is this supposed to help me build?

There’s a word for how we’re feeling—one of the founding fathers of sociology came up with it over a century ago, but it applies now more than ever. We’ll get to that later. For now, let’s dig into the under explored disconnect—between the jobs we're told exist and the reality so many face on the ground. What is actually going on in this "record-breaking" labor market? And why are so many people left feeling like they’re treading water, even as we're told the economy is roaring?

The Illusion of Job Growth: Quality vs. Quantity

The Biden administration, along with many other politicians, frequently touts the bogus notion that the U.S. job market is thriving, citing "record numbers of jobs" and the lowest unemployment rates in decades. On the surface, the numbers do seem to support this optimism—unemployment rates were reported at 4.1% as of last week, and the overall quantity of jobs has reached historic highs. However, these figures fail to reveal the real story behind the headlines. 

Jobs data in the U.S. comes primarily from the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS), which publishes a variety of reports that track employment trends. The Current Employment Statistics (CES) survey measures job growth by collecting data from businesses, providing insights into payroll jobs across industries. The Current Population Survey (CPS), conducted jointly by the BLS and the Census Bureau, tracks employment at the individual level and provides the unemployment rate, workforce participation, and breakdowns of part-time and full-time employment.

But, the BLS data has certain limitations. For example, it does not differentiate between full-time, part-time, gig, and freelance jobs in the aggregate "job creation" numbers, which can create a misleading picture of the quality of employment. Additionally, someone holding multiple jobs is only counted once in employment statistics, making it harder to gauge the full extent of precarious work. The data also doesn’t fully capture the rise of the gig economy, where many workers may not be classified as traditional employees, and therefore, gig workers are often underrepresented. These limitations mean that while job numbers may appear robust, the quality of those jobs, in terms of benefits, security, and wages, can be obscured​.

When we dig into the details, we see that 30-40% of the new jobs in recent years are actually part-time, gig, freelance, or temporary roles—positions that are often insecure and lack benefits or pathways for advancement. As of 2024, over 39 million Americans (about 23% of the workforce) earn less than $17 an hour, which is considered a low wage. This group comprises a significant portion of the newly created jobs, particularly in the gig economy and service sectors​. The quality and sustainability of these jobs are deeply compromised, calling into question the substance of this so-called recovery.

Beneath these headline numbers lies a world of precarity–and pain. Approximately 26 million Americans are employed part-time, and within that group, around 4 million state that they are working part-time not by choice but out of necessity—in other words they cannot find full-time work. This category, labeled "involuntary part-time employment," represents a significant portion of the workforce that is essentially making do with jobs that could never provide anywhere close to the income or stability they need. This reality contrasts sharply with the celebratory narratives of job growth, revealing that while people may technically be "employed," their employment is often far from adequate for a decent life.

The gig economy also plays a major role in bolstering these employment numbers. About 35% of the U.S. workforce—roughly 57 million people—participates in some form of gig or freelance work. However, only 10-15% of these workers rely solely on gig work for their primary income. For most, gig jobs are not a sustainable primary source of employment; instead, they serve as a way to make ends meet when traditional, stable jobs are not available. Platforms like Uber, DoorDash, and Upwork may provide flexibility, but they do not offer the security, benefits, or the consistency that people need to build a future. Another underappreciated aspect of today’s job market is the number of people working multiple jobs. According to data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics, about 5% of workers hold more than one job. These individuals are counted more than once in job growth metrics, which inflates the total number of jobs and creates a misleading impression of widespread prosperity.

The disconnect between job quantity and job quality becomes even clearer when examining wages and benefits. Median wages have stagnated relative to the cost of living. While wages have risen nominally, inflation—rising as much as 8-10% over the past few years—has eroded purchasing power, making it harder for workers to afford essentials like housing, healthcare, and education. This struggle is compounded by the erosion of job-related benefits. According to the National Compensation Survey, only 69% of workers have access to employer-sponsored healthcare today, down from over 80% in the early 2000s. Similarly, fewer than half of private-sector employees now participate in retirement plans offered by their employers. Many gig workers and freelancers have no access to such safety nets at all, exacerbating their financial instability and contributing to a widespread sense of insecurity.

There is also the issue of "forced entrepreneurship." The increase in small business applications—from 3.5 million in 2019 to 5.4 million in 2021, and further averaging 5.2 million per year in 2023 and 2024, reflects a sharp rise in entrepreneurial activity. Monthly business applications have remained high in 2024, with approximately 430,000 new applications per month, a 50% increase compared to 2019​. In fact 70% of the net new jobs were created by small businesses - up from 64% last year. But, 80% of these small businesses have no employees. You read that right. Eight out of ten. So how on earth is the increase in small business applications being framed as proof of a flourishing entrepreneurial spirit?

This trend is driven by necessity rather than opportunity. People are starting self-employed, “freelance,” businesses simply because they cannot find well paying, stable, meaningful jobs elsewhere. Black women, the fastest-growing group of new entrepreneurs, have been directly encouraged to take on debt to finance start ups, but these loans typically come with predatory terms. This kind of entrepreneurship most often means taking on new risks without any real safety net—trading a lack of income for a lack of income plus debt. In other words, it’s a predatory, bullshit, scam.

The normalization of gig work, part-time jobs, and temporary employment reflects a deeper shift in the labor market. A Pew Research Center study found that 16% of Americans have earned money through online gig platforms at some point, though this figure includes those using such platforms as a secondary source of income rather than their primary livelihood. Temporary help services have also grown substantially as part of the broader professional and business services sector, suggesting that more and more workers are being funneled into insecure roles that offer neither career growth nor stability.

Beyond the numbers, there’s also the question of meaning. Employment is not just about having a job; it’s also about having work that feels purposeful and rewarding. Increasingly, however, workers are finding that their roles lack any real sense of value. David Graeber’s concept of "bullshit jobs" perfectly encapsulates this phenomenon. In surveys, 37-40% of workers report feeling that their jobs make no meaningful contribution to society. These roles—often created to satisfy bureaucratic requirements, fill managerial gaps, or perpetuate a company's internal politics—offer no sense of accomplishment or purpose. Whether it's a middle manager overseeing tasks with no clear impact, or an employee processing reports that will never be read, these "bullshit jobs" have come to define a significant portion of the modern workforce.

Historically, work has been central to identity, stability, and community. A good job provided not only a paycheck but also a sense of purpose, belonging, and a connection to something bigger: human progress. Today, many people feel deeply alienated—not just from their labor, but from the very idea of what work is supposed to mean. This alienation is at the heart of what the sociologist Émile Durkheim called "anomie"—a sense of disconnection from societal norms and a loss of meaning. The proliferation of roles that feel disconnected from any real social value leads directly to this state of normlessness, this sense of being untethered, this sense losing purpose. Workers are struggling to find satisfaction or even basic security in a job market that seems designed to perpetuate insecurity and discontent.

This alienation is clear in the fact that more than a quarter of workers are actively looking for new jobs. People aren’t just searching for better pay; they’re seeking something that feels worthwhile, something that offers stability and a sense of purpose. Yet instead of finding meaningful, secure work, many end up bouncing between part-time gigs, unpaid entrepreneurial endeavors, or roles that offer no opportunity for growth. Thus, the story of job growth in America is a largely empty one. Behind the claims of record employment lies a workforce struggling with instability, lacking in basic protections, and facing a pervasive sense of meaninglessness. Sure, the quantity of jobs has risen, but the quality has eroded—leaving millions of Americans in a state of perpetual economic precarity and existential drift.

Forced Entrepreneurship: The Myth of Economic Empowerment

The narrative of a thriving entrepreneurial culture has taken center stage in recent years, particularly during the pandemic, as policymakers celebrated a surge in new business formations. The meteoric rise in small business applications has often been framed as proof of American resilience and ingenuity. But the reality behind these numbers is far less optimistic. What we are witnessing isn’t some massive wave of opportunity but rather a wave of forced entrepreneurship—an economic condition where individuals feel they have no choice but to create their own income streams because traditional jobs that provide stability, benefits, and upward mobility are increasingly out of reach.

The idea of starting a business often conjures images of “the self-made man”--successful, autonomous, having built something from the ground up with his bare hands. It is no surprise that this image is being tweaked and promoted in communities hit hardest by economic instability. Black women are now the fastest-growing group of new entrepreneurs in the United States. Unfortunately, many see incentives and encouragement to take out debt to finance our ventures, as benevolent. But, the reality is that these loans are predatory; they offer little in the way of genuine opportunity and much in the way of risk. Instead of leading to financial empowerment, they more often leave people saddled with debt while still struggling to secure basic economic stability.

The new cohort of entrepreneurs are not starting businesses because they have access to capital, networks, or an appetite for calculated risk. They are starting businesses because the job market has failed them. They are part of what could be called a shadow workforce—people who have been forced into self-employment because they lack other viable options. This represents 80% of the small business startups, which represent 70% of the new jobs. So, rather than investing in structures that offer stable, decent-paying jobs, policymakers have pushed a neoliberal concept of entrepreneurship as a catch-all solution, suggesting that everyone should be able to “be their own boss” if they’re willing to hustle hard enough. But, of course, this is a myth that ignores the systemic challenges and risks that come with starting a business, especially without any meaningful safety net.

The concept of forced entrepreneurship has significant implications. In theory, entrepreneurship can be a path to wealth creation and independence, but in practice, it requires significant resources: access to credit, (hopefully) health insurance, a financial safety net for slow months, and a customer base that can support your venture. Many of those who become entrepreneurs by necessity lack these resources. They might be able to generate income during good months, but there is little to fall back on during bad ones. This precarious existence often means that income is inconsistent, and stress is high. Far from being the embodiment of the American Dream, forced entrepreneurship can be an exhausting and demoralizing cycle that leaves people worse off than before.

The lack of support structures for these new entrepreneurs is another glaring issue. During the pandemic, government programs like the Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) provided much-needed relief, but they were designed primarily for established businesses, not those scrambling to survive without any cushion. Many new and forced entrepreneurs didn’t even qualify for these programs, and as pandemic support dried up, they were left to fend for themselves. Without access to benefits like unemployment insurance or healthcare, self-employed individuals are often at the mercy of market conditions that they have no control over. In this way, the very structures that are supposed to support entrepreneurship actually end up deepening economic inequality.

The push toward forced entrepreneurship, compounded by a growing reliance on precarious gig work, has exacerbated downward mobility, leaving many workers economically vulnerable. Millennials and Gen Z, in particular, are facing unprecedented declines in their economic standing, with 37% of young adults earning less than their parents did at the same age. A study by the Brookings Institution highlights that while 92% of children born in 1940 out-earned their parents, that figure dropped to just 50% for children born in the 1980s. This downward shift is worsened by the shrinking middle class, with only 50% of adults identifying as middle-income in 2021, down from 61% in 1971. For Black Americans the numbers are, of course, far worse with 37% of Blacks who grew up in middle class homes finding themselves falling down into the lower class. And although there was nominal wage growth, particularly for low-wage workers, inflation has eroded purchasing power. Between 2019 and 2023, wages for many sectors increased, but real earnings, adjusted for inflation, saw a 3.4% decline, worsening the financial instability faced by millions of workers. The Covid-19 pandemic accelerated these trends, disproportionately affecting low-wage workers and pushing many into jobs with no benefits, security, or upward mobility. Far from offering stability, this landscape is driving many into a cycle of financial instability and insecurity, further entrenching economic inequality across generations and races.

Adding to this landscape of precarious work, persistent racial disparities in both jobs and income further illustrate the challenges faced by many workers, especially Black Americans. Black workers experience higher unemployment rates, with a 5.8% unemployment rate in 2023 compared to 3.2% for white workers. We are also overrepresented in low-wage jobs such as healthcare support, retail, and food services—roles that often lack benefits and stability. Nearly 40% of Black workers hold low-wage positions, compared to 25% of white workers, revealing deep inequities in job quality and access. Even when controlling for education and experience, Black workers earn 23% less than their white counterparts, and Black women, in particular, earn just 63 cents for every dollar a white man earns. This wage gap reflects longstanding barriers to income equity, despite increased education and experience among Black workers.

The Covid-19 pandemic further compounded these challenges, as Black and Latino workers were disproportionately impacted by job losses, especially in sectors like hospitality and retail. These disparities contribute to the broader racial wealth gap, where the median wealth for Black families stands at just $24,100, compared to $189,100 for white families. The combination of wage stagnation, job insecurity, and systemic racial inequalities leaves Black workers particularly vulnerable in an economy that increasingly relies on precarious, low-quality jobs.

The economic reality faced by Black workers—characterized by lower wages, higher unemployment, and fewer opportunities for upward mobility—has pushed many, particularly Black women, toward entrepreneurship out of necessity rather than choice. With 17% of Black women in the U.S. leading their own ventures as of 2022, the surge in Black female entrepreneurship is striking. Black women started businesses at 4.5 times the rate of white men in 2021, driven largely by a lack of access to stable, high-paying jobs. However, while Black women are at the forefront of this entrepreneurial wave, they continue to face systemic barriers, including limited access to capital. Shockingly, Black women receive just 0.2% of venture capital funding, and most of our businesses—97%—are sole proprietorships, limiting growth potential and sustainability. These realities highlight the need for greater financial support and structural change to address these ongoing disparities.

Yet, the Biden-Harris administration has been specifically promoting programs like SBA loans and the State Small Business Credit Initiative (SSBCI) to encourage Black entrepreneurship. While these initiatives are designed to improve access to capital, many Black entrepreneurs still face significant barriers. Programs like SBA loans require borrowers to secure funding with collateral, such as real estate or equipment—assets that Black business owners are less likely to possess due to the racial wealth gap. Because of the racial wealth gap, even when Black entrepreneurs qualify, they are forced to risk far more with fewer safety nets. This turns these loans into high-risk ventures, where any misstep could result in significant personal financial loss.

Though the SSBCI aims to address these issues by offering a range of funding mechanisms that may reduce the need for collateral in some states, it still depends on the state's specific program. Many of these loans, particularly at the $25,000 threshold for unsecured debt, fall short of what’s needed to truly scale a business, often trapping entrepreneurs in cycles of self-employment without the capital to hire employees or expand. This leaves Black entrepreneurs bearing all the financial risk with none of the structural support required to grow their businesses, deepening inequality rather than closing the gap.

The trend of pushing people towards entrepreneurship without addressing systemic barriers is also evident in how the gig economy has evolved. Gig platforms often present themselves as offering entrepreneurial opportunities—workers are referred to as “partners” or “independent contractors”—but this language masks the reality that these are often low-paid, high-risk positions with no guarantee of security or upward mobility. The gig economy embodies the same fundamental problem as forced entrepreneurship: a lack of meaningful alternatives. People become gig workers or freelancers not because they want to take on the risk of self-employment, but because they are left with no other choice.

The implications of this for the broader economy and society are profound. An economy that relies on forced entrepreneurship as a substitute for real employment opportunities is an economy built on a house of cards. It leaves individuals vulnerable, with no safety net, and it discourages long-term planning or investment in one's future. It also puts enormous pressure on people to succeed in ventures that are structurally set up to be high-risk. The failure of a new business, which is statistically likely—around 20% of new businesses fail within their first year, and about 50% by their fifth—often means personal financial disaster for those who have no fallback plan. This failure isn’t just an individual burden; it has ripple effects across families and communities, deepening economic fragility for those who are already struggling.

This myth of entrepreneurial empowerment also serves a political function. It shifts the responsibility of economic stability from society and its institutions onto individuals. If someone cannot make it as an entrepreneur, the implication is that they didn't try hard enough or weren’t savvy enough. This ignores the very real structural issues that prevent so many from succeeding—lack of capital, systemic racism, regional disparities in economic opportunity, and a social safety net that has been hollowed out over the decades. By promoting entrepreneurship as the answer, policymakers sidestep the need to create a labor market that actually works for people—one that offers stable jobs with fair wages and benefits.

In reality, what we need is not more precarious ventures masquerading as opportunity but a rethinking of what economic stability means. Forcing people into entrepreneurship without addressing the barriers they face is not empowerment; it’s abandonment. The surge in new business applications is not a sign of economic health but a sign of desperation. What’s being presented as resilience is often a survival mechanism in a system that no longer guarantees any semblance of security for the average worker. As we move forward, it's critical to recognize forced entrepreneurship for what it truly is—a symptom of systemic failure, not a solution to it. The narrative of job growth and entrepreneurial success does not hold up under scrutiny when we consider the lack of safety nets, the high rates of failure, and the overwhelming precarity facing these so-called entrepreneurs.

The Human Cost of Precarious Work

The growing prevalence of precarious jobs and forced entrepreneurship is not only an economic issue—it is also a deepening social and psychological crisis. For many workers, the instability and unpredictability of gig work, temporary employment, and forced self-employment erode not only their financial security but also their mental well-being. The costs of this system run deeper than can be measured by income statistics or employment rates; they manifest in the everyday anxiety, uncertainty, and disillusionment that increasingly define life for millions of Americans.

For those trapped in this cycle, there is a constant sense of instability. Income fluctuates from month to month, medical emergencies or unexpected expenses are impossible to solve problems, and the ability to plan for the future feels like an unattainable luxury. This kind of financial precarity bleeds into every aspect of life, creating a constant, low-level anxiety that makes it nearly impossible to think beyond the immediate present. When the next month's rent is uncertain, the possibility of pursuing further education, investing in a business, or even just taking a weekend off becomes unfathomable. This leads to what sociologists call “futurelessness”—the sense that the future offers no promise or direction, only more of the same struggle.

This futurelessness also affects people’s identities and how they perceive their role in society. Work has long been a source of purpose and social connection. It is where people contribute, build relationships, and gain a sense of pride in their abilities. But for those stuck in a string of meaningless, low-paying jobs or those pushed into solo entrepreneurship out of necessity rather than passion, work offers none of these traditional rewards. Instead of being a source of pride, work becomes a site of deep frustration. In place of meaningful labor that contributes to a larger goal, they face tasks that feel pointless or are so divorced from any tangible outcome that they leave workers feeling alienated and disconnected.

The psychological toll of this disconnect is significant. Workers in precarious jobs have been found to experience higher levels of stress, anxiety, and depression compared to those in more stable forms of employment. The lack of control over their work lives—a hallmark of gig jobs and forced entrepreneurship—further exacerbates these mental health challenges. Research consistently shows that autonomy in work is one of the key drivers of job satisfaction and well-being, yet the autonomy offered by gig work or self-employment often comes without the stability or resources necessary to make meaningful choices. Instead of feeling empowered, many feel trapped in a situation where they must hustle constantly just to maintain a precarious status quo.

The human cost of this labor market doesn’t stop at the individual level; it ripples out into families and communities. The stress and uncertainty that accompany precarious work affect relationships, leading to strained family dynamics and weakened social bonds. Parents working multiple gig jobs just don’t have the time or energy to engage meaningfully with their children, potentially affecting the next generation's sense of security and stability. The loss of a cohesive work community—once a source of social solidarity—also leaves individuals feeling isolated. Where previous generations found camaraderie and collective identity in workplaces, today's workforce is more fragmented, often left to navigate economic challenges alone.

This lack of collective identity and community support is particularly troubling at a time when social cohesion feels increasingly fragile. Historically, workplaces have been sites of solidarity, where workers could organize, support one another, and advocate for better conditions. Unions, though significantly weakened over the past few decades, once played a crucial role in providing workers a collective voice and a sense of belonging. Today, the decline of unions and the rise of gig work have left many workers atomized—disconnected from any larger community of peers who might share their struggles and advocate for change. President Biden’s recent show of support for unions, gestures toward solidarity, but it is largely symbolic when the broader structural conditions that would enable effective collective bargaining are so deeply eroded.

The individualization of risk is a major factor in the psychological burden faced by today’s workers. Where once the risks associated with employment—illness, injury, economic downturns—were mitigated by employers or the state through benefits and social safety nets, today those risks are almost entirely borne by individuals. Gig workers provide their own health insurance, cover their own sick days, and deal with fluctuating demand without any form of unemployment insurance to fall back on. The same is true for many of the forced entrepreneurs who must not only make a living but also navigate debt, market volatility, and the possibility of business failure—all without any cushion. The narrative of entrepreneurship as empowerment glosses over these harsh realities, shifting the burden of systemic economic failures onto individuals who are told they simply need to work harder or be more innovative.

The societal implications of this are profound. A population that feels disempowered, disconnected, and anxious is less likely to participate in civic life, to organize for change, or to feel invested in the future of their communities. When people feel they have no stake in the future, they disengage—not just from work, but from politics, from community-building, from any activity that requires an investment of time and energy in a future that seems increasingly uncertain. They will be so focused on survival that they miss the early warning signs of social collapse and will seek authoritarian political forms. The sense of social contract—that if you work hard, you can expect a certain level of stability and security—has been deeply undermined. In its place, we have a society that asks individuals to shoulder ever more risk, while offering ever fewer guarantees.

What we are left with is not merely an economic issue but a profound social, political and psychological one. The erosion of stable, meaningful work has led to a collective crisis of disconnection, where workers feel alienated from their labor, unsure of their role in society, and deeply anxious about their future. The emphasis on individual entrepreneurial effort, framed as a form of empowerment, is a poor substitute for the structural supports that people need—supports that ensure not just survival but the possibility of a secure and meaningful life.

We need to rethink how work is structured, how risk is distributed, and what kinds of guarantees are owed to individuals in a society that claims to value human dignity. The current system, which thrives on insecurity and celebrates precarious self-reliance, is failing millions of people—not only economically but in terms of their very ability to live fulfilling lives.

Rethinking Work and Meaningful Security

Addressing the pervasive instability that characterizes today’s labor market requires a fundamental rethinking of how work and social support are structured in America. The issues of precarious employment, forced entrepreneurship, and widespread disconnection are symptoms of a system that is fundamentally failing to deliver on the promise of a decent, stable life for those who work. But there are steps that could be taken—not just at the policy level but at the cultural and structural levels—to address these challenges and move toward an economy where work is meaningful, secure, and genuinely empowering.

The first essential shift is to redefine what "success" means in terms of employment policy and numbers. For too long, the focus has been on maximizing job numbers rather than on improving the quality of those jobs. The emphasis on employment statistics—"record low unemployment" or "millions of new jobs created"—treats all work as equally valuable, ignoring whether these roles provide dignity, security, or an actual living wage. This focus needs to change. Instead of chasing job quantity, the goal must be to create jobs that provide fair wages, adequate benefits, and a sense of purpose. This shift in mindset is critical, and it would require policymakers to prioritize not just job creation but also job quality, enforcing standards that ensure fair compensation and real protections for all workers, including those in the gig economy.

One significant step in this direction would be implementing a Universal Basic Income (UBI). By providing a basic level of financial security to all citizens, UBI would alleviate the immediate pressure that drives people into precarious work or forced entrepreneurship. UBI would allow individuals to make decisions based on what they want to do, rather than what they need to do just to survive. It would also provide a cushion for entrepreneurs to take risks without the fear that failure will lead to financial ruin. This kind of unconditional support could begin to break the cycle of desperation that underpins much of the gig economy and forced entrepreneurship today.

Another critical aspect of reform involves the expansion of social safety nets. This includes healthcare, paid sick leave, and unemployment insurance, which need to be decoupled from employment status and made universally accessible. The pandemic exposed how vulnerable workers are when access to healthcare is contingent on employment; millions lost their health coverage precisely when they needed it most. Universal healthcare would provide a foundational layer of security, ensuring that individuals do not need to risk their health or face financial catastrophe just because they lack stable employment. Similarly, paid sick leave and unemployment insurance must be available to gig workers, freelancers, and entrepreneurs—those who are often excluded from traditional safety nets despite needing them the most.

Workplace protections must also be reimagined to address the realities of today's economy. The rise of gig work has demonstrated the inadequacies of existing labor laws, which often fail to protect those who are classified as independent contractors rather than employees. The Department of Labor has proposed rules that would make it more difficult for companies to misclassify workers as independent contractors, thereby denying them benefits like overtime pay and healthcare. This is a start, but more comprehensive reforms are needed to ensure that all workers—regardless of their employment classification—are entitled to basic protections. This must include legislation to ensure that gig workers have the right to collectively bargain, access to paid leave, and receive fair compensation for their labor.

(See my article, Censorship Should Make You Rethink the Creator Economy, for a proposal.)

At a cultural level, we need to reject the idea that every individual must be an entrepreneur to succeed. This narrative, though appealing in its emphasis on self-reliance, ultimately shifts systemic risks onto individuals, leaving them to deal with the consequences of economic instability alone. Here, it’s worth revisiting the concept of the Protestant Work Ethic, as articulated by Max Weber. The idea that hard work and material success are signs of virtue—of being part of the "elect"—has deeply influenced American culture, creating a moral framework in which one’s value is tied to economic productivity and job status. This mentality continues to shape how we understand worth and success today, often to the detriment of individual well-being.

By promoting the idea that self-worth must be derived from one’s work, we have created a culture where individuals internalize economic failure as personal failure. This is particularly damaging in an economy where, increasingly, success depends less on individual effort and more on systemic access—access to stable jobs, fair wages, and support networks. To move toward a healthier relationship with work, we must decouple personal value from economic output. A meaningful life should not be determined solely by how much we produce or how well we perform in a market system that inherently disadvantages so many.

There must be a cultural shift that recognizes the value of all forms of work—not just those that promise the chance of striking it rich. A teacher, a nurse, a community organizer, or a public transit worker provides just as much, if not more, social value than an entrepreneur chasing venture capital, and they deserve economic stability and respect. Artists, writers, filmmakers and content creators create cultural connections that we all value, regardless of the capital they generate, and they deserve fair wages and dignity. Changing the narrative around what kinds of work are truly valuable can help drive the policy shifts needed to better support those whose work contributes deeply to the collective good.

Ultimately, creating an economy that provides meaningful security requires systemic change. It requires a fundamental rethinking of how risk is distributed, how value is assigned to work, and what society owes its members. The focus cannot just be on increasing job numbers or encouraging entrepreneurship as a one-size-fits-all solution. It must be about providing people with the stability, dignity, and opportunities that make life worth living. Only then can we move beyond the pervasive sense of disconnection and precarity that currently defines so much of the American labor experience and toward a future where work, in all its forms, is truly valued.