A Modest Proposal for the Twenty-First Century: Eat the Rich

A Modest Proposal for the Twenty-First Century

In the Style of Christopher Hitchens

It is a truth universally acknowledged by anyone possessed of a functioning prefrontal cortex that our present economic arrangement has produced a most vexing predicament. The wealthy have grown so corpulent—both literally and metaphorically—upon the labors of the many that they have become a positive menace to the efficient functioning of civilization itself. Meanwhile, the working classes find themselves in the rather awkward position of simultaneously creating all wealth while possessing none of it, rather like a hen that lays golden eggs but is fed nothing but sawdust.

Having devoted considerable thought to this matter (between martinis, naturally), I believe I have hit upon a solution that is at once elegant, practical, and deliciously ironic. It is this: we should eat the rich.

Now, before you dismiss this as the ravings of a bourbon-addled contrarian, allow me to present the considerable merits of this proposal with the systematic rigor it deserves.

First, consider the economic benefits. The wealthy, having feasted upon the finest delicacies for decades, would provide meat of exceptional quality and marbling. Think of it as the ultimate farm-to-table experience, where the livestock has been grass-fed on dividend checks and aged in temperature-controlled wine cellars. A single hedge fund manager, properly prepared, could feed a family of four for weeks—and what poetic justice that would represent.

Second, the environmental advantages are undeniable. The carbon footprint of your average billionaire—what with their private jets, multiple mansions, and mega-yachts—is roughly equivalent to that of a small nation. By converting them from consumers to consumables, we would dramatically reduce greenhouse gas emissions while simultaneously addressing food insecurity. It's a win-win scenario that even Greta Thunberg might appreciate, though she'd probably prefer them prepared vegan-style.

Third, there are the considerable social benefits. The removal of extreme wealth concentration would naturally lead to a more equitable distribution of resources. No longer would we need to endure the spectacle of tech moguls launching themselves into space for recreational purposes while teachers require second jobs to afford ramen noodles. The very act of consumption would serve as both meal and metaphor—finally, literally eating the rich rather than merely being eaten by them.

I anticipate several objections to this modest proposal, which I shall address with characteristic thoroughness:

"But surely this is cannibalism!" comes the cry from the squeamish. To which I respond: nonsense. The wealthy have so thoroughly divorced themselves from common humanity through their actions that they constitute an entirely separate species—Homo economicus predatorius, if you will. They have already demonstrated their willingness to consume their fellow humans through perfectly legal means; we would merely be returning the favor with interest compounded.

"What about the moral implications?" Well, one might ask what moral implications attended the decision to pay workers wages insufficient to afford basic necessities while accumulating personal fortunes that could fund small governments. If morality is indeed the standard, then surely there is more ethical weight in feeding the hungry than in protecting those who created the hunger in the first place.

"This seems rather extreme," the moderate voices will intone. To which the appropriate response is that extreme problems require extreme solutions. We have tried progressive taxation (they bought better accountants), regulation (they purchased legislators), and public shaming (they appear to be immune). Perhaps it is time for a more direct approach.

The preparation methods, I should note, would need to be carefully considered. Given their typically sedentary lifestyles and rich diets, the wealthy would likely require slow cooking to properly break down the accumulated toxins of avarice and entitlement. I suggest a nice wine reduction—perhaps something from one of their own vineyards—with a garnish of bitter herbs to represent the tears of their former employees.

Naturally, there would need to be some system of classification. Tech billionaires, being younger and presumably more tender, would command premium prices. Old money families, aged like fine wine in their generational wealth, would be considered vintage selections. Cryptocurrency enthusiasts might be considered rather volatile and best consumed quickly before their value fluctuates.

The beauty of this proposal lies not merely in its practical benefits but in its philosophical elegance. For too long, we have allowed the metaphor of eating the rich to remain merely metaphorical. In our literal-minded age, surely it is time to pursue the logical conclusion of our rhetoric.

I submit this proposal not as a monster of cruelty, but as a rational actor seeking to resolve an irrational situation through the application of pure market logic. After all, if human beings can be commodified—as our current system so clearly demonstrates—then surely there can be no moral objection to treating commodities as consumables.

In closing, I would note that this solution addresses multiple contemporary crises simultaneously: inequality, hunger, climate change, and the general tastelessness of modern discourse. It is, dare I say, a truly modest proposal for our immodest times.

The author can be reached for dinner reservations at his usual table, where he will be happy to discuss the finer points of preparation and presentation over a properly mixed cocktail.