A video trending on social media this week shows a woman breaking down over her student loans:
This isn’t a failure of personal responsibility. This is the designed outcome of a system built to drain your wallet.
After I published my previous essay, readers shared their own moments of realization. Mine came years ago at a car dealership when I tried to pay cash and they looked horrified. I was proud I’d saved enough to pay in full, but that pride turned to confusion when they treated my cash like a problem to be solved. The salesman spent ten minutes trying to convince me to finance at some absurd rate, and I left confused. That’s when I understood – they don’t want transactions anymore, they want relationships. Permanent, extractive relationships.
The woman in the video – her 17% student loans and my confused car dealer are the same system – built to keep us paying forever. Both scenarios reveal the same truth: the economy has been restructured to prefer debt over ownership, subscription over purchase, permanent extraction over finite transactions. She’s paying $1,500 monthly on loans that only grow. She’s not failing the system – the system is rigged against her.
Not that long ago, I genuinely believed fractional ownership could democratize access to assets. Coming from tech, I was naive about who would control these systems and how they’d be weaponized. What I documented in The Boomer Mirage (which showed how ownership was systematically priced out of reach) was just the setup. Today I want to show you the punchline: how the people promising “you’ll own nothing and be happy” engineered a world where they own everything and get rich.
The American Dream wasn’t killed – it was privatized.
The goal was never a secret. It became the defining mantra of the era, famously captured by tech analyst Tom Goodwin in 2015: “Uber, the world’s largest taxi company, owns no vehicles. Facebook, the world’s most popular media owner, creates no content. [Amazon], the most valuable retailer, has no inventory. And Airbnb, the world’s largest accommodation provider, owns no real estate. Something interesting is happening.”
What was ‘interesting’ was a sophisticated money grab disguised as innovation.
It took me years to realize they hadn’t just priced us out – they’d rebranded exclusion as lifestyle choice. Cultural institutions aided the switch. Magazines, TED Talks, influencers all praised “freedom from stuff.” Suddenly ownership became materialist while minimalism evolved.
The pitch was seductive. “What if you could share your city?” Airbnb’s founder asked at a 2016 TED Talk. They sold the idea of belonging and overcoming stranger-danger bias. But the financial model wasn’t about sharing – it was about creating a global platform to monetize spare rooms and, eventually, entire homes, turning community assets into revenue streams for distant shareholders, one 15% service fee at a time.
People were taught to think “Why would I want to be tied down to a mortgage?” without realizing they were choosing permanent rent instead. The pitch felt liberating on the surface, but step back and the timing reveals everything. This wasn’t accidental messaging. The rebranding happened precisely as ownership became mathematically impossible.
When I mapped the timeline from my previous analysis, the coordination became obvious. As rates fell during the Boomer era, many in my parents’ generation built wealth through ownership – buying homes, owning cars outright, financing that decreased over time. Gen X caught the tail end of that system. Millennials and Gen Z were offered ‘access’ instead.
The generational trends are stark. While Boomers participated in systems that built wealth, younger generations largely participate in systems built to extract wealth – renting everything, subscriptions forever, financing that never ends.
A few years ago, I did an audit of my finances and realized I was paying $400 monthly for software I used to own. Adobe Creative Suite, which I’d bought once for $600, was now costing me $240 annually forever. That’s when the pattern became undeniable. This wasn’t market evolution – it was coordinated replacement of an economy they deliberately broke. The same institutions that killed homeownership now profit from the rental economy that replaced it.
My younger cousin makes $65,000 a year – decent money by most standards. He showed me where his money goes each month: $1,800 rent, $600 car lease, $400 in subscriptions, $200 in various app fees. That’s $3,000 monthly going purely to access and subscriptions – with zero assets to show for it.
His grandfather’s $3,000 monthly would have bought a house, built equity, created generational wealth – even adjusting for inflation. His $3,000 disappears into other people’s portfolios every month. This isn’t coincidence – it’s wealth extraction disguised as convenience.
I’ve seen fractional ownership work – when the community controls it. Community investment pools where local capital stays local. Cooperative models where members build actual equity stakes. Tool libraries with ownership shares. Community land trusts where members gain wealth while preventing speculation.
I became fascinated with DAOs and liquidity pools in 2020-21 because they seemed to offer genuine community ownership. But governance turned out to be the killer app – who controls the system determines whether it builds wealth for participants or extracts it.
The difference isn’t the technology – it’s who captures the value. These models work because participants gain equity, not just access.
The math is simple and brutal. I tracked Airbnb’s money flow: host gets $100 per night, platform gets ~$15, community loses significant housing stock value. My car research showed leasing versus buying over ten years: $60,000 in payments versus $35,000 purchase with $15,000 residual value. I realized I’d paid Adobe $2,400 over ten years for what used to cost $600 once.
That car dealership epiphany became my lens. I started seeing the same financing-over-ownership push everywhere – local wealth flowing to distant platform owners. Every industry had flipped the same way. The “sharing economy” didn’t emerge randomly. It launched precisely as ownership became unaffordable. The founders weren’t hiding their extraction model – they were celebrating it.
The vision was laid bare in public filings like WeWork’s. Their mission wasn’t just to rent desks, but to create a “new ecosystem for how we work, live and grow.” They sold “access” to “community” and “inspiring spaces” – all intangible concepts – while capturing hard financial value from long-term leases. It was the perfect model: take on long-term assets, slice them up, and rent them back to a generation that could no longer afford them.
But there’s another benefit of this model for those who oversee it: unprecedented data extraction. Rental relationships generate surveillance that ownership never did. Every transaction becomes trackable, every behavior monetizable. Car leases track where you drive, software subscriptions monitor usage, streaming services record preferences.
The pattern is clear from digital surveillance systems – rental often means monitoring. The data extraction isn’t accidental – it’s the business model. Your information becomes another revenue stream while you get poorer. Total visibility is the hidden cost of never owning anything.
But the problem is deeper than cash flow. It’s about the systemic preclusion from building equity. The psychological weight of this system is crushing – watching your payments build someone else’s equity while you stay trapped. Student loans plus housing costs lock entire generations into permanent renter status.
This isn’t accidental. The debt trap feeds the rental economy perfectly: Can’t buy → must rent → wealth flows up → even less able to buy. It’s a self-reinforcing cycle designed to convert ownership into access, assets into subscriptions.
The system may be rigged, but alternatives exist. Here’s what people can actually do:
Join existing community programs – Community land trusts, cooperative housing projects, local investment pools that keep wealth in the neighborhood.
Start cooperative buying groups – Pool resources with neighbors to purchase tools, equipment, even vehicles collectively with shared ownership stakes.
Investigate equity-building alternatives – Community-supported agriculture with ownership components, local time banks that build relationships and shared value.
Support platform cooperatives – Driver-owned alternatives to Uber, host-owned alternatives to Airbnb, cooperative alternatives to extraction platforms.
These aren’t utopian theories – they’re working models already building real wealth for participants instead of distant shareholders.
Understanding the extraction machine is the first step toward starving it. The technology isn’t the problem – who controls it is. The same urgency from my previous analysis applies here: the outcome isn’t predetermined, it’s being decided right now.
Every “sharing economy” innovation should face one question: Who actually gets rich? We can build alternatives or keep enriching the extractors.
They’ve designed a system where they’ll own everything and be rich while you own nothing. But we can design something better.