The Disappearing Chairs: How the American Middle Class Was Quietly Dismantled
The economy didn’t break. It was redesigned, and the middle class paid the price.
Holly Springs, NC, Jan. 27, 2026 — For a growing number of Americans, the economy no longer feels like a ladder. It feels like a game of musical chairs.
The music plays. Everyone moves. And when it stops, someone is left standing.
Now, the chairs don’t represent something trivial. They represent the foundations of middle-class life: a home you can afford, a job that pays enough to save, access to credit that doesn’t trap you, and a realistic path to long-term stability.
What’s different today is that the chairs don’t disappear. They’re removed from circulation. Bought up. Consolidated. Held by fewer and fewer people.
And every time the music starts again, there are fewer places left to sit.
This isn’t a theory. It’s not a slogan. It’s a pattern that has been unfolding quietly for decades and helps explain why so many Americans feel they’re working harder just to stay in place.
When the System Actually Worked
To understand how we got here, it helps to remember a period when the system functioned very differently.
In the decades following World War II, the United States built the largest and most economically secure middle class in history. That didn’t happen by accident. It happened because the rules of the economy were intentionally designed to spread opportunity.
Homeownership expanded rapidly, not because wages were high, but because policy made ownership achievable. The GI Bill, federally backed mortgages, and large-scale housing development turned homeownership into a realistic goal for working families. Housing was treated as essential infrastructure, not a speculative asset.
At the same time, wages rose alongside productivity. As American workers became more efficient, their pay increased accordingly. A single income could support a family. A job came with stability. Retirement was something people could reasonably plan for.
Strong unions helped balance power between workers and employers. Antitrust laws prevented corporations from becoming too large or too dominant. Tax policy limited how much wealth could concentrate at the top.
The result wasn’t perfection, but it was stability. The economy grew, and most people shared in that growth.
The game worked because new chairs kept being added.
When the Music and Game Changed
Beginning in the late 1970s, the rules began to shift, slowly at first, then all at once.
Housing started to transform from a place to live into a financial asset. Zoning restrictions tightened. Public investment in housing declined. Institutional investors entered the market in force. Supply failed to keep pace with demand.
At the same time, the labor market changed. Manufacturing declined. Unions weakened. Jobs became less secure. Wages stopped rising with productivity. Benefits that were once standard became optional or disappeared altogether.
Financial markets were deregulated. Capital moved more freely. Tax policy increasingly favored investment income over wages. Corporations consolidated. Competition thinned.
None of this happened in a single moment. There was no dramatic collapse. But over time, the effect was cumulative.
The economy kept growing, but fewer people benefited from that growth.
The Chairs Didn’t Vanish, They Moved
What makes this moment so confusing is that nothing appears broken on the surface.
Jobs still exist. Homes are still being built. Markets rise and fall as they always have. From a distance, the economy looks healthy.
But beneath the surface, something fundamental has shifted.
The chairs never disappeared. They were gathered up.
Homes became investments first and shelter second. Wealth began to generate more wealth on its own, while wages lagged behind. Asset ownership became the dividing line between security and instability.
For those who already had a seat, the shift worked in their favor. Rising home values meant more equity. Stock growth meant more leverage. Access to capital made it easier to weather downturns and seize opportunities.
For everyone else, the floor slowly tilted away.
People worked more, educated themselves more, borrowed more, and still fell behind. Each economic shock made the imbalance clearer. Each recovery restored asset values faster than it restored household stability.
The game never stopped. It just sped up.
And because the changes were gradual, it was hard to point to a single moment when things went wrong. There was no single law, no single crisis. Just decades of decisions that prioritized ownership over participation and efficiency over resilience.
Why It Feels Worse Now
What makes the current moment so unsettling is that the buffers are gone.
In earlier decades, setbacks were survivable. Housing was affordable enough to recover from mistakes. Wages rose enough to keep pace with inflation. Jobs were stable enough to provide continuity.
Today, a rent increase, a medical bill, or a short period of unemployment can unravel years of careful planning. Homeownership, once the great stabilizer, has become out of reach for many working families. Debt fills the gap left by stagnant wages, and higher interest rates tighten that gap even further.
People feel this instinctively. They delay major life decisions. They postpone families. They stay in jobs they dislike because the risk of leaving feels too high.
The anxiety isn’t psychological. It’s structural.
Why This Keeps Happening
The uncomfortable truth is that no conspiracy is required for this outcome.
When an economy rewards asset ownership more than work, wealth naturally concentrates. When housing is treated as an investment, access narrows. When labor loses bargaining power, wages stagnate. When markets consolidate, competition declines.
The system doesn’t need villains. It only needs inertia.
Once wealth begins to compound faster than income, the divide widens on its own. The chairs continue to accumulate at the top, even as the music plays on.
The Question We Haven’t Answered
The United States has faced this moment before. And in the past, the response was not accidental.
The middle class expanded because policymakers chose to expand it through housing, labor protections, antitrust enforcement, and public investment. The economy grew because opportunity was shared.
The question now is whether we are willing to make those choices again.
Because the real issue isn’t whether the economy is growing.
It’s whether the growth is creating more places to sit, or simply rewarding the people who already have chairs.
And that, ultimately, is not an economic question.
It’s a civic one.
About the Author
Christian A. Hendricks is the publisher and founder of Holly Springs Update, a local news publication covering Holly Springs, NC, and its surrounding area. From time to time, he shares his views on national, regional, and state issues. He can be reached via email at christian.hendricks@hollyspringsupdate.com.