How To Make The Stock Market Work For The Middle Class, Not Just The Rich
The wealth effect of this single transaction could have been massive for everyday people. Now, only the super-affluent will benefit.Manosphere influencers Andrew and Tristan Tate have been forced to admit an embarrassing truth that destroys the brand they have sold to young men across the world: They were apparently lying about their wealth.
The brothers are in federal custody in Miami battling extradition to the U.K. on rape and sex-trafficking charges and have been outed by their lawyers for allegedly not owning but renting all their fancy displays of a lavish playboy lifestyle.
BlazeTV host Jason Whitlock has been calling what they've been doing a grift for years, and he’s not surprised in the slightest to find out he seems to be right.
“The mansion was a renovated warehouse at the end of a dead-end street across a swamp from the airport. $600,000 or $700,000 of building. The Guardian called it a ‘run-down meat factory.’ Black paint, red neon, strip-club lighting sold as a villain lair,” Whitlock says.
“Romanian seizures, cars, watches, some Bitcoin, 15 properties totaling about $2 million. Combined, the brothers were being discussed in the neighborhood of $10 million,” he continues.
“Andrew had already said on tape he did not own the cars, a trust, a percentage of a company, access to a Bugatti he did not own,” he adds.
His lawyers told a Miami judge that their $2.1 million Aston Martin and the $12 million Bugattis he showed off were rented. The $50 million yacht they boasted wasn’t theirs either, but rather a prop they received payment to promote.
“That is not new information. That is notarized information,” Whitlock says.
“Tate sold a world where the righteous measure of a man is the thing he can park. Superfly lighting. A driveway full of other people’s cars,” he adds.
But the Tate brothers' grift has revealed even more about the pair than just lies.
“You will know them by their fruit,” Whitlock says. “The love of money is the root of all evil. Not money; the love. The hunger that will rent a yacht and call it testimony.”
“They told the judge they were playing a role. Every boy who copied the role was the audience. Every dollar that role pulled was the box office. What that hustle kills is a young man’s ability to tell a father from a pimp,” he continues. “A healed boy is a threat to that revenue.”
To enjoy more fearless conversations at the crossroads of culture, faith, sports, and comedy with Jason Whitlock, subscribe to BlazeTV — the largest multi-platform network of voices who love America, defend the Constitution, and live the American dream.
For years, we've been force-fed the same sickening story. Young Americans aren't getting married because they simply can't afford to. The economy is disastrous, wages are too low, and housing costs require selling a kidney.
If we could just inject another thirty grand into everyone’s bank accounts, young lovers would magically sprint down the aisle. It’s a beautiful, thoroughly victim-centric fairy tale that makes everyone nod along. It’s also absolute nonsense.
Government handouts and cultural decay have combined to tell men that effort is for suckers.
A recent report from the Institute for Family Studies dismantles the narrative. The data reveals that the slow-motion suicide of American marriage has less to do with stagnant pay and much more to do with a mind virus that has convinced an entire generation they are too poor to love.
We love blaming the system because it absolves us of our crippling neuroses. But the numbers don’t lie, even if our Instagram feeds do.
Inflation-adjusted median earnings for young men recently hit a near 50-year high. Meanwhile, marriage rates continued their downward spiral. If money were the magic libido potion that many claim it is, these trends should move together. Instead, they look like two bitter, screaming divorcees tearing away from a shattered home in opposite directions.
Young men today generally out-earn the idealized pipe-smoking fathers of the 1960s and '70s. Those mid-century men somehow managed to marry and breed without first acquiring quartz countertops, stainless-steel appliances, or a diversified stock portfolio. They didn't postpone children until they could afford a five-star Disney excursion. Instead, they embraced the brutal reality of starting with absolutely nothing, expecting to build a life with someone they could love and trust.
Contrary to conventional wisdom, today's married 30-year-olds own homes at roughly the same rate as their counterparts in 1970. And those homes are massive, bloated monuments to excess, full of technology that would have looked like witchcraft a few decades ago. Somehow, grandparents survived the unbearable trauma of raising kids without an automated espresso maker, a smart home cinema system, or three streaming subscriptions to numb the existential dread.
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Somewhere along the line, the classic vow "for richer or for poorer" was replaced with "call me when your credit score hits 800." Marriage is no longer the launchpad for adulthood, but the prize handed out at the end of an exhausting corporate obstacle course. You don’t get married to build a life any more; instead, you do it to signal to your peers that you have successfully conquered capitalism. What was once the beginning of a life is now a form of social proof.
We can thank Hollywood and Silicon Valley for this psychological castration. For decades, pop culture has glorified permanent adolescence and consequences-free swiping. Algorithms have transformed regular, middle-class existence into an agonizing, daily comparison against 20-year-old crypto-millionaires who rent private jets for 10 minutes to take a selfie. When every engagement announcement looks like a royal wedding funded by an oil cartel, an ordinary life feels like an insult.
The sickness runs deeper than mere vanity, though. We are also witnessing a strange strike among prime-age men who have voluntarily withdrawn from the workforce to master video games in permanently darkened rooms. Government handouts and cultural decay have combined to tell men that effort is for suckers. Why bother putting on a pair of pants and clocking in when you can just opt out entirely and vape in peace?
Meanwhile, modern relationship advice reads like a venture capital prospectus. Young women are bombarded with articles treating courtship like a hostile corporate takeover. "Know your worth," the influencers scream. "Never settle. Demand a partner who matches your tax bracket." And if you find him, make sure he can cook, make you laugh, and respond to texts immediately.
It sounds empowering, but it’s actually a recipe for dying alone with 12 cats. A dependable plumber making a healthy living is discarded because he doesn’t match the lifestyle of a fake TikTok entrepreneur posing next to a Lamborghini he almost certainly doesn’t own. Reality cannot compete with a manufactured version of it.
The ultimate irony is thick enough to choke on. The richest, safest, most pampered generation in human history genuinely believes it is too destitute to commit to another human being. We’ve systematically dismantled every single rung of the societal ladder and are now standing around scratching our heads, wondering why the birth rate resembles a flatline on a hospital monitor.
Until young Americans recognize that a good marriage is built on character rather than curated luxury, churches will remain empty, dating apps will remain an endless purgatory, and cats will eventually inherit more apartments than children.
It’s known as the Easterlin paradox.
Though rising wealth at early stages in the lives of individuals and countries fosters greater happiness, perpetually rising wealth does not make individuals or countries perpetually happier. At some point, economics Professor Richard Easterlin of the University of Pennsylvania and USC discovered, more wealth engenders less happiness.
Private capital mindfully allocated can both do well and do good.
This paradox may be best illustrated with U.S. data. Total U.S. household wealth exceeded $182 trillion at the end of 2025, up 466% from an inflation-adjusted $39 trillion in 1980. Yet in 1980, 82% of Americans described themselves as satisfied versus only 44% of Americans today — a decline of nearly half. Similarly, in 1980, only 20% of Americans described themselves as lonely. Today, it’s 40%.
Paradoxically, more American wealth has made Americans less happy and fostered an epidemic of loneliness. Why is this, and what can be done about it?
According to the Human Flourishing Program at Harvard University, happiness and life satisfaction are only partly material in nature. Work and basic housing, health care, and material attributes are important, of course — but no more so than family relationships and friendships, community engagement, and religious affiliations.
These factors are best promoted through nurturing homes, quality education, and supportive work environments. Character formation is essential for personal meaning and purpose.
Harvard scholars clearly derived much of their insight from Aristotle. In his “Nicomachean Ethics,” Aristotle observed that multiple civic virtues were essential for eudaimonia (his term for flourishing or happiness). These include temperance, magnanimity, courage, generosity, modesty, proper ambition, sincerity, and justice.
Inculcating these virtues throughout society requires commonality of purpose, excellent education, strong families, and enlightened leadership.
One way wealthier people could foster greater happiness — their own and that of others — is to use a portion of their wealth to promote greater human flourishing.. The best way to do this is to invest in companies and funds that authentically support and multiply greater inclusivity, wholesome products and services, and higher civic virtue.
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In short, private capital mindfully allocated can both do well and do good — that is to say, earn reasonable risk-adjusted returns while simultaneously resolving humanity’s material, educational, environmental, social, and inclusivity challenges.
Fortunately, a lot could be accomplished with relatively little. My research shows that all of the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals could be achieved in under a decade if ultra-high-net-worth investors allocated no more than 1.6% of their total investable assets a year to verified impact investment strategies; the other 98.4% could continue to be spent or invested however they wish.
Replacing material-driven misery with abundant happiness is an idea whose time has come. If wealthy investors spent a little more effort understanding what their investments could do as opposed to only what financial returns they make, they would help co-create a world of optimal wealth, purpose, and fulfillment. And instead of being a partial cause of their growing discontent, successful investing could become an integral part of the cure.
Material abundance can directly foster rather than undermine human flourishing.
Editor's note: This article was originally published by RealClearPolitics and made available via RealClearWire.