The Makings of a New America
Can we break free from the New Gilded Age to build something better?
This is the third and final article, from Bradley Schurman from New Rules Media and Brie Abramovicz from The Portfolio Career Lab, in our three-part series on wealth inequality and the promise of a new American, which coincides with the third season of HBO’s hit show, The Gilded Age.
As America faces a new age of disruption—from institutional decline and economic inequality to climate volatility and technological upheaval—communities across the country are quietly pioneering bold alternatives. From mutual aid networks to cooperative ownership and portfolio careers, these emerging models offer a blueprint for a more resilient, equitable future—one built not by elites, but by ordinary people reimagining what’s possible.
Washington, D.C. — If the story of America is, as historian Jon Meacham wrote, a constant tension between "our worst instincts and our better angels,” then today we are living through a reckoning. Political violence is on the rise. Trust in institutions is near historic lows. Economic inequality has reached levels not seen since the original Gilded Age. But in every rupture lies a chance to rebuild.
History teaches us that in moments of crisis, Americans have always found ways to renew, reimagine, and rise. The future is not yet written. It is, as ever, ours to shape.
The Legacy of Renewal
The first Gilded Age, for all its excess and injustice, ultimately gave rise to an era of reform. The Progressive Era, the New Deal, and the Great Society were not inevitable—they were forged by ordinary people who refused to accept the status quo. Settlement houses, labor unions, women's suffrage campaigns, and the civil rights movement all originated at the grassroots level, not in the halls of power. These movements expanded democracy, protected workers, and built the social safety net that would define the American middle class for generations.
Today’s equivalents are just as vital. In FY 2024, approximately 41.7 million Americans, or about 12.3% of the population, received SNAP benefits each month, at an annual cost of roughly $93.8 billion, with average monthly payments of $188 per person ($352 per household). With pandemic-era emergency allotments expiring in March 2023, this reduction of approximately $90 per month per person underscores the continuing fiscal strain.
Mutual Aid
One of the most striking developments of recent years is the resurgence of mutual aid. During the COVID-19 pandemic, as government systems faltered, communities mobilized to provide food, medicine, and support to neighbors in need. These networks, often organized through social media and messaging apps, filled gaps left by both the formal economy and the state.
Unlike traditional charity, mutual aid is rooted in solidarity, not saviorism. It’s neighbors helping neighbors—not institutions managing need. In Los Angeles County, for example, the Dignity and Power Now Mutual Aid program has supported over 2,100 individuals since 2020. In 2023 alone, 533 were supported at community events, with 136 referred to other services, showing how those organized efforts persist.
During the pandemic, Google searches for “mutual aid” surged by more than 400%, signaling nationwide grassroots interest. Many of these networks are now evolving into sustained civic infrastructure.
The Rise of Fourth Spaces
Sociologists once described “third spaces”—libraries, churches, union halls—as vital places of community outside home and work. But as these traditional hubs decline, a new civic frontier is emerging: “fourth spaces.” These are hybrid, often digital communities that blur the boundaries between gathering and activism.
Platforms like Discord (now over 150 million monthly users), WhatsApp, Substack, and Patreon have become hubs for coaching circles, peer support groups, and value-driven micro-communities. These are not just digital water coolers—they’re incubators for new ideas, relationships, and solidarity.
Universal Basic Income
The idea of a universal basic income (UBI)—regular, unconditional cash payments to all citizens—has moved from the fringes to the mainstream. Pilot programs in Stockton, California, Jackson, Mississippi, and countries like Finland and Kenya have shown that UBI reduces poverty, improves mental health, and enhances civic engagement.
In Stockton’s 2021 pilot, recipients of $500 per month primarily spent their funds on food, utilities, and childcare, while the rate of full-time employment rose by 12 percentage points, debunking the myth that cash leads to idleness.
Kenya’s large-scale UBI trials showed recipients became more entrepreneurial, investing in education, health, and businesses, reinforcing the argument that economic security enables innovation.
Crowdsourced Safety Nets
While traditional institutions struggle to meet basic needs, communities are pioneering new models of shared wealth that go far beyond individual crowdfunding. Platforms like Kiva, which have facilitated over $1.7 billion in microloans to entrepreneurs in 77 countries, demonstrate how technology can democratize access to capital. But the real innovation is happening at the intersection of digital tools and community organizing.
In Detroit, the Kresge Foundation's BUILD program combines crowdfunding with technical assistance, helping Black and Latino entrepreneurs raise capital while building local networks of support. Rather than relying on distant donors, these campaigns mobilize neighborhood investors who understand the local context and stay engaged beyond the initial funding.
Meanwhile, participatory grantmaking is redistributing philanthropic power. Organizations like the Disability Rights Fund and the National Domestic Workers Alliance now involve community members directly in funding decisions, moving resources to grassroots leaders who know their communities best. This isn't charity—it's community members controlling the flow of capital to address their own priorities.
These models are scaling. Community Development Financial Institutions (CDFIs) now manage over $222 billion in assets, providing loans and investments that traditional banks won't make. Crowdfunding platforms specifically designed for social impact, like ioby (In Our Backyards), have funded thousands of community-led projects from urban gardens to bike lanes, proving that when people control the capital, they invest in what actually improves their daily lives.
The question isn't whether generosity can replace justice—it's whether these emerging models of community-controlled capital can grow into the infrastructure for a more equitable economy.
Institutional Hybrids and Public‑Private Partnerships
Between 2001 and 2016, USAID leveraged nearly 1,400 public-private collaborations, attracting $3.74 in private investment for every government dollar. These partnerships funded broadband expansion in places like rural Virginia, where counties like Bland used public-private models to deploy wireless networks to underserved mountain communities, and supported housing development and green infrastructure across dozens of countries. Companies have adopted these same collaborative approaches in their own operations, with Salesforce committing $500 million to climate justice and thousands of businesses experimenting with employee ownership and profit-sharing.
But these examples represent the foundation of what could be built, not the scale of what's needed. Salesforce's $500 million climate fund, while substantial, is a fraction of what climate adaptation will require. Employee ownership remains limited to a few thousand companies when millions exist. The infrastructure for cross-sector collaboration exists, but it hasn't yet been deployed at the magnitude our challenges demand.
The question isn't whether these hybrid approaches work. The evidence suggests they do. It's whether they can be scaled to match the problems they're meant to solve.
Cooperative Ownership and Community Wealth
As regions across the U.S.—and globally—face aging populations and declining birthrates, a quiet revolution is taking shape: the rise of cooperative ownership. Worker-owned businesses and community-based enterprises are emerging as durable responses to demographic and economic stress. In places where traditional employers are leaving or aging out, cooperatives are stepping in to preserve jobs, build local wealth, and keep communities intact.
One of the leading examples is Cleveland’s Evergreen Cooperatives, a network of worker-owned businesses launched to revitalize disinvested neighborhoods. Evergreen includes a commercial laundry servicing major hospitals, an urban greenhouse, and an energy efficiency company. Profits are shared with workers, and governance is democratic, ensuring that ownership stays rooted in the community.
In Western North Carolina, where rural depopulation threatens small businesses, a growing number of owners nearing retirement are transitioning their firms to employee ownership. The Industrial Commons, based in Morganton, has helped incubate worker cooperatives in manufacturing and textiles, reviving a region once hollowed out by globalization.
Globally, the cooperative model is gaining traction as well. In Japan, where population aging is most acute, consumer cooperatives have expanded into eldercare, retail, and even funeral services. These cooperatives often employ older adults, creating intergenerational workforces in shrinking towns. Meanwhile, in Italy’s Emilia-Romagna region, home to over 8,000 cooperatives, cooperative enterprises account for approximately 30% of the region's GDP, demonstrating how shared ownership can scale.
Cooperatives aren’t just economic models—they are civic engines. They build resilience by anchoring ownership locally, distributing profits more equitably, and embedding democratic practices in the workplace. In aging and depopulating geographies, they offer a path forward: not just to preserve what’s left, but to reimagine what’s possible.
Portfolio Careers and the Redefinition of Ambition
The forty-year career is dying, and in its place, something radically different is taking shape. The numbers tell the story of a quiet revolution: 76.4 million Americans—more than one in three workers—piece together their financial livelihood through portfolio careers, a mosaic of freelance work, side hustles, creative projects, and part-time roles, generating $1.35 trillion in economic activity. By 2028, this will be the majority of the American workforce. We're witnessing the largest transformation in how humans organize their working lives since the Industrial Revolution.
This shift, while resourceful, comes with real costs. Over 60% of gig workers can't cover a $400 emergency without borrowing or selling something, revealing how our safety net was designed for a different era. Yet younger workers keep choosing this path, trading traditional security for something their parents' generation rarely had: the ability to define success on their own terms. They're building careers that flex around children, passions, and purposes that extend beyond quarterly earnings.
What we're seeing emerge isn't just individual career choices—it's the scaffolding of a new economic model. Platforms like Patreon, Substack, and Discord have become more than tools; they're infrastructure for creative independence and community-driven work. Freelancers are forming collectives, sharing health insurance, and creating professional development networks. Like the mutual aid networks that surged during the pandemic, portfolio workers are building the support systems that institutions failed to provide. The question isn't whether this transformation will continue—the demographic and technological forces driving it are too powerful to reverse. The question is whether we'll build the infrastructure to support it, or continue trying to fit a 21st-century workforce into 20th-century systems until both break entirely.
The Power of Imagination and the New American Story
What ties these movements together is not ideology but imagination—the courage to ask: What if we built something better?
Imagination begins with naming a problem but succeeds through experimentation, persistence, and the willingness to learn from failure.
The future we can build is not a return to the past, but a leap forward. It asks us to be honest about our failures, bold in our ideals, and united in our agency. It invites us to see each other not as competitors but as fellow travelers on a shared journey.
This new American story unfolds in classrooms, community gardens, city councils, maker spaces, picket lines, and digital platforms. It’s a story of resilience, creativity, and hope.
Democracy is not a spectator sport. And the arc of history bends toward justice only when enough hands reach out to pull it.
Hope is not blind optimism. It is the belief, born of experience, that things can get better. In this uncertain moment, that hope is not only justified but necessary for the collective good.
Let’s build a future worthy of our highest ideals, together.
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