Gah!

We are living, the New York Times has declared, in a "new Gilded Age." It seems like I read that phrase at least once a day, as though the Grey Lady were becoming senile and repeating herself. That's all well enough: corporate executive pay has increased exponentially, workers' compensation has barely stayed even with inflation, vast pools of wealth are created by well-connected financiers and traders, paying for mind-boggling luxury apartments and private school tuitions and whatever toys modern man can think of. Fine, dandy. Maybe not entirely accurate, but the term is catchy. I can deal with seeing this phrase used more commonly than, say, allusions to Shakespeare or snide Bush-speak references.

And now, Paul Krugman (or his editor) is getting in on the act:

I’d put it this way: many progressives, myself included, hope that the next president will be another F.D.R. But we worry that he or she will turn out to be another Grover Cleveland instead — better-intentioned and much more competent than the current occupant of the White House, but too dependent on lobbyists’ money to seriously confront the excesses of our new Gilded Age.

In fairness, his column generally does hammer inequality-furthering economic policies.

But this phrase still pisses me off, royally, deeply, because I'm half-convinced that The Paper of Record means to praise with faint damning. Well-intentioned left-wing Liberal institution that it is, the Times can be deeply, embarrassingly sycophantic to power and wealth: (see Elizabeth Bumiller's reporting on President Bush's tailor in the wake of the 2004 election). Its arts and lifestyle pages dote on the haute bourgeoisie: the self-congratulatory class of successful bankers and executives who can afford to carve out their duplex condos, and the professionals who serve them. These are the best and the brightest, living in glass-walled Upper East Side homes, worrying over school admissions for their four children with Victorian names, splurging on expensive ties and cars and interior decorators. When the New York Times refers to the "new Gilded Age," its audience are the smiling, cheerful robber barons who read with nodding self-recognition, and the struggling intellectuals or artists who went to the same universities. There's something smug about the term; something darker, too, which brings out my (just barely) inner misanthrope. It's not simply that the phrase recognizes the existence of inequalities, or their heavy costs: it's that the subjects of the phrase ("We" are living in "the new Gilded Age") recognize the evil, too, or at least the unpleasantness -- many of them voted for Kerry, probably love Krugman, and all donate to well-meaning charities -- but continue on with their well-paid jobs as bankers, executives, lawyers, or what have you. Call it self-alienation of the ruling classes. It's just the way the world works.