Analysis
The $2 Billion Question: Who Really Profits When Wealth Advisers Sell You Private Capital?
A bombshell FT analysis of 16 funds exposes the hidden fee machine inside the “democratisation” of alternatives—and why the math may not add up for investors
The pitch is irresistible. Private equity returns. Private credit yields. The exclusive strategies once reserved for Yale’s endowment or a sovereign wealth fund, now accessible to you, the high-net-worth individual, through your wealth adviser. The democratisation of private capital is, we are told, one of the great financial innovations of our era.
But a forensic analysis by the Financial Times, examining fee data across 16 major private capital funds from managers including Blackstone, Blue Owl, Apollo Global Management, and KKR, has punctured this narrative with uncomfortable precision. The headline figure—more than $2 billion collected in fees by banks, brokerages, and wealth advisers for distributing and servicing these products—reframes the entire story. The question is no longer whether ordinary wealthy investors can access private markets. It is whether the terms on which they access them are genuinely in their interest.
This is not a niche compliance concern. It is a structural indictment of how an entire industry is monetising a captive audience.
The Architecture of the Wealth Channel Fee Machine
To understand why the FT‘s analysis matters, one must first understand the plumbing. Private capital managers—the Blackstones and Apollos of the world—have spent the past five years building what they call the “wealth channel”: a distribution network that pushes their funds through wirehouses, independent broker-dealers, private banks, and registered investment advisers to high-net-worth clients. The logic was straightforward: institutional fundraising had plateaued, and there were tens of trillions of dollars sitting in retail and wealth management accounts that had never owned an alternative investment.
The vehicle of choice became the evergreen fund—an open-ended or semi-liquid structure, often structured as a non-traded REIT, a Business Development Company (BDC), or an interval fund—that allowed less sophisticated investors to participate without the ten-year lockup of a traditional LP commitment. According to McKinsey, evergreen and semi-liquid vehicles grew to $348 billion in AUM in the United States alone by the end of 2024, attracting $64 billion in net inflows that year. In 2025, retail capital flowing into alternative structures reached $204 billion, more than double the 2023 level of $92 billion, according to data cited in McKinsey’s Global Private Markets Report 2026.
This scale is staggering. And for every dollar flowing in, a fee is extracted—not once, but at multiple points in the chain.
The FT analysis reveals the full anatomy. General partners (GPs) pay upfront distribution fees to the banks and brokerages that sell their funds, often ranging from 1% to 3.5% of committed capital. They pay annual servicing fees, typically between 0.25% and 1%, to advisers for ongoing client support. And in many structures, they pay sub-advisory or placement agent fees on top. When the FT aggregated these flows across 16 major funds over time, the total exceeded $2 billion. These are not fees paid by the GPs out of their own pockets—they are ultimately embedded in the economics of the fund and borne, directly or indirectly, by the end investor.
The Return Drag No One Advertises
Here is where the mathematics become uncomfortable. Private capital’s appeal rests on a performance premium—the so-called illiquidity premium—that compensates investors for locking up capital in hard-to-exit strategies. Historically, well-managed private equity buyout funds have delivered net IRRs in the mid-to-high teens. Private credit, the faster-growing segment, has offered floating yields of 10–12% in the current rate environment.
But that is the gross figure, before the full layer-cake of fees. The traditional institutional investor already faces the “2-and-20” model—a 2% annual management fee and a 20% performance carry. In the wealth channel, the investor faces those same economics plus the additional distribution and servicing fees paid to the adviser or broker. A 1% upfront placement fee and a 0.5% annual servicing fee on a fund with a 1.5% management fee means the investor is paying an effective annual cost of 3–4% before a single dollar of carry is taken. Against a private credit yield of 10%, this is material. Against a sub-par vintage that returns 8%, it is devastating.
This is not hypothetical. The events of early 2026 have made the stakes explicit. Blackstone was forced to honour record redemption requests from its flagship $82 billion BCRED private credit fund after investors sought to pull roughly $3.8 billion. Blue Owl Capital ended regular quarterly liquidity windows in its retail-focused OBDC II fund. KKR, Apollo, and Ares all saw their share prices fall sharply as retail investors rushed for exits. Fortune reported that over $265 billion in market capitalisation was erased across the major alternative managers. For retail investors trapped in semi-liquid structures, the promised liquidity proved to be as illusory as the promised premium.
The distribution fees, however, had already been collected.
The Conflict at the Heart of the Advice Relationship
The FT‘s analysis does something more than expose a fee quantum. It illuminates a structural conflict of interest that regulators, investors, and commentators have danced around for years without confronting directly.
When a wealth adviser earns a 1% upfront placement fee and a 0.5% annual trail for recommending a private credit BDC, the adviser’s financial incentive is, by definition, to recommend that product. The economics are more attractive than recommending a passive equity ETF at 0.03% expense ratio, or even a traditional actively managed bond fund. The fiduciary standard—the legal requirement to act in the client’s best interest—is theoretically operative in the registered investment adviser (RIA) channel in the United States. But fiduciary compliance is a legal floor, not a guarantee of outcome quality. And in the broker-dealer channel, which operates under the lower “Regulation Best Interest” standard, the conflicts are even less constrained.
Efforts to improve fiduciary oversight and fee transparency in the United States stalled after the Supreme Court’s landmark 2024 Chevron decision, which curtailed agency rulemaking power. In the United Kingdom, the Financial Conduct Authority has increased scrutiny of wealth management sales practices for complex products, but the regulatory architecture remains patchwork. The result is a system in which the adviser’s compensation is substantially determined by product manufacturers whose interests are not perfectly aligned with investors.
This is precisely the structure the FT‘s $2 billion figure makes legible. These fees are not a secret, exactly—they appear in fund prospectuses, in the fine print of subscription documents, in ADV Part 2 disclosures. But they are not the fees investors think about when they hear “1.5% management fee and 20% carry.” They are additive, cumulative, and—critically—paid regardless of performance.
Are the GPs Really to Blame?
It would be too simple—and intellectually dishonest—to cast the GPs as villains here. Blackstone, Apollo, KKR, and Blue Owl built extraordinary businesses by delivering real alpha to institutional investors over decades. The private credit market, which now exceeds $2 trillion in global AUM, has genuinely provided capital to businesses that traditional banks would not touch, and delivered yields that public fixed income could not match in a zero-rate world.
The wealth channel fee structure did not appear from nowhere, either. Distribution costs money. Onboarding high-net-worth clients, managing sub-threshold redemption windows, servicing accounts, providing education and reporting—these are real operational costs that institutional investors simply do not incur. A pension fund allocating $500 million to a private credit fund does not need hand-holding; a network of 10,000 individual investors does.
But operational justification has limits. The FT‘s $2 billion figure, spread across 16 funds, implies average servicing and distribution economics that substantially exceed what is operationally necessary. The wealth channel has become, for many GPs, a profit centre—a means of raising lower-cost, more sticky capital from investors who are less likely to pull commitments during downturns than institutional LPs, and whose distribution costs, once embedded in fund economics, become a sustainable rent. The early 2026 liquidity crisis has tested that thesis. The fees, however, were already banked.
What Regulators Should Do—and Probably Won’t
The policy response to the FT‘s analysis should not be a ban on wealth advisers earning fees for distributing private capital. Advice has value. Distribution has cost. The financial system requires intermediaries. The policy response should be radical transparency: a single, standardised disclosure framework that shows investors, in plain English and in one document, the total economic cost of their investment—including GP management fees, GP carry, upfront placement fees, annual servicing fees, and any ancillary fund expenses.
The European Union’s AIFMD II framework and the FCA’s Consumer Duty initiative move in this direction, requiring clearer cost disclosure for retail alternatives. The United States has no equivalent pending federal standard, and deregulatory momentum under the current administration makes one unlikely in the near term. FINRA has flagged increased focus on complex product sales practices for 2026, but focus and action are different things.
In the absence of regulatory mandate, the burden falls on investors themselves. In practice, this means asking advisers three specific questions before committing capital to any private fund: What is the total fee load, including all distribution and servicing fees, expressed as a percentage of committed capital per annum? How does this fee load affect the net return target? And does the adviser receive any compensation from the fund manager that is not disclosed in the investment management agreement?
The answers will be revealing.
The Long View: A Reckoning for Democratisation
The democratisation of private capital is not inherently a bad idea. There is genuine value in giving high-net-worth investors access to diversified, return-seeking strategies beyond the 60/40 portfolio. Private markets AUM grew approximately 10 to 15 percent year on year in 2025, and the structural tailwinds—rising infrastructure demand, bank disintermediation, pension deficit—are real and durable.
But the FT‘s analysis reveals that the current model of democratisation distributes the risks of private capital to retail investors while concentrating the fees with intermediaries. This is not democratisation. It is financialisation wearing democratisation’s clothing.
The $2 billion in wealth adviser fees extracted across just 16 funds is not the result of fraud, or even of obvious bad faith. It is the result of a system optimised for distribution, not for outcomes. Until regulators require end-to-end fee transparency, until fiduciary standards extend uniformly across adviser types, and until investors are empowered to demand full cost disclosure, the wealth channel will continue to generate returns—just not primarily for the clients it purports to serve.
The asset managers’ pitch to high-net-worth investors runs something like this: You deserve what the institutions have. What the FT‘s data suggest is that what retail investors are actually getting is what the institutions have—minus the fees charged to get it there.
That is not democratisation. That is a toll road.
Discover more from The Economy
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Analysis
The Weird World of Work Perks: Companies Are Reining In Benefits — But Workers!
In January 2026, a mid-level product manager at a San Francisco tech firm received a company-wide memo. The free artisan cold brew taps were being removed. The on-site acupuncture sessions, gone. The monthly “Wellness Wednesdays” — those mandatory mid-afternoon meditation circles that required cancelling actual work meetings — quietly discontinued. The memo was written in the careful, mournful language of a eulogy. But when she told me about it, she laughed. “Honestly?” she said. “Best news I’d heard in months.”
She is not alone. Across the United States, United Kingdom, Germany, Japan, and beyond, companies facing a brutally changed economic reality are doing what they swore they never would: cutting the perks. Healthcare costs are projected to rise 9.5% in 2026, according to Aon’s Global Medical Trend Rates Report, the steepest increase since the post-pandemic shock years. Mercer’s 2026 National Survey of Employer-Sponsored Health Plans projects a more conservative but still alarming 6.5% average spike. Add AI-driven efficiency mandates, cooling venture funding, and an increasingly skeptical CFO class, and the era of the corporate perk — that glittering monument to Silicon Valley’s self-mythology — is entering a long, overdue reckoning.
Here is the uncomfortable truth that most HR consultants won’t put in their PowerPoints: many of these perks were never really for workers at all.
The Great Perk Retreat: What’s Actually Happening
The data is unambiguous. WorldatWork’s 2026 Total Rewards Survey found that 47% of large employers (5,000+ employees) have eliminated or significantly scaled back at least three non-healthcare discretionary benefits since 2024. MetLife’s 2026 Employee Benefit Trends Study — one of the most comprehensive annual reads on workforce sentiment — reports that employers’ top cost-cutting targets include on-site amenities, lifestyle benefits, and supplemental wellness programmes.
Google, famously the architect of the modern perk arms race, has reportedly reduced its legendary free food budget by an estimated 20–25% across several campuses since 2023, quietly removing some specialty stations while expanding cafeteria-style options. Meta has similarly consolidated office perks as part of its broader “Year of Efficiency” philosophy — a phrase that has since calcified into corporate gospel. The Wall Street Journal reported that dozens of mid-cap US firms have dropped gym subsidies and mental-health app subscriptions they added during the pandemic, citing low utilisation rates that were embarrassingly obvious in the data all along.
But here’s where it gets interesting. Worker surveys tell a surprisingly counter-intuitive story.
Gallup’s 2026 State of the Global Workplace Report found that when employees ranked what most influenced their daily job satisfaction, non-cash perks — the foosball tables, the on-site massages, the company-branded merchandise — ranked near the bottom, behind schedule flexibility, manager quality, meaningful work, and fair pay. In fact, 68% of respondents said they would prefer a $3,000–$5,000 increase in their annual flexible spending allowance over any combination of lifestyle perks.
The Dark Side of “Benefits”: When Perks Were Really Control
I’ve spoken with C-suite leaders — a CHRO at a Fortune 200 consumer goods company, two HR directors at UK financial services firms — who admit, usually off the record, what strategists have long whispered: many perks were designed not to enrich employees’ lives but to keep them in the building longer.
The most obvious example is free food. The myth of the Google cafeteria — gourmet, free, available at every hour — sounds like generosity. But a 2024 Harvard Business Review analysis found that the strategic logic of on-site dining has always been retention through friction reduction: if employees never have to leave for lunch, they don’t leave. They stay. They work. The “perk” is, in the cold light of labour economics, a very elegant subsidy for unpaid overtime.
On-site laundry, dry cleaning, car detailing, concierge services — the same logic applies, scaled to absurdity. These aren’t benefits; they are life management services that exist so employees can delegate their personal responsibilities to the employer and, in exchange, surrender their time.
The late-2010s corporate wellness industrial complex deserves its own indictment. Mandatory yoga, step-count competitions, nutrition coaching, and sleep tracking programmes — all presented as caring for worker wellbeing — frequently became surveillance architectures. A 2025 McKinsey Health Institute report on workplace wellness found that nearly 40% of employees felt that corporate wellness programmes made them feel more monitored, not healthier. Several studies found that workers who used employer health apps showed higher rates of reported health anxiety, not lower. The tracking, it turns out, was often the problem.
Then there’s the performative quality of it all. Ping-pong tables became so culturally synonymous with hollow corporate culture that they now function almost as a satirical shorthand. The Instagram-worthy slides at the Googleplex, the fireman’s pole at LinkedIn’s San Francisco office — these weren’t employee benefits. They were recruitment theatre: visual signals to 22-year-old candidates that this was a fun place to work. The workers who lived inside those offices year after year often found them patronising at best, infantilising at worst.
A Global Picture: The Perk Divergence
The corporate perk retreat is not uniform. Its shape reflects deep structural differences in how nations have always thought about work.
In the United States, where employer-provided healthcare remains the dominant model, the benefits conversation is existential in a way it simply isn’t elsewhere. With healthcare costs consuming an estimated 8.9% of total compensation costs for private industry employers (Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2026), every discretionary perk cut is, in effect, a subsidy reallocation toward the healthcare premium that employees genuinely cannot do without. American workers may lose kombucha on tap; they cannot afford to lose dental.
In Europe, the dynamic is profoundly different. Because statutory social protections — parental leave, healthcare, redundancy pay — are enshrined in law rather than left to employer generosity, the perk conversation has always been more honest. German firms, for example, never needed to use healthcare as a retention lever; they competed on job security and works council influence. Today, as the Financial Times has reported, European firms are instead debating hybrid work entitlements and four-day week pilots as their differentiation tool — perks with genuine structural value.
In Asia, and particularly in Japan and South Korea, the corporate loyalty model built around company housing, communal meals, and paternalistic social provision is under different but equally significant pressure. Japan’s labour reform agenda — driven by the government’s stated goal of dismantling karoshi (death from overwork) culture — is actively pushing firms away from “total life provision” models that blur work and personal time into an undifferentiated grey zone. The perk, in this context, was always part of a totalising corporate identity. Loosening it is, paradoxically, a form of liberation.
In emerging markets — particularly India’s booming tech sector — the perk race has been imported wholesale from Silicon Valley, with predictably mixed results. Bangalore-based firms offering imported cold brew and on-site creches in a country where the median worker earns a fraction of their US counterpart create striking inequalities both inside and outside the office walls.
The Perks Workers Actually Won’t Miss: A Ranked Assessment
Let’s be direct. Not all perks are equal, and the discourse often fails to distinguish between genuine worker welfare and performative corporate largesse.
Perks workers are quietly relieved to lose:
- Mandatory “fun” activities — Compulsory escape rooms, team karaoke nights, and enforced happy hours. These consistently score as the most resented pseudo-benefit in workforce surveys. A 2026 SHRM report found 54% of employees described mandatory social events as a source of stress, not relief. Introverts, caregivers, and non-drinkers disproportionately bear the cost of “inclusive” events designed around a very specific personality type.
- On-site dry cleaning and concierge services — The sincerest expression of the “total life capture” model. When your employer does your laundry, you are not being pampered; you are being made incapable of leaving the office.
- Wellness app subscriptions with employer visibility — When companies can see whether you’ve completed your mindfulness session or hit your step count, the therapy becomes the surveillance. The American Psychological Association’s 2025 Work and Well-Being Survey found that employees who used employer-provided mental health apps were significantly less likely to disclose genuine psychological distress.
- Free gourmet food with implicit expectations — The cafeteria that closes at 9pm because you were expected to eat dinner there was never a perk. It was an unwritten contract.
- Branded company merchandise — The fleece vest. The tote bag. The motivational desk calendar. This benefits the company’s brand, not the employee’s life.
- Gaming and recreation rooms — Used by a tiny proportion of employees. Glassdoor data from 2025 shows that mentions of on-site recreational facilities in employee reviews correlate negatively with overall satisfaction scores, suggesting they signal cultural dysfunction more than genuine investment.
- Employee recognition platforms — The gamified peer-to-peer praise tools that turned professional respect into a points economy. Widely reported as performative and sometimes deeply uncomfortable for recipients.
Perks workers genuinely value and must not be cut:
- Mental health days and genuine psychological support (access to real therapists, not apps)
- Robust parental leave — particularly for non-birthing parents and adoptive families
- Schedule flexibility and remote work autonomy
- Professional development budgets that employees control
- Caregiving support — elder care and childcare subsidies
- Transparent, equitable pay
The distinction is not complicated once you see it: perks that expand an employee’s real autonomy and financial security are genuinely valuable; perks that entangle the employee more deeply in corporate life are not.
The Inequality Engine Hidden in the Perks Cabinet
Here is the critique that is rarely made: many corporate perks are inequality amplifiers dressed as equalising benefits.
Free food benefits employees who eat in the office — disproportionately those without caregiving responsibilities, those who live nearby, those who are already the most captured by corporate culture. Remote workers, parents who leave at 5pm to collect children, employees with dietary restrictions navigating a kitchen designed by a 28-year-old chef — they receive less, or nothing at all.
Gym subsidies that require using a specific on-site facility benefit employees near headquarters. Mental health apps offered in English in a multilingual workforce are, functionally, available only to some. The on-site childcare that sounds transformative serves a fraction of the workforce and creates resentment among those without children who receive no equivalent benefit.
A 2025 Deloitte Insights analysis on benefits equity found that the top 20% of earners — those with the most schedule flexibility and physical proximity to headquarters — captured an estimated 3.4 times more value from discretionary perks than the bottom 40%. The free coffee is not distributed equally. It never was.
What Should Replace the Ping-Pong Table in 2026–2027?
The answer is not complicated. It is merely expensive — and requires companies to trust their employees with money rather than manage them with experiences.
The new employee value proposition looks like this:
Flexible benefits budgets. Give employees an annual allowance — $2,000 to $5,000 — to spend on approved categories of their own choosing: gym membership, therapy, childcare, home office equipment, student loan contributions, travel. This is already operating successfully at companies including Salesforce, Spotify, and several major European insurers. It treats employees as adults.
True location and schedule autonomy. The data from Stanford economist Nicholas Bloom’s ongoing remote work research is consistent and decisive: hybrid work, properly designed, increases productivity, reduces turnover, and improves reported wellbeing. The perk of “being allowed to work from home” is not a perk at all — it is a baseline of civilised employment in 2026.
Genuine pay transparency and equity. No amount of cold brew compensates for discovering that a colleague doing the same work earns 18% more. PwC’s 2026 Workforce Pulse Survey found that pay transparency, when implemented thoughtfully, increases trust faster than any benefits programme.
Meaningful mental health infrastructure — not apps, but access to licensed therapists, generous sick leave policies that do not require performance of wellness, and management cultures that do not punish time off.
Investment in career development. The World Economic Forum’s 2025 Future of Jobs Report found that access to reskilling and career growth is the second most important factor in employee retention, behind pay. A LinkedIn Learning subscription that no one uses is not this. A real education budget that an employee can spend on an MBA course, a coding bootcamp, or an industry conference is.
The Bottom Line
The great perk retreat of 2026 is, at its core, a correction. It is the slow unwinding of a decades-long confusion between employee capture and employee care — a conflation that served companies far better than it ever served the people working in them.
The ping-pong table was always a mirror: it reflected back what the company wanted you to see, not what you actually needed. Losing it, for many workers, feels less like deprivation and more like clarity.
The companies that will win the talent wars of the next decade are not those who grieve the demise of the kombucha tap. They are those who replace it with something workers have always actually wanted: the money, the time, and the autonomy to build a life worth showing up for.
That is not a perk. It is, merely, a decent deal.
FAQ: Work Perks in 2026
Q: Are companies legally required to provide perks beyond statutory benefits? In most jurisdictions, no. Statutory requirements vary — the UK mandates 28 days of paid leave, the EU Working Time Directive sets minimum rest requirements, and US federal law requires relatively little beyond FLSA and FMLA provisions. Discretionary perks are voluntary, which is precisely why cutting them reveals their true nature.
Q: Which corporate perks have the highest utilisation rates? According to MetLife’s 2026 Employee Benefit Trends Study, the highest utilisation benefits are: dental and vision coverage, mental health services (when genuinely confidential), flexible spending accounts, and hybrid work arrangements. On-site amenities consistently show sub-30% utilisation.
Q: Are companies cutting benefits or just shifting the mix? Mostly shifting. The total compensation envelope is often holding steady while its composition changes — away from lifestyle perks and toward healthcare contributions and cash-equivalent benefits. This is, on balance, better for workers who were never using the foosball table.
Q: How do European benefit cuts compare to US ones? European cuts are more constrained by regulation and stronger works councils. The locus of European benefit debates in 2026 is around hybrid work entitlements and four-day week pilots — structural flexibility rather than office amenities.
Q: Why did the perk arms race start in the first place? It originated in 1990s Silicon Valley as a recruiting tool for scarce engineering talent — a genuine competitive necessity. It was then cargo-culted across industries and geographies by companies that adopted the aesthetics without understanding the economics. The result was a multi-billion-dollar industry of performative workplace hospitality.
Q: Do younger workers (Millennials, Gen Z) value perks differently? Yes, substantially. Deloitte’s 2026 Global Millennial and Gen Z Survey found that Gen Z in particular ranks work-life balance, mental health support, and flexible location arrangements far above lifestyle perks. They are, as a generation, more sceptical of corporate culture performance than any cohort before them.
Q: What’s the single most valuable thing a company can offer in 2026? The data and the workers largely agree: genuine schedule and location flexibility, combined with fair pay. Everything else is negotiable.
Discover more from The Economy
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Analysis
France’s CB Is Leading Europe’s Quiet War on Visa and Mastercard — And This Time, It Might Actually Work
The Last Mile of Economic Sovereignty
Picture the Carrousel du Louvre on a crisp March morning — not its usual crowd of tourists orbiting the glass pyramid, but 3,000 bankers, fintech executives, and policy architects filling its hall for the 2026 CB Summit. A video address from the Élysée palace fills the screen. Emmanuel Macron, never one to undersell a moment, declares that payment is “the last mile of economic sovereignty” — and that surrendering it would mean placing the beating heart of France’s economic transactions in the hands of players with different interests.
That’s not a throwaway line from a president looking for a headline. It’s a declaration of geopolitical intent.
For the first time since 2021, the market share of France’s Cartes Bancaires (GIE CB) ticked upward in the second half of 2025, reaching 63.6% compared to 61.4% six months earlier MoneyVox — a modest number, but one that breaks a four-year losing streak. Between 2021 and early 2025, CB’s market share had collapsed from 89.6% to just above 63% — a loss of 26 percentage points that reflected a growing structural dependence on international payment rails. BDOR
That slide is now in reverse. And France — backed by its banks, its president, and an increasingly coherent European coalition — intends to make sure it stays that way.
The Duopoly Nobody Wants to Talk About
Let’s be precise about the problem before we assess the solution, because the scale of American payment dominance over European daily life is genuinely stunning.
Visa and Mastercard together process approximately $24 trillion in transactions globally every year, including roughly $4.7 trillion in Europe, where card payments account for 56% of all cashless transactions. ITIF Transactions in 13 out of 21 eurozone member states still run exclusively on international card schemes, and US card brands handle 61% of euro-area card transactions. Euronews
Every time a French bakery taps “accept” on a contactless payment, a Dutch e-commerce store processes an order, or a German consumer splits a restaurant bill, the data — the metadata of economic life — flows through infrastructure owned by American corporations, governed by American law, subject to American geopolitical pressure. As the ECB has noted, virtually all European card and mobile payments currently run through non-European infrastructure controlled by Visa, Mastercard, PayPal or Alipay. European Business Magazine
This was once considered a reasonable trade-off for the efficiency it bought. Today, in an era of tariffs-as-weapons and financial sanctions-as-statecraft, the calculus has changed entirely.
In February 2026, the ECB warned of a “strong reliance” on international card schemes that is “problematic due to data protection, traceability, resilience and market power concerns.” Euronews The institution that prints the euro is now officially on record saying European economies cannot afford this dependency.
Lagarde herself framed the journey ahead as “a march towards independence,” Business Today linking payment sovereignty explicitly to the broader Capital Markets Union project — the EU’s still-unfulfilled ambition to build a unified financial supermarket capable of mobilizing private capital at the scale needed to compete with the United States.
What Co-Badging Actually Does — And Why It Matters
To understand CB’s play, you need to understand the plumbing.
Most cards in France are “co-badged” — they carry two logos, typically CB alongside Visa or Mastercard. When a payment is made, the terminal (or the bank’s routing engine) chooses which network processes the transaction. For years, the drift has been toward the international networks, especially for online and mobile payments. Some banks, notably BPCE — which encompasses Banque Populaire and Caisse d’Épargne — briefly issued cards exclusively on Visa’s rails, bypassing CB entirely. So did digital challengers like Revolut, N26, and Qonto.
This isn’t just market competition. It’s infrastructure erosion. Each Visa-only card issued by a French bank is a small act of surrender in a larger strategic contest.
In 2025, GIE CB asked its members to abandon their exclusive partnerships with American networks. Boursorama BPCE reversed course and returned to co-badged issuance. The market data responded: CB stopped bleeding share for the first time in four years.
The return of co-badged cards at BPCE, combined with CB’s integration into Apple Pay, is among the key drivers of the 2025 rebound, as mobile payment continues to embed itself more deeply into French consumer behavior — with 2.4 billion mobile payment operations recorded by the Banque de France in 2024, a 53.6% annual increase. MoneyVox
And CB isn’t stopping there. GIE CB president Gérald Grégoire confirmed in 2026 that the network’s momentum is continuing, with Samsung Pay and Google Pay now docking into the CB ecosystem — and Wero Pay integration coming soon. Boursorama
That last sentence matters enormously, and we’ll come back to it.
Why France Is Uniquely Positioned to Lead This Fight
A Rare Beast: The Cooperative Card Network
CB’s structure is its secret weapon. Created in 1984 as a groupement d’intérêt économique — a form of economic interest group without profit motive — it’s an industry cooperative rather than a publicly traded corporation with quarterly earnings pressure. Its governance body includes BNP Paribas, Société Générale, Crédit Agricole, and HSBC France among its 12 principal members. That cooperative alignment of incentives is what enabled the 2025 push on co-badging: CB could ask its members to act in collective interest, whereas Visa and Mastercard’s incentive is always to deepen their own market penetration.
The JPMorgan Signal
In March 2024, a striking thing happened: JPMorgan became the first American “principal member” of CB, joining the 12-member governance body that sets the terms of France’s domestic payment network. Finextra The world’s largest bank by market capitalization chose to route its French merchant clients through CB — not because it was forced to, but because it sought to “provide competitive transaction costs and leading local processing performance,” skirting the more expensive products of Visa and Mastercard. Finextra
Read that again. An American bank joined a French card network specifically to avoid paying Visa and Mastercard’s fees on behalf of its clients. If the commercial logic works for JPMorgan, it works for any institution with a cost-conscious merchant book in France.
This is the hidden economics of CB’s push. Interchange fees are real money. Every basis point that stays within the CB ecosystem is a basis point that doesn’t cross the Atlantic. For Europe’s retailers — already squeezed by inflation, logistics costs, and rising customer acquisition costs through digital advertising — this is not an abstract sovereignty argument. It’s a margin lever.
77 Million Cards, and Macron’s Political Cover
CB has 77 million cards in circulation and, as Macron noted at the CB Summit, represents 80% of domestic transactions in France MoneyVox — an extraordinary base from which to build. No other European country begins this fight with that scale of domestic infrastructure. Italy’s Bancomat, Spain’s Bizum, Portugal’s MB WAY — they all exist, but none commands the market density that CB does at home.
Macron’s direct involvement matters beyond optics. At the CB Summit 2026, his video address framed the conference around three themes: sovereignty, resilience, and innovation, with payment described as the central question of how to guarantee continuity and independence of transactions in a geopolitically fractured world. Nepting When a head of state addresses an industry conference with a video message — a format typically reserved for climate summits and NATO councils — it signals that this is now politique d’État, not just fintech strategy.
The Wero Alliance: When 130 Million Users Change the Equation
CB is not fighting this battle alone. And that might be what makes 2026 different from every previous failed attempt at European payment unity.
Wero, the mobile payment service built by the European Payments Initiative, already has over 47 million registered users across Belgium, France, and Germany, has processed more than €7.5 billion in transfers, and counts over 1,100 member institutions. Retail payments launched in Germany at the end of 2025, with Lidl, Decathlon, Rossmann and Air Europa among early adopters. France and Belgium follow in 2026. European Business Magazine
But the watershed moment came on February 2, 2026. EPI signed a memorandum of understanding with the EuroPA Alliance — a coalition of national payment systems including Italy’s Bancomat, Spain’s Bizum, Portugal’s MB WAY, and the Nordics’ Vipps MobilePay — instantly connecting approximately 130 million users across 13 countries, covering roughly 72% of the EU and Norway population. Cross-border peer-to-peer payments are set to launch in 2026, with e-commerce and point-of-sale payments following in 2027. European Business Magazine
This is the crucial architectural shift. Previous European payment initiatives — most notably Project Monnet, which launched in 2008 and collapsed by 2012 — tried to build a single pan-European network from scratch, and fell apart on the rocks of national pride, conflicting bank interests, and the sheer commercial difficulty of dislodging entrenched incumbents. The EPI-EuroPA approach is structurally different: it’s building a network of networks, federating existing schemes rather than replacing them.
Wero’s Integration with CB: The Technical Endgame
Here’s the piece that most English-language coverage has missed. The integration of Wero Pay into the CB network — confirmed by GIE CB’s president at the 2026 Summit — means that France’s domestic card infrastructure and Europe’s emerging pan-continental payment wallet are being stitched together into a single ecosystem.
EPI CEO Martina Weimert described the objective as covering “all customer use cases including invoice payments, at a European scale” — the goal being that Wero becomes indispensable rather than merely available. La Gazette France CB provides the physical card rails; Wero provides the cross-border digital layer. Together, they’re assembling something that begins to look like a full-stack European alternative to Visa and Mastercard.
Weimert’s urgency about the timeline is telling. At the CB Summit, she said plainly that Europe does not have the luxury of waiting for the ECB’s digital euro to strengthen its payment sovereignty — Wero has both the vocation and the capacity to reach 100% of the European population. Nepting The digital euro, a central bank-backed digital currency, is now projected for 2029 MoneyVox, and the European Parliament has not yet passed the required legislation. Wero is the near-term sovereign option. CB is its French anchor.
Why This Attempt Might Actually Succeed
The Geopolitical Accelerant
Past European payment initiatives failed primarily because geopolitical urgency was absent. Banks would talk about sovereignty at conferences and then sign Visa partnership deals before the coffee went cold. That calculus has shifted profoundly.
Increasing EU-US tensions have heightened fears of 450 million European citizens being potentially cut off from international financial infrastructure. Euronews Ukraine-related sanctions already showed how quickly payment networks can be weaponized — Visa and Mastercard suspended Russian operations within days of the 2022 invasion. European policymakers took note. The April 2025 Iberian Peninsula blackout, which briefly paralyzed payment systems across Spain and Portugal, demonstrated with devastating clarity what infrastructure failure means at the scale of an entire country. Nepting
These are no longer theoretical risks. They are operational case studies in what happens when payment infrastructure turns out to be fragile.
The Commercial Logic Is Now Genuine
For the first time, the commercial case for switching aligns with the political case for sovereignty. Merchants save on interchange. Banks reduce fee outflows to US networks. Consumers gain a redundant payment option that functions even under geopolitical stress. The digital euro — when it eventually arrives — will slot into the same architecture.
JPMorgan joining CB wasn’t charity. It was arbitrage. That signal will not be lost on other international acquirers eyeing Europe’s merchant base.
The Data Sovereignty Dividend
Card payments account for 56% of all cashless transactions in the EU, and the data on who bought what, where, when, and for how much has always remained outside of European jurisdiction. GIGAZINE For a continent that invented GDPR and is acutely aware of the commercial and political value of behavioral data, this is an argument that resonates well beyond the fintech community. When payment data stays inside European infrastructure, European law governs it. That is a materially different legal universe from having it processed under US jurisdiction.
The Real Risks: What Could Still Go Wrong
A balanced reading of this story requires acknowledging what might prevent this from working — and the risks are real.
Adoption fragmentation remains the structural enemy of pan-European payment ambitions. Wero works brilliantly in Germany. But French and Belgian retail adoption in 2026 is still being ramped. Consumer habits, once formed around Visa’s seamless contactless experience, are stubborn. The network effects that Visa and Mastercard have spent decades building will not evaporate within a four-year roadmap.
Bank commercial incentives are not fully aligned. Digital-native banks like Revolut and N26 continue to issue exclusively on international rails, and they serve precisely the young, high-frequency spenders who drive transaction volumes. CB may recover market share among traditional bank customers while losing the digital generation.
Mastercard’s strategic counter-moves are already underway. Mastercard’s $1.8 billion acquisition of stablecoin infrastructure provider BVNK signals that incumbents are not standing still — they’re buying the next generation of payment rails, including European fintech assets. European Business Magazine The race is not simply between European ambition and American incumbency. It is between competing visions of what payment infrastructure looks like in a world of digital currencies, AI-driven commerce, and geopolitical fragmentation.
What to Watch in 2026 and Beyond
For merchants: The CB co-badging push means you should be actively discussing with your acquirer whether CB routing is being preferred on domestic transactions. For a mid-sized French retailer processing €10 million a year in card payments, the difference in interchange can be meaningful. Ask the question.
For banks: The BPCE reversal on Visa-only issuance is a market signal, not just a regulatory response. Banks that hold out on co-badging face both regulatory scrutiny and political exposure in an environment where Macron is personally invoking sovereignty. The risk calculus on Visa-only issuance has changed.
For investors: EPI’s progress toward a 130-million-user network is not yet fully priced into European banking equities. If Wero executes its 2027 e-commerce and POS rollout, the interchange economics of European retail banking shift measurably. The knock-on effects on Visa and Mastercard’s European revenue — roughly a quarter of their global transaction volumes — deserve closer modeling than they currently receive.
For policymakers: The Capital Markets Union conversation and the payment sovereignty conversation need to be formally joined. Lagarde has already drawn the connection. The EU’s financial independence strategy is incomplete without sovereign payment rails, and sovereign payment rails are commercially unviable without deeper European capital markets integration.
The Fireside Verdict
Europe has tried this before and failed. But 2026 is not 2012. The geopolitical environment has turned hostile enough that political will is now genuine rather than performative. The technical architecture — CB for domestic card infrastructure, Wero for cross-border digital payments, EuroPA for continental scale — is the most coherent layered approach Europe has ever assembled. And the commercial incentives, for the first time, are pointing in the same direction as the political imperatives.
France’s CB is not going to dethrone Visa and Mastercard by 2027. No honest analyst would claim otherwise. But it is doing something more subtle and ultimately more durable: it is re-establishing the habit of European payment sovereignty at the point of sale, one co-badged card at a time, while the larger architecture is assembled around it.
Payment is, as Macron put it, the last mile of economic sovereignty. France just started repaving it.
FAQ (FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS)
Q1: What is France’s Cartes Bancaires (CB) and why is it challenging Visa and Mastercard?
Cartes Bancaires (CB) is France’s domestic payment network, established in 1984 as a cooperative of French banks. With 77 million cards in circulation, it processes around 80% of French domestic transactions. In 2025–2026, CB began pushing its member banks to prioritize co-badged card routing — directing transactions through the CB network rather than Visa or Mastercard — as part of a broader European effort to reclaim payment sovereignty from US-controlled infrastructure.
Q2: What is co-badging and how does it help reduce Europe’s dependence on Visa and Mastercard?
Co-badging means a bank card carries two network logos — for example, CB and Visa — and the merchant or cardholder can select which network processes the payment. When a French merchant routes a co-badged transaction through CB rather than Visa, the transaction stays within European infrastructure, fees go to CB rather than an American corporation, and the transaction data remains under European legal jurisdiction. CB’s push in 2025 to require member banks to restore co-badging (after some had issued Visa-only cards) is the central mechanism of its market share recovery.
Q3: What is Wero and how does it connect to CB’s European payment sovereignty strategy?
Wero is a mobile payment wallet developed by the European Payments Initiative (EPI), backed by 16 major European banks. It currently has over 48.5 million users in Belgium, France, and Germany. In February 2026, EPI signed a memorandum with the EuroPA Alliance — connecting Wero to Italy’s Bancomat, Spain’s Bizum, Portugal’s MB WAY, and Nordic system Vipps MobilePay — bringing its potential reach to 130 million users across 13 countries. GIE CB confirmed in 2026 that Wero Pay will integrate into the CB ecosystem, effectively combining France’s domestic card network with Europe’s emerging pan-continental payment wallet into a layered alternative to Visa and Mastercard.
Discover more from The Economy
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Analysis
America Will Come to Regret Its War on Taxes. Lately, Democrats Have Joined the Charge.
A shared political appetite for punishing fiscal policy is quietly eroding the foundations of American economic dynamism — and the bill is coming due.
The Bipartisan Consensus Nobody Wants to Admit
There is a peculiar silence at the center of American fiscal discourse. Politicians of every stripe have discovered that the most reliable applause line in any town hall, any fundraiser, any cable news segment, is some variation of the same promise: someone else will pay. Cut taxes on this constituency. Raise them on that one. The details change with the political season; the underlying logic — that prosperity can be legislated by picking the right winners and losers — never does.
For decades, the “war on taxes” was assumed to be a Republican pathology: supply-side zealotry dressed up in Laffer Curve charts, a theology descended from Reagan and codified in every subsequent GOP platform. But something significant has shifted. Democrats, long the party of public investment and progressive redistribution, have increasingly embraced a mirror-image version of the same fiscal populism — one that punishes capital, discourages corporate risk-taking, and promises to fund an ever-expanding social state on the backs of a narrowing sliver of the economy. The names change; the economic consequences do not.
America is conducting, in real time, a grand experiment in what happens when both parties stop believing in the unglamorous, politically unrewarding work of building a broad, competitive, internationally benchmarked tax base. The results, already visible in the data, are quietly alarming. The reckoning, when it arrives, will be loud.
A Brief History of the Thirty-Year Tax War
To understand where America is, it helps to understand where it has been. The modern war on taxes has two distinct fronts — and they have never been more active simultaneously.
The first front opened with Ronald Reagan’s Economic Recovery Tax Act of 1981, which slashed the top marginal income tax rate from 70 percent to 50 percent, and his subsequent 1986 reform that brought it further to 28 percent. The intellectual architecture — that lower rates would unleash private investment, broaden the tax base, and eventually pay for themselves — was elegant, seductive, and partially correct. Growth did accelerate in the mid-1980s; revenues did recover. But the full Laffer Curve promise, that tax cuts would be self-financing, proved durable as mythology and elusive as policy. The Congressional Budget Office has consistently found that major tax reductions generate significant revenue losses even after accounting for macroeconomic feedback effects, typically recovering no more than 20–25 cents on the dollar.
The second front, less examined, is the Democratic one. It did not begin with hostility to revenue — quite the opposite. The party of Franklin Roosevelt and Lyndon Johnson understood that ambitious government required ambitious financing. What shifted, gradually and then rapidly, was the political calculus. As inequality widened after 2000, and as the 2008 financial crisis delegitimized much of the financial establishment, progressive politics increasingly turned punitive. The goal shifted subtly from raising revenue to making the wealthy pay — and those are not always the same objective.
The Surprising Democratic Convergence
The turning point is easier to pinpoint in retrospect. Following the passage of the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act of 2017, Democrats rightly criticized the legislation’s regressive structure and its contribution to the federal deficit — which widened by approximately $1.9 trillion over ten years, according to the Tax Policy Center. But the party’s response was not to propose a more efficient, growth-compatible alternative. It was, increasingly, to simply invert the TCJA’s priorities: higher corporate rates, higher capital gains taxes, expanded wealth levies, and a proliferating series of targeted surcharges.
By 2024, the progressive policy agenda included proposals for a corporate minimum tax, a billionaire’s income tax on unrealized capital gains, expanded estate taxes, and a surtax on high earners that would push the effective federal rate on investment income in some brackets above 40 percent — before state taxes. Combined rates in California, New York, or New Jersey would, for some investors, approach or exceed 60 percent on long-term capital gains. The OECD’s 2024 Tax Policy Report notes that even the highest-taxing European economies — Denmark, Sweden, France — have carefully engineered lower capital gains rates to protect the investment engine, while taxing labor and consumption broadly.
The Democratic pivot is understandable politically. Polls consistently show that taxing the wealthy is popular. Wealth concentration in the United States is genuinely severe: the top 1 percent hold approximately 31 percent of all net wealth, according to Federal Reserve distributional accounts data. The moral case for asking more of those at the summit is real.
But moral appeal and economic efficacy are distinct questions — and conflating them has been the defining intellectual failure of the current progressive tax debate.
What the Data Actually Shows
Let us be specific, because specificity is where ideology goes to die.
The United States currently raises federal tax revenue equivalent to approximately 17–18 percent of GDP — below the OECD average of roughly 25 percent. The shortfall is not, as is often assumed, primarily a product of insufficiently taxed wealthy individuals. It is a product of structural choices: the U.S. relies far less on value-added taxes, payroll taxes, and broad consumption levies than any comparable advanced economy. The revenue base is narrow, politically constrained, and increasingly volatile.
Meanwhile, the federal debt-to-GDP ratio has surpassed 120 percent, a threshold that IMF research consistently links to measurable drag on long-term growth — on the order of 0.1 to 0.2 percentage points of annual GDP per 10-percentage-point increase in the debt ratio. That is not dramatic in any given year; compounded over decades, it is civilization-scale arithmetic.
What neither party’s tax agenda directly addresses is this structural misalignment. Republican supply-siders promise growth through rate cuts while refusing to touch the expenditure base that drives borrowing. Progressive Democrats promise justice through higher rates on capital while refusing to broaden the base through more efficient instruments. Both sides are, in the language of corporate finance, optimizing for the wrong metric.
The consequences are measurable. Corporate investment as a share of GDP has remained stubbornly below pre-2000 peaks despite repeated cycles of tax reduction. Business formation rates, despite a pandemic-era surge in sole proprietorships, remain below their 1980s levels when adjusted for population. And the metric that should most alarm policymakers: research and development intensity, where the United States once led the world, has been gradually overtaken by South Korea, Israel, and several Northern European economies, according to OECD research and development statistics.
Punitive taxation of capital gains and corporate profits does not, by itself, explain these trends. But it is an accelerant — particularly when combined with regulatory uncertainty, political instability, and the growing attractiveness of alternative jurisdictions.
The Coming Regrets: Five Vectors of Consequence
Innovation flight and brain drain. The United States has historically compensated for its fiscal imprecision with an unmatched capacity to attract global talent and capital. That advantage is eroding. Canada’s Express Entry program, the UK’s Global Talent visa, Portugal’s NHR regime, and Singapore’s sophisticated incentive architecture are explicitly designed to intercept the mobile, high-value individuals and firms that once defaulted to American addresses. A 2024 study from the National Bureau of Economic Research found that inventor mobility increased meaningfully in response to state-level tax changes — evidence that the creative class is more price-sensitive to fiscal environments than policymakers assume.
The inequality paradox. Progressive tax increases that reduce after-tax returns to capital sound redistributive. In practice, they often aren’t. When high capital gains rates reduce the frequency of asset sales, they lock in gains among the wealthy (the “lock-in effect”), reduce tax revenue below projections, and simultaneously reduce the liquidity and price discovery in markets that smaller investors rely on. The Tax Foundation’s modeling of the Biden-era capital gains proposals suggested that the revenue-maximizing rate for long-term capital gains is somewhere between 20 and 28 percent — meaning rate increases above that threshold are simultaneously less progressive and less fiscally productive. This is the Laffer Curve in its most defensible form: not as a justification for fiscal irresponsibility, but as a constraint on policy design.
Fiscal illusion and compounding debt. Perhaps the most insidious consequence of the current bipartisan war on taxes is the fiscal illusion it sustains. Republicans use low-rate orthodoxy to pretend that expenditure commitments are affordable; Democrats use high-rate symbolism to pretend that a narrow base can finance an expansive state. Both are practicing a form of collective self-deception that the Congressional Budget Office’s 2025 Long-Term Budget Outlook makes starkly visible: under current law, federal debt held by the public is projected to reach 156 percent of GDP by 2055 — with interest payments alone consuming roughly 6 percent of GDP annually, crowding out every priority both parties claim to champion.
Global competitiveness erosion. The 2017 TCJA reduced the statutory corporate tax rate to 21 percent, bringing it closer to — though still above — the OECD average of approximately 23 percent (weighted by GDP). But subsequent proposals to raise it to 28 percent would push the combined federal-and-state effective rate above 30 percent for many corporations, and above the G7 average. The OECD/G20 Global Minimum Tax framework of 15 percent has, paradoxically, weakened the case for aggressive U.S. corporate rate increases: if a global floor exists at 15 percent, the incremental deterrence of raising the U.S. rate from 21 to 28 does not prevent profit-shifting — it merely changes where profits shift, and on whose books they settle.
Growth stagnation. At a deeper level, the cumulative uncertainty created by perpetual tax warfare — the TCJA expires at end-of-2025, extensions are contested, each election cycle brings threats of reversal — imposes a “policy uncertainty premium” on long-duration investment. Research by Scott Baker, Nicholas Bloom, and Steven Davis at NBER has quantified this effect: elevated economic policy uncertainty is associated with reduced investment, hiring, and output, with effects that compound over multi-year horizons. America’s tax code has become a source of chronic uncertainty that no individual rate level can fully offset.
The Counter-Arguments, Considered Honestly
The counter-argument most worth engaging is the Nordic one: Denmark, Sweden, and Finland maintain high tax burdens, robust welfare states, and strong productivity growth simultaneously. If Europe can have both high taxes and competitive economies, why can’t America?
The answer lies in composition, not level. Nordic countries achieve their fiscal capacity through broad-based consumption taxes (value-added taxes averaging 22–25 percent) and highly efficient, simple labor taxes — not through punitive capital gains or corporate rate structures that deter investment. Their top marginal income tax rates are high, but they kick in at relatively modest incomes, meaning the burden is genuinely shared rather than concentrated on a narrow slice of filers. The lesson from Scandinavia is not “raise rates on the wealthy” — it is “build a broad, efficient, transparent fiscal compact.” That is a lesson both American parties currently refuse to learn, because neither constituency wants to be the one that pays more.
The second counter-argument is that inequality itself is the growth constraint — that concentrated wealth reduces aggregate demand, under-finances public goods, and ultimately depresses productivity. This is a serious argument with genuine empirical support, particularly at the research level from economists like Joseph Stiglitz and Daron Acemoglu. But the corrective for inequality is not simply higher top rates; it is smarter expenditure on early childhood education, infrastructure, R&D, and portable worker benefits — investments that widen participation in the productive economy. Revenue-raising in service of those goals is entirely defensible. Revenue-raising as political theater, while the underlying investment architecture remains broken, is not.
Toward a Fiscal Compact Worth Having
America does not have a tax problem; it has a fiscal design problem. The country neither raises revenue efficiently nor spends it strategically — and both parties have made peace with a status quo that serves their rhetorical needs while quietly bankrupting the national balance sheet.
What a genuinely reform-minded fiscal agenda would require is uncomfortable for everyone. It would raise revenue through a federal value-added tax, modest initially, which would broaden the base while reducing the economy’s sensitivity to any single rate change. It would lower and stabilize the corporate rate — at or below the current 21 percent — while closing the most egregious profit-shifting opportunities. It would tax capital gains more consistently at death to address the step-up basis loophole, rather than raising rates that trigger lock-in effects during life. It would index tax brackets to productivity growth, not merely inflation, preventing bracket creep from doing the work of deliberate policy.
None of this is politically possible in the current moment. That is precisely the point. The “war on taxes” — conducted by both parties, against different targets, for different rhetorical purposes — has made it impossible to have a serious conversation about what a fiscally sustainable, economically competitive America actually looks like.
The regret is not coming. It is already accumulating — in the debt clock, in the innovation statistics, in the migration patterns of the globally mobile, in the quiet recalculation happening in boardrooms from Austin to Singapore. When it finally becomes undeniable, the political system will search, as it always does, for someone to blame. The answer, unfashionable as it is, will be everyone.
America’s great fiscal tragedy is not that it taxed too much or too little. It is that it never stopped fighting long enough to tax well.
Discover more from The Economy
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
-
Markets & Finance3 months agoTop 15 Stocks for Investment in 2026 in PSX: Your Complete Guide to Pakistan’s Best Investment Opportunities
-
Analysis2 months agoBrazil’s Rare Earth Race: US, EU, and China Compete for Critical Minerals as Tensions Rise
-
Analysis2 months agoTop 10 Stocks for Investment in PSX for Quick Returns in 2026
-
Banks3 months agoBest Investments in Pakistan 2026: Top 10 Low-Price Shares and Long-Term Picks for the PSX
-
Investment3 months agoTop 10 Mutual Fund Managers in Pakistan for Investment in 2026: A Comprehensive Guide for Optimal Returns
-
Global Economy4 months agoPakistan’s Export Goldmine: 10 Game-Changing Markets Where Pakistani Businesses Are Winning Big in 2025
-
Global Economy4 months ago15 Most Lucrative Sectors for Investment in Pakistan: A 2025 Data-Driven Analysis
-
Asia4 months agoChina’s 50% Domestic Equipment Rule: The Semiconductor Mandate Reshaping Global Tech
