Not Dead Yet: The Monster That Refuses to Die
More than four decades after its resurrection in the Reagan era, trickle-down economics continues to terrorize Western economic policy like Jason Voorhees stalking the shores of Crystal Lake. Despite substantial evidence questioning its effectiveness and coinciding with periods of economic carnage, this slasher ideology keeps coming back, seemingly indestructible and always ready for another sequel.
From Plague Cart to Horror Film
At first glance, trickle-down economics might seem like something out of Monty Python's plague cart scene—a theory that should be dead but keeps protesting "I'm not dead yet!" while economists try to haul it away. But that comparison is far too charitable. This isn't some pathetic victim feebly claiming it feels fine while being carted off to the burial pit.
No, trickle-down economics is Jason Voorhees in economic form: an unstoppable killer that absorbs every attempt to destroy it and just keeps coming back stronger, wearing new masks but wielding the same bloody machete.
The Horse and Sparrow Masquerade
The modern incarnation of trickle-down economics is merely a rebranding of the Victorian-era "horse and sparrow" theory—the crude notion that if you feed a horse enough oats, some will pass through to feed the sparrows. This grotesque metaphor, sanitized for contemporary consumption, reveals the fundamental assumption embedded in the theory: that benefits to the wealthy will eventually reach working people through indirect means.
Political economist Mark Blyth aptly describes this persistence as trickle-down's "stubborn refusal to die." But stubborn doesn't capture the horror of it. Like Jason emerging from the lake just when you think it's safe, the theory resurfaces with each conservative administration, dressed in new rhetoric but offering the same bloody prescriptions: tax cuts for the wealthy as a path to broader prosperity.
The Birth of a Monster
The modern trickle-down monster traces back to a pivotal moment in 1974, when Arthur Laffer sketched his famous curve on a napkin during a meeting in Washington, DC with Donald Rumsfeld and others. This simple diagram—suggesting that cutting tax rates could increase government revenue—would become the economic equivalent of the Necronomicon, spawning an unstoppable evil.
Ronald Reagan, like some mad scientist, transformed these economic ideas into a political creature that would terrorize policy debates for decades. As Russell Rowland notes, Reagan's genius wasn't in understanding economics but in messaging—creating a monster that could convince people that policies favoring the wealthy would ultimately benefit everyone.
Even Reagan's Republican primary opponent, George H.W. Bush, initially recognized the horror, famously labeling it "Voodoo Economics." But once the Supreme Court legalized unlimited political spending by corporations and billionaires in the late 1970s, the monster found its supernatural backing. Wealthy interests became the dark forces that would keep resurrecting it, no matter how many times it appeared to be killed.
A Trail of Economic Bodies
Like any good slasher film, the historical record shows a trail of economic carnage coinciding with the monster's rampages:
- The 1987 stock market crash during Reagan's second term
- The 1992 recession under Bush Sr.
- The 2008 Great Recession during Bush Jr.'s presidency
- The 2020 economic downturn under Trump
While the causes of these economic disasters are complex—involving global factors, financial innovation, and various policy decisions—critics argue that trickle-down policies contributed to increased inequality and financial instability. Meanwhile, the monster's defenders insist it wasn't their fault, that other forces were responsible. But somehow, wherever the theory goes, economic victims pile up while the wealthy walk away unharmed.
The Jason Voorhees Playbook
What makes trickle-down economics truly horrifying is how it follows the Jason Voorhees model of indestructibility:
It keeps coming back stronger: Each time economists think they've delivered a fatal blow with empirical evidence—showing tax cuts don't increase work hours, don't boost productivity, don't generate broad-based growth—trickle-down just reappears in the next policy cycle with new terminology and updated models.
It's seemingly indestructible: Unlike normal economic theories that get abandoned when evidence goes against them, this monster absorbs scholarly criticism like Jason absorbs bullets. You can cite Piketty, point to decades of inequality data, show the lack of GDP correlation—and it just... doesn't... die.
New masks, same killer: Whether it's "supply-side economics," "job creators," "pro-growth tax reform," or "competitiveness measures," it's the same fundamental logic wearing different disguises, stalking the same victims.
The kills happen off-screen: When trickle-down policies fail to deliver broad prosperity, the damage happens to people who don't have much voice in policy debates—the economic equivalent of teenage camp counselors. Meanwhile, the theory itself escapes to terrorize another generation.
Supernatural backing: Jason had mysterious dark forces; trickle-down has billionaire think tanks and corporate interests that keep funding its resurrection, no matter how many times it appears to be defeated.
The Language of Horror
As Nick Hanauer observes, much of trickle-down's persistence stems from its deployment of "confusing, technical-sounding, and often impenetrable language"—the economic equivalent of ancient incantations. Academic economists, some funded by wealthy interests, craft complex models that can obscure underlying assumptions, like occult rituals designed to summon the monster back to life.
These models, despite their sophisticated mathematics, have shown mixed success in predicting economic outcomes. But that's not really the point—they serve to transform clear distributional choices into technical discussions, obscuring the values and interests at stake like fog rolling across a horror movie lake.
The Latest Sequel
With another Trump administration, we're witnessing the inevitable sequel: "Trickle-Down Economics: Part XII." The same tax-cutting strategies that have produced mixed results—enriching some while leaving others behind—are being proposed once again. The special effects may be updated, the models may be more sophisticated, but it's the same slasher plot: prosperity at the top will somehow generate benefits throughout the economy.
Breaking the Spell
The persistence of this economic horror isn't due to its merits—the evidence remains contested, with economists continuing to debate effects that should be clear after four decades. Instead, it endures because it serves powerful interests who have the resources to keep funding sequels, no matter how ridiculous the plot becomes.
Breaking free from this nightmare requires recognizing trickle-down economics for what it truly is: not a helpless theory claiming "I'm not dead yet," but an unstoppable monster that will keep terrorizing economic policy until we find a way to destroy its supernatural backing. The horse and sparrow metaphor, crude as it is, at least has the virtue of honesty—it acknowledges that the system prioritizes feeding the horses first, with sparrows left to scavenge the leavings, if they're lucky enough to survive.
Final Girl Economics
The ghost—no, the monster—of trickle-down economics will continue its killing spree until we collectively develop the courage of a final girl in a horror film: someone who sees the pattern, refuses to be fooled by the latest mask, and finds a way to fight back effectively.
This requires more than just debunking—it demands recognizing the relentless nature of what we're facing. It means examining alternative policies that might more directly benefit working people rather than hoping indirect effects will somehow materialize. It means acknowledging that some economic theories aren't just wrong—they're dangerous, and they keep coming back because they serve the interests of those with the power to resurrect them.
The sparrows have waited long enough for the scraps to trickle down. Perhaps it's time to stop feeding the horses first and consider policies that address their needs directly. But until we recognize that we're not dealing with a misguided theory but with an unkillable monster backed by supernatural forces, we'll keep finding ourselves trapped in the same horror movie, watching the same victims get slaughtered while the killer escapes to terrorize another generation.
The only question is: will we finally find a way to end this franchise, or are we doomed to keep watching sequels until there's nobody left alive to tell the tale?
Postscript: Those slasher sequels keep on coming, so consider that as foreshadowing....