Raising taxes on the wealthy seems to be a trend that’s picking up steam, especially with Joe Biden in office. For those earning near the top 1%, the thought of higher taxes during a global crisis like a pandemic doesn’t sit well.
The idea of taxing the rich more heavily isn’t new, but it hits differently when you find yourself earning just enough to dodge being a prime target for these hikes. It’s a strange feeling, knowing I can vote for tax increases that benefit me personally while not affecting my own taxes much.
There’s a certain fairness in the concept of everyone paying their share. Imagine a flat tax where if you make ten times more, you pay ten times more, but only if you’re above a comfortable minimum income level. This seems straightforward, especially since we all enjoy the same public services like military protection and public parks.
Reflecting on my own tax journey—from paying none as a student, to a significant amount as a full-time employee, and back to paying less—I find myself wrestling with guilt. My tax burden may be lighter now, but I still have the power to influence tax policy that could burden others to my benefit.
The truth is, leveraging the system to target a specific group for tax increases feels wrong, even if it’s legal. But then again, if I don’t pick up that metaphorical $100 bill from the street, someone else will.
There’s an argument that the ideal income for maximum happiness is around $200,000, considering any more than that makes you a target for tax hikes. The federal tax rate at this income level seems reasonable, even with state taxes added. Plus, you get the perks of maxing out your retirement contributions and living comfortably without crossing into the high-tax zone.
Fighting against government or majority opinion is usually futile and can be risky. History shows us that dissenting too loudly or too differently can lead to serious consequences. It’s safer, and perhaps smarter, to blend in.
My experience living in Europe has shown me the benefits of social policies that are funded by higher taxes. It’s possible that one day the U.S. might lean more towards the social systems of places like Sweden or Norway, which are among the happiest countries in the world despite their high taxes.
I’ve come to realize that while it’s easy to become cynical about government, especially after experiencing inefficiencies firsthand (like the 18-month saga to fix a manhole cover), it’s all part of a larger, more complex system. My shift from actively earning high wages to a lower, more passive income was partly due to these frustrations, but also a deeper desire to simplify life and focus on personal happiness rather than financial gain.
Ultimately, the decision to support tax increases on the wealthy, while benefiting from the system’s protections and services, presents a moral dilemma. It’s the classic conflict between personal gain and collective responsibility. As I consider potentially retiring under a Democratic presidency and embracing a simpler, more enjoyable life, these are the considerations that weigh on my mind. How to balance these conflicting feelings without succumbing to greed or completely withdrawing from societal obligations remains a challenging question.
