October 17, 2026

RISE THE TIDE:

We have to make people care about economic growth: The very real promise of economic growth must be made to seem tangible (Daniel Dieppe, 17 October, 2026, The Critic)

Indeed, properly understood, economic growth is a lynchpin to a whole myriad of social and economic problems. Paying the Triple Lock state pension, which rises by at least 2.5 per cent per annum, would be much easier if the economy kept pace with the single largest welfare expenditure. The NEETs and graduate jobs crisis could be solved if there were, well — more jobs. The arguments for mass immigration, supposedly needed to keep the economy going, could be pulled apart if economic growth remained high.

Yet despite growth’s almost puppeteer status at the centre of our modern national story, few people associate their everyday problems with it. Eliminating poverty, by far the greatest raison d’etre for left-wing politics, is not associated with economic growth, even though economic growth is the single greatest alleviator of poverty throughout history.

An economy exists to create wealth: its distribution is a political question.

IT DEMONSTRTES THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF EMPATHY:

The Elizabeth Holmes Documentary You Can See Everything Is an Act of Radical Empathy: The high-concept documentary from Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim offers surprising generosity to a Big Tech villain without fully excusing her crimes. (Peter Suderman | 10.16.2026, reason)

Just before she entered prison, Holmes invited documentarians Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim to live with her, her boyfriend Billy Evans, and their two young children in their beachfront San Diego rental unit, promising them full access, complete transparency. The result is this year’s most entrancing documentary, You Can See Everything. When the camera captures Billy in the shower, the movie delivers on its titular promise; you, uh, really can see everything.

Yet what you cannot see is who Holmes really is. The mystery of the era’s most famous fraudster is the movie’s central riddle: Is she cynical, calculating, a stone-cold liar and psychopath? Or is she something stranger—a damaged and delicate person who genuinely believes her lies, or at the very least, genuinely believes the stories she tells herself to justify those lies after the fact?

Fielder and Holmes seem uncertain themselves; the movie is, in part, their own attempt to wrestle with their own ambivalence, their own inability to come to a conclusion. It’s a hall of mirrors about the infinite unknowability of a person, even given unfettered access.

We can never truly know ourselves, nevermind another.