Kitchen-Table Economics: Gary Stevenson, Piketty and the Wealth Divide

Regardless of your political affiliation, it is difficult to argue against the notion that Gary Stevenson is arguably becoming a star of the British populist left. His career to date is nothing short of glittering; hailing from Ilford, East London and expelled from school for drugs offences, his resume boasts a BSc in Maths and Economics from LSE, several million pounds in earnings from a successful stint at Citibank during the financial crisis (betting on increased income inequality) and an MPhil in Economics from Oxford.

But whilst most interviewers label him as ‘shortlisted for interview’, he is known by his swelling mass of subscribers as ‘GarysEconomics’. In a fleeting eighteen months, Stevenson has risen from a relatively obscure yet deeply angry man sat in his kitchen, camera perched on his table and discussing the state of the ailing British economy and its endemic, systematic failures, alongside the structural causes behind them, to the chief mouthpiece of left-wing economics in the United Kingdom. Ask any 18-30 year old with left-wing economic ideas who their chief influence is, and there’s a very reasonable chance they’ll send you one of his videos on YouTube or TikTok.

The kitchen remains the same. There is remarkable consistency in his fashion sense (or lack thereof). His titles and his thumbnails are clear, accessible and appropriately clickbait-y, but with the tint of amateurism which lends Stevenson greater authenticity. The former banker presents as a man in a hurry, a characteristic which helps us to characterise his trajectory thus far. His public profile has continued to rise; his autobiography, ‘The Trading Game’, became a Sunday Times bestseller in 2024. Stevenson has also found himself on BBC 1’s primetime programming ‘Question Time’, and he was one of the first guests on Zack Polanski’s – the insurgent new leader of the Green Party – podcast ‘Bold Politics’.

It is worth a brief critical discussion on his background before continuing, for the sake of objectivity. Stevenson describes himself as being “the best fucking trader in the fucking world” during his time at Citibank. Whilst certainly a man of significant intellectual power – his education speaks to that, considering his background – quantitative finance requires that as a basal minimum. Working on elite trade decks typically requires a degree from one of the best universities in the world and a stellar academic track record. It appears that Stevenson was certainly among equals; but a comprehensive investigation into his claims he was the best in the world by the Financial Times last year suggests that he was, to be generous, somewhere above average. Several of his colleagues suggested that it was unlikely his record during his best year ($35m profit) would have placed him in the top ten on Citibank’s FX desk, which he was on during that period. Confidence is virtually never a bad thing, but if such a foundational claim behind Stevenson is untrue (or at least embellished) it may perhaps become more important to evaluate what he says with a more critical lens.

Nonetheless, his success has rejuvenated an unrealised potential in the social media space for simplified discussions around political economy and the impact it has on the average resident of a developed Western country. These are not new ideas; similar rhetoric appeared during the peak of the Occupy movement in the United States, as well as across central Europe during the austerity reforms of the early 2010s, but Stevenson elucidates well for a British audience very clearly jaded (one only has to look at the sub-60% turnout at the last general election) and increasingly politically polarised by the last fifteen years.

His mission is an admirable one for one core reason. The economist is normally also a mathematician. Maths and economics is one of the most common pairings in the country at A-Level (normally alongside further maths, which around half of Cambridge colleges require a candidate takes in order to read the Economics tripos at undergraduate). As a result, a half-truth exists in British economics. This is the idea that one has to be steeped in mathematical theory in order to understand the nature of the economy, which, conceptually, is untrue. Working people, typically with no A-Levels in maths, further maths or economics, are at the whims of these economists from LSE or Oxford; but understand well enough how bank rates affect their variable rate mortgage, for example. Stevenson believes, correctly, that the British people can understand their own economy – it’s simply a case of teaching them. His videos are clear, informative and easy to digest for this very purpose, and work well in fulfilling said objective.

It is worthwhile, considering his public star and influence amongst the British economic left, to further consider the basal economic theory behind Stevenson, whose most fundamental message boils down to the findings percolated by leading Western economist Thomas Piketty, a member of the Parisian School and fellow LSE alum. His magnum opus thus far, ‘Capital in the 21st Century’ (2014), offers an analysis of wealth and income inequality in Europe since the 18th century.

The crux of the 700-odd pages of Piketty’s publication is that all developed economies are currently defined by and adhere to the inequality: r > g. Simply put, when the rate of return on capital [r] is greater than the average rate of economic growth [g], this leads to a concentration of wealth amongst the elite. Therefore, those who already hold significant stocks of capital, or wealth, can use this possessed wealth to create more wealth for themselves at a rate significantly quicker than economic growth can create for those who do not hold the same levels of capital. This leads to social and economic instability, putting democracy under threat. The solution? A global system of progressive wealth taxes to reduce inequality and prevent democratic backsliding.

This is, of course, a deeply abridged synopsis of a pantheon of inequality economics and barely scratches the surface of Piketty’s findings. However, the simplicity shines through. According to Oxfam, billionaire wealth grew by $2 trillion in 2024 at a rate three times quicker than the year previous. The pandemic saw the greatest transfer of wealth from the poorest in society to the richest in human history. Wealth, as a stock, instead of the flow which characterises income, generates more wealth. This growing disparity contributes to relative decreases in the quality of public provision, affordability of living and the objective living standards of the middle and working class.

Piketty also focuses a significant portion of his analysis on the tendency and ease that elite capital holders can save with, considering the amount of wealth they have in comparison to their expenses (which are still significantly higher than the vast majority of people do), which is not only inhibitory to growth but also prevents their stock of wealth being redistributed; with their marginal propensity to save acting as a means of further capital accumulation.

Piketty’s ultimate conclusion is that there is an urgent necessity for a progressive tax on capital, preferably on an annual basis. Where Stevenson fails to talk about actionable policy, often generalising that something is necessary but not quantifying that something, Piketty empirically shows how a tax on accumulated capital would function and the benefits that would be reaped. At first his policy sits in the world of panacea, discussing the possibility of a global wealth tax, a virtually impossible notion. He then goes on to discuss, interestingly, a European wealth tax, which seems more feasible, albeit unlikely. The hypothetical revenues generated would amount to around 2% of EU GDP, or about 350 billion euros, and could significantly assist in supporting welfare measures, preventing austerity and enacting wide-ranging infrastructure projects; such as those of the Trente Glorieuses or the Scandinavian economies of the 1960’s and 1970’s (though it must be said that in the period 1950-1973 Western economies on the whole experienced rampant growth)

One of Piketty’s main gripes, inter alia, is so called ‘rentier capitalism’. This refers to the generally extractive process by which those with large capital stocks purchase more of it, prominently in housing and real estate, leading to those who need those properties forced into renting the property back off them, normally at marked up prices contingent on high demand, especially considering the lack of Western government impetus to build property and therefore depress rents and mortgages. Consequently, those renters are not able to amass any capital stock themselves and instead spend their income on renting this property of the rentier capitalist, who furthers their own wealth through their ‘investment’. This is, of course, a false dichotomy as long as government policy continues to prop up the housing market in such a way; for ‘investment’ implies risk.

Piketty, who continues to work for the World Inequality Lab, recently wrote a reflective piece on his 2014 work entitled ‘Capital in the Twenty-First Century, Ten Years Later’. In the work, Piketty was most keen to discuss the recent inclusion of discussions of a wealth tax in a G20 summit in Brazil last year. Emphasising the importance of the Global South in the next stage of global economic development, Brazil’s proposal under ‘socialist for the 21st century’ President Lula has brought wealth taxes into the mainstream international economic conversation. Whilst Europe remains deeply sceptical, some, albeit limited, international recognition is a starting point which inequality economists can platform off. Naturally, this reluctance and skepticism stems from the fear of capital flight, and the only way this fear can be mitigated is more countries embracing such thinking. Nonetheless, the fear of other states not following suit holds them back.

So, what of wealth taxes? For now, perhaps a ridiculous, idealistic notion. Was Keynesianism, however, not also ridiculous and idealistic when it was first conceptualised? Or graduated income tax on the whole? History may reject a European or an international wealth tax as another utopian idea with no empirical basis. Ultimately, however, Stevenson made millions betting on the economy. Do not reject outright the idea he (and Piketty) have backed the right horse once again.

Edited by Rares Cocilnau and Aidain Clair