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In a recent defense of proposed tariffs, US Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent declared that “access to cheap goods is not the essence of the American dream.” The remark, presumably aimed at justifying protectionist trade policies, deserves careful scrutiny, not only because it risks redefining a long-standing ideal, but because it reflects an increasing drift away from foundational principles of free markets, consumer sovereignty, and individual liberty.

The American dream is not a prescriptive set of outcomes dictated by governments. It is the freedom of individuals to pursue happiness, prosperity, and personal fulfillment according to their own values, however lofty or insignificant that might be. For one person, that dream might involve building a small business. For another, it could mean owning a home, raising a family, or simply achieving a standard of living superior to that of previous generations. Any top-down claim about what is or is not “the essence” of that dream implies a collectivist redefinition — one that elevates nationalistic or ideological goals above the lived experience and preferences of individuals.

From a classical liberal standpoint, the power (and perhaps the true ‘essence’) of the American dream lies in its decentralization. It is not a centrally administered scheme of moral aspiration, but a spontaneous order that emerges from free exchange, open markets, and self-directed human action. If low-cost, high-quality goods — whether they are electronics, food, or household items — enable millions of Americans to save, invest, and allocate their personal resources more efficiently, it is presumptuous and economically incoherent to suggest that those choices are somehow inauthentic or unworthy of a citizen’s aspirations.

Second, access to affordable goods is a cornerstone of economic freedom and human flourishing. The ability to stretch one’s income further, especially in a period of inflation and wage stagnation, is not trivial. It enables upward mobility, promotes entrepreneurship, and allows for capital accumulation: all conditions essential to what economists would recognize as long-term increases in real living standards. Milton Friedman, Friedrich Hayek, EC Harwood, and countless other defenders of market economies have long emphasized that prosperity flows not from the benevolence of producers or bureaucrats, but from voluntary exchange and competition.

Moreover, falling prices are not simply a consumer preference — they are an indication of rising productivity, quite possibly the most vital engine of prosperity in the history of mankind. When firms innovate, streamline production, and specialize, they are able to produce more with less.

That process generates real wealth — not the illusory growth of fiscal or monetary stimulus programs. The cascading effects of producing more goods and services per unit of input — whether through faster output growth than input use, or rising output with stable or declining inputs — are profound: longer life expectancies, lower infant mortality, improved public health, the unlocking of previously untapped human capital, and beyond. Far from incidental, they are the hallmarks of a thriving society. And it must be said clearly that outsourcing labor to parts of the world with lower wages and compensation expectations is just as much a productivity gain as technological innovation or other forms of operational efficiency. To view lower prices as a trivial or optional component of the American experience is to fundamentally misunderstand the connection between market dynamism and human progress.

In his essay “Do Real-Output and Real-Wage Measures Capture Productivity Growth?” William Nordhaus uses the history of lighting to show how official economic statistics drastically underestimate the productivity growth. By comparing the cost of light from ancient oil lamps to modern compact fluorescents, he finds that the true productivity of lighting increased by a factor of about 900,000 over the past two centuries — far greater than what standard price indexes suggest. His ultimate conclusion is that official measures may miss vast improvements in consumer well-being and technological progress, especially over long time horizons. Had barriers to trade — tariffs or other restrictions on the exchange of goods, services, know-how, or ideas more broadly — been erected at any point along the way, much of that extraordinary growth would likely have been delayed and perhaps never realized.

Protectionist policies that artificially raise prices undermine efficiencies by distorting price signals and shielding domestic firms from competitive pressures. That is nothing less than crony capitalism wearing a mask of economic patriotism, and it most certainly does not “make America great again.” Tariffs also function as a regressive tax, disproportionately impacting lower- and middle-income consumers who spend a higher percentage of their income on tradable goods. The irony could scarcely be thicker: in the name of defending the American worker, the state imposes costs on that very worker’s grocery bill, clothing budget, and ability to afford modern technology.

Behind the availability of cheap goods is an intricate global web of specialization and comparative advantage. When nations focus on producing what they are relatively best at and trade freely, wealth is maximized for all parties. This is not some wonkish theory — it is the lived experience of the post-World War II economy, where trade liberalization has lifted billions out of poverty and allowed consumers in poor and wealthy countries alike to access goods that would otherwise be unaffordable or wholly unavailable. To reject this on nationalistic grounds is not only economically shortsighted but morally suspect.

The very idea that consumer access to affordable goods is somehow trivial or un-American betrays a condescending view of economic agency. It assumes that policymakers know better than consumers themselves what constitutes a fulfilling, meaningful life. In a free society, it is individuals — not governments, and certainly not Treasury Secretaries — who, via the market, determine what goods, services, and life paths are worth pursuing. Whether an American family spends its savings on travel, education, games, events, or simply better groceries is not for the state to judge or manipulate.

Telling the American people — especially after four years of the highest inflation in four decades — that they should endure even higher prices for an experiment attempting to replicate the economic conditions and state of the world at a particular point in time is nothing less than collectivism. If anything, the government’s role should be to protect the institutions that secure property rights and unfettered markets. When officials begin to redefine the American dream in ways that justify inflationary or restrictive policies, it should raise alarms.

The American dream is not a slogan. Nor is it a sacrifice to be coerced at the altar of political narratives. It is the right to choose, to buy, to trade, and to live according to one’s own values. And it is the simultaneous right for businesses, whether proprietorships or multinational corporations, to seek efficiencies wherever in the world they find them. Pursuant to those, access to affordable goods, through free and open markets, is not only central. It is, contra Bessent, essential.