The Central Role of the Working and Middle Class in America: The Republic’s Economic and Moral Foundation
Few social groups have received as much philosophical attention as the working and middle classes. They have been praised as the stabilizing force of democracy, the bearer of moral moderation, and the guarantor of liberty.
Philosophers from Aristotle to John Rawls have treated the middle class not merely as an economic group, but as a moral and political ideal essential to the preservation of a just society.
Aristotle argued that the best practical constitution was a polity [an organized society] led by a strong and numerous working and middle class. He believed that a large “golden mean” promotes stability because those who are moderately prosperous are less likely to envy the rich or be exploited by them. They are in the "mean," or middle ground, and are therefore more likely to govern in the public interest.
From the birth of the American Republic to the twenty-first century, the working and middle classes have stood as the essential core of the nation’s identity and survival. They are not merely demographic groups; they are the embodiment of the American social contract. The prosperity of the United States, its stability, and even its moral legitimacy depend upon the condition of these two intertwined classes. To understand America’s greatness—or its decline—one must examine the fortunes and struggles of its working and middle class.
Roman political philosophy inherited Aristotle’s insight but cast it in civic and moral terms. Cicero, in De Officiis, linked virtue to the life of the independent citizen-householder, who neither exploits others nor depends upon them. The moderate prosperity of small landowners and tradesmen cultivated self-reliance and devotion to the common good. Such citizens, Cicero argued, were the moral backbone of the res publica—the shared public realm (Cicero, trans. 1991).
In the early republic, thinkers like Thomas Jefferson envisioned a “nation of yeoman farmers,” independent producers whose modest ownership of land would ensure civic virtue and self-government (Jefferson, 1785/1954). Jefferson’s ideal reflected a deeper truth: that democracy could only endure where citizens had a stake in the economy, where they labored not as dependents but as self-reliant participants in the marketplace.
As America industrialized in the nineteenth century, the working class emerged as a distinct social force. Immigrants and native-born laborers built the railroads, manned the factories, and populated the booming cities. The Industrial Revolution produced immense wealth but also deep inequality. Yet, out of these tensions grew the labor movement—one of the most consequential democratic forces in American history. The fight for fair wages, safe working conditions, and the eight-hour workday was not simply an economic struggle; it was a moral demand for recognition of human dignity (Zinn, 2003).
Adam Smith offered a moral as well as an economic defense of the middle class. In The Wealth of Nations (1776) and The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759), he depicted the commercial middle ranks as industrious, prudent, and sympathetic—virtues that sustained both prosperity and morality.
The New Deal era of the 1930s through the mid-twentieth century represented the high-water mark of working and middle-class empowerment. Strong unions, public investment, and industrial growth created a broad middle class that could afford homes, education, and leisure. Between 1945 and 1975, the United States achieved a unique balance between capitalism and social stability. The prosperity of those decades was not the product of elites alone but of millions of ordinary Americans who built cars, taught children, served in the military, and worked in offices and stores across the country (Galbraith, 1958). They owned homes, cars and small businesses; they raised children and were active in civil life.
Economically, the working and middle classes function as both producers and consumers—the dual engines of modern capitalism. Their wages fund their spending, and their spending drives economic growth. When wages rise, markets expand; when wages stagnate, demand weakens, leading to inequality and instability (Keynes, 1936).
Since the late 1970s, however, governmental policies, globalization, automation, and financialization have hollowed out America’s industrial base. The result has been a bifurcation of society into a high-income elite and a low-wage service sector, with the middle classes squeezed between. The disappearance of manufacturing jobs, the decline of unions, and the rise of precarious gig work have eroded the traditional paths to stability (Reich, 2015). Median wages have remained largely stagnant even as productivity and corporate profits have soared (Economic Policy Institute, 2023).
This economic imbalance has broader consequences: it undermines the consumer base upon which capitalism itself depends. A democracy cannot flourish when a majority of its citizens experience downward mobility and financial insecurity. Economic inequality is not only a social problem but a threat to the continuity of the American project, which was built on the promise of opportunity and advancement for all (Piketty, 2014).
The health of American democracy is directly linked to the vitality of the working and middle classes. These groups have historically provided the balance between populism and elitism—the pragmatic center that sustains constitutional government. When citizens feel economically secure, they tend to trust institutions, engage in civic life, and support compromise. When they feel alienated or abandoned, polarization deepens and demagogues thrive (Putnam, 2000).
The political culture of the United States has long drawn strength from its middle class: small business owners, teachers, skilled tradesmen, and professionals who contribute to both the economy and their communities. They serve on school boards, volunteer in churches and civic organizations, and form the connective tissue of a democratic society. The decline of this class, therefore, weakens not only the economy but the civic soul of the nation (Tocqueville, 1835/2000).
The working class, too, has been an indispensable democratic actor—often the conscience of the republic. From the union strikes of the early 1900s to the civil rights movement of the 1960s, the working class has demanded that America live up to its ideals of equality and justice (King, 1967). These movements redefined citizenship, expanding democracy’s boundaries to include those once marginalized.
Culturally, the American working and middle classes embody virtues that have long defined the national character: hard work, thrift, responsibility, sacrifice and community. They are the stewards of ordinary life—the people who raise families, pay taxes, and sustain the routines that make civilization possible. Their lives are often quiet but foundational, representing a moral seriousness that counterbalances the excesses of both wealth and poverty (Bellah et al., 1985).
Yet, contemporary America risks losing touch with these virtues. A consumer-driven, European-style welfare state and debt-based culture has replaced independence and self-discipline with immediacy, government dependence and digital fragmentation have weakened local ties (Twenge, 2017).
Reinvigorating the working and middle classes, therefore, requires more than economic reform; it demands a restoration of civic virtue and shared purpose.
Sociologist Robert Putnam (Bowling Alone, 2000) and philosopher Richard Rorty (Achieving Our Country, 1998) likewise warned that the erosion of the middle classes threatens social trust and democratic solidarity. For both, the working and middle classes are not only an economic reality but a moral identity—a shared sense of decency, community, and belonging that holds nations together.
After all, the most formative and important influence on an individual is not the government. It is civil society, those elements of the collectivity that lie outside government: family, neighborhood, church, Rotary club, PTA, the voluntary associations that Tocqueville understood to be the genius of America and source of its energy and freedom.
Moreover, the greatest threat to a robust, autonomous civil society is the ever-growing Leviathan state and those [Democrats] who see it [government] as the ultimate expression of the collective.
If America is to endure as a democratic republic, it must restore opportunity to those who work for a living. This means ensuring jobs, fair wages, affordable housing, accessible education, and secure healthcare—not as acts of redistribution, but as investments in the common good. Public policy should be guided by the principle that a strong middle class is not a byproduct of prosperity—it is prosperity (Krugman, 2007).
Tax incentives that reward speculation over labor, trade policies that export jobs, and education systems that favor elites over practical skills have all undermined the foundations of the American middle. Reversing this requires re-centering national priorities around productive work, small enterprise, and community renewal.
The government's primary responsibility is defense. Defense of our country from invaders, but also the defense of citizens from unlawful harm, including physical and otherwise. The next priority should be to create an environment that provides jobs for citizens and opportunities for businesses to start and expand. Equally important is an environment where education and training are highly regarded and accessible; where education is understood to be a lifelong project-things change in our rapid-paced economy, so retraining is a constant. People must have the opportunity and encouragement to develop their human capital as they see fit.
This means the government must have a pro-business, pro-education, anti-regulation attitude.
Ultimately, the working and middle classes represent America’s conscience. Their labor builds the nation, their taxes fund its institutions, and their children fight its wars. They do not ask for privilege, only fairness. To neglect them is to risk the unraveling of the social contract itself.
“In every state [nation] there are two classes: one rich and one poor; the middle class, the only one which can save states, is wanting” (Rousseau, trans. 1997).
We cannot allow the rich or the poor to dominate our society without becoming an aristocracy or “mob ruled,” as was feared by our founding fathers, which is why they designed a system to avoid either.
Given what we have been through over the past five years, I propose that we pause to celebrate those who quietly power our world. Farmers, truckers, and tradesmen embody this spirit. They operate in the shadows of glamour, far from the spotlight of social media influencers or corporate executives, yet their absence would unravel the fabric of modern life. Appreciating them isn't just polite; it's essential for building resilience and equity in our communities.
Let us begin with farmers, the stewards of the earth who bridge the gap between soil and sustenance. In a world where supermarkets overflow with produce year-round, it's tempting to forget the human effort behind each apple or loaf of bread. Farmers rise before dawn, battling unpredictable weather, fluctuating markets, and the physical toll of manual labor. They are scientists, entrepreneurs, and environmentalists rolled into one, employing sustainable practices to feed billions while preserving the land for future generations. Consider the family farmer in the Midwest, who plants crops with precision agriculture tools, or the organic grower in California nurturing heirloom varieties. Their work ensures food security, a cornerstone of national stability.
To celebrate them, we can support local farmers' markets, advocate for fair agricultural policies, or simply educate ourselves on the origins of our meals. Gaining appreciation here means recognizing that every bite is a testament to their resilience—turning seeds into security in an uncertain world.
Equally indispensable are truckers, the nomadic guardians of our supply chains. These road warriors traverse vast distances, often alone for days, to deliver everything from medical supplies to consumer electronics. In an interconnected global economy, truckers are the arteries pumping life into commerce. Without them, shelves would empty, hospitals would falter, and e-commerce empires would crumble. Picture the long-haul driver navigating icy highways in winter or congested urban routes during rush hour, all while adhering to strict regulations and deadlines. Their profession demands not just skill but endurance, as they contend with fatigue, isolation, and the ever-present risks of the road. Celebrating truckers could involve simple acts like yielding right-of-way or supporting initiatives for better rest areas and fair wages. A greater appreciation reveals their role as economic enablers; they don't just transport goods—they transport progress, ensuring that innovation reaches every corner of society.
Then there are tradesmen—the plumbers, electricians, carpenters, and mechanics who build, repair, and maintain the infrastructure we take for granted. In a digital age obsessed with apps and algorithms, tradesmen remind us of the tangible world. They erect skyscrapers that define city skylines, fix leaking pipes that prevent disasters, and wire homes for the electricity that powers our devices. Their expertise is hands-on, honed through apprenticeships and years of experience, often in harsh conditions like sweltering attics or freezing construction sites.
Tradesmen are problem-solvers extraordinaire, turning blueprints into reality and breakdowns into breakthroughs. To honor them, we might promote vocational training programs, challenge the stigma against "blue-collar" jobs, or express thanks during home repairs. Appreciating tradesmen means acknowledging that our comfortable lives rest on their skilled foundations; without them, the virtual world would have no physical anchor.
Celebrating these groups isn't about empty platitudes but about actionable gratitude that strengthens citizenship. Community events such as harvest festivals for farmers, trucker appreciation days, or trade expos can highlight their stories and struggles. Education plays a key role too—integrating lessons on these professions into school curricula to inspire the next generation.
On a personal level, small gestures like buying local produce, tipping delivery drivers generously, or learning basic DIY skills to understand their craft can foster empathy. In doing so, we combat the societal divide between "essential" and "elite," reminding ourselves that true progress is collective. As we appreciate farmers for nourishing us, truckers for connecting us, and tradesmen for supporting us, we cultivate a culture of respect that transcends politics and class.
The promise of America has always rested on the belief that through honest work, one can achieve a decent life and contribute to the common good. Preserving that promise for future generations is not a matter of nostalgia—it is the central moral and political challenge of our time. A nation that forgets its working people forgets itself.
And That’s that!
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