Every quarter, Wall Street holds a ritual in which a few executives announce how well the owners of America are doing, and the financial press treats it as a verdict on the country. This quarter the number is nearly 30% earnings growth for the S&P 500. Technology profits are projected to jump 65%. Even the other 493 companies are expected to grow 27%. By any normal measure that is a boom.
So ask the question the earnings calendar never does: a boom for whom?
Stock ownership in America is steeply concentrated. By Federal Reserve data, the wealthiest 10% of households hold roughly 90% of corporate equity, and the top 1% hold about half. Everyone else gets a smaller sliver, usually through a retirement account they can't touch without penalty. When JPMorgan and Goldman post strong numbers, the people who feel it are shareholders, executives with stock-heavy pay, and the rest of us only as a rumor. A 27% profit surge among ordinary companies, while families still complain about rent, insurance, groceries and a hiring market that has gone cold, tells us something. The economy isn't failing to produce. It is succeeding at producing for the people who already own it.
Then there is the market's strange psychology. Johnson & Johnson grew revenue about 6%, beat estimates, and still lost roughly 5.5% of its value in a day. That is not a healthy price signal. It is a system so wound up in expectations of perfection that decent, real, useful business is punished for being merely excellent. Meanwhile tech is about 40% of the S&P 500, which means anyone with a 401(k) in an index fund has been quietly enlisted in one giant sector bet. We call that diversification. It is closer to a collective wager, placed by workers who were never asked.
Now the banks, the ones kicking off the season. Strategists fret that bank results might cause short-term volatility, and the financial sector is down about 5% since August. Fine. But the larger story is the political environment those banks enjoy. The Trump administration has spent the year dismantling the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, and regulators are loosening capital and supervisory rules that were written after the last time the industry convinced itself it had mastered risk. I'd like to believe the lessons of 2008 are permanently embedded in the system. I'd also like to believe a bank's lobbying budget is a charitable donation. Memory is the first thing a profitable industry pays to forget.
The lazy Right response is that profits are the reward for innovation and that a rising tide lifts all boats. Some tides do. But boats have different owners, and a tide that lifts the yachts 65% while the dinghies wait on a paycheck is not a policy. It is weather.
Democrats, for their part, should stop being sheepish about this. For too long the party has treated markets as someone else's business, something to be nervous about at the margins, while Republicans claimed the language of growth. A left worth voting for says plainly that record profits are an invitation to ask for more: higher taxes on capital income, a real fight over labor's share, retirement security that doesn't depend on a few tech giants, and a financial regulator with teeth rather than a gutted shell.
The earnings season will go on. Analysts will debate beats and misses, and the rest of us will be told to cheer the totals. Don't. A good quarter for corporations is not automatically a good quarter for the country. The test is who gets paid.
How it may affect me
If you hold a 401(k) or IRA in an S&P 500 index fund, roughly 40% of your money rides on the technology sector, so a tech sell-off would hit your retirement balance harder than 'diversified' suggests. Check your fund's sector weightings, and consider whether you hold anything outside large-cap U.S. stocks.


