The cleanest way to understand the next decade is to stop asking whether the debt will be paid back, and start asking where the money is going.
Those are two different questions, and they produce two very different forecasts. The first is the conversation people have been having since the 1980s. The second is the one that drives outcomes.
The 40-Year Setup
For roughly 40 years, debt grew, rates fell, and the private sector took on more leverage with every cycle. That was the world a generation of investors learned to navigate. It was a supply-side world: Money flowed to capital, capital flowed to technology, and technology produced an enormous, and quietly disinflationary, abundance.
Globalization extended the runway. The opening of China, the fall of the Soviet Union, and the rise of the internet brought hundreds of millions of low-cost workers into a system that previously priced labor in dollars and pounds. You could grow the money supply briskly without producing much price inflation, because productivity kept showing up to absorb the demand.
Then in 2008 the system found its bedrock. Private debt levels were running about as high as they had ever run in the United States, and bank balance sheets were as thin as they had ever been. The instinct that built the prior expansion, the reflexive lowering of rates and the encouragement of one more loan, ran out of room.
Policymakers did the only thing left to do at that point in a long debt cycle. They moved the leverage from private balance sheets onto the public ledger. That single decision, more than any other, set the rules for the world we are still living in.
What Fiscal Dominance Means
This is what economists, borrowing a Latin word, call fiscal dominance. When public debt is high enough, the central bank no longer leads the dance. Raising interest rates to slow private credit also blows out federal interest expense, which is itself a fast and powerful form of money creation.
Cut rates and you stimulate. Raise rates and you also stimulate, just through a different door. The traditional 1970s playbook, where tight money crushed bank-driven inflation, does not map cleanly onto a system in which the marginal dollar of new money comes from the Treasury rather than from a bank.
Most analysts stop here, and the conversation becomes a debate about arithmetic. It’s more useful to keep going. The math is real, but it’s not the engine. The engine is who gets the money.
The Engine: Who Gets the Money
When Washington bailed out the banks in 2009, the stimulus was narrow and structural. It saved the system, and it did not put a dollar in the pocket of a 25-year-old who watched his job disappear, and his rent rise anyway. That is the moment populism started to compound.
It’s not a coincidence that the Tea Party and Occupy Wall Street emerged within months of each other, looking different on the surface but rhyming underneath. They were the first reactions of a generation that had only ever known the supply-side world, and concluded, fairly, that the rules of the game were tilted.
Eleven years later, COVID produced a different kind of stimulus. Checks went directly to households. The cost of borrowing went to zero. The deficit blew out, and the velocity of money jumped, because money handed to people gets spent. That’s the populist response to a deflationary shock, and it’s now the default setting.
In the most recent campaign cycle, both major US political parties effectively committed to leaving Social Security and Medicare untouched. The era of fiscal austerity, which once had bipartisan respectability, has ended. It’s not coming back on any timeline that matters to a portfolio.
Why Reversal Is Off the Table
This is why the train doesn’t stop. It’s not just that the math is hard to reverse. It’s that the politics make reversal a non-starter. A politician who proposes real austerity loses to one who does not. That is true in democracies, and it tends to be true under softer authoritarian arrangements as well, because authoritarian leaders are not immune to the need for popular legitimacy. They simply earn it through different channels.
A useful question is what historical period rhymes with this one. The 1970s are the obvious comparison, because of inflation. In some respects, the 1940s are closer.
Public debt was the binding constraint, financial repression did the heavy lifting, and the central bank was a junior partner rather than a senior one. There is a statistical fact worth keeping in mind. A balanced portfolio of stocks and bonds, in real terms, returned roughly the same thing from 1929 to 1949 as it did from 1962 to 1982. One stretch was deflationary, the other inflationary. The nominal wrappers were different. The real outcomes converged.
That’s what fiscal dominance, run long enough, tends to do. It compresses the distance between very different-looking economic regimes by chewing away at purchasing power either openly or quietly.
The complication going forward is the asterisk. The reason the United States can run deficits while a country like Egypt cannot is the structural global demand for dollars, what economists since the 1960s have called the exorbitant privilege.
That privilege is not permanent. It’s closer to a long-dated option than to a deed of ownership. If it erodes, the train does not stop, but the ride changes. More of the deficit must be absorbed at home, which crowds out productive investment and pulls the central bank into the bond market in a more visible way. The 1940s comparison gets stronger, and the 1970s comparison gets weaker.
AI as Accelerant, Not Antidote
Layered on top of all this is the technology cycle. The first-order story about artificial intelligence is that it is profoundly deflationary. That part is correct. The point that gets missed is what the second order looks like in this particular political environment. Every technology wave threatens labor.
The bigger the wave, the bigger the threat. The bigger the threat, the louder the populist response. The response is fiscal, because fiscal is the only tool left that can address it quickly. The deflationary impulse from the technology arrives at the same moment as the inflationary impulse from the policy answer to it. Net of both, the inflationary side likely wins for longer than markets currently expect.
A note on Bitcoin and stablecoins, since they belong in this picture: Stablecoins are an offshore dollar bank account in your pocket, which is enormously useful in countries with weaker currencies, and an expansion of dollar reach worth taking seriously.
Bitcoin is more interesting and more contested. The bullish case over the next five to ten years is there, because the political constituency that wants a hedge against fiscal dominance is the same generation that grew up inside it.
The longer-term case is more uncertain. Power, by its nature, dislikes anything that limits it, and a settlement system that no government controls fits that description precisely.
Reasonable people will land in different places on this question, and the only honest position is to hold it open.
The Question That Matters
Most of the predictions you will hear about the next ten years assume the system will continue to run roughly as it did. That’s the trap. The way to read this period is not to ask whether the train will stop, but to notice who is steering it, and where the new tracks are being laid. The answer to both questions, increasingly, is the voter.
This is based on an episode of Top Traders Unplugged, a bi-weekly podcast with the most interesting and experienced investors, economists, traders, and thought leaders in the world. Sign up for our Newsletter or subscribe on your preferred podcast platform so that you don't miss out on future episodes.









































