Are We Stealing the Future to Pay for the Present?


Reflections on Christopher Marquis’s The Profiteers, the meaning of progress, and the choices we must make.

I recently came across The Profiteers: How Business Privatizes Profits and Socializes Costs by Christopher Marquis. I found it interesting, disturbing and deeply thought-provoking. One sentence by environmentalist Paul Hawken, which captures the book’s central concern, stayed with me: “At present we are stealing the future, selling it in the present, and calling it gross domestic product.”

I have been thinking about what this really means for the future of humanity. We celebrate economic growth, rising corporate profits, booming markets and increasing consumption as evidence of progress. And much of it is progress. Economic growth has lifted millions out of poverty, created opportunities and improved the quality of human life.

But I cannot help asking a more uncomfortable question. What if, in our increasingly aggressive pursuit of the present, we are shortchanging the future?

When a company makes profits while leaving behind a polluted river, who really pays the price? When we exhaust natural resources faster than they can regenerate, are we creating wealth or merely liquidating an inheritance? When we sacrifice employee development, environmental responsibility or long-term investment to improve quarterly results, are we creating sustainable value or simply moving tomorrow’s costs off today’s balance sheet?

The costs do not disappear. They merely change hands, often ending up with people who had little say in creating them.

Christopher Marquis’s book examines this troubling imbalance between private gain and public cost. Consider Jack Welch, the legendary CEO of General Electric. Under his leadership, GE’s market value rose dramatically, and he became an icon of managerial excellence. Yet the controversy over GE’s refusal to clean up polychlorinated biphenyls, or PCBs, discharged into the Hudson River raised a profoundly uncomfortable question: Could extraordinary corporate performance coexist with a failure to accept responsibility for the damage left behind?

Welch’s later observation that shareholder value is a result, not a strategy, is particularly relevant here. It reminds us that business performance must rest on something more substantial than a rising share price. The larger issue, in my view, is not whether businesses should make profits. Of course they should. It is whether we have begun to confuse the means with the end.

Profit is necessary. But what kind of profit, created at whose expense, and with what consequences for the future?

This question becomes even more urgent as artificial intelligence transforms work, climate change intensifies, and economic power becomes increasingly concentrated. We could be entering an era of extraordinary human progress. Equally, we could be creating a world in which productivity rises while human security, opportunity and dignity fail to keep pace. The future will depend, in part, on which of these possibilities we choose to pursue.

So, what perspective shift do I believe is necessary?  I find myself returning to four ideas.

1. We must learn to measure progress differently.  I do not believe GDP is irrelevant. My sense is it is incomplete. An economy can grow while its rivers become more polluted, its citizens become more anxious, its education system produces graduates without employable capabilities, and its natural resources steadily diminish.

Should we not measure progress alongside the health of our environment, the quality of our education, the dignity of our work, the distribution of opportunity and the resilience of our communities? I would like us to ask not merely how much wealth we have created, but how much genuine human well-being that wealth has produced.

2. We must redefine what we expect from business. I have nothing against capitalism or the pursuit of profit. My concern is with a model that rewards the immediate gain while allowing the long-term damage to be borne by society. I would like corporate boards, investors and business leaders to ask four questions: Is the business profitable? Is it creating genuine value? Are its costs being honestly accounted for? And will the way it operates remain beneficial and viable ten or twenty years from now?

I believe executive incentives should reflect these longer-term considerations, and that environmental and social responsibilities must be supported by transparent reporting, independent scrutiny and meaningful accountability. A business should not be considered successful merely because it has made its shareholders richer. Its success should also be judged by the health of the ecosystem in which it operates.

3. We must invest in human capabilities, not merely extract human productivity. This concerns me particularly in an age of AI. I have been examining and writing about this aspect of late. We celebrate automation, efficiency and the promise of doing more with less. But I wonder whether we are paying sufficient attention to the people whose lives and livelihoods will be transformed in the process. If technology creates unprecedented wealth but concentrates the benefits among a small minority, can we honestly call that progress for humanity?

I would like us to place far greater emphasis on lifelong learning, reskilling, accessible education and the development of distinctly human capabilities: critical thinking, creativity, empathy, judgement and the ability to work meaningfully with others. The real promise of technology should be to expand human possibilities, not merely to reduce the cost of employing human beings.

4. We must move from exploiting the future to regenerating it.  My sense is that this is the most fundamental shift of all. For too long, we have treated nature as a warehouse of resources, people as factors of production and time as something to be compressed in the pursuit of returns.

I would like us to think differently. Can businesses restore the natural resources they consume? Can agriculture improve the health of the soil rather than exhaust it? Can cities become more liveable as they grow? Can economic activity create better opportunities for the next generation rather than leave it with depleted resources, fragile institutions and an enormous environmental bill?

This requires more than individual goodwill. It requires policy, investment, innovation and a willingness to accept that some of the most valuable returns may take years to materialise. But it also requires a change in how we think about our place in the world. We are not the owners of an unlimited inheritance. We are temporary custodians of a world that existed before us and, if we act wisely, will continue long after us.

So, where does this leave me?

I recognise that these are difficult questions. Governments must create jobs. Businesses must remain competitive. Families need rising incomes. Developing economies cannot be expected to abandon growth when millions still aspire to a better life. The answer, therefore, cannot be to stop growing. It must be to reconsider what we grow, how we grow, and who benefits from that growth. Nor can we place the entire responsibility on individual consumers. Systemic problems require systemic solutions. But citizens, investors, employees and business leaders can all influence the incentives that shape our collective future.

I keep returning to one simple distinction. There is a difference between borrowing from the future to build something worthwhile and consuming the foundations on which that future depends. The first creates possibilities. The second destroys them. Perhaps the most important question we should ask of our economic and corporate achievements is not simply, “What have we gained?” It is, “What have we left behind?”

Because if our prosperity today depends on making tomorrow poorer, we may eventually discover that what we called growth was, in part, a form of liquidation. And the tragedy would be that we knew the price all along but chose not to include it in the accounts.

The future is not ours to sell. It is ours to shape, protect and pass on.

What do you think? Are we measuring progress correctly, or have we become so focused on the returns of the present that we are losing sight of the possibilities of the future?

In musing………                                  Shakti Ghosal

References

[1] Christopher Marquis, The Profiteers: How Business Privatizes Profits and Socializes Costs (PublicAffairs, 2024). The book’s themes and the GE–Hudson River controversy are discussed in the Business Science Daily chapter-by-chapter summary.

[2] Jack Welch, comments on shareholder value, reported in the Financial Times in March 2009 and subsequently elaborated in an interview with BusinessWeek. See CBS News: Does Jack Welch Think Shareholder Value Is a Dumb Idea?.

When a Revolution Stops Asking Questions


History has a peculiar habit. It rarely announces its darkest chapters at the beginning.

Revolutions usually arrive carrying beautiful promises. Justice. Equality. Freedom. A ‘better world’ for those who have been denied one. And often, these promises are genuine. Societies do need to change. Injustices do need to be challenged. The young have every right to question the world they inherit. But history also leaves us with an uncomfortable question.

At what point does the struggle for freedom begin to take freedom away? Look at the history of the twentieth century.

After the Russian Revolution, intellectuals, writers and scientists who questioned the new order faced exile, imprisonment and persecution. Under Stalin, the machinery of the state turned against countless people, including educated professionals and ordinary citizens suspected of disloyalty.

In China, Mao’s Hundred Flowers campaign initially invited intellectuals to speak freely. When many accepted the invitation and criticised the Communist Party, the Anti-Rightist Campaign followed. Hundreds of thousands were labelled political enemies, and many suffered imprisonment, forced labour and professional ruin.

Then came the Cultural Revolution. Young people were mobilised in the name of ideological purity. Teachers were humiliated, intellectuals persecuted and families torn apart by political denunciations. The very people who had been encouraged to become instruments of a revolution could themselves become its victims.

In Cambodia, the Khmer Rouge pursued an even more brutal vision of social transformation. Education, professional status and the mere suspicion of intellectual life could invite persecution. The result was a human catastrophe.

These were different societies, different circumstances and different political histories. They should not be reduced to one simplistic explanation. But they leave behind a troubling lesson.

When an ideology begins to claim a monopoly over truth, the first casualty is often the freedom to disagree.

The danger does not belong exclusively to the Left or the Right. Nor does it belong only to revolutions. It can emerge wherever a movement becomes convinced that its cause is so righteous that ordinary restraints no longer apply.

The language may be different. The destination may be different. But the temptation is remarkably familiar. First, divide society into the virtuous and the corrupt. Then persuade people that those who disagree are not merely mistaken, but morally suspect. Next, make compromise appear cowardly, dissent appear disloyal and opponents appear unworthy of being heard.

Eventually, the cause becomes more important than the people in whose name it began. And somewhere along the way, the freedom to think independently becomes an inconvenience.

This is not an argument against protest. Far from it. Protest is an essential instrument of democracy. It gives voice to those who feel unheard, challenges the powerful and forces institutions to confront uncomfortable truths. Without protest, many of the rights we take for granted might never have been secured.

But a protest does not become right merely because it is passionate. Nor does a government become right merely because it possesses authority. Both must answer to reason, evidence, law and the rights of fellow citizens.

Which brings me to a question closer home. Whenever a contentious public issue arises, whether it concerns elections, citizenship, governance or social justice, we should resist the temptation to judge it solely through the political loyalties we already possess.

If citizens fear that their names may be wrongly removed from electoral rolls, their concerns deserve a fair hearing and transparent remedies. If an electoral process is challenged, the evidence must be examined and the institutions responsible must be willing to explain themselves. And if protests take place, their legitimacy must be judged by their purpose and conduct, not simply by whether we agree with those participating. The right to question a process and the duty to protect its integrity are not opposing ideas. They are two sides of the same democratic obligation.

We should be equally wary of those who demand unquestioning faith in institutions and those who insist that every institution is beyond redemption. Blind obedience and blind suspicion may appear to be opposites, but both can destroy the space in which reason operates.

SIR protests in Delhi

The same principle applies to our young. Young people should question their parents, teachers, governments and inherited beliefs. That is how societies learn and evolve. But they must also learn to question the movements that claim to speak for them. Anger can awaken a conscience; it cannot substitute for one. Passion can challenge injustice; it cannot make every action just.

And perhaps this is where our responsibility as a society begins. We must teach our children to think, not merely to take sides. To examine history, not merely inherit its grievances. To defend the right of those with whom they disagree to speak, because that is the real test of whether they believe in freedom. Above all, we must give them something more enduring than outrage: the capacity to build, the courage to question and the humility to accept that they may be wrong.

I do not believe every agitation leads to extremism. I do not believe every radical idea is dangerous, or every established order deserves to survive. Sometimes, it is the system that needs to change. Sometimes, the protest exposes a truth that those in power would rather not confront.

The challenge is to distinguish between the courage to challenge authority and the arrogance of believing that one’s own cause must never be challenged. That distinction matters more than ever.

History warns us about what happens when people stop asking questions. The more immediate question is whether we have the courage to keep asking them—even when the questions unsettle our own side. Because the moment we stop questioning those who claim to fight for us may be the moment we begin to lose the freedom they promised to defend.

In musing…..                                              Shakti Ghosal

What if…


…. we do not really know the people who live beside us?

August 2026

When I was a child, every neighbourhood had an unofficial security system. It was called knowing one another. Your mother knew who lived next door. The grocer knew whose son had returned from college. The postman knew which house had a new baby. The stranger was noticed because everyone else was familiar.

Today we have CCTV cameras, biometric gates, visitor apps, facial recognition and digital identities. Yet we often do not know the person who shares the lift with us.

The newspapers tell us that a young man, described by neighbours as polite and ordinary, is now accused of living a different life of a terrorist behind an ordinary face. If the allegations are proven true, it is a chilling reminder that the greatest disguises are no longer masks. They are routines. Terrorism succeeds long before any explosion. It succeeds the day suspicion replaces trust, when every unfamiliar face begins to look dangerous, and every ordinary neighbour becomes a question mark.

That is precisely why a civilised society must refuse both complacency and paranoia. Security agencies must remain vigilant. Citizens must remain alert. But neither should surrender the humanity that allows communities to exist.

As I folded the newspaper, I wondered whether the greatest security failure of our times is not merely that dangerous people can hide among ordinary citizens. It is that modern life has quietly taught ordinary citizens to live among one another without ever truly knowing those around us. Perhaps the strongest wall against terror is not built of concrete or surveillance. Perhaps it begins when a society rediscovers the forgotten art of being a community.

— Rudra Bose, The Last Writer of Kolkata

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What if…


……when a generation no longer asks for privilege, but for credibility.

July 2026

A few mornings back I learnt that an entire movement has chosen to call itself the ‘Cockroach Janta Party’. I smiled. Not because the name is amusing. But because history has always had an odd habit of allowing the insulted to reclaim the insult. (I recall many years back, the Chai-wallah epithet had provided a positive momentum to Prime Minister Modi’s persona)

There was a time when young people marched carrying flags. Today they march carrying memes. Yesterday’s slogans have become today’s hashtags.

Yet beneath the humour, I hear something painfully familiar. It is not anger; it is disappointment.

Every generation believes the next examination will open the next door. When that examination itself becomes the subject of doubt, it is not merely a paper that leaks. Trust does.

The young are often accused of being impatient. Perhaps they are. But there are few things more dangerous than asking an entire generation to wait while uncertainty becomes a way of life.

Governments may negotiate. Oppositions may protest. Television studios will certainly debate. But none of them can afford to overlook the quiet question echoing through millions of homes, ‘If merit itself begins to look negotiable, what exactly are young people expected to believe in?’

As I folded the newspaper, I realised that the greatest examination before our nation is no longer the one written by students. It is the one our institutions are writing every day. And unlike the students, they will not be judged by the answers they give. They will be judged by the trust they restore.

— Rudra Bose,
The Last Writer of Kolkata

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