Gospel of Bernie: False Prophet of the Working Class

In the grand theater of American politics, Bernie Sanders has performed a most compelling act—a performance of indignation, idealism, and insatiable outrage wrapped in the ragged cloak of “revolution.” He thunders against billionaires from his lakeside estate. He rages against the system while profiting handsomely within it. He masquerades as a voice for the working class, yet peddles illusions that would economically decimate the very people he claims to uplift. This is not the mark of a visionary. It is the behavior of a charlatan. And it is time we stopped mistaking zealotry for wisdom.

Let us begin with Sanders’ most central claim: that he is a man of the people. This narrative collapses under even a light breeze of scrutiny. Bernie owns three homes, including a summer retreat in North Hero, Vermont—a curious reward for decades spent in “public service” as a self-proclaimed democratic socialist. The same man who decries capitalism’s rewards has found a way to enjoy its spoils. During his 2020 presidential run, his income from book deals topped over $1.7 million in a single year. That is not a crime—but it is a hypocrisy for someone who claims that “billionaires should not exist” and that capitalism is a fundamentally immoral system. Apparently, capitalism is only immoral until it lines your pockets.

His defenders call him principled. But even a cursory look at his voting record reveals a different story. Sanders voted for the 1994 Crime Bill, which has been widely criticized for its devastating effects on minority communities. He later tried to rewrite history, claiming he only supported it because of the Violence Against Women Act included in the legislation—a meager justification that reeks of retroactive moral posturing. A man of unshakable principle does not require historical revisionism to explain away convenient choices.

Then there is the now-infamous scandal involving his wife, Jane Sanders, whose questionable handling of finances while president of Burlington College led to a federal investigation. Under her leadership, the college collapsed after a disastrous real estate deal financed by loans she allegedly obtained under false pretenses. Bernie, ever the outsider when it suits him, used his political influence to apply pressure on the bank involved. The investigation was eventually dropped, but the stench of impropriety lingered—just another reminder that the Sanders clan is not above the machinations they so theatrically oppose.

Now to the policies themselves—the glittering promises that animate his fanbase but crumble under the weight of scrutiny.

Medicare for All, the crown jewel of Sanders’ agenda, has been debunked repeatedly as economically untenable. According to a 2019 study by the Urban Institute, a full implementation of Medicare for All would cost $34 trillion over ten years—an unfathomable figure that would require doubling or tripling income taxes on the middle class. Sanders insists the savings in private healthcare costs would offset the burden. But this is not how national economics—or human behavior—works. The Mercatus Center projected that even under Sanders’ most favorable assumptions, his plan would increase federal spending to unsustainable levels, lead to price controls, restrict access to care, and delay treatments. The history of such single-payer systems—Canada, the UK, Scandinavia—is riddled with rationing, waiting lists, and a mass exodus of healthcare professionals who refuse to work under bureaucratic chokeholds.

Then there is the push for free college tuition, another fantasy dressed up as policy. At what cost? The National Center for Education Statistics reports that just under 40% of college students drop out before finishing. Making college “free” does not make it valuable—it merely transfers cost from individuals to taxpayers, encouraging mediocrity while punishing fiscal responsibility. Worse, it would further inflate the demand for degrees while ignoring the far more pressing need for trade schools and vocational education, which serve working-class Americans far more effectively than another $80,000 sociology degree subsidized by a truck driver.

His calls to eliminate student loan debt reek of intergenerational theft. Why should Americans who never attended college—many of whom took lower-paying jobs to avoid debt—be forced to subsidize the poor decisions of others? This is not compassion; it is coercion.

And his economic illiteracy reaches religious heights with the endless chorus of “tax the rich.” But the top 1% already pay 42% of all federal income taxes, according to the Tax Foundation. There is simply not enough wealth in the upper echelons to fund the utopia Sanders envisions. His policies do not redistribute wealth. They redistribute delusion. In his world, the laws of economics do not apply. Incentives do not matter. Capital flight is imaginary. Job creators are villains. Wealth is not generated—it is hoarded. This is not economic analysis. It is theology without data.

Morally, Sanders deploys one of the oldest manipulative tactics in human history: the creation of a permanent enemy class. For Sanders, billionaires are the Devil. But who are they, really? Are they the immigrants who founded businesses like Google and Tesla? Are they the inventors and builders who turned garage projects into global enterprises? To collapse all success into a caricature of theft is not justice—it is envy masquerading as morality. It is a dangerous ideology that punishes creation and rewards consumption.

Even on issues like climate change, Sanders stumbles into incoherence. He calls for the Green New Deal, which would require a complete overhaul of the American energy sector in just a few decades—at a price tag of $93 trillion, according to estimates by the American Action Forum. This is not serious policymaking. This is magical thinking. And yet, Sanders sells it with all the evangelical fervor of a street preacher—apocalyptic, accusatory, unrelenting. The world is ending, and only Bernie can save it.

His supporters call this passion. I call it emotional manipulation. He builds resentment, not reason. He promises salvation without sacrifice. He tells the downtrodden that their suffering is someone else’s fault and that utopia is only a vote away. But when the policies fail—and they always fail—it is never Bernie’s fault. It is the oligarchs. It is the corporations. It is capitalism itself. It is everyone, everywhere, but never him.

What is perhaps most insidious about Sanders is his uncanny ability to cloak narcissism in humility. He speaks with the cadence of a monk but wields power like a demagogue. He is not the messiah of the working class. He is a master marketer of moral outrage.

No one should be surprised by this. As the philosopher Eric Hoffer once warned, “Every great cause begins as a movement, becomes a business, and eventually degenerates into a racket.” Bernie Sanders has made a career of turning idealism into industry.

So let us be honest. The Sanders movement is not about reform. It is not about justice. It is not even about economics. It is about power—raw, unaccountable, self-righteous power. The kind that comes not from competence or results but from the mob’s belief in a savior.

But Bernie Sanders is no savior. He is a salesman of dreams built on deficits. A false prophet of progress who offers the poor a future funded by fantasy. And the sooner his supporters awaken from the spell, the sooner America can return to the hard, honest work of real solutions.

The revolution he promises is not against the system. It is the system—just dressed in different robes.

And the emperor, I am afraid, has no clothes.