“Abundance,” the much discussed and provocative new book by Ezra Klein and Derek Thompson, offers a sharp critique of today’s Democratic Party.

The authors argue that Democratic elites have become too risk averse, increasingly prioritizing different bureaucratic and legalistic  processes over actually accomplishing their stated goals. An approach, they believe, has contributed to public disillusionment and to the appeal of populist figures like President Donald Trump.

America’s lost ability to build : the housing crisis and California’s high speed rail debacle as case studies

One of the main focuses of “Abundance” is the rise in housing costs in America’s big cities.

Story continues below advertisement

Before the 1970s, home prices in the highest cost metropolitan areas were roughly twice the national average; by 2000, that gap had widened dramatically, with those prices reaching four times the national average.

Klein and Thompson trace the housing crisis to a sharp decline in housing construction. While the US built 8.5 million housing units in the 1950s, housing permits per capita have steadily declined since the late 1970s, failing to keep pace with population growth.

The authors place much of the blame on increasingly restrictive zoning laws, driven by homeowners seeking to protect their property value and neighborhood character.

Whereas early 20th century zoning regulations were primarily about land use (residential, commercial, industrial), the 1970s saw an expansion into restrictions on density, height, and bulk.

This has limited the development of more affordable housing options like apartments, duplexes, and accessory dwelling units (ADUs).

Beyond housing, “Abundance” details how bureaucratic inefficiencies have stalled major infrastructure projects, such as California’s high-speed rail.

Approved by voters in 2008 with a $33.6 billion budget, the project promised to go from Los Angeles to San Francisco in under three hours.

Yet, due to stringent equity requirements, endless lawsuits, land disputes and exhaustive environmental reviews, costs have ballooned past $100 billion, with only a limited Central Valley segment completed.

Meanwhile, countries across Europe and Asia have built extensive high speed rail networks for a fraction of the cost and time.

China alone has constructed over 29,770 miles in just 17 years at around $17-21 million per mile, compared to California’s staggering $154 million per mile cost.

Even within the U.S., the book contrasts this stagnation with historical feats like the construction of the Empire State Building, which was completed in just over a year.

The productivity paradox and the limitations and origins of procedural liberalism

Since the 1970s, overall productivity growth in the United States has noticeably slowed, even as information technology has rapidly transformed.

This phenomenon, known as the productivity paradox, is evident not only in the aforementioned decline of housing and infrastructure development but also in the reduced pace of scientific and technological breakthroughs.

Most noteworthy innovations over the last few decades —such as the internet, social media, and, more recently, AI—have been confined to our screens, primarily transforming leisure and social interactions. While ongoing developments in AI may change this trend, these innovations have so far had limited impact on physical world industries and productivity.

This stands in sharp contrast to the decades preceding the 1970s. For instance, the 50-year period from 1880 to 1930 saw the birth of the automobile, the airplane, X-ray technology, and antibiotics. These inventions fundamentally reshaped the physical world and significantly extended life expectancy.

The book argues that one major contributing factor to today’s stagnation is a hostile regulatory environment—one that the digital sector has largely avoided, as it emerged after most of these restrictive regulations were developed.

For instance, in the 1970s, in response to severe air and water pollution, laws like the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) and the California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA) introduced rigorous environmental assessments. This has resulted in decreasing the speed and scope and increasing the cost of development, including, ironically, for clean energy projects.

At the same time, the consumer protection movement, led by figures like Ralph Nader, fostered a culture of hyper-accountability, encouraging a surge of lawsuits that has made large scale government action difficult without extensive procedural checks.

Meanwhile, the New Left’s emphasis on decentralized decision making further entrenched these challenges, empowering Not In My Backyard (NIMBY) movements that block both public and private development.

Though these regulations were originally well intentioned, and often effective, responses to real problems, Klein and Thompson convincingly argue that they are now obstacles to the pressing challenges of today—whether that be transitioning to clean energy, solving the housing crisis, infrastructure modernization or reversing the decline in innovation.

Is it the right moment for a progressive case for deregulation?

As Elon Musk and Trump are gutting government oversight in the name of efficiency, a progressive case for deregulations may seem awkwardly timed.

The book has faced criticism from the left for its supposed similarities to both “Reaganomics” and to the stated motivations for Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE).

However, efficiency and deregulation shouldn’t be dismissed merely because conservatives have co-opted its rhetoric. The real question is, towards what ends?

Indeed, at a time when the federal administration is actively seeking to undermine state capacity, “Abundance” serves as a useful counterpoint. While the book calls for deregulation, it does not just to streamline the private sector but to make the government itself more productive and ambitious.

For instance, the book argues for increased public investment in technological and scientific innovation and its practical application—just as the Trump administration is cutting federal research funding.

Additionally, the book’s advocacy for growth and focus on efficient supply chains is especially relevant at a time when the Trump administration is implementing a chaotic tariff scheme that significantly raises the risk of a recession by unpredictably increasing the cost and difficulty of producing essential goods.

The limitations of the book’s focus on liberal failures

In a recent viral exchange between Klein and “Daily Show” host Jon Stewart, Klein reads aloud the 14-step process that states must navigate to access broadband funding under Biden’s 2021 Build Back Better initiative—a bureaucratic labyrinth so complex that only three of the 56 applicants have successfully completed it.

He uses this example to support the central argument of “Abundance”: that an excessive focus on procedure prevents Democrats from achieving their own stated objectives.

However, after the clip aired, some members of the Biden administration pointed out that Klein omitted a key detail: many of these bureaucratic hurdles were added by Republicans, often influenced by lobbying from incumbent internet providers, during the bill’s bipartisan negotiations.

This is significant, as it highlights that the roots of regulatory inefficiencies are much broader than the book’s focus.

Indeed, many bureaucratic bottlenecks — if not the majority when it comes to federal policy — can be traced to Republican and corporate efforts to slow down and constrain liberal policymaking, rather than to the liberal proceduralism that “Abundance” primarily focuses on.

While this critique is valid, it doesn’t undermine the authors’ main thesis. Indeed, the book’s core focus is on the inefficiencies that exist in deep blue states like California and New York—places where Republican influence is minimal and can’t be blamed for the entrenched procedural gridlocks.

It cannot explain why, for instance, more clean energy is built in Texas than in any blue state, despite the parties respective stances on the urgency of curbing climate change.

Nor why the cost of building multifamily housing is more than twice as high in California than in Texas for market rate units, and more than four times as high for subsidized housing.

A couple other omissions that warrant further exploration

“Abundance” has received praise from figures like California Gov. Gavin Newsom, California Representative Ro Khanna, and New York Representative Ritchie Torres.

And in recent years, the Yes In My Backyard (YIMBY) solution to the housing crisis — loosening zoning regulations to enable more housing construction — has gained traction among many Democratic leaders across the spectrum. Yet progress remains sluggish.

California serves as a useful case study: despite Newsom signing multiple housing bills to boost supply, development has not significantly increased.

In an interview on Newsom’s podcast, Klein attributed this failure to California’s still costly and time consuming environmental, labor and equity requirements for new developments. Newsom, in turn, blamed persistent local NIMBY opposition.

This begs the question: what can be done to overcome these entrenched interests? On this, the book offers too little clarity.

Another omission is how public disorder — rising crime, open-air drug use, and street homelessness — affects the politics of scarcity.

The book correctly notes that scarcity fuels reactionary fears, lending credibility to concerns that immigrants and other perceived “outsiders” will strain limited resources.

However, it neglects how public disorder erodes societal trust and can intensify NIMBY fears about the influx of new residents. For instance, it seems unlikely that the rise of NIMBYism coinciding with the 1970s crime wave was merely coincidental.

Still, “Abundance” delivers a vital warning: if liberalism remains bogged down in procedural hurdles and fails to deliver results, it risks ceding ground to those who promise action, however reckless their methods may be.