At the end of last week, as I was perusing newspaper and magazine headlines, and reading (or listening to) pieces that caught my attention in such a way that felt like they might be worth my time, I finally clicked on an opinion video on the New York Times website. It was a piece that I had considered watching a day or two earlier, but I wasn’t sure I was ready. The piece in question? It was “The Rich Don’t Play by the Rules. Why Should I? Why petty theft might be the next political protest” (here’s the link). It’s a debate involving Nadja Spiegelman (from the New York Times), Hasan Piker (political commentator), and Jia Tolentino (from The New Yorker), in which they discuss shoplifting as “microlooting” (from places like Whole Foods, owned by billionaire Jeff Bezos), as if regular looting has been an effective tool of social change.

As if I needed more fodder for the despair machine . . .

I couldn’t even listen to all of the discussion.

While I certainly share a great deal of their consternation with the ultra-wealthy, and the ways through which the extraordinarily wealthy find all kinds of ways— legal and illegal, ethical and decidedly not so ethical— of increasing their wealth while sharing less and less of it (according to the piece: “Eighty-eight corporations made $105 billion in profits in 2025, including Tesla, Southwest, United, Live Nation and Disney. And they collectively paid income taxes of zero dollars.”), including with their own employees, the concept of “they steal, so I should steal” just doesn’t hold up. Plus, the demonstration of a “moral code” that simply isn’t at all “moral” is striking. At one point, Piker declares, “We’ve got to get back to cool crimes like . . . bank robberies, stealing priceless artifacts . . . ” And, then they have a good laugh about shoplifting at Whole Foods, and continue on with justifications, including the notion that because shoplifting is already “built into” the prices of groceries, it’s perfectly fine— even honorable— to take things without paying— as long as you do so at large stores belonging to billionaires who exploit their workers, and the “system.” When it comes to public protest, they are quick to dismiss, or at least belittle, the concept, since “people” (it seemed clear that they were talking about young people) don’t have the time or the energy for that sort of thing.

Here’s a good place to heave a heavy sigh.

As I read, and listened to, the discussion among these three people who are significantly younger than I am, I was certainly outraged. I was also saddened. While they bandied about with concepts like “moral code” and “social contract,” they seem to be very much missing out on meaningful, and broad, social connection. The world they inhabit feels very small and, I think, that’s why “microlooting” seems like a legitimate social action. It’s borne out of the micro-world in which they live.

I may live in a very different environment, in a small, rural community in a corner of the country that not a lot of people think about, but I would argue that my connections are much wider and better rooted, providing an mixed array of opportunities that provide meaning, purpose, as well as an anchor for wading through the complexities, and challenges, of life. It’s a wondrous thing to belong to a faith community, for example, that participates in community action, community events, and community causes— within the faith community itself, as well as the wider community of which we are part. Our small community collects food for the local food pantry, provides a monthly meal to the homeless shelter, raises money for various causes, and a about a half dozen of us attended the most recent No Kings rally. And, that’s just a small sampling. To be clear here, it’s not just about the ways we contribute to improving the lives of others, but the ways through which our engagement enriches and supports our relationships with each other.

The communities that I participate in are ones in which people live by an actual moral code, and that moral code dictates not just our actions, but our very selves— how we relate to others, and how we respect our own selves. To steal because the ultra-wealthy steal is just more stealing. It’s not a path to meaningful change, nor is it a way to engage, in a positive way, with community building. The discourse among the young that “petty theft” may be a legitimate way to engage in political protest is a supposed statement directed at those who steal at a much different level. And, yet, it doesn’t take much to realize that what they are talking so grandly about is something that is called “petty” for a reason. It’s not significant or meaningful. And, while it may usher in a bit of additional awareness and perhaps a small token of change, it’s doubtful that that change will be positive, or productive.

I’m grateful that I’m part of a community of care, respect and decency, a community that doesn’t really need to talk about a “moral code” and the “social contract.” We live these things, including offering a space and a place for refuge and respite. We may be an older community, but we are willing to engage in public, collective action— a path to social change built on hope, respect, and love. Nothing petty about that.