“They don’t deserve it. They probably inherited it or got lucky.”
I overheard this at a pub last week, and it stopped me cold. Not because I hadn’t heard it before, but because I recognized the exact tone from my childhood. Growing up outside Manchester, these phrases were the soundtrack to every family gathering whenever someone local had made it big.
Now, after years of studying political narratives and how we talk about wealth and class, I’ve noticed something fascinating. The things we say about rich people often reveal more about our own relationship with money and opportunity than about the wealthy themselves.
What strikes me most isn’t the criticism itself. It’s the specific kind of resentment that runs underneath certain phrases. Not all criticism of wealth inequality is resentment, of course. Much of it is legitimate frustration with genuine unfairness. But there’s a particular flavor of bitterness that keeps people stuck, focusing their energy on tearing others down rather than building themselves up.
Here are seven things I’ve heard repeatedly that reveal this pattern.
1. “They’re not actually smart, just lucky”
This one hits close to home. When I was the first in my family to go to university, I watched relatives dismiss successful people as “just lucky” constantly. The implication? Intelligence and hard work don’t really matter.
Sure, luck plays a role in success. Being born into the right circumstances, meeting the right people, timing. All of these matter. But this phrase often becomes a blanket statement that erases any possibility of earned success.
What’s revealing here is how it protects us from uncomfortable questions. If success is purely luck, then we don’t have to examine our own choices, habits, or missed opportunities. We don’t have to wonder if we could have worked differently, not just harder.
The resentment shows in the absolute nature of the statement. Not “luck helped them” but “they’re JUST lucky.” It’s a way of making their success completely unrelated to any positive qualities they might have.
2. “Money changes people”
I’ve noticed this gets said most often about people we actually know who’ve become successful. A cousin who started a business. A school friend who made partner at their firm.
Sometimes money does reveal character flaws that were always there. But often what’s really happening is that success creates distance from old social circles, and that distance gets interpreted as betrayal.
When someone from your background succeeds, they become a walking reminder of roads not taken. The resentment isn’t really about them changing. It’s about them proving that change was possible all along.
3. “Rich people don’t understand real struggle”
Growing up, this was gospel in my neighborhood. And there’s truth to it. Many wealthy people genuinely don’t understand what it’s like to choose between heating and eating.
But here’s what I’ve learned since moving to London and navigating circles where everyone seemed to know each other from school: using this phrase as a weapon keeps us trapped in our own struggles.
I once worked with someone who’d grown up wealthy but had severe depression. When he opened up about it, a colleague dismissed him with “must be nice when that’s your biggest problem.” That’s when I realized this phrase can become a way of competing for who suffers most, rather than recognizing that different types of struggle exist.
The specific resentment here is in the gatekeeping of authenticity. Only our struggles are “real.” It’s a way of claiming moral superiority through suffering.
4. “They’re all tax dodgers”
My father, who worked in a factory and got involved in the union, taught me about how tax systems can favor the wealthy. There are genuine issues with tax avoidance and loopholes that need addressing.
But I’ve noticed this phrase often gets applied universally, as if every person with money is actively scheming to avoid their responsibilities. It becomes less about systemic reform and more about painting all wealthy people with the same criminal brush.
The resentment reveals itself in the satisfaction people seem to take in this accusation. It’s not said with sadness about inequality. It’s said with a kind of glee, as if we’ve caught them all red-handed.
5. “It’s easy when you have money”
Of course it’s easier to take risks when you have a safety net. Of course it’s easier to start a business when you’re not worried about next month’s rent.
But I’ve watched this truth morph into something else entirely. It becomes a way of dismissing any effort or decision-making by wealthy people. Every success gets attributed to the money, never to the person.
The specific resentment here is in the word “easy.” Not “easier,” but “easy.” As if having resources removes all challenge, all possibility of failure, all need for good judgment.
6. “They look down on people like us”
Sometimes they do. I’ve been in rooms where I felt the condescension like a physical weight. Class prejudice is real, and it flows in multiple directions.
But I’ve also noticed how often this gets assumed without evidence. It becomes a preemptive strike, rejecting them before they can reject us.
The resentment here is defensive, building walls before anyone can hurt us. It’s understandable, but it also keeps us isolated from opportunities and connections that might actually help.
7. “The system is rigged for them”
This is perhaps the most complex one because it contains substantial truth. The system does favor those with capital. Networks matter. Inheritance matters. Access matters.
But when this becomes the only lens through which we see success, it breeds a specific kind of hopelessness. If the system is completely rigged, why try? Why save? Why take any risk at all?
I’ve mentioned this before but the danger isn’t in recognizing systemic inequality. It’s in using that recognition as an excuse for complete disengagement.
The bottom line
Writing this feels risky. I can already hear the accusations: “You’re defending the rich!” “You’ve forgotten where you came from!”
But that’s exactly the point. These phrases often shut down nuanced conversation about class, success, and inequality. They turn complex issues into simple us-versus-them narratives.
The specific resentment I’m talking about isn’t about wanting fairness or calling out genuine problems. It’s the kind that keeps us focused on what others have rather than what we might build. It’s the kind that makes their success feel like our failure.
Real change requires examining systems of inequality AND taking whatever agency we do have seriously. It means fighting for fairness while also refusing to let resentment become our defining emotion.
Because here’s what I’ve learned: that specific kind of resentment doesn’t hurt the rich. They don’t even know it exists most of the time. It only hurts us, keeping us trapped in patterns of thinking that confirm our worst fears about how the world works.
What would happen if we channeled that energy differently? Not into defending inequality or accepting unfairness, but into something more constructive than bitter resignation?
That’s the question worth asking.
