John Ruskin gave us a word we were not ready to hear.
In Unto This Last (1860), he drew a line: “wealth” is that which sustains and enriches life; “illth” is that which diminishes it. The political economists of his day treated all production as inherently beneficial. Ruskin insisted that what mattered was not just the fact of production, but its consequences.
The term never caught on. Victorian capitalism was accelerating and had little patience for moral qualifiers. More importantly, the full scale of industrial damage was not yet visible. Ruskin’s insight was not rejected so much as it was premature.
It is no longer premature.
The US opioid crisis offers a grim illustration: pharmaceutical revenues rose alongside addiction, overdose, and social breakdown. These are harms structurally entangled with value creation. The social media economy has generated extraordinary wealth for some, while leaving a measurable imprint on adolescent mental health. Fast fashion and disposable electronics generate revenue by accelerating cycles of waste and exploitation. These are not marginal cases. They are central features of modern economies. In Ruskin’s terms, they are illth — accumulated alongside, and often because of, the pursuit of profit.
Tax systems can gesture toward this distinction — carbon levies, windfall taxes, incentives for firms with genuine social benefit, and disincentives for those without — but taxation reflects moral consensus; it does not create it. The more important work is cultural.
At present, we celebrate the “entrepreneur” as a near-unqualified good. What we lack is an equally clear term for those who extract value while degrading the conditions that make value possible. “Illth-creator” may sound unfamiliar, but it captures a moral reality our current vocabulary evades.
There is also a conservative case. Real wealth is what can be handed on to the next generation intact or improved. A society that depletes its soils, fragments its communities, and diminishes the mental health of its young is passing on liabilities disguised as assets.
We already honour our wealth creators. What is missing is the counterpart — a language that allows us to identify and ultimately constrain those who generate harm under the guise of value.
Ruskin put it simply: “no wealth but life.” Everything else depends on whether it sustains life — or diminishes it.