COLUMN: Employment Figures Under Trump—When Reality Surpasses Fiction and Stuns Experts

When the Economy Is Hanging by a Thread

In this bleak landscape, only one sector is thriving: healthcare. Driven by an aging population, it created the majority of jobs in 2025. Without it, the year would have been marked by a net loss of jobs. But even this sector is showing signs of weakness. Underfunded public hospitals are struggling to recruit staff. Wages are stagnating. And working conditions are deteriorating, driving many healthcare workers to leave the profession. Other sectors, meanwhile, are in free fall. The retail sector, traditionally buoyant during the holiday season, shed jobs in December. Manufacturing, a pillar of Trumpist rhetoric, is laying off workers left and right. Even the tech sector, despite being fueled by AI, is showing signs of running out of steam. In short, the U.S. economy is hanging by a thread—and that thread is healthcare. A thread that, too, is beginning to fray.

So here’s where we stand: an economy that survives only thanks to the sick, the elderly, and those in need of care. As if the only engine of growth we had left were suffering. It’s both tragic and revealing. Tragic, because it shows just how far the model has run out of steam. Revealing, because it says everything about our priorities. We’d rather treat than prevent, cure than protect, exploit than build. And meanwhile, factories are emptying, stores are closing, and streets are becoming deserted. We hear talk of “recovery,” “rebound,” and “light at the end of the tunnel.” But when we look around, all we see are shadows. Shadows that are lengthening, enveloping cities, and stifling hope. And the most terrifying thing is that no one seems to have a plan. No one, except perhaps those who are taking advantage of the chaos to enrich themselves even further.

When the Central Bank Becomes a Hostage to Politics

The Federal Reserve is caught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, inflation remains stubbornly high, driven by rising energy and rent prices. On the other, the labor market is collapsing, with unemployment on the rise and job creation at a standstill. Analysts expect rate cuts in 2026, but no one knows when or at what pace. Some, like Gregory Daco of EY, forecast an unemployment rate of 4.8% by summer, with “anemic” hiring. Others, more optimistic, are banking on a rebound thanks to rate cuts. But even they acknowledge that the risk of a recession has never been higher. Meanwhile, Trump is ramping up pressure on the Fed, demanding lower rates to “revive the economy.” As if the problem were interest rates, rather than years of erratic economic policy, trade wars, and massive offshoring.

The Fed has become the perfect scapegoat. Too high, it stifles growth. Too low, it fuels inflation. In both cases, it’s the Fed that takes the blame. But the real problem isn’t the Fed. It’s an economy that’s spinning its wheels—one that no longer creates wealth and no longer redistributes anything. An economy where profits go to shareholders, where losses are socialized, and where risks are borne by the most vulnerable. Trump knows this all too well, having spent his presidency undermining safeguards, weakening regulations, and favoring the wealthiest. And now that he sees the consequences of his choices, he’s demanding that the Fed clean up the mess. As if you could cure cancer with a Band-Aid. As if you could erase years of bad decisions with a quick tweak to interest rates. The truth is that America is sick. Seriously sick. And the remedies being offered are nothing more than placebos. Placebos that are expensive, time-consuming, and, in the end, do nothing to address the core issue: this economy is on its last legs.

When Companies Prefer Layoffs to Hiring

Figures from Challenger, Gray & Christmas are clear: the number of layoffs surged in January 2026, reaching levels not seen since 2020. Major tech companies, such as Estée Lauder, are announcing massive layoff plans, despite record profits. Small and medium-sized businesses, meanwhile, are closing their doors. Even retail giants, traditionally resilient, are cutting their workforces. As a result, the number of new unemployment claims reached 231,000 in a single week—a peak not seen since December 2025. Economists are calling it a “vicious cycle”: fewer hires mean less consumer spending, which pushes companies to lay off even more employees. And so on. Meanwhile, Trump continues to tout the merits of his policies, speaking of “success” and “records.” But the records today are those of layoffs, bankruptcies, and debt.

There is something deeply hypocritical about seeing a president celebrate an economy that now works only for a tiny minority—one that lays off workers left and right, that creates precarious conditions for workers, that turns stable jobs into precarious contracts. One that, in short, sacrifices millions of lives on the altar of profit. Because that is exactly what this is: a sacrifice. A sacrifice that is willingly made, accepted, and even championed. In the name of “competitiveness,” “flexibility,” and “modernity.” Empty words, hollow concepts that mean nothing to those who find themselves, overnight, without a job, without income, without hope. We hear talk of “necessary adaptation,” “transition,” and the “new economy.” But when we look at the facts, what we see above all is an economy that crushes people. That uses them, discards them, and forgets them. And that is not adaptation. It is barbarism.

Financial Markets in Their Bubble

While the real economy is collapsing, Wall Street is breaking records. The S&P 500 and the Dow Jones reached all-time highs in January, driven by hopes of interest rate cuts and profits from tech giants. Investors, for their part, seem to be shrugging off the poor jobs numbers. For them, a Fed that cuts rates is good news—even if it’s because the economy is struggling. The result: stocks are rising, dividends are pouring in, and billionaires are getting richer. Meanwhile, in the real world, people are tightening their belts. Inequality has never been more glaring. The richest 1% now possess more wealth than the poorest 90%. And Trump, for his part, continues to tout a “strong economy” and a “vigorous recovery.” As if a country’s health were measured by the Dow Jones.

This is the great disconnect of our time. On one side, a soaring stock market, jubilant shareholders, and CEOs raking in bonuses. On the other, empty streets, closing factories, and families drowning in debt. Two Americas that no longer intersect, no longer understand each other, and no longer live in the same world. And in the middle, a president walking a tightrope, speaking to both sides, promising everything to everyone. Except that we can’t have both a record-breaking stock market and an economy in ruins. We can’t have both billionaires getting richer and workers getting poorer. At some point, a choice must be made. Either we save the real economy, or we let Wall Street take everything for itself. But we can’t do both. And today, the choice has been made. It was made a long time ago. And those who are paying the price aren’t the ones speculating on the stock market. They’re the ones who toil, who sweat, who get up early. Those who, every month, have to choose between paying their rent and feeding their children. You don’t see them on TV. You don’t hear them in speeches. They are the ones conspicuously absent from this cardboard economy. And yet, they are the real America.

Trump and the Art of Skewing Data

Since his return to the White House, Trump has turned statistics into a battleground. In August 2025, he fired the director of the Bureau of Labor Statistics after the release of figures deemed “too bad.” In January 2026, he “inadvertently” leaked employment data before its official release, then promised to “review the protocols.” Translation: we’re going to control the information. And when we can’t control it, we’ll discredit it. Independent economists, meanwhile, are concerned. They speak of a “lack of transparency,” “political pressure,” and the “risk of manipulation.” Some, like Heather Long of EY, do not hesitate to speak of a “crisis of confidence” in official data. Because when a president treats statistics as enemies, how can we still trust the numbers?

We have entered an era where facts no longer matter. Where numbers are opinions, where truth is negotiable, where reality bends to the will of those in power. Trump has understood one thing: in a world where everything is relative, where everything is contested, you can say anything. You can deny the obvious, you can reverse causes and consequences, you can turn failure into success. And people, lost in the flood of contradictory information, eventually no longer know what to believe. So they believe what suits them. Or what they’re told to believe. That’s how consent is manufactured. Not by convincing, but by muddying the waters. By sowing doubt. By discrediting those who speak the truth. And once you’ve succeeded in doing that, you’ve won. Because a people that no longer believes in anything is a people you can manipulate at will. A people you can lead wherever you want. Even to the edge of the precipice.

Precariousness: The New Face of America

Behind the numbers are lives—lives shattered, families torn apart, hopes dashed. Long-term unemployment is skyrocketing, affecting minorities and young people the most. Food banks are seeing an influx of new recipients—people who had never needed help before. Evictions are on the rise, debts are piling up, and despair is growing. Economists speak of “social time bombs,” “risks of riots,” and “the rise of extremism.” Because when people have nothing left to lose, they’re willing to do anything—even follow those who promise them simple solutions, scapegoats, and enemies to defeat. Trump knows this. He’s built his career on it. And today, he’s riding the wave of this anger, this fear, this despair. Like an arsonist who stokes the fire so he can pose as a firefighter.

I sometimes wonder just how bad things have to get before people wake up. How visible the suffering must be, how glaring the misery, how palpable the despair, before we finally take action. Because today, we’re still in denial. We tell ourselves that “it’ll pass,” that “it’s temporary,” that “it could be worse.” As if acknowledging the gravity of the situation could make it worse. As if naming things could make them more real. Yet they’re already real. They’re already here. In the lines at soup kitchens, in the eyes of children who don’t understand why their parents are crying, in the silence of deserted factories. And if we do nothing, if we keep turning a blind eye, then yes, it will get worse. It will get worse until it’s too late. Until anger explodes. Until violence becomes the only way out. And that won’t be anyone’s fault. Except for those who, today, prefer to look the other way.

Between Recession, Stagnation, and Illusion

Economists are unanimous: 2026 is shaping up to be a difficult year. A very difficult one. Some predict a recession, with unemployment exceeding 5%. Others expect prolonged stagnation, with sluggish growth and rising social tensions. A few optimists still hope for a rebound, driven by interest rate cuts and a possible boost in public spending. But even they acknowledge that there is little room to maneuver. The Fed has few tools left, Congress is paralyzed, and Trump, for his part, seems more concerned with his reelection than with the economy. Against this backdrop, only one scenario seems certain: that of a more divided, more unequal, and more fragile America. An America where dreams of shared prosperity are nothing more than memories. And where the only goal is survival.

We were promised a return to greatness. We were promised jobs, growth, and renewed pride. Instead, we’re left with a country falling apart, an economy collapsing, and a society fracturing. And the most terrifying thing is that no one seems capable of reversing the trend. Not the Fed, not Congress, not the White House. So we’re moving forward, eyes closed, toward a future that looks more and more like a nightmare. A future where work is a rare commodity, where security is a luxury, where hope is naivety. But I refuse to believe this is inevitable. I refuse to believe that there’s nothing we can do. Because as long as there are people left to say no, as long as there are voices left to denounce injustice, as long as there are consciences left to reject the unacceptable, then there’s still a chance. A chance to fight. A chance to resist. A chance to build something different. And it’s up to us to seize that chance. Now.

A Choice That Affects Us All

Employment figures under Trump aren’t just an American issue. They’re a symptom of an economic model that’s run its course—a form of capitalism that can no longer create anything but bubbles and inequality. They’re a sign of a world where finance has taken precedence over the real economy, where shareholders matter more than workers, and where short-term gains crush the future. And if America collapses, the rest of the world won’t be spared. Because when the world’s largest economy catches a cold, the whole planet catches a cold. So yes, it’s an American problem. But it’s also a European, Asian, and African problem. A human problem. And the only question that matters is: what are we going to do? Do we stand by, powerless, and watch the ship sink? Or do we try, together, to save it?

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I don’t know if Americans will wake up in time, if leaders will grasp the urgency, or if the world will find the strength to respond. But one thing is certain: we can no longer afford to wait. We can no longer afford to procrastinate. Because every day of delay means a little more misery, a little more anger, a little more chaos. And one day, that chaos will engulf us all. So yes, it’s frightening. Yes, it’s discouraging. But it’s also an opportunity. An opportunity to realize that nothing is ever set in stone. That history only repeats itself if we let it. That we can still choose our future. Provided we open our eyes. Provided we fight. Provided we refuse, together, to give in.

Signed, Jacques Provost