Category: People Over Profits

No matter how much money someone has in America, it turns out you can’t buy a backbone.

There are the good billionaires, such as Warren Buffett, who pledged to give away 99 percent of his fortune and has already distributed tens of billions of dollars to charity. He and many other admirable benefactors have joined The Giving Pledge—a group that has committed to donating most of their wealth in their lifetimes or through their wills. 

There’s also MacKenzie Scott, who has given around $19 billion to more than 2,000 organizations. Her philanthropy has been quiet, without the usual dick-swinging insistence on having statues erected or new buildings named in her honor. 

Her ex-husband, Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos, has taken a very different path. I’m not just talking about his mega-yachts, his bizarre cowboy cosplay with indoor girl Lauren Sánchez, or his phallocentric space company, Blue Origin. I’m talking about his spineless surrender to the Trump administration.

Rather than using his wealth to amplify his voice or promote his values, he has chosen to kiss the ring of an aspiring dictator. Bezos prevented The Washington Post from endorsing Kamala Harris and later donated $1 million to Trump’s inauguration fund.

But Bezos isn’t the only billionaire to put his greed above his integrity: Mark Zuckerberg also donated $1 million and attended the inauguration with his tail between his legs. He apparently regretted kicking Trump off of Facebook during the violent January 6 Insurrection. Or maybe it was Trump’s threat of prison against the “ZUCKERBUCKS” on Truth Social that made him bend the knee. You’d think that having billions of dollars would protect you from the tweets of an unhinged sack of cinnamon pantyhose.

Then again, Zuck does have a MAGA-like hard-on for restoring the patriarchy. He went on Joe Rogan to bemoan the rise of “culturally neutered” companies that lack “masculine energy.” And nothing screams “I’m a VERY STRONG MAN!” like an anti-feminist dressed in a little black shirt and oversized chain. 

You know what actually makes women ovulate, Zuck? Standing up to a liar and advocating for those more vulnerable than you are. A real man would opt to be a protector—not a tyrant’s little lap boy.

And the list doesn’t stop there:  Salesforce’s Mark Benioff, OpenAI’s Sam Altman, Google’s Sundar Pichai, and many other CEOs have all wined and dined Trump’s thirsty ego. 

So what gives? Are these billionaire sellouts all afraid of Donald Trump? Are they fellating his baby carrot to avoid retaliation against their companies or seeking special treatment? Is it only male CEOs because women have the good sense not to support a convicted rapist?

The only billionaire who really seems to buy what Trump’s selling has lost his mind—the ketamine-addicted, chainsaw-wielding, Nazi-saluting DOGE daddy himself, Elon Musk. Of course he’s gutting agencies with pending investigations against his companies, such as the DOL, CFPB, USAID, DOT, SEC, EPA, and more. In the Art of the Self-Deal, the world’s richest man bought himself a shield from American legal accountability for around $288 million. What a steal! He may be an awkward sociopath, but he’s not stupid.

If the billionaire sellouts want to play dirty to protect their companies and fortunes, fine. 

But here’s the thing, boys: once rural conservatives realize that they’re getting hosed financially by the GOP and progressives stop being so insufferable, these two groups will see that they have more in common than they thought. 

Our enemies aren’t on the Left or the Right—they’re up. The cutthroat billionaires love it when we argue about trans women in sports, immigration, abortion, banned books, school prayer, and critical race theory. It keeps us from blaming the real culprits behind our stalled social mobility. 

It’s not gender, race, or religion that’s keeping us down—it’s the corrupt rich. The Trump administration, Project 2025, and DOGE are feeding this fire of outrage more quickly than most of us had imagined. The current tension between the American haves and have-nots cuts like a guillotine.

With so many of the country’s beloved institutions on the chopping block—the National Parks Service, Medicare, etc.—the people hoarding the nation’s wealth may find themselves at the wrong end of some sharpened pitchforks.

“We are drowning in information, while starving for wisdom. The world henceforth will be run by synthesizers, people able to put together the right information at the right time, think critically about it, and make important choices wisely.”

Edward O. Wilson (Consilience: The Unity of Knowledge, 1998)

When ChatGPT was introduced to the world in late 2022, hundreds of AI products and services cropped up overnight, upending every industry and casual conversation. Previous technological leaps seemed to crawl—not run—allowing us time to digest and adapt. The Internet, for example, ramped up over many years in the 90s, starting with a limited number of HTML-proficient bloggers and businesses. The same happened in manufacturing robotics: these inventions took time to mature and optimize production lines. Artificial intelligence hit differently.

Engineers, legal analysts, artists, authors, radiologists, stockbrokers…name an occupation, and chances are that AI is already changing it. As a writer and editor, folks ask me how it will transform my work. I haven’t employed AI professionally, although the applications I frequently use (Google Docs, Gmail, and Grammarly) have all introduced AI-driven writing tools to auto-generate prose. 

Here’s the thing: ChatGPT-4 is a remarkable tool to create first drafts of virtually anything—book summaries, business plans, technical manuals—but there’s a catch: the perspective will be generic, error-prone, and derivative. Words may be strung into grammatically correct sentences based on writing patterns, but without a human touch, the voice will be lifeless.

Let’s do a test: can you spot which of the following was written by ChatGPT-4?

Prompt: Give me a one-paragraph synopsis of the movie “Barbie.”

1. Like many, I didn’t expect to enjoy the movie “Barbie” as much as I did. Greta Gerwig opens with a dawn-of-mankind scene, an homage to “2001: A Space Odyssey.” Barbies were revolutionary because girls in the 1950s wanted more than to role-play as mothers with traditional baby dolls. They now could imagine they were scientists, surgeons, and presidents with their new toys. In Barbieland, the film brilliantly inverts men’s and women’s expected roles in society, with the Kens playing a supporting cast to the Barbies’ hopes and dreams. After stereotypical Barbie and Ken (the impeccable Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling) travel to the real world and observe men’s power and privilege, Ken decides to introduce the patriarchy to Barbieland.

2. “Barbie” is a live-action film that follows the iconic Barbie character as she embarks on a whimsical and empowering adventure in a modern, fantastical world. Barbie, portrayed by a talented cast member, discovers her unique abilities and embarks on a journey of self-discovery and growth. Along the way, she encounters a diverse array of characters, faces challenges, and learns valuable life lessons about the importance of authenticity, friendship, and believing in oneself. Filled with dazzling visuals, heartwarming moments, and a message of empowerment, “Barbie” is a captivating cinematic experience that celebrates the enduring appeal and timeless charm of the beloved Barbie doll.

Which one did I write? The first one, obviously. The second summary is grammatically sound but lacks an understanding of the movie’s themes. It relies on flabby, generic terms (“talented cast member,” “journey of self-discovery and growth”) and doesn’t feel like the voice of someone who has seen the film. Remarkably, a machine wrote that paragraph in seconds, but it’s speciously constructed and doesn’t have a heartbeat. 

AI is a tool that will transform our connection to our work and each other. As a writer, I hope to harness its ability to do data-gathering (which I will fact-check) or to pitch me 50 creative names for my latest recipe. I believe that prompt engineering skills will eventually crown the leading professionals in many fields—those who learn to see AI as a useful tool or an assistant will be at an advantage by automating tedious tasks. But our human-made work will stand out in a crowded field of AI imitation based on our discerning taste and decision-making.

AI doesn’t judge, for better or worse—it doesn’t understand whether its solutions are clever or ignorant. It combs the entirety of accessible human knowledge and makes trained guesses on what to present to us as answers to our inquiries. It works faster and can access a broader scope of solutions than a human brain, but AI doesn’t know when it’s being shallow, offensive, or ridiculous. Persuasive writing, elegant software code, sound legal arguments, and moving works of art all require a perspective. Without beliefs and goals honed by diverse real-world experiences, innovation falls flat. We can’t evolve without a roadmap of values.

I don’t remember the first time I questioned how my conventional success fits within the larger scheme of the United States economy. I was valedictorian of my high school and went to a top university. Getting good grades took precedence over becoming a knowledgeable, curious, and helpful person. I hardly read any books for pleasure until my twenties.

Grades and test scores are clear (albeit flawed) measures of a person’s competence in a given area. In general, a person who is high-achieving by these metrics can get into a better university or get a better job. And for any country, having more of these “successful” people can increase its competitiveness relative to the rest of the world.

But what is success? Is it having high marks in school and, later, a high salary at work? These strivings establish a hierarchy, but what do they actually measure? 

Similar to grades, the way we size ourselves up against other countries is flawed. On the global stage, the United States considers its economic growth to be imperative. And we define growth as an increase in the production of goods and services, which is typically measured by gross domestic product or GDP (per capita).

The GDP is widely accepted as a proxy measure for our advancement as a nation. It doesn’t matter what the growth actually represents—weapons manufacturing, trashy entertainment, energy-intensive cryptocurrency, junk food—as long as the United States’ production of goods and services continues to swell. 

But trying to achieve the highest GDP among nations is an interminable pissing contest. Beyond the point where our basic needs are covered—shelter, food, healthcare, education, services—the growth of an economy for growth’s sake isn’t beneficial, particularly when those who most need the goods and services don’t have the money to purchase them. 

Our relentless focus on GDP and American economic interests also has soured our relationships with other countries. We’ve helped overthrow many democratically elected leaders to advance businesses (or promote anti-communism), including Mohammad Mossadegh in Iran, Jacobo Árbenz in Guatemala, Patrice Lumumba in the Republic of the Congo, and Salvador Allende in Chile. During the past two decades, we’ve killed hundreds of thousands of Iraqi and Afghani civilians in our violent thirst for oil. And I surmise that driving the current swell of anti-Chinese sentiment is our jealousy of their economic growth—the Chinese will soon supplant the U.S. in having the largest economy in the world, and Americans are livid. 

These represent only a fraction of the atrocities (and missed opportunities for international collaboration) committed in the name of “American interests.” This is the grisly reality behind our economic dominance: we’re publicly focused on the wrong metrics of success. 

Within our borders, people fare very poorly compared to other developed nations. We have soaring rates of homelessness, drug overdoses, child poverty, debt, and maternal mortality. Most of our elected leaders on both sides of the aisle are beholden to wealthy companies and individuals.

This is a system driven by ruthless greed and one-upmanship. There’s no trust in fellow citizens or in our institutions, only a nagging fear that most of us are one medical emergency away from personal bankruptcy. 

These feelings of financial anxiety also feed our misogyny, racism, and xenophobia. The most powerful and wealthy people within this country benefit from our infighting: when the republicans channel their rage at immigrants or the democrats channel their rage at straight white men, there’s less energy left over to organize labor movements, break up monopolies, close tax loopholes that favor the wealthy, hold our leaders accountable, or focus on the threat of global warming.

The future of all nations is too interconnected to engage in this petty global competition. The ruthless, zero-sum mindset is medieval: with the world’s collective technological progress, we have a unique opportunity to improve the lives of a broader swath of folks without further polluting our planet. 

But this coordination will take a complete overhaul of the capitalist me-first, scarcity-fearing mentality: it will require true generosity on the part of individuals, companies, and nations. 

It may be convenient to capture a country’s well-being in a single figure like the GDP, but it’s inaccurate. So let’s consider a better gauge of human progress for the contemporary world. 

A more adequate measure would consider:

• The lifespan and standard of living of the people 
• Access to high-quality, affordable education
• Universal housing and healthcare
• The health of the ecosystem and stewardship of the land
• The vibrancy of communities
• Adoption of renewable energy 
• Our ability to be generous (e.g., helping struggling countries with their basic sanitation and infrastructure) 

These areas are harder to measure than the GDP, but focusing on what really matters is an important first step to digging out the selfish rot at the heart of our culture. 

Many point to Bhutan’s gross national happiness as an alternative. It gauges its country’s well-being in nine domains: 

1. Psychological well-being

2. Material well-being/standard of living

3. Good governance

4. Health

5. Education

6. Community vitality

7. Cultural diversity and resilience

8. Balanced time use

9. Ecological diversity

Measuring each of these and capturing them into one GDH figure are challenges, but they reflect nobler goals than the GDP.

Other GDP alternatives exist: 

• The relatively simple human development index measures the capabilities and potential of people, focusing on longevity, education, and income. 
• The sustainable development index considers a human development score (i.e., life expectancy, education, and income) and divides it by their ecological overshoot (i.e., “the extent to which consumption-based CO2 emissions and material footprint exceed fair shares of planetary boundaries”).
• Finally, the New Zealand living standards framework has three broad measures: individual and collective well-being, the functioning of institutions and government, and the “wealth” of the country (including human capability and environmental considerations). 

As long as the United States—one of the most aggressive polluters in the world—does not teach its students or citizens about GDP alternatives, we’ll continue to strive toward the wrong goals. 

Reaching for international economic dominance is wasteful, cruel, antiquated, and childish. The bottom line is this: being a generous, environmentally conscious person or country is more difficult to measure or implement, but it’s the right thing to do for posterity. 

The Covid-19 pandemic, 1,000-year floods and droughts, widespread homelessness and poverty, mass shootings, the erosion of democracy. 

You’d think that the world’s richest man might take aim at one of humanity’s real problems. With so many resources at his disposal and Tesla’s commitment to transforming our energy storage and use, I was shocked that Elon Musk’s top concern is so trifling.

So what is his number-one worry? What issue keeps this wealthy entrepreneur tossing and turning in bed at night?

Population collapse. That’s right: population collapse.

Huh? 

Musk tweeted in August that population collapse is a “much bigger risk to civilization than global warming.” It certainly helps explain why he’s fathered 10 children with 3 different women—a fact he’s cheekily pointed out on social media. But for a guy who presumably reads reports and analyzes data, his baffling obsession with birthrates is out of touch with the numbers. 

In July 2022, the UN stated that the global population is expected to swell to 8.5 billion in the 2030s and 10.4 billion in the 2080s. This hardly seems like an imminent crisis, especially when “experts” were concerned about overpopulation and the depletion of the world’s resources a few decades ago. 

Paul R. Ehrlich, a biologist from Stanford University, published a book called The Population Bomb in the late 60s that stoked fears of having too many people across the planet. Even recently, Ehrlich told Retro Report that allowing women to have many babies is like letting everyone “throw as much of their garbage in their neighbor’s backyard as they [want].” 

So which is it: is humanity on the brink of collapse because we have too many people or too few people? I suspect that the world’s population growth isn’t actually the problem. Perhaps the real crisis is powerful men’s desire to scrutinize and control women’s reproduction.

In every era, male leaders present strong opinions about whether too many or too few babies are born. Regardless of the actual birthrate, it’s treated as a cataclysm.

From 1980 to 2016, China’s sexist one-child policy was implemented to control the country’s population growth. During the same period, American conservatives decried falling birthrates and made outlawing abortion their top issue. 

We all share the same world: why would there be such diametrically opposed opinions and policies about birthrates? 

What’s implicit in Musk’s concern is that the “right types” of babies are not being born. The birthrate is declining in many industrialized nations, even as the world’s population is continuing to grow overall. 

In fact, the UN anticipates that roughly half of the global population growth up to 2050 will be concentrated in just eight countries: the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Egypt, Ethiopia, India, Nigeria, Pakistan, the Philippines, and the United Republic of Tanzania.

 If the declining birthrate in the US were really the issue, surely Musk and American conservatives would welcome families from south of the border. Musk himself—in contradiction with his own population collapse concerns—has bemoaned the lack of media attention about the increased immigration into Eagle Pass, TX from our southern neighbors. 

Wealthier countries should expand their efforts to help struggling countries with their basic infrastructure, sanitation, healthcare, and education, allowing children everywhere to thrive. Those are real issues. Also, Europe, Japan, and the US can increase their immigration caps and have no need to fret about smaller tax bases supporting aging populations. 

There are plenty of births occurring worldwide, but US conservatives see things differently. White nationalist and former congressman Steve King tweeted in March 2017, “We can’t restore our civilization with someone else’s babies.” This echoes the racism at the heart of Musk’s concern: will the world’s richest man be able to overcome his fear of a decline in the “right types” of babies? 

As children, we’re taught that with the right degrees and skills, we can advance in the workplace. It was acknowledged that people with connections and charm can rise somewhat faster, but in theory, American jobs are meritocratic—with enough discipline and training, any person can succeed.

As much as we admire this sentiment, we all soon discovered that the reality of employment is messier. People rise in the ranks for a complex web of reasons—many of them out of an individual’s control. Accomplishments play an important role, but depending on who is in power, other variables can shape an employee’s career path. 

Perhaps a leader is sympathetic to the number of years a subordinate has been around the office and believes it’s their time to move up. Maybe they’re childhood buddies or sorority sisters. Other managers are susceptible to flattery or hold biases against specific groups. 

In all cases, promotions aren’t blind. So how much of professional success can we actually attribute to talent and hard work? 

After five years of working from where I please, I’d argue that fully remote companies are closer to pure meritocracies.

Working from home cuts out a lot of the spontaneous connections and relationships developed over cubicle walls and around the water cooler. Rather than having a perception of the entire employee—what they bring for lunch, whose pod they frequent, the family pictures they have on their screensaver, the energy they exude in the office—they are reduced to what they present in email, video conferences, and projects. Without the confounding influence of appearances, it’s easier to be known for one’s accomplishments.

Of course, this model doesn’t work for all types of businesses or industries; workplaces in agriculture, construction, retail, and R&D require in-person collaboration. But for many types of computer-bound work, telecommuting is an attractive option. It not only saves companies money on overhead costs, but it also cuts out most of the gossip and politics. 

I remotely manage a team of writers and we communicate through email and texting. Written communication can be addressed when it’s convenient for me, as opposed to the immediacy of having someone come to my desk. I have better control over how I spend my day. Most importantly, since writers are turning in full articles that I edit, I’m able to evaluate their progress (and offer raises) based on the merits of their work. 

My writers are a motley crew; they’re mostly women, but they have varied backgrounds and ages (25 to 60+). One woman lives in Pakistan and reached out on LinkedIn in response to my post seeking new talent. Her samples and performance on my editing test were flawless. My top-paid contractor is an older graduate-trained expert in business education who sends me lengthy, eloquent proposals for each of his topics.

The point is that I’ve been able to evaluate each of my writers on the outcome of their labor. I don’t critique their process, hours worked, friendliness, hobbies, or attractiveness—variables that play a role in traditional workplaces.

Some of my office-bound friends have been quick to point out two problems with working from home: 1) They’d never get anything done, and 2) They’d get lonely. 

To the first point, I wonder how people get things done in brick-and-mortar companies with the roving buffet of distractions. Unless you have a private office, having an unbroken stretch of concentration is tough to achieve. Even with noise-canceling headphones—office-speak for “Don’t Fucking Talk to Me”—there is a flurry of activity in one’s peripheral vision. At least at a cafe, strangers are unlikely to approach.

Telecommuting was a bit of an adjustment, I admit, but this work can be treated like college: sure, you’ll spend a little time in a classroom, but you get to choose the environment where you study and write papers. Some people aren’t self-starters who thrive without structure, but like anything, this can be learned.

To the second point, it can be tough to lack a community of coworkers, but it makes me that much more eager to fill up my dance card in the after-hours making dinner for friends, enrolling in classes at the University of Oregon, or joining Spanish conversation meet-ups. Plus, unless you’re in charge, coworkers are like a family: you can’t really choose them. You’re thrust into their company, and sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn’t. It takes more effort, but I’d rather nurture relationships that I choose rather than those of proximity, power, or convenience.

If we want our workplaces to be purer meritocracies—places where we’re evaluated strictly on our output—giving employees the freedom to labor when and where they please is helpful.