Olivia: The top 10 percent of humanity holds 90 percent of the planet’s wealth. Yet the people at the very top, the ones who benefit most from this system, are now leading the charge to 'change the world.' Today, we ask: are they the firefighters, or are they the arsonists? Jackson: Whoa, that's a heavy-hitter of a question to start with. It’s provocative. It almost sounds like a conspiracy theory, but it’s actually the core of a widely acclaimed and very sharp book. Olivia: Exactly. That's the explosive question at the heart of Anand Giridharadas's book, Winners Take All: The Elite Charade of Changing the World. He argues that what looks like progress is often just a performance to keep the powerful in power. Jackson: And Giridharadas is the perfect person to write this. He's not an outsider throwing rocks; he's a former New York Times columnist who spent years inside these elite circles, at places like the Aspen Institute and Davos. He saw the 'charade' firsthand, which gives his critique so much weight. Olivia: He did. And this whole charade starts with a very seductive idea, one that has completely taken over how we think about social change. It’s the belief that you can do good for the world while also doing very, very well for yourself.

Jackson: You mean the 'win-win' idea? Doing well by doing good? That sounds pretty smart to me. What's the problem with that? I mean, if a company can make a profit while also cleaning up the environment, isn't that the best of both worlds? Olivia: It sounds perfect, and that’s why it's so powerful. Giridharadas calls the ecosystem that promotes this idea "MarketWorld." It's a world of TED talks, social entrepreneurship fellowships, and impact investing funds. And it’s incredibly effective at recruiting the best and brightest, promising them they can make a difference without giving up a thing. Jackson: So it’s less about sacrifice and more about... strategic altruism? Olivia: Precisely. And the book uses a fantastic, and frankly heartbreaking, story to show how this works. It follows a young woman named Hilary Cohen. When we meet her, she’s a brilliant, idealistic senior at Georgetown University in 2014. Jackson: Okay, I'm listening. What's her story? Olivia: Hilary is wrestling with that classic question: how do I change the world? She's not just thinking about it casually; it’s a deep, defining challenge for her. She grew up in an affluent family, but she was also taught the importance of service. In a freshman seminar, she reads Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics and has this huge epiphany. Jackson: Aristotle? In a book about modern elites? Olivia: Yes, and it’s a crucial detail. She reads the line, "The life of money-making is one undertaken under compulsion, and wealth is evidently not the good we are seeking; for it is merely useful and for the sake of something else." And it just clicks for her. She realizes a life dedicated only to making money is empty. She wants to pursue human flourishing, for herself and for others. Jackson: I love that. So she's on a path to work for a non-profit, or maybe go into public service? Olivia: That's what you'd think. She interns on Capitol Hill. She considers becoming a rabbi. But all around her, on campus, is the pull of MarketWorld. The big consulting firms and investment banks are everywhere, and they have a new pitch. They’re not just selling high salaries anymore. They’re selling impact. Jackson: Ah, I see where this is going. They’ve co-opted the language of social change. Olivia: Completely. They tell students like Hilary, "To be a leader in the world, you need this skill set." They host programs, like the Baker Scholars program Hilary joins, that frame business as the most powerful tool for good. They convince these idealistic kids that the best way to help the poor is to first spend a few years "apprenticing with money." Jackson: So, go to Wall Street to learn how to save the world. That sounds... counterintuitive. Olivia: It is. Hilary even interns at Goldman Sachs and finds it soul-crushing. It’s all about the 'doing well' part and very little about the 'doing good.' But then she gets an offer from McKinsey & Company, the elite consulting firm. And the pitch is even more seductive. Jackson: What do they tell her? Olivia: They tell her she'll be a problem-solver. That she'll learn to break down the world's most complex challenges—poverty, education, healthcare—and solve them with the same analytical rigor they apply to a corporation's supply chain. She rationalizes it, thinking, "Now that I’ve been trained to structure, break down, and solve business problems, I can apply those same skills to any issue or challenge I choose." Jackson: Wow, so she's caught in a trap. She thinks she's getting the tools to dismantle the master's house, but she's really just learning how to redecorate it, maybe add a solar panel to the roof. Olivia: That's a perfect analogy. She joins McKinsey, but quickly becomes disillusioned. She realizes the problems they solve are mostly for corporate clients, and the 'social impact' work is often superficial. She even observes this mindset infecting government. She sees how business-speak starts to dominate conversations about public good, sidelining real, systemic solutions in favor of neat, marketable, 'win-win' initiatives that don't actually challenge the underlying power structures. Jackson: So the 'win-win' is a charade because it defines the problems in a way that the winners can solve them without ever losing. It filters out any solution that might require them to, say, pay more taxes or have their industries regulated. Olivia: Exactly. It keeps the system intact. It’s a change that ensures nothing really has to change. And this mindset is most extreme in Silicon Valley, where the masters of the universe have convinced themselves they're not just business people, they're actually Che Guevara. It's what Giridharadas calls the 'Rebel-King' paradox.

Jackson: Hold on. A billionaire venture capitalist on a cruise ship calling himself a rebel? That feels... rich. I mean, are these tech founders really thinking of themselves as revolutionaries? Or is that just slick marketing? Olivia: Giridharadas argues it's a deeply held belief, a necessary fiction they tell themselves. He takes us to this incredible event called "Summit at Sea." It’s basically Davos on a cruise ship, a maritime bacchanal of 'changing the world' where thousands of entrepreneurs and investors gather in the Bahamas. Jackson: A floating conference of self-congratulation. Got it. Olivia: And at this conference, a venture capitalist named Shervin Pishevar gives a talk. He's an early investor in companies like Uber and Airbnb, a true kingmaker in the Valley. But his speech isn't about business. It's about love, and character, and fighting for the truth. He presents himself and other tech founders like Travis Kalanick of Uber as insurgents, as rebels fighting a corrupt establishment. Jackson: Rebels? Uber was fighting against... taxi medallion owners and local city councils. They weren't exactly taking on the global banking system. Olivia: That's the paradox! As the technology scholar danah boyd puts it, "They fight as though they are insurgents while they operate as though they are kings." They adopt the language of social movements to justify dismantling regulations that were often put in place to protect workers or prevent discrimination. Jackson: Okay, so they talk a big game, but how does this 'rebel' mindset actually affect regular people? Give me a concrete example. Olivia: The book gives two perfect ones. First, #AirbnbWhileBlack. For years, Black users reported being denied bookings on Airbnb, their requests mysteriously rejected only to see the same property immediately available for a user with a white-sounding name. When this blew up, Airbnb's first response was to promise change. But when they faced legal action from California's Department of Fair Employment and Housing... Jackson: Let me guess. They claimed they weren't responsible? Olivia: Exactly. They argued they were just a "platform," a neutral technology connecting people, and therefore not liable for the discrimination happening through their service. They denied their own power to shape the interactions on their site. They wanted the profits of being a hotel chain without any of the responsibilities. Jackson: So they're a rebel when it's convenient for breaking rules, but a powerless platform when it's time to take responsibility. Olivia: Precisely. And the same thing happened with Uber. Drivers sued the company, arguing they were essentially employees who deserved minimum wage and benefits, not independent contractors. Uber's defense was that it's just a tech company, a simple app. But the judge in the case, Edward Chen, wasn't buying it. He wrote, "Uber is no more a ‘technology company’ than Yellow Cab is a ‘technology company’ because it uses CB radios to dispatch taxi cabs." Jackson: I love that. He called them out. Olivia: He did. He saw that Uber exerted immense power over its drivers—tracking their every move, setting their rates, deactivating them based on user ratings—all while claiming to be a powerless intermediary. This denial of power is central to the 'rebel-king' identity. They get to be the disruptors without being the bosses. Jackson: Okay, so they rebrand self-interest as a 'win-win,' and they deny their power by calling themselves rebels. But what about when they just give money away? Isn't philanthropy, pure and simple, a good thing? That seems harder to criticize. Olivia: Ah, but that, Giridharadas argues, is the final and most sophisticated layer of the charade. It’s where generosity is used to mask the need for justice.

Jackson: I'm not sure I follow. If a billionaire donates a hundred million dollars to a hospital, that's a hundred million dollars the hospital didn't have before. People get treated. Lives are saved. How can that be a bad thing? Olivia: The act of giving itself isn't bad. The book is very clear on that. The problem is what that act of giving buys. Giridharadas argues that massive generosity often functions as an "immunity deal." It’s a way to buy silence and social approval, deflecting any uncomfortable questions about how the money was made in the first place. Jackson: So it's like a public relations campaign to launder a reputation. Olivia: Exactly. And the book introduces us to Darren Walker, the president of the Ford Foundation, who is one of the few people in that world brave enough to challenge this deal. Walker's own story is incredible. He grew up in poverty in rural Texas, the first in his family to go to college, and eventually rose to lead one of the world's most powerful foundations. Jackson: So he has the credibility to speak truth to power, because he's seen both sides. Olivia: He has. And he starts writing and speaking about the hypocrisy he sees. He attends these lavish charity galas in New York where Wall Street executives are celebrated for donating to a program that helps poor kids, while no one mentions that those same executives might be lobbying for tax cuts or deregulation that makes life harder for those kids' families. He says the unwritten rule is: "Inspire the rich to do more good, but never, ever tell them to do less harm." Jackson: Wow. "Do less harm." That's such a simple but powerful idea. It shifts the focus from the act of giving to the act of taking. Olivia: It’s the entire crux of the argument. And to make the stakes crystal clear, the book tells the story of the Sackler family. Jackson: The family behind Purdue Pharma and OxyContin. Olivia: The very same. The Sacklers became one of America's wealthiest families by marketing OxyContin, a highly addictive opioid, with what a court later found to be fraudulent claims about its safety. They aggressively pushed the drug on doctors, downplaying the risks of addiction. Jackson: And it fueled a devastating national crisis. Olivia: An epidemic that has claimed hundreds of thousands of lives. And all the while, the Sackler family was engaged in massive philanthropy. They donated hundreds of millions of dollars to the world's most prestigious institutions—Harvard, the Louvre, the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The Sackler name was etched onto wings and galleries all over the world. Jackson: That's horrifying. It's not just an immunity deal; it's blood money being laundered into public goodwill. It completely reframes what it means to see a donor's name on a building. You're not just looking at generosity; you're looking at what that generosity was meant to cover up. Olivia: You are. And it forces you to ask a deeply uncomfortable question: can any amount of giving ever compensate for that level of harm? Is a new art gallery a fair trade for a generation lost to addiction? Giridharadas argues that it’s not. He says we've been taught to celebrate generosity, but what we really need is justice. And justice would mean a system where that kind of predatory wealth accumulation isn't possible in the first place.

Jackson: So when you put it all together, it's a pretty damning picture. It’s not just a few bad actors; it’s a whole system of thought. Olivia: It is. You have the 'win-win' ideology that rebrands self-interest as social progress. You have the 'rebel-king' paradox where the powerful pretend to be powerless outsiders. And you have the 'generosity-justice' trade-off, where philanthropy is used to buy immunity for causing harm. Giridharadas argues these aren't separate flaws; they are a single, interlocking system designed to keep the winners on top, all while they get applauded for 'changing the world.' Jackson: It's a closed loop. The system that creates vast inequality also produces the very people who then position themselves as the only ones who can solve it, but on their own terms. Olivia: And their terms never involve fundamental change. They never involve questioning the system that made them winners. The solutions are always private, market-based, and voluntary. They are always led by the elite. Jackson: It leaves you wondering, if the elites can't fix the problems they helped create, who can? Olivia: The book's epilogue offers an answer, and it's not another billionaire's foundation or a new tech solution. The political philosopher Chiara Cordelli is quoted, and she says something so simple and profound to a powerful philanthropist who claims government is broken and the rich must step in. She just says, "The government is us." Jackson: The government is us. Meaning, the answer isn't to let a handful of unelected elites decide our future in a closed-door conference. The answer is... us. Through real, messy, accountable democratic politics, not top-down solutions from on high. Olivia: Exactly. The book is ultimately a call to stop waiting for saviors. It’s a plea to reclaim our collective power to shape society through public institutions and democratic will, rather than outsourcing that responsibility to the very people who have the most to gain from the status quo. Jackson: It’s a powerful message. It makes you look at the world differently. Olivia: It really does. And we'd love to hear your thoughts. What's one 'win-win' solution you've seen that made you suspicious? Or have you ever felt the tension between a company's public image and its actual practices? Let us know on our social channels. We're always curious to hear how these ideas land with you. Jackson: This is Aibrary, signing off.