Therapy for billionaires

Bill Gates has decided to leave his children less than 1% of his wealth, about $103 billion. Not because he's stingy, but because, as he says, "it wouldn't be a favor to them." It seems paradoxical: those who have everything risk losing themselves. The idea that wealth is always a blessing is one of the hardest myths to dispel. But if you look inside the families of the super-rich, you find that wealth often looks more like a toxin than a protection. The argument is this: the real challenge for billionaires is not to accumulate or defend money, but to detoxify themselves from the power that comes with it — and become human again. The story of this family proves it. On the one hand, there is the grandfather, a Greek immigrant who became a shipping magnate in the United States, who lived as a patriarch in absolute luxury, served by staff and surrounded by art, but also marked by the fear of losing everything: as a boy, during the famine in Greece, he saw people starve to death in front of his house's gate. On the other hand, there are his daughters, who received only the bare minimum and grew up without the material privileges of their peers: no nannies, no rules of the rich club, no financial education. They say they lived as exiles but also that they gained a freedom that the rich are often denied: the possibility of building their own lives, without being crushed by money as an identity. And then there are those who, like Paula Schwarz — heir to a German pharmaceutical dynasty — had to sign a power of attorney at the age of 18 that left control of her money to her father: she needed his permission to open an account or buy a phone. She rebelled: today she lives on a Greek island and works with refugees. The unexpected fact: according to research, anxiety is 25-30% higher in very wealthy young people than in their less affluent peers. And silence about money is taught as a rule of survival: a young heiress says that talking about her wealth "was like coming out." There are entire organizations, such as Resource Generation, created to help young people with large assets "free themselves" from money — not only through charity, but by learning to redistribute wealth where their families have accumulated it by exploiting the system. An even more extreme case is that of Elspeth Gilmore, heir to Publishers Clearing House, who decided to disinherit herself and distribute $7 million to a dozen activists of her choice, with no conditions. The point is not just moral: there is a therapeutic component. Those who are born with a lot of money often also inherit a scarcity mentality — the fear of losing everything, the feeling that "it's never enough." It is a lesson that is passed down from generation to generation, even in times of economic boom. And if you think philanthropy is enough to balance things out, beware: it's often just a way to feel good and stay in control. Scholars like Aaron Horvath explain that the charity of the rich serves above all to strengthen their status, not to really change the rules. So, what is the solution? The author envisions a "therapeutic camp for billionaires": no elite networking, but lessons on social justice, trips to the suburbs, experiences outside one's own bubble, and modules on how taxation and inequality really work. The goal would be to dismantle the distortions that wealth creates — the sense of exceptionality, the narrative of merit, the "I deserved it" defense. And perhaps, as she says, learning to become "good ancestors," not just rich ones. But there is a vision that is almost always missing from the debate: that of "class descent" as a path to personal healing. Yes, billionaires have the power to change the world, but they also need to learn to stop being billionaires in order to regain their humanity. After all, wealth is of little use if it isolates you from everything else. The real luxury, perhaps, is being able to be "normal." If you are struck by the idea that wealth can be an identity disorder, you can press I'm In on Lara Notes: it's not a like, it's a way of saying that this perspective now concerns you. And if tomorrow you happen to talk about it with someone, you can use Shared Offline on Lara Notes to tag whoever was with you — because certain conversations are worth more than a thousand selfies. This Note comes from Aeon and saves you 17 minutes of reading.