Over on Facebook, Richard David Hames — that’s all I know about him — wrote something pretty sharp. In particular, it does a better-than-average job of to addressing a genuinely urgent issues we face: how to navigate the messy boundaries between individual psychology and its concrete consequences. Hames’s analysis still suffers from an excessive interest in the inner life of authoritarians. But unlike most liberal-ish commentary — which obsessively accuses people of hypocrisy, “ironically” regurgitates liars’ talking points, and relies on trite internettisms (“I’ll just leave this here’) rather than analyze specific issues — he at least gestures toward the challenge of how to solve the problem of oligarchs leading the world over a cliff.
I have been closely monitoring political and commercial maneuverings in countries like the United States and the UK over a number of years. Putting psychopaths aside for a moment, it’s obvious that we’re increasingly governed by the whims of those whose psychological moorings have been severed by the very wealth that grants them such unparalleled power. I call this phenomenon “Plutocratic Psychosis”. It represents an insidious threat to our collective well-being.
Consider the evidence: tech moguls obsessed with colonising space while Earth burns; billionaires with bizarre progeny fixations; the ultra-wealthy demanding servants discard plates after a single use or clean their toilets following each flush. These aren’t just eccentricities; they’re symptoms of unhinged minds, detached from reality, drifting in a rarified atmosphere where normal constraints cease to exist.
The mechanisms in play are not mysterious. When unlimited resources eliminate the word “no” from one’s vocabulary, when armies of assistants orchestrate elaborate ceremonies to accommodate one’s neuroses, when every whim can be indulged without consequence — the psychological guardrails that keep most humans tethered to a shared reality simply don’t apply.
Research confirms what observations imply: extreme wealth correlates to diminished empathy, enhanced narcissism, and a distorted perception of others’ capacities and needs. The “power paradox” documented by social psychologists reveals how the acquisition of power — financial or otherwise — erodes the very social intelligence that might have enabled its ethical deployment.
What makes this much more than an academic curiosity is the unparalleled capacity such psychologically compromised individuals possess to reshape society according to their warped dreams. Unlike delusional patients in a psychiatric ward who believe they should redesign global governance, billionaires with similar delusions can actually implement their vision, regardless of its merit or potential damage.
We face, in essence, a tyranny of the unstable. Our technologies, economies, and increasingly our political systems bend to accommodate the fevered dreams of those least equipped to lead us — individuals whose material circumstances have cultivated psychological profiles that should disqualify them from positions of influence rather than guarantee them.
The cultural mythology surrounding wealth aggravates this crisis. We’ve constructed elaborate narratives equating wealth to wisdom, vision, and moral authority. This equation transforms psychological liabilities into a perceived asset, casting the most detached among us as visionaries rather than casualties of a system that rewards oversized egos and pathological acquisition.
You might object that not all wealthy individuals exhibit these tendencies — pointing to philanthropic endeavours as evidence of a more balanced perspective. Yet that misses the point. The issue isn’t whether occasional acts of generosity emerge from the billionaire class; it’s that no individual — psychologically compromised or otherwise — should wield such disproportionate influence over our collective destiny.
You might protest that correlation doesn’t imply causation — perhaps certain personality types simply attract wealth rather than being corrupted by it. Research implies both dynamics operate simultaneously: predispositions toward certain behaviours may facilitate wealth accumulation, but wealth itself then amplifies and distorts these tendencies, creating feedback loops of increasing detachment.
A response of some kind is called for. Structurally, we require robust wealth redistribution mechanisms — progressive taxation, inheritance reforms, and anti-monopoly enforcement — to help dilute concentrated power. Culturally, we must challenge the hero-worship of billionaires and normalise critique of wealth’s psychological impacts. And yes, we should possibly advocate for mental health resources for the ultra-wealthy themselves, not merely as individual intervention but as a public safeguard.
Throughout history, we’ve learned repeatedly that unchecked power corrupts — whether manifested through monarchies, dictatorships, or oligarchies. The modern billionaire class represents merely the latest iteration of this timeless pattern, cloaked in the contemporary garb of disruption.
What makes our present moment uniquely perilous is the convergence of unprecedented wealth with technologies of planetary-scale impact. When individuals whose psyches have been bent by extreme privilege gain the capacity to reshape climate systems, genetic codes, or global information flows, the stakes transcend political preference or economic ideology — they become existential.
The first step toward meaningful change is precisely what we’ve begun here: naming the phenomenon. “Plutocratic Psychosis” or “Oligarchic Neurosis” provides linguistic leverage to discuss patterns otherwise obscured by individualised narratives of eccentric genius. By naming the condition, we begin to see the systemic rather than anecdotal nature of the predicament.
Our challenge is not just political but philosophical — requiring us to reexamine fundamental assumptions about wealth, authority, and mental health. Particularly in a society that claims to value democracy, how and when did we consent to be ruled by the emotionally compromised? In a society that prioritises mental health, how have we failed to recognize the pathologies endemic to extreme wealth?
The billionaire class will not voluntarily relinquish power nor acknowledge their compromised perspective. That responsibility falls to us — the still-grounded majority — to reclaim our collective agency before the fantasies of the wealthy-yet-unwell become irreversibly encoded in our societies, technologies, and ecosystems.
This is not class warfare; it’s psychological self-defense. Our futures are increasingly shaped by minds that have lost touch with the very realities most humans inhabit. Until we address this basic misalignment, we remain captive to a system that elevates the least qualified to positions of greatest influence. The time has come to speak plainly: extreme wealth corrupts the mind, and corrupted minds should not be guiding human destiny.
I think this actually is class warfare, and his insistence that it’s ‘really’ just psychological self-defense is a liberal tic. Reasonable minds can disagree about that, but at root the problem is simple: what is to be done about unreasonable minds?