12 hours ago
- Business
- The Herald Scotland
Trump has taught us one thing: Scotland needs more mega-wealthy people
All joshing aside, what we can say is that what we are witnessing is nothing less than the rapid erosion of American democracy. This is particularly apparent in the prominence given to oligarchs in positions of power in Washington. As always with Trump, this has not been done clandestinely but in the full, public glare. A man without shame, he has surrounded himself with what might best be described as the filthy rich.
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In that regard, he started as he meant to go on. As Evan Osnos writes in his revelatory new book, The Haves and Have-Yachts: Dispatches on the Ultrarich, Trump embraced the plutocracy on January 20, 2025, the day he took office. Within arm's reach of him as he swore his oath were the world's three richest individuals: Mark Zuckerberg, Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk. A step away were Sergey Brin, co-founder of Google, and Tim Cook, CEO of Apple. 'There were so many billionaires on stage,' recalls Osnos, 'that the leaders of Congress were relegated to the audience.'
Not long thereafter, Trump promoted 13 billionaires to the top ranks of his administration, chief among them Musk, who would soon wield a chainsaw to numerous branches of government and consign thousands of employees to penury. Unelected and unchecked, and pretty much unhindered by the law, Musk and his coevals could do almost whatever they pleased, and thus far they have.
Of course, America has always been a place which puts mammon above morals. The pursuit of its fabled dream has had at its heart the amassing of wealth. To become a millionaire was the goal of many of its citizens who believed, misguidedly, that it would lead to that other dream: happiness.
As time passed, however, it was not enough to be a millionaire; that was mere shrapnel. The next target was to be a billionaire. First atop that pinnacle was John D. Rockefeller who, through Standard Oil, which refined and marketed nearly 90 percent of the oil produced in America, was the moguls' mogul in what was known as the Gilded Age. In his wake came our own Andrew Carnegie, whose involvement in the steel industry made him so rich he was earning more money than he knew what do with.
Rockefeller and Carnegie divided opinion. Muckrakers deemed them unscrupulous, accusing them of bribing political officials, circumventing the law and treating their workers badly. Others took a more benign view, acknowledging that their wealth was often directed towards good causes - in Carnegie's case public libraries, which are, or at least were, one of the bulwarks of a civilised society.
Andrew Carnegie (Image: free)Concerned that their path to heaven might be pockmarked with potholes, Rockefeller and Carnegie salved their consciences by remodelling themselves as philanthropists. 'Surplus wealth,' Carnegie wrote, 'is a sacred trust which its possessor is bound to administer in his lifetime for the good of the community.'
Whether today's trillionaires feel likewise remains to be seen. The omens do not look promising. As the title of Evan Osnos's book suggests, they are more interested in acquiring yachts the length of Leith Walk than doing anything to elevate humankind. What these people must have are so-called gigayachts – over 100 metres long - which shrinks might say are penis-substitutes.
'Even among the truly rich,' writes Osnos, 'there is a gap between the haves and the have-yachts.' Much of the time, he adds, the yachts 'dwell beyond the reach of ordinary law enforcement. They cruise in international waters, and, when they dock, local cops tend to give them a wide berth; the boats often have private security, and their owners may well be friends with the prime minister.'
Sickening, selfish and sinister as all this may be, making you pine for the era of the guillotine, I am not entirely antipathetic to those whose Swiss bank accounts have swelled because of their entrepreneurship. Here in Scotland, where billionaires are rarer than McDonalds on the moon, there is an over-reliance on the state to ensure that everything is properly funded and maintained and that new ventures are allowed to flourish.
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In my main area of concern – broadly speaking, the arts – dependence on Creative Scotland is unhealthy and monopolist, leading to disenchantment and frustration. Attempting to adhere to the agency's manufactured criteria and its opaque bureaucracy is enough to reduce even the most persistent applicants to apoplexy.
There are various individuals and businesses with the means to make a difference, but they are few and far between. Unlike in America, where giving to good causes in the cultural sphere is widespread, no such habit exists in this country.
Indeed, the enlightened handful who have sponsored arts events are regarded not with gratitude but suspicion and - in the case of Baillie Gifford's involvement in book festivals - mind-boggling hostility.
What's needed is a shift in attitude towards philanthropy, both by those with money and those who need it; such a cultural rethink would allow those with talent to receive help to develop their particular passion. I often think admiringly of the Italian Renaissance and how its flourishing was underwritten in part by the Medicis, whose patronage of Botticelli, Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci and countless others was pivotal.
Sadly, I see no Medici on the horizon. More's the pity, because we need them more than ever.
Rosemary Goring is a columnist and author. Her most recent book is Homecoming: The Scottish Years of Mary, Queen of Scots. Its sequel, Exile: The Captive Years of Mary, Queen of Scots, is published next month
