“Look away” at the suffering in their wake

Anand Giridharadas sees the Epstein sex trafficking saga as part of a larger cultural milieu. An “Epstein class,” as Rep. Ro Khanna (D) of California puts it. It is not a new concept even for Girdharadas. He studied the global elite in “Winners Take All: The Elite Charade of Changing the World.” But Giridharadas revisits the first tranche of Epstein files at The Ink this morning and adds fresh perspective. (His commentary is from a New York Times essay published in November, but newly unpaywalled. I thought it important to revisit.)
The documents reveal a privileged network of the well-connected that floats — like cream, do they think? — above and outside the society the rest of us inhabit. Epstein is but one node of an elite insulated from and numb to the consequences others suffer from their self-aggrandizing actions:
At the dark heart of this story is a sex criminal and his victims — and his enmeshment with President Trump. But it is also a tale about a powerful social network in which some, depending on what they knew, were perhaps able to look away because they had learned to look away from so much other abuse and suffering: the financial meltdowns some in the network helped trigger, the misbegotten wars some in the network pushed, the overdose crisis some of them enabled, the monopolies they defended, the inequality they turbocharged, the housing crisis they milked, the technologies they failed to protect people against.
They may resent being outed, their secrets revealed, but what Epstein emails reveal, insofar as they are unredacted, validates what the plebs knew all along: “there is a highly private merito-aristocracy at the intersection of government and business, lobbying, philanthropy, start-ups, academia, science, high finance and media that all too often takes care of its own more than the common good.”
Studies confirm that wealth and privilege “adjust” people’s perception of the world outside. one finds correlation between the cost of a car and whether drivers yield to pedestrians in crosswalks. Another finds “a clear link between wealth and unethical behaviour, including an increased tendency to cheat and steal.” Conversely, another study finds people from lower classes show greater “concern for the suffering or well-being of others.”
For the Epstein class, there are few comeuppances and near-infinite second chances. Squads of lawyers to do battle in their place like medieval vassals. Donald Trump’s attorneys endlessly delay his days of reckoning. They stand ready to smite commoners who fail to bow low enough before them. A favorable judgment is not the goal. For his targets (and for U.S. citizens brutalized and released by CBP/ICE), the process is the punishment.
Giridharadas continues:
The idea of an Epstein class is helpful because one can be misled by the range of people to whom Mr. Epstein ingratiated himself. Republicans. Democrats. Businesspeople. Diplomats. Philanthropists. Healers. Professors. Royals. Superlawyers. A person he emailed at one moment was often at war with the ideas of another correspondent — a Lawrence Summers to a Steve Bannon, a Deepak Chopra to a scientist skeptical of all spirituality, a Peter Thiel to a Noam Chomsky. This diversity masked a deeper solidarity.
What his correspondents tended to share was membership in a distinctly modern elite: a ruling class in which 40,000-foot nomadism, world citizenship and having just landed back from Dubai lend the glow that deep roots once provided; in which academic intellect is prized the way pedigree once was; in which ancient caste boundaries have melted to allow rotation among, or simultaneous pursuit of, governing, profiting, thinking and giving back. Some members, like Mr. Summers, are embedded in all aspects of it; others, less so.
“’Where are you today?’ is the Epstein-class query,” Giridharadas writes.
Fifteen years ago, I wrote about the resentment the rich feel about educating the golden gooses that fill their plates and coffers:
In the Atlantic’s “The Rise of the New Global Elite,” Chrystia Freeland describes the super-rich as “a nation unto themselves,” more connected to each other than to their countries or their neighbors. Freeland writes that “the business elite view themselves increasingly as a global community, distinguished by their unique talents and above such parochial concerns as national identity, or devoting ‘their’ taxes to paying down ‘our’ budget deficit.” Thomas Wilson, CEO of Allstate, explains that globalization means, “I can get [workers] anywhere in the world. It is a problem for America, but it is not necessarily a problem for American business …” Why should it be?
In a global economy driven more and more by bottom-line thinking, public education is just another community expense the elite would rather not bear, isn’t it? The rich can afford private schools for their children and have little need for educated workers in the multiple cities where they own houses. How much education do gardeners and waiters really need anyway?
Why should the global elite pay taxes to educate the children of those below their station? Why pay to educate workers when they can import them on H-1B or L-1 visas and pay them less than American workers? As Allstate’s CEO implied, their companies can easily set up shop in India, Indonesia or China. Globalization means multinational corporations can simply swoop in and exploit an educated workforce in countries that have already incurred the sunk costs of developing that resource. And multinationals get to pay those foreign workers less to boot. Whether here or abroad, why not just let somebody else pay taxes for educating other people’s children?
Epstein’s emails reveal a barter economy in insider information that is often less information than meets the pixel. If you are rich, or perceived as smart enough, people ask your opinions on topics better informed simply by reading a newspaper. What’s important is not the information. It’s remaining active in the network of people with the power to decide things. At that, Epstein excelled.
Nomadic bat signals get things going, and edge keeps them flowing, while underneath a deeper exchange is at work. The smart need money; the rich want to seem smart; the staid seek adjacency to what Mr. Summers called “life among the lucrative and louche”; and Mr. Epstein needed to wash his name using blue-chip people who could be forgiving about infractions against the less powerful. Each has some form of capital and seeks to trade. The business is laundering capital — money into prestige, prestige into fun, fun into intel, intel into money.
Underage women? They were disposable. Justice for their elite abusers? A long shot.
Giridharadas concludes:
Shaming the public as rubes for succumbing to conspiracy theories misses what people are trying to tell us: They no longer feel included in the work of choosing their future. On matters small and big, from the price of eggs to whether the sexual abuse of children matters, what they sense is a sneering indifference. And a knack for looking away.
Now the people who capitalized on the revolt against an indifferent American elite are in power, and, shock of all shocks, they are even more indifferent than anyone who came before them. The clubby deal-making and moral racketeering of the Epstein class is now the United States’ governing philosophy.
Make them facing a reckoning something more than what we pay to cheer in the movies.













