I think though wanting to be a billionaire is, for lack of a better word, a psychosis.
There's nothing that you could possibly want that costs that much. A drive for that much money to me indicates a form of emotional damage where one no longer has a rational relationship with a numeric self-assessment.
I strongly disagree with the premise. I can’t think of any industrial titans who retired to leisure. Those who tried or were forced into it seemed to die shortly after.
Henry Ford perhaps came closest with 20 years of only “unofficial” control of the company he founded.
People who wish to gain influence in order to make a positive impact typically aren't trying to make a positive difference, they're trying to gain notoriety . You can make a positive impact in the world without gaining influence.
What do you mean, there's nothing that you could possibly want that costs that much? What about funding large-scale medical or scientific research, or a private space program, or mass vaccination campaigns in poverty-stricken areas ala Gates Foundation? These kinds of goals are extremely capital intensive, and if you can fund it entirely by yourself, you won't have to answer to shareholders who seek an immediate profit, or be forced to play politics instead of focusing on your mission.
The underlying problem with all of this is that money is a poorly designed mechanism for
(1) exchange of services (almost all goods are the result of services) between people
(2) apportioning of natural resources which really belong to no one in particular
Yes, but not your children and their children. Being a billionaire is prosperity for several generation of your children.
The real problem is that becoming a billionaire is statistically an abnormal outcome of that kind of life. Some people have jumped from a plane without parachute and survived. The fact that happened shouldn't be an argument to do the same.
There's a part two to the fairy tale of the Mexican Fisherman.
> Sensing skepticism from the fisherman, the businessman moves onto the next boat and finds a more receptive fisherman. The two, sensing an obvious business opportunity, decide to go into business together. They raise a venture capital round and a year later, return to the pier outfitted with a dozen high tech fishing boats.
> Immediately, the price of tuna at the pier drops threefold with increased supply, forcing the young Mexican fisherman to increase his hours at sea just to maintain his existing standard of living.
> Shortly thereafter, all of the shallow water tuna have been caught and the young Mexican fisherman discovers his tiny boat is incapable of deep water fishing. Because of his limited savings, he does not have enough capital to invest in a deep water fishing boat and he is forced to sell his tiny fishing boat for pennies on the dollar as scrap because advances in technology have made it obsolete.
> After discovering that there is limited demand for an employee whose only skills are watching ballgames, playing the guitar and taking siestas, the young Mexican fisherman finds his only option is to take a job working minimum wage on one of the businessman’s fishing vessels.
> Several years later, the fisherman’s joints are shot through from the hard manual labor of operating on a commercial fishing vessel and an ill timed lift of a 150lb pallet of tuna finally causes his back to give way, causing permanent crippling. The fisherman discovers intensive lobbying from the businessman has weakened workplace protection rules and the fisherman is summarily let go with only a paltry settlement.
> After years of expensive medical treatments and crippling bills, the fisherman is finally forced to sell his land, passed along to him from generation to generation, to a development conglomerate run by the businessman who is buying large tracts of the entire village.
> Unbeknownst to the fisherman, the businessman has lobbied for the village to turn into a protected nature reserve, allowing for the rehabilitation of the environment and the restocking of fish in it’s pristine waters. The businessman painstakingly recreates the quaint, costal charm of the village he once visited, making it a paradise where the wealthy flock to when they want to retire into a life of easy indolence.
> Finally, 15 – 20 years after the original conversation, the fisherman and his wife are found dead in a homeless shelter. Meanwhile, the businessman retires to the village having made two successive fortunes first in fisheries and then in real estate development. He spends his days sleeping late, playing with his grandchildren, watching high def ESPN ballgames on a 70″ TV, and taking siesta with his wife. He occasionally strolls down to the village in the evenings where he regales his fellow millionaires with the story of how he found an unexploited niche in the marketplace and then took full advantage of it to make the fortune that got him to the comfortable retirement he enjoys today.
Much like the original story, this is of course a fairy tale - I doubt the businessman in question would put much effort towards the rehabilitation of the village's environment. Environmentalism rarely improves a business' bottom line - if it did, we'd see a lot more businesses lobbying for it.
Once they have a billion dollars, what will they do that is substantially different than someone on basic income? I have a hard time imagining things I want to do that require a billion dollars.
It’s not that that there are particular things you can only buy for a billion dollars, but that a billion dollars frees you from having to think about doing them.
When a millionaire wants to take a vacation, they plan it out just like you or I do, even if they’re going to a cooler place or staying at a fancier hotel. When a billionaire wants to take a vacation, they just take it.
It would be interesting if we are indeed judged in the afterlife by our net worth at the time of death, perhaps with our dollars being converted into a heavenly currency for continued commerce.
Seems a bit more likely than sitting around playing harps and petting lambs for an eternity.
From a Christian perspective, the Parable of the Talents (or Minas from Luke's gospel) describes future reward based not on net worth but on one's faithfulness with the resources entrusted to one. No harp-playing or lamb-petting necessary.
There's nothing that you could possibly want that costs that much. A drive for that much money to me indicates a form of emotional damage where one no longer has a rational relationship with a numeric self-assessment.