Jeff Bezos’ Wedding: A case study of the tech bro mid-life crisis

Eerily reminiscent of autocracy and class rule was the sight from President Trump’s inauguration day, of the top 5 tech CEOs in the front row to watch the far-right wing Republican Party leader officially become the leader of the world’s largest military and strongest economy. For years, journalists have covered the rise of the tech CEOs, almost always male, along with their empires. We know, and have known, that technology has been the site of drastic economic growth for decades now, whether it be for the countries in which they are headquartered or for investors seeking diversification in their portfolios. Amidst the excitement of the United States and China claiming more money, the priority to regulate businesses operating across global borders was lost. Now, academics debate whether a worldwide company or a state is a more powerful entity. The numerous Netflix, YouTube, and Hulu documentaries exposing these CEOs' less-than-patriotic rise to power, citing domestic tax evasion, labour law violations, ties to human trafficking (as seen with Jeffrey Epstein), and intense lobbying efforts to influence politics in specific countries silently, are among the requirements of the ‘tech-bro’ status. Many of these companies have more power and wealth than the GDP of small nations, are not democratically elected, and yet they are influencers of global politics. Despite their imperfections, their impact is embedded in political and social outcomes. And what brings even more of our attention to it is that they just can’t keep away from the spotlight. The most visceral response from the public is understandable when these ‘tech-bros’ engage in excessive displays of personal wealth, just as many struggle to survive the rising cost of living. And despite constant pleas from the average user on their social media posts about this bizarre act, they keep ramping it up. In August of last year, Mark Zuckerberg commissioned a custom 7-foot statue of his wife, Priscilla Chan, from world-renowned artist Daniel Arsham, crafted from premium materials, including stainless steel and oxidised copper. In the weeks leading up to their wedding on the 27th of June, Jeff Bezos had spent several weeks on his $500 million yacht across Italy and Croatia in an enormous bubble bath (literally captured on Daily Mail). They married in an elaborate venue in Venice, where 4 days prior, a massive sign with the phrase “IF YOU CAN RENT VENICE FOR YOUR WEDDING YOU CAN PAY MORE TAX” was spelled out above a picture of Bezos laughing, organised by several groups including Everyone Hates Elon. Not only are these examples of excessive public display of wealth, but they also seem not to be an unspoken rule that every billionaire in the world must abide by, so why does it seem to be true of the tech-bro? These men, who were young prodigies at the turn of the century, now middle-aged, seem to be desperate to perform in the public arena. To want to display their ‘genius’ manipulation of global economic conditions during the 1990s and 00s, which created unforeseen wealth, must extend beyond the traditional power-hungry analogy, for other billionaires, such as Bill Gates, remain comparatively content with their social status. Perhaps, what we are seeing when we see an elaborate display is also a symptom of a unique form of mid-life crisis. The obsession with attention, derived from the deadly arena of public perception (evident in bread crumbs left across Instagram, such as the concrete set Botox forehead, sudden glass skin and six-pack selfies, Instagram reels in their ice baths, and paid Vogue covers (referring to THAT American December Vogue cover of Jeff Bezos and his then fiancée embracing in a truck on a cliff)), seems to be a heavily funded mid-life crisis. As if to add equal attention and meaning to their existence separate from their companies, through external affirmations to make up for their youth spent working in isolation. Indeed, if you compare older photos of any tech bro to today, the side-by-side comparison will induce an enormous heart rate spike. Attempting to grab public affirmations of masculinity and value through visual tools (i.e. “you look great!”) is not an easy task today. With an already oversaturated online environment, it requires not only heavy investment but also striking posts, such as obviously paid-for and photoshopped Vogue covers, and commissioning 7-foot statues. Luckily for them (they assume), it distracts us from their influence in our lives, in both the most minor and most significant ways. Genius! Better than the Amazon idea! The real question is, how long will this last, or rather, how long will the global environment tolerate these dystopian displays before our opposition becomes more than online comments?