Wealth, Power, the State, and Human Rights

Introduction

This article examines the enduring and often misunderstood relationship between private wealth and political power, using the 2025 inauguration of President Donald Trump as a symbolic point of departure. The image of the world’s richest individuals standing behind the President reveals a timeless political truth: wealth may influence, but only the State truly governs. The essay argues that while modern billionaires such as Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos, and Mark Zuckerberg are frequently portrayed as the most powerful figures of the age, their fortunes remain contingent on the authority, stability, and legal frameworks of the State. Drawing on historical precedents—from medieval Europe to Ibn Khaldun’s reflections on wealth and vulnerability—it traces how economic elites have always sought the protection of political power, even as they attempt to insulate themselves from it.

In the modern global economy, extreme wealth is shown to be inseparable from state-created systems of law, finance, and regulation. The article distinguishes between influence—the capacity to shape outcomes indirectly—and power—the ability to command obedience through coercion and law—and argues that conflating the two obscures the real hierarchy that governs society. Furthermore, it explores how fear of change and loss of privilege drives both political conservatism and elite resistance to reform, even as the State remains the only institution capable of advancing equity and human rights. Ultimately, “Behind the Throne” contends that the image of the wealthy standing behind political authority is more than metaphor: it captures the paradox of modern capitalism itself—where immense private fortunes depend, for their existence and survival, on the very power they can never possess. The image that the richest persons are, in the end, the poorest, because all they have is money.

Wealth and the Illusion of Power

During the inauguration of President Donald Trump, following his hard-fought and contentious second-term victory, a striking image captured a timeless political truth. Standing behind the newly sworn President were several of the world’s richest individuals—executives of corporations whose market capitalizations exceed the GDP of many nations. The scene was more than ceremonial. It symbolized the enduring relationship between private wealth and political authority: those who command immense financial resources stand behind, not beside, the seat of power. The image exposes a critical distinction often blurred in contemporary discourse—the difference between influence and power. The wealthy wield vast influence, but true power remains the prerogative of the State.

In modern culture, billionaires such as Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, and Jeff Bezos are frequently described as the most powerful individuals in the world. Their combined assets, measured in hundreds of billions of dollars (at some of point in 2024 nearing $1 trillion dollars ($955 billion)), seem to place them above the reach of any government or institution. Yet this perception mistakes the visibility of wealth for the possession of power. Influence is the ability to shape outcomes indirectly, while power is the capacity to command obedience or enforce decisions. Only the State—through its monopoly on coercion, legislation, and regulation—possesses the latter. A government can, through taxation, legal decree, or nationalization, erase in a moment fortunes that took decades to build. Thus, the wealthy may appear powerful, but they remain profoundly dependent on the political systems that authorize and protect their wealth.

This dependency has deep historical roots. Throughout history, the wealthy have sought to insulate their fortunes from the unpredictability of rulers and regimes. In medieval Europe, merchants purchased royal charters that secured their commercial rights in exchange for taxes and loyalty. The Medici family’s vast financial empire was inseparable from its influence within the Florentine Republic and the papacy. In imperial China, merchants converted their capital into land—an asset that signified not only wealth but also state recognition. Across civilizations, wealth survived only when it was aligned with political power.

The fourteenth-century historian Ibn Khaldun observed the same pattern in his Muqaddima. He noted that people often buried gold and silver to protect them from confiscation during times of political turmoil. Though he dismissed the practice as economically unproductive, his discussion reveals an enduring human anxiety: the fear that political power can, at any moment, strip away the security of wealth. The act of hiding gold in the ground symbolized not greed but vulnerability—the recognition that the wealthy are never beyond the reach of the State.

The relationship between wealth and the State has not disappeared in the modern era. It has merely become more complex. Extreme wealth today is generated within intricate legal, financial, political, and technological systems—systems that are themselves creations of state authority. Consider Elon Musk’s rise: his ventures depend on government contracts, regulatory permissions, and access to capital markets sustained by U.S. monetary policy. It is not coincidental that Musk achieved extraordinary wealth in the United States rather than in South Africa or Canada. His success is inseparable from the American State system—a structure that enables risk-taking, enforces private property rights, and stabilizes the very markets that make his wealth possible.

The same holds true for nearly every global billionaire. Even those based abroad rely on institutions centered in New York or London, the financial capitals of the State-backed global economy. Their fortunes depend on the security of property rights, the stability of currencies, and the predictability of contracts—all guaranteed by political power. When markets falter, it is the State that rescues banks, enforces bailouts, and stabilizes currencies. Thus, wealth—no matter how vast—is not an independent force. It is an epiphenomenon of the political order that sustains it.

Wealth naturally breeds influence: it expands social networks, funds campaigns, and shapes public opinion. However, influence should not be mistaken for power itself. The wealthy are often the most anxious to maintain proximity to political authority, not because they seek to govern directly, but because they understand their vulnerability. The image of the inauguration captures this irony with stark clarity. Those who appear to dominate the world economically stand literally and symbolically behind the figure who embodies the coercive power of the State. Their presence signifies both status and dependence.

The wealthy seek power’s protection because they know that no amount of capital can guarantee security. The very systems that create wealth—the stock market, property law, taxation regimes—are creations of the State and can be redefined by the State at will. The desire to neutralize this threat drives the elite’s constant pursuit of political access. However, in doing so, they affirm the very hierarchy they hope to transcend: the supremacy of political authority over private fortune.

From a systems perspective, the attempt to internalize power through wealth is inherently flawed. No system can sustain its own source of energy indefinitely. Wealth, when accumulated beyond all proportion, seeks to become autonomous—to function as power itself—but in doing so it becomes more dependent on external authorization. When billionaires use their wealth to influence politics, they may gain temporary advantages, but they also deepen their reliance on the political structures they cannot control. The moment they attempt to internalize power, they surrender its independence.

Change, Resistance, and the Fear of Losing Power

The tension between wealth and power is further complicated by the resistance to change exhibited by both political elites and the wealthy. The slogan “Make America Great Again” captures a conservative impulse not only to preserve but to roll back time—rejecting progress in favor of an idealized past. This resistance to change, which has been a hallmark of certain political movements, reveals the fear that altering the status quo might threaten the privileges and wealth that have accumulated under current systems. For the wealthiest individuals, the call to return to a former era is not just a political strategy. Rather, it is a survival mechanism. A system that changes—especially one that pushes for greater equality or redistributes resources—threatens the very foundation of their wealth. Their fear is even more amplified when the person who rises to power is an unpredictable or prone to the impulse of vengeance and retribution.

The wealthy have historically feared change because it undermines the systems that allow them to maintain their advantage. As wealth builds upon itself, so too does influence, often in ways that reinforce existing power structures. But change, especially when it challenges entrenched systems of inequality, presents a direct threat. A truly transformative shift—one that promotes human rights, equity, and social justice—would disrupt the monopolies of power and capital that protect the wealthy from the consequences of systemic inequality. Thus, the same fear of losing wealth that drives the wealthy to seek proximity to power also makes them resistant to the kind of change that could ultimately lead to a more equitable society.

From the perspective of human rights, change is the most powerful equalizer. Legal reforms, shifts in social consciousness, and the redistribution of resources have historically been the mechanisms through which marginalized groups have gained recognition, dignity, and power. But this kind of change—often seen as progressive—is viewed with deep suspicion by those who have the most to lose. Just as the wealthy fear the potential erosion of their fortunes, so too do they fear the transformation of the systems that uphold their status. In this light, the State, which holds the power to bring about such change, becomes a double-edged sword. While it is the institution through which wealth is protected, it is also the only institution capable of recalibrating the balance of power toward greater equity. Thus, the wealthy find themselves in a paradox: while they depend on the State for the protection of their wealth, they also resist the very power that could challenge it.

The Image and Its Truth

The inauguration image endures as more than a tableau of contemporary politics. It is a timeless allegory of power and dependency. The wealthiest individuals in the world, standing behind the President of the United States, embody a universal truth: wealth may command attention, but only the State commands obedience. The more wealth seeks to escape the shadow of political power, the more tightly it becomes bound to it. In the end, every empire of capital stands behind the throne of the State, awaiting its favor—and fearing its reach.

From our point of interest, the relationship between wealth and the State exposes a profound truth about the fragility of human rights. If even the wealthiest individuals—those with seemingly limitless resources—must seek the protection of the State to secure their interests, it reveals the precarious position of all others whose rights depend entirely on that same authority. The State alone possesses the power to define, enforce, and protect human rights, yet it is also the only entity capable of violating them on a systemic scale. Its monopoly on real power and the use of violence—the very force that can uphold dignity and justice—can just as easily be turned toward repression or neglect. Wealth may offer influence, but not safety from the consequences of state action or inaction.

This dependence underscores the vulnerability of marginalized communities, for whom the State’s failure to uphold human rights is not a theoretical risk but a lived reality. When those with immense wealth stand behind the throne in search of protection, it becomes clear that those without privilege stand before it, exposed to its abuses. The same structures that preserve wealth can permit exploitation; the same laws that secure property can overlook suffering. Thus, the image of the powerful gathered behind the ruler is more than an emblem of privilege—it is an indictment of a system in which protection is conditional and rights are unevenly enforced. A just State must confront this paradox: that its power to protect becomes meaningful only when it refuses to wield that power as a weapon of fear or exclusion.