In the past, becoming a billionaire—or even a notably wealthy individual—required creating a tangible product or service that became indispensable to everyday life. Industrial titans like Rockefeller, who refined the oil that powered the modern world, and Ford, who revolutionized personal transportation with the automobile, built empires on goods that every household relied upon. Their wealth was inseparable from the physical infrastructure of society.
However, following the Nixon Shock and the end of the dollar’s gold convertibility, a fundamental shift occurred. The wealthiest individuals were no longer necessarily those producing physical goods, but rather those creating digital tools and software. Figures like Bill Gates and Microsoft epitomized this new era—though they dealt in intangible products, their creations were still essential to modern life. By the 1980s through the 2000s, nearly every household depended on Windows; Microsoft was as ubiquitous as electricity or running water in enabling participation in contemporary society.
Then came the next turning point: the 2008 financial crisis. Since then, the nature of extreme wealth has changed once again. The richest individuals today often neither manufacture physical products nor create tools that are indispensable to daily life. Consider Elon Musk: while he produces electric vehicles and operates various high-profile ventures, none are true necessities for the average person. Tesla’s cars are not household essentials, and Xitter—which he acquired through leveraged financing supported by inflated Tesla stock—hardly qualifies as a societal cornerstone. Indeed, much of Tesla’s ascent was fueled by government incentives rather than the creation of a product indispensable to modern existence.