Some billionaires rethink their pledge as pressure to deliver grows

In 2010, Warren Buffett and Bill Gates introduced a straightforward initiative for the world’s wealthiest individuals, known as the Giving Pledge — a public promise to donate more than half of their fortunes either during their lifetimes or after their deaths.

At the time, the moment seemed fitting. The technology sector was rapidly creating billionaires at an unprecedented pace, and questions about how that wealth would shape society were beginning to emerge. “We’re talking trillions over time,” Buffett said in a 2010 interview with Charlie Rose. While those trillions have since materialised, the level of giving has not kept pace.

Today’s numbers reflect a stark reality. The top 1% of U.S. households now control roughly as much wealth as the bottom 90% combined — the highest level of concentration recorded by the Federal Reserve since it began tracking such data in 1989. Globally, billionaire wealth has surged by 81% since 2020, reaching $18.3 trillion, even as one in four people worldwide still struggle to access enough food. Against this backdrop, a small group of extremely wealthy individuals is now debating whether to uphold — or step away from — a voluntary and unenforceable commitment to give away half their wealth.

According to figures reported Sunday by The New York Times, participation in the Giving Pledge has been steadily declining. In its first five years, 113 families joined. That number fell to 72 over the next five years, then to 43 in the following five-year period, and dropped to just four new signatories in all of 2024.

The list still includes prominent figures such as Sam Altman, Mark Zuckerberg, Priscilla Chan, and Elon Musk — individuals with enormous influence — yet some critics argue that the initiative has lost momentum. Venture capitalist Peter Thiel described it as a group that has “really run out of energy.” “I don’t know if the branding is outright negative, but it feels way less important for people to join,” Thiel told the Times.

The broader narrative of doing good through technology has been fading in Silicon Valley for years. Back in 2016, the HBO series “Silicon Valley” sharply mocked the industry’s tendency to claim it was “making the world a better place,” reportedly influencing how companies communicated publicly.

One of the show’s writers, Clay Tarver, told The New Yorker that companies even instructed employees to stop using the phrase because of the show’s satire.

While humorous, the critique reflected a deeper shift. According to veteran investor Roger McNamee, the tech industry has long been caught between two opposing philosophies: the idealistic vision associated with Steve Jobs and the more libertarian, profit-driven outlook linked to figures like Peter Thiel.

McNamee described this transformation bluntly, noting that while some originally entered the industry to improve the world, the dominant mindset shifted toward prioritising financial gain above all else.

A decade later, those libertarian-leaning perspectives have gained even greater influence, extending into positions of political power.

At the same time, there is growing disagreement about what it actually means to “give back.” For some in the tech sector, particularly those aligned with libertarian thinking, the expectation of philanthropy is misplaced. They argue that building companies, creating jobs, and driving innovation are contributions in themselves and that additional pressure to donate wealth is more of a social expectation than a necessity.

Peter Thiel embodies much of this perspective. He never signed the Giving Pledge and has been openly critical of Bill Gates. According to the Times, he has privately encouraged several individuals who signed the pledge to reconsider their commitments and, in some cases, withdraw entirely.

“Most of the ones I’ve talked to have at least expressed regret about signing it,” Thiel said, describing the pledge as an “Epstein-adjacent, fake Boomer club.” He has reportedly advised Elon Musk to step away from the pledge, arguing that the funds could otherwise be directed toward causes chosen by Gates. When Coinbase CEO Brian Armstrong quietly removed his pledge letter from the website in mid-2024, Thiel reportedly sent him a congratulatory message.

Thiel also suggested that those who remain on the pledge list feel pressure, describing it as a form of being “blackmailed” by public expectations — reluctant to abandon a promise publicly, even if it is non-binding.

However, this perspective contrasts with how some of these individuals behave publicly. Musk, for example, has shown little concern about managing public perception, and Mark Zuckerberg has endured years of regulatory scrutiny without retreating from his positions. Meanwhile, economic realities for many people are becoming more challenging. GoFundMe reported that campaigns for basic needs — including rent, groceries, and housing — increased by 17% last year, with common keywords such as “work,” “home,” “food,” “bill,” and “care.”

During a 43-day federal government shutdown last fall, campaigns related to food assistance surged sixfold. As the company’s CEO noted, rising living costs are forcing people to rely more on personal networks for support. Whether these trends are directly linked to decisions made by wealthy individuals remains open to interpretation, but the timing is notable. It is also important to distinguish between the Giving Pledge itself and broader philanthropic activity. Many wealthy individuals continue to donate significant amounts, but increasingly do so on their own terms and through their own initiatives.

For instance, the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative reduced its workforce by about 70 employees — roughly 8% — at the start of 2026, shifting its focus away from education and social justice toward its Biohub network of biological research institutes. Mark Zuckerberg described Biohub as the primary focus of their future philanthropic efforts.

This shift suggests a strategic realignment rather than a withdrawal from giving. The Zuckerbergs have pledged to donate 99% of their wealth over time.

Others remain committed to large-scale philanthropy. Bill Gates, for example, announced plans last year to distribute nearly all of his remaining wealth — estimated at over $200 billion — through the Gates Foundation over the next two decades, with the organisation set to close permanently by December 31, 2045. Referencing Andrew Carnegie’s famous statement that “the man who dies thus rich dies disgraced,” Gates emphasised his determination not to die wealthy.

The broader tension between concentrated wealth and the rest of society is not new. Similar levels of inequality were seen during the Gilded Age in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when systemic changes such as antitrust actions, income taxes, estate taxes, and the New Deal reshaped the economic landscape.

Those changes were driven by political pressure and strong institutions — including Congress, the press, and regulatory bodies — which look very different today.

What is clear, however, is the speed at which wealth has been accumulated in the modern era. Fortunes that once took generations to build are now created within years, often alongside reductions in social safety nets. According to Oxfam’s 2026 global inequality report, the wealth gained by billionaires in 2025 alone could have provided every person on Earth with $250 while still leaving the richest individuals more than $500 billion wealthier.

From the beginning, the Giving Pledge was always intended as a “moral pledge,” as Buffett described it — a commitment without enforcement, penalties, or oversight.

The fact that it once held significant influence reflects the values of the time in which it was created. The current debate around its relevance — and the suggestion that remaining part of it may feel like a burden — reflects a changing landscape in how wealth, responsibility, and public expectation are viewed today.