Oligarchy in the Open: The Rise of the American ‘Bigarchs’ and the End of Democratic Pretense

In a revealing and unsettling conversation between political comedian Jon Stewart and sociologist Brook Harrington, a deeper look into America’s shifting power dynamics laid bare a new elite class — not merely billionaires, but “bigarchs”: ultra-wealthy individuals who blur the line between private wealth and public power. This isn’t the familiar Gilded Age tale of tycoons behind the curtain. It’s something more naked, more participatory, and more dangerous to democracy.

The New Court of Kings

What once separated America’s wealthy industrialists from political leaders was a tacit agreement — a cultural line, if not a legal one. Wealth could influence, but not directly participate in governing. Today, that line is not only gone — it’s mocked. As Harrington pointed out, Donald Trump didn’t just tolerate America’s richest at the table — he brought them into the royal court.

Unlike Putin’s Russia, where oligarchs are permitted to thrive under strict conditions set by the state, America’s emerging bigarch class has no leash. In Russia, stepping into political space without permission — as oil magnate Mikhail Khodorkovsky did — can cost your freedom or your life. In the U.S., political entanglement is welcomed, celebrated even, as a new mode of participatory plutocracy. Tech moguls and industrial tycoons now openly serve as both financiers and architects of political agendas.

Noblesse Without the Oblige

Historically, America’s wealthiest at least pretended to operate within civic norms. The Rockefellers and Carnegies built libraries, parks, and universities — partly out of genuine interest in legacy, partly from social pressure. Today’s tech and finance titans have shed even the pretense of obligation. As Harrington quipped, the “bigarchs” want noblesse without the oblige.

The modern ultra-wealthy have discarded philanthropy in favor of unfettered libertarianism — a worldview where nothing constrains their behavior, whether it be legal, moral, or cultural. The only rule is expansion: of their companies, of their wealth, and of their political influence. Elon Musk’s sparring with the European Union over regulations was met not with diplomatic restraint, but with threats from American political allies. The implication was clear: challenge our oligarch, and we’ll challenge your alliances.

Is Transparency Better?

Strangely, we now live in an era where the price of power is public. Musk gave millions to Trump’s political operation and emerged hundreds of billions of dollars richer. Jon Stewart wryly noted that this might be an improvement: at least we now know the cost of influence. But that transparency doesn’t come with accountability — only clarity.

Unlike the whisper networks of old-school political donors, this is a new era of loud, proud transactionalism. The American people are no longer merely bystanders but spectators — and sometimes cheerleaders — of deals once made in backrooms, now made on stages and on social media.

The Problem of Populist Oligarchy

Perhaps the most perverse twist of all is that this new class of overlords — who embody the greatest economic disparities in history — have become the darlings of populist movements. How can a system so top-heavy claim to speak for the working class?

The answer lies in myth-making. Today’s “great men” are not sold as nobles or lords, but as genius disruptors, alpha males, or visionary saviors. Musk’s legions of online fans defend his wealth and power not as parasitic, but as proof of merit. The populist rhetoric frames these bigarchs as warriors against corrupt government — even as they embed themselves deeper into it.

Harrington notes that this is “the divine right of kings with a pseudoscientific spin.” A 21st-century monarchy, legitimized not by God, but by algorithms, hype cycles, and speculative capital.

Are We Kidding Ourselves?

Some would argue this is nothing new. The rich have always shaped politics. But what’s shifted is not just the scale of wealth, but the brazenness with which it merges with state power. Stewart observes that even under Biden, America’s oligarchs gained trillions. The problem isn’t partisan; it’s systemic. And it’s worsened by the comforting myth that there are “good billionaires” and “bad billionaires.”

That myth obscures the real issue: the structure. A system in which wealth begets influence, which begets more wealth, is not democratic — no matter who’s writing the checks.

Labor: Still the Source of Wealth

There remains one immutable fact: all wealth originates from labor. Every billion-dollar valuation, every public offering, every ad click is built on the back of workers. Yet labor remains excluded from the financial rewards it helps generate.

Harrington suggests that real change comes only when labor organizes, strikes, or revolts. This is the hard path — the historical one. From the 1910s to the 1930s, it was labor movements, general strikes, and populist uprisings that checked the power of the first Gilded Age tycoons. The conditions are ripening again: record inequality, weakened social mobility, and unchecked political influence.

But unlike a century ago, today’s workers are atomized by digital platforms that thrive on division. Social media, rather than uniting people across class lines, has sorted them into warring tribes. This balkanization of the working class serves the bigarchs well.

What Can Be Done?

The legal infrastructure is rigged: corporations are people; money is speech. These Supreme Court decisions have gutted the ability to limit influence or enforce real campaign finance reform. Yet Harrington remains cautiously hopeful. Mass action, she argues — by workers or consumers — is still possible, though harder.

Perhaps the only viable way forward is for society to reclaim the norms that once constrained the powerful. If we can’t regulate them, we can stigmatize them. If we can’t legislate limits, we can demand civic responsibility. It starts with rejecting the mythologies — of genius, of inevitability, of benevolence — and returning to the basic principle that wealth without accountability is a threat to democracy.

Conclusion: The Royal Court Has Returned

In this bold, uncomfortable conversation, what emerges is a picture of America not as a republic, but as a techno-feudal state. The court of kings has returned, not in Versailles or Moscow, but in Silicon Valley and Palm Beach. Their palaces are apps; their lords are CEOs; their weapons are capital and code.

We may not be living in a monarchy by law, but we’re certainly flirting with it in practice. And as always, the question remains: will we let them reign — or will we remember that democracy means power must serve the people, not the other way around?

Full Video: