Most of you are probably familiar with Atlantis — the mythical, paradisiacal utopia whose exact location has long been lost to history. Some believe it lay in the Mediterranean; others suggest it was off the coast of Spain or even beneath Antarctica. It was first described by the Greek philosopher Plato around 360 B.C. He wrote that the founders of Atlantis were half-human, half-god beings who sought to create a naval superpower and a perfect society. The island itself was said to be a marvel of design: made up of concentric rings of land and water connected by canals, filled with lush vegetation, exotic wildlife and rich deposits of gold, silver and other precious resources. At its heart stood a magnificent capital city.
Today, few, if any, scientists believe Atlantis was real. The prevailing theory is that Plato invented the tale to illustrate some of his philosophical ideas. But, while most of us have heard of Atlantis, how many of us know the full story of its downfall? Let me fill you in…
According to the myth, the people of Atlantis once lived virtuously, guided by spiritual wisdom and moral values. Their civilisation was a kind of heaven on earth. However, as time passed, they grew greedy, corrupt and arrogant. Their decline outraged the gods, especially Zeus. In Plato’s words, the Atlanteans ceased to ‘be able to carry their prosperity with moderation’.1 As punishment, the gods unleashed a cataclysmic night of fire and earthquakes, swallowing the island beneath the sea forever.
Plato may have intended this tale as a warning to his fellow Athenians.2 At the time, Athens was a flourishing civilisation. But, like Atlantis, it too could fall, brought down not by external enemies, but by internal decay, hubris and moral decline.
I can’t help but wonder: what would Plato say to us today? In many ways, it feels like we’re living through our own Atlantis moment. The promises of the free world, the American Dream and the dignity of humankind are slowly being eroded, swept away by waves of leaders devoid of moral compass, obsessed with material wealth and indifferent to the natural world.
We’re not lacking in warnings. Modern-day prophets — from the legendary David Attenborough and Greta Thunberg to climate scientists and nature itself — have sounded the alarm, urging us to rethink our destructive habits: polluting our oceans with plastic, decimating the Amazon, exploiting every last resource. And yet, we pat them on the head like naïve children and carry on as usual (I’m guilty of this, too).
Or worse: as the recent Bezos-Sanchez wedding so vividly illustrates, the ultra-wealthy continue to pretend they care, while wielding the chainsaws themselves. It’s hard not to think of the film Don’t Look Up, where Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence play scientists desperately trying to warn the world of an imminent catastrophe. Their cries fall on deaf ears as officials, policymakers and the powerful choose comfort and excess over survival. In the end, the elite don’t fix the problem; they build a spaceship to flee Earth at the last minute.
Sound familiar? It’s hard not to draw parallels with a certain would-be Mars coloniser and his partner-in-crime who recently sent his fiancée and friends on a ten-minute cruise to space.
A tsunami is heading toward our modern-day Atlantis, and this time, we can all see it coming. Yet, we stand frozen, paralysed by a deepening crisis of inequality, empathy and morality. As Plato warned, once a society loses its sense of justice and compassion, collapse becomes inevitable.
I’m not particularly interested in talking about the Bezos-Sanchez wedding — that grotesque parade of wealth floating through Venice. Honestly, I don’t care about these people, and their excesses have already been dissected by a hundred other think pieces. Nevertheless, I do want to highlight a fact that connects directly to the symbolism of that event — a fact that speaks volumes about the world we’re living in.
According to a report by the Equality Trust published in May, the 50 richest families in the UK now hold more wealth than the poorest half of the population — over 34 million people.3 Even more staggering is the rise in the number of billionaires: from just 15 in 1990 to 165 in 2024. All of this during a time when wealth inequality across the UK has grown exponentially.
Beyond the numbers lies something even more troubling: the how. As Priya Sahni-Nicholas, co-executive director of the Equality Trust, points out, more than half of billionaire wealth comes from property, inheritance and finance.4 Their wealth is rooted in rising property prices, unaffordable rents and inflated financial markets — mechanisms that profit from housing instability and the cost-of-living crisis.5
In other words, while most people are struggling to survive, the ultra-wealthy are getting richer because of that struggle.6
All of this, of course, sits atop the rotting foundation of unchecked corporate greed. We’ve known for some time that profiteering played a significant role in fuelling inflation during 2022. A report by the IPPR and Common Wealth think tanks found that profits among UK-listed companies rose by 30%, driven largely by just 11% of firms that made super-profits by pushing through eye-watering price increases — a phenomenon now widely known as ‘greedflation’.7 These inflated profits were even more extreme in the United States, where monopolies in key sectors further concentrated wealth and power.
In the UK, the pattern repeats — this time in the form of soaring executive bonuses, particularly in sectors under intense public scrutiny, such as water and banking. The Liberal Democrats’ annual Sewage Bonus Tracker, based on Companies House data, found that major water companies, including Thames Water, Severn Trent and South West Water, all increased their executive bonus pools despite 2023 being a record-breaking year for sewage dumping in UK waterways. Thames Water alone nearly doubled executive bonus payouts year-on-year, from £746,000 in 2022/2023 to a staggering £1.3 million in 2023/2024.8
There’s no other way to put it: we’re witnessing a system where the rules are bent, rewritten or outright ignored for the benefit of a powerful few — a system that rewards destruction and shields those who profit from it. For the rest of us, there’s an entirely different rulebook.
All of this might not sting quite so much if the ultra-rich acted like true stewards of wealth, eagerly redistributing their fortunes to those in need. And yes, it’s almost a given that the wealthy will be involved in some form of philanthropy (hello, tax deductions). I’m a bit torn on the subject myself: if the money ends up helping someone, does it really matter why it was given?
However, when you start digging into elite philanthropy, it becomes clear that much of it is less about changing the world, and more about preserving the one that already serves them. Take education, for example: in 2019, the largest private donations in the sector went to elite universities — usually the very same institutions the donors had attended. In the UK, between 2007 and 2017, more than two-thirds of millionaire donations (a total of £4.69 billion) went to higher education, with half of that funnelled straight into Oxford and Cambridge. Over the same decade, British millionaires gave £1.04 billion to the arts, and just £222 million to poverty relief.9
Now, to be clear, I’m not against giving to universities or the arts — far from it. I’ve built my career in the art world, and I deeply value education. As a parent, I also understand the instinct to support institutions that will directly benefit your own children. Some philanthropic efforts have also made an enormous difference: the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation’s role in nearly eradicating polio is a testament to that.
Yet, the bigger picture is hard to ignore. Elite philanthropy often reflects elite priorities. It reveals how deeply the veil of privilege shapes the decisions of those in financial power. Because, let’s face it: when you're struggling to put food on the table, you don’t care about the theatre — and this is coming from a true theatre fan.
‘I ask you to ensure that humanity is served by wealth and not ruled by it.’
- Pope Francis
We’re also often told that the ultra-rich ‘give back’ to society by creating jobs and opportunities. But Julia Davies, a member of Patriotic Millionaires UK, challenges this narrative, calling the wealthy ‘job eradicators’.10 As power and market share concentrate in the hands of a few, smaller and mid-sized enterprises are squeezed out, many of which play a vital role in sustaining local economies, especially outside the major cities. Amazon is a prime example. While it employs over 1.5 million people globally, many of these jobs are low-paid, precarious and replace work that once offered greater stability and autonomy within communities. Meanwhile, Amazon’s rise has coincided with the steady disappearance of small businesses: in the US alone, between 2007 and 2017, the number of small retailers fell by 65,000. Roughly 40% of small apparel, toy and sporting goods makers vanished, along with about a third of small book publishers.11 With Amazon now commanding over 40% of U.S. e-commerce, it has the power to undercut independent sellers, harvest their data and push them out entirely. The boarded-up high streets across the UK tell a similar story — once-vibrant local shops replaced by silence and shuttered windows (and I say all this as an ashamed Amazon shopper).
Davies also points out that these same ultra-wealthy individuals deploy highly sophisticated tax avoidance strategies, allowing them to contribute far less to national and local economies than working people or small businesses. In effect, while they accumulate more wealth than entire communities, they give back a fraction of what they extract — and far less, proportionally, than those with significantly less to give.
For instance, the ultra-rich may not need the NHS; they have private insurance, exclusive specialists and the ability to bypass waiting lists entirely. (And to be clear, I’m not saying this from a place of disdain — I, too, am fortunate enough to have access to private healthcare). But, the vast majority of people in the UK depend on the NHS. It’s not a luxury; it’s a lifeline. Unlike in the US, where healthcare is often treated as a privilege, here it’s meant to be a basic human right. If the ultra wealthy were to just give slightly more to the NHS and other vital public services, it would improve life for everyone, while the middle and lower classes bear the brunt of funding. Even if we personally don’t rely on these services, we all have a responsibility to protect and uphold them — not for ourselves, but for everyone. That’s what solidarity looks like. And it’s precisely what’s missing in society today.
The hard truth is this: the system overwhelmingly rewards those who already have — not those who contribute the most, work the hardest or care the most. And every indicator suggests that this imbalance isn’t just persisting; it’s accelerating.
As I already mentioned, wealth inequality today is driven largely by inherited property and assets. A clear example of this is the housing market: whether or not you can afford to buy a home is increasingly dependent on whether your parents already own one. This dynamic is about to intensify as we approach the so-called ‘Great Wealth Transfer’, a seismic shift in which nearly £7 trillion is expected to pass from the Baby Boomer generation to their heirs over the next 30 years.12 This sounds positive, but there’s a catch.
Thanks to increased life expectancy, most people won’t receive this inheritance until they’re between 58 and 64 years old. In other words, wealth is expected to move between older cohorts, reinforcing inequality not just between income brackets, but across generations. Those who are young today, especially children and young adults, are likely to feel this most acutely. Even for those lucky enough to inherit something, receiving it at 65 does little to help during the most financially demanding years of life, such as starting a family or buying a first home. This also ties into the wider conversation around declining birthrates: many people might want to have children, but few are willing to raise them in poverty or without security (to note, the average cost of sending a child under the age of two to nursery in Great Britain is £7,569 a year).13
This is a critical point, because if we look at poverty rates in the UK, the group most affected by absolute poverty is children — the very future of our society. According to charity Barnardo’s, child poverty has risen by more than 15% between 2010/11 and 2023/24, with over a third of children now living in poverty.14 The impact of this is devastating: growing numbers of children are struggling with mental health issues, lacking basic life skills and entering the care system, all while spending on family hubs and children’s centres has been slashed by nearly £1.4 billion.
These hubs, rooted in Labour’s Sure Start programme from the 1990s, were designed to support families before they reached crisis point. They offered everything from breastfeeding and mental health support to online safety, knife crime prevention (especially relevant in an era increasingly shaped by online extremism) and domestic abuse services. And yet, their funding has been gutted.
Recent research led by University College London (UCL) found that one in four children in England will need social care support by the time they turn 18.15 At the same time, food insecurity has skyrocketed. The Department for Work and Pensions’ (DWP) Households Below Average Income survey revealed that in 2022/23, 7.2 million people — or 11% of the UK population — lived in food-insecure households, up by 2.5 million from the year before. Among the 11.3 million living in relative poverty before housing costs, 22% faced food insecurity, including a staggering 30% of children.16
Leaders like London Mayor Sadiq Khan and footballer Marcus Rashford have fought tirelessly to address child food poverty, including campaigning for universal free school meals in primary schools. But, even that fight was met with resistance. During the COVID-19 pandemic, the Conservative Party sparked controversy by debating whether free school meals should be extended through the holidays. In the end, 322 Conservative MPs voted against the motion.17 That’s the key word here: debate. There was an actual debate — in one of the world’s richest nations — about whether or not we should help feed our poorest children. That alone speaks volumes.
The issue of rising inequality is especially urgent when it disproportionately affects children and young people (not to diminish the importance of pensioners, of course), because it is linked to nearly every other crisis our society faces. We talk about the dangers of figures like Andrew Tate and other toxic influencers in the manosphere, but they primarily target working-class boys, who are repeatedly told they are privileged, when in reality they face a severe lack of opportunities and prospects. We discuss the epidemics of childhood and adult obesity, yet junk food remains far cheaper and more accessible than healthy, organic options. We worry about the economic consequences of declining birthrates, while young adults struggle under the weight of crushing student debt, stagnant wages that fail to keep pace with soaring living costs and childcare expenses that often rival or exceed rent. It all comes back to social and economic inequality.
‘As long as poverty, injustice and gross inequality exist, none of us can truly rest.’
- Nelson Mandela
All of this ties into what I see as an epidemic — not just of immorality, but of a profound indifference toward morality itself. When I watch the news or read headlines these days, I can’t help but wonder where our collective sense of right and wrong has gone. It’s not about political sides or national interests; it’s about what is fundamentally right. Religion once served (and still does to those who truly believe) as a powerful moral guide. Like the fabled Atlantis, where greed and immorality led to obliteration, the price of losing moral compass was clear. Yet today, those in power often cloak themselves in religious superiority without any real moral consideration. It’s no longer about doing what’s right but about winning arguments, pushing personal or partisan agendas, and acting in self-interest or the interest of a select few.
Make no mistake — extreme inequality and the erosion of empathy and morality are deeply intertwined. If we don’t restore a shared sense of community, empathy and moral responsibility, along with real consequences for failing to uphold them, we cannot begin to address inequality. Leaders and the wealthy have a duty to do what is right, and they must be held accountable because, frankly, most will never be motivated by morality alone. The right thing — both as public servants and as role models — is to ensure everyone in society enjoys a decent quality of life, respects human rights and that each generation inherits greater opportunities for the future.
We are already witnessing the fallout from rising wealth and social inequality, and the US serves as a stark case study. When people perceive vast inequality and a deep sense of unfairness, the consequences are predictable yet alarming: declining social mobility; heightened political polarisation, which often benefits extremist parties; social unrest; diminished innovation and entrepreneurship; financial instability; and a widespread erosion of trust in institutions that have enabled or tolerated this inequality. On a broader scale, inequality is linked to poorer health outcomes, including higher rates of mental and physical illness, as well as environmental degradation, since the wealthy are less motivated to prioritise sustainability over their own consumption (Bezos’s 125.8-metre Oceanco superyacht springs to mind). History shows us time and again that nearly every surge of far-right leadership, or, on the opposite end of the scale, mass social revolution, arises from anger at perceived inequality.
Moreover, recent data underlines the political cost of inequality: a YouGov poll of over 6,700 Europeans aged 16–26 reveals only 57% believe democracy is preferable to other systems, dropping to 48% in Poland and just 51–52% in France and Spain. Alarmingly, 21% are open to authoritarian rule.18 On the other side of the Atlantic, the emergence of Trump’s ‘One Big Beautiful Bill’, a nearly 900-page package passed narrowly by the House (218–214) that freezes and extends deep 2017 tax cuts, cuts Medicaid and food stamps, also raises a warning flag as to the divide deepening. With the Congressional Budget Office warning that up to 11.8 million Americans could lose health coverage and deficits may climb by $3.3-3.4 trillion over the next decade,19 young Americans are expected to increasingly see democracy rewarding entrenched interests, not their own. This spiralling distrust risks pushing another generation toward disengagement or authoritarian impulses, exactly where widening inequities lead.
I say all this from a place of privilege, and in the spirit of full transparency, which I believe is essential, I benefitted from private education and family support. But, even from a young age, I hated injustice, and there comes a time when we need to ask ourselves: how much wealth is too much? Can we continue to accept a system where a small group hoards extreme wealth while others struggle to get by? And if so, should there be an obligation — not just a moral one, but a structural one — to contribute meaningfully to the society that enabled that wealth?
These are difficult questions, but they’re essential. And it’s time we started asking them openly, honestly and with the intention of building a fairer future.
This needs to be the most urgent topic on any government’s agenda right now. We need societies that work for everyone, where progress and wealth creation are not limited to the few but are inclusive and accessible to all. Perhaps, what we need is a new model: a more ‘inclusive capitalism,’ as Barack Obama has put forward.20 But, beyond policy and economics, we must empower young people to question the status quo, to think critically, to challenge injustice and to imagine a better world.
They are the future, and they deserve better.
Willie Drye, ‘Atlantis’, National Geographic, https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/article/atlantis.
Andreas Markides, ‘Atlantis’, Markides Associates, Dec 2021, https://markidesassociates.co.uk/articles/128-atlantis.
Amelia Hill, ‘UK’s 50 richest families hold more wealth than 50% of population, analysis finds’, The Guardian, 19 May 2025, https://www.theguardian.com/news/2025/may/19/uk-50-richest-families-hold-more-wealth-than-50-of-population-analysis-finds.
—, Ibid.
‘Billionaires Hoarding More Wealth’, LinkedIn, https://www.linkedin.com/news/story/billionaires-hoarding-more-wealth-6867817/.
Just to be clear here, I’m talking about Ultra-High-Net-Worth Individuals (UHNWIs), defined as those with a net worth of $30 million or more, excluding their primary residence.
Phillip Inman, ‘Greedflation: corporate profiteering “significantly” boosted global prices, study shows’, The Guardian, 7 Dec. 2023, https://www.theguardian.com/business/2023/dec/07/greedflation-corporate-profiteering-boosted-global-prices-study.
‘Water Company Bonuses Rise This Year Despite Sewage Scandal’, Liberal Democrats, https://www.libdems.org.uk/press/release/water-company-bonuses-rise-this-year-despite-sewage-scandal.
Paul, Vallely. ‘How Philanthropy Benefits the Super-Rich’, The Guardian, 8 Sept. 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/society/2020/sep/08/how-philanthropy-benefits-the-super-rich.
Amelia Hill, ‘UK’s 50 richest families hold more wealth than 50% of population, analysis finds’, The Guardian, 19 May 2025, https://www.theguardian.com/news/2025/may/19/uk-50-richest-families-hold-more-wealth-than-50-of-population-analysis-finds.
Stacy Mitchell and Ron Knox, ‘Issue Brief: How Amazon Exploits and Undermines Small Businesses, and Why Breaking It Up Would Revive American Entrepreneurship’, 16 Jun 2021, Institute for Local Self-Reliance, https://ilsr.org/articles/fact-sheet-how-breaking-up-amazon-can-empower-small-business.
Tejvan Pettinger, ‘Why UK Wealth Inequality Is Increasing’, Economics Help, 19 Apr. 2025, https://www.economicshelp.org/blog/216982/economics/why-uk-wealth-inequality-is-increasing.
‘Average childcare costs’, MoneyHelper, https://www.moneyhelper.org.uk/en/family-and-care/becoming-a-parent/childcare-costs.
Rachel Hall, ‘Big Fall in Support for Struggling Families in England, Charity Says’, The Guardian, 24 June 2025, https://www.theguardian.com/society/2025/jun/24/big-fall-in-support-for-struggling-families-in-england-charity-says.
‘Estimated cumulative incidence of intervention by children's social care services to age 18: a whole-of-England administrative data cohort study using the child in need census’, International Journal of Population Data Science, Issue 1, Vol. 10, 30 Jan. 2025, https://ijpds.org/article/view/2454/.
Brigid Francis-Devine, Xameerah Malik and Niamh Foley, ‘Food poverty: Households, food banks and free school meals’, House of Commons Library, 2 july 2025, https://researchbriefings.files.parliament.uk/documents/CBP-9209/CBP-9209.pdf.
Zoe Williams, ‘How out of Touch Are the Tories? The Free School Meals Row Tells You Everything’, The Guardian, 23 Oct. 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/education/2020/oct/23/how-out-of-touch-are-the-tories-the-free-school-meals-row-tells-you-everything-you-need-to-know.
Deborah Cole, ‘Young Europeans losing faith in democracy, poll finds’, 4 July 2025, https://www.theguardian.com/society/2025/jul/04/young-europeans-losing-faith-in-democracy-poll-finds.
Ken Alltucker, ‘Medicaid and Trump's tax cuts: What this means for millions of Americans’, USA Today, 4 July 2025, https://eu.usatoday.com/story/money/2025/07/03/trump-tax-bill-taxes-medicaid-affects-americans/84450321007/
Mike Allen, ‘Scoop: Obama to push "inclusive capitalism" at 15th reunion weekend’, Axios, 3 Nov. 2023, https://www.axios.com/2023/11/03/scoop-obama-inclusive-capitalism-reunion-weekend.