When a presidency becomes the ultimate investment by Emma Schneider

Once upon a time, billionaires were content with yachts, golf courses, and private islands. Now, those amusements look quaint compared to the new ultimate trophy: a presidential palace. The modern tycoon no longer wants to simply buy influence; he wants to become the influence. The game has changed. The new profit playbook isn’t about dodging taxes or cornering markets, it’s about capturing a nation.

We’ve entered the age where billionaires look at democracy and see a hostile takeover opportunity. The idea is simple: why spend millions lobbying politicians when you can just be one? It’s cheaper in the long run, and infinitely more rewarding. Power, prestige, immunity, all rolled into one lucrative office. Donald Trump didn’t just win the presidency; he wrote the manual for billionaires with political ambitions. Now we see echoes of the Trump experiment everywhere, including in Europe, where figures like Andrej Babiš in the Czech Republic have taken notes and sharpened their own versions of the play.

What makes this new game particularly dangerous is its perfect blend of populism and privilege. These billionaire-politicians don’t come dressed as the elite; they come disguised as saviours of the working class. They speak in plain terms, rail against the “corrupt establishment,” and position themselves as outsiders, all while their bank accounts have more zeros than most national budgets. They present themselves as “businessmen who get things done,” as if running a country were no more complicated than managing a balance sheet.

And it works. Because in an era of economic fatigue and political exhaustion, many voters crave the illusion of efficiency. They’re willing to gamble on the man who claims he can “run the country like a business.” The irony, of course, is that’s exactly what these billionaires end up doing, running it like a business where they’re the CEO, the shareholders, and the board of directors all in one.

Look closer, and you’ll see the same patterns repeated: state contracts funnelled toward friendly companies, media empires expanded under the guise of “national interest,” public trust traded for private gain. Corruption isn’t even hidden anymore, it’s repackaged as success. “If I made billions in business, I can make billions for the country,” they say. But the math always seems to add up in one direction, toward their own pockets.

In this new world order, conflict of interest has become an outdated term. Once upon a time, the idea that a sitting leader could maintain sprawling business interests would have sparked outrage. Now it’s shrugged off as a sign of entrepreneurial spirit. “At least he knows how to make money,” supporters say as if personal wealth automatically translates into public virtue.

Meanwhile, the institutions meant to act as guardrails the media, the judiciary, the opposition, are steadily undermined. Criticism is rebranded as conspiracy; accountability becomes an act of betrayal. The billionaire-president doesn’t need to silence journalists, he just buys their newspapers. He doesn’t need to dismantle checks and balances, he simply appoints loyal accountants to run them. Democracy, once messy but resilient, starts looking suspiciously like a corporate boardroom.

And yet, we can’t pretend this phenomenon exists in a vacuum. Billionaires-turned-politicians aren’t just opportunists; they’re symptoms of a deeper public disillusionment. People are tired of professional politicians who promise change and deliver excuses. They’re frustrated by bureaucrats who move paper instead of mountains. Into that fatigue walks the billionaire, with his tailored suit and simple slogans: “I’ll fix it. I’ll drain the swamp. I’ll make it great again.”

It’s the perfect sales pitch, and like any good salesman, he knows how to close the deal. The public, hungry for results, buys the dream. Only later do they realize they’ve been sold their own country.

There’s also something seductive about the myth of the self-made man. Voters admire wealth; they see it as proof of competence. If he’s rich, he must know what he’s doing. But what we forget is that billionaires don’t play by the same rules as the rest of us, in business or in politics. They’re used to control, not compromise; to winning, not governing. They don’t negotiate, they dominate. They see politics as a marketplace, not a public service.

In this worldview, loyalty is currency, truth is negotiable, and governance is just another deal to be closed. The nation itself becomes the asset. When things go wrong — as they inevitably do, the billionaire-politician reacts like any businessman facing a downturn: he blames the market, fires a few subordinates, and walks away richer than before. The shareholders, in this case, the citizens, are left holding the bill.

What’s worse, the model is contagious. Others are watching, learning, and waiting their turn. From Silicon Valley to Central Europe, the message is clear: wealth isn’t just power, it’s a shortcut to legitimacy. Why bother funding campaigns when you can fund yourself? Why bribe a politician when you can be the politician?

We’re witnessing the corporate takeover of democracy in real time. Elections have become investment opportunities. Campaign promises are marketing strategies. National interests are just another line item on the billionaire’s ledger.

But perhaps the most chilling part of all is how easily we, the public, have adjusted to it. We grumble, we scroll, we tweet but we still vote for the showman who promises to cut through the chaos. We still convince ourselves that the rich know best. We confuse audacity for leadership, and self-interest for vision.

The billionaire’s path to power will only end when voters stop mistaking wealth for wisdom. Until then, the boardroom doors to the presidential palace will remain wide open. The shareholders of democracy will keep losing dividends, and the new ruling class, those smiling titans of self-interest, will keep cashing in.

Because in the new profit game of the 21st century, running a country isn’t a duty. It’s the ultimate business deal and corruption, rebranded as “success,” is just good business.