At one time, the rich could generally count on the Republican Party not begrudging them financial success, even of the outlying variety. That’s no longer the case. Arguments that such elites may be bad for America, and maybe just bad, period, now come from both sides of the political spectrum. Some even propose class genocide.

“Billionaires should not exist,” said Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders when introducing a plan for a new wealth tax.

In Why Democracy Needs the Rich, John O. McGinnis, a law professor at Northwestern University, offers a different opinion.

He didn’t title the book Why Our Economy Needs the Rich. McGinnis does include the standard case for the wealthy, that through hard work, risk taking and foresight, they make our shared economy more productive. Without Elon Musk, for example, Tesla wouldn’t be what it is. If its customers, employees, and the IRS all benefit from that, why shouldn’t Musk be rewarded?

In McGinnis’ book, that line of reasoning is an afterthought. His main concern is whether the wealthy, especially the very wealthy, make our democracy better than it would be without them.

It’s an important question because if being rich is wrong, then the US is wrong. As McGinnis notes, we are both the richest nation in the world and the richest per capita of any with a population over 20 million.

And while each person in our democracy has one vote, to expect that everyone will have equal influence on political outcomes is naïve. Some work harder at it. They form political action committees, knock on doors for a candidate, or run for office. Others have exceptional speaking skills or large social media platforms for promoting policies.

As McGinnis puts it, “elite influence in democracy is not only inevitable but often beneficial, channeling expertise and coherence into public debate.” Consequently, the political realm has its own “one percent” whose influence exceeds their numbers.

He identifies these elites as those holding influential positions in special interest groups, the government bureaucracy, and the clerisy — the latter including prominent celebrities, academics, journalists, and other members of what is sometimes called the cultural elite. The problem, McGinnis argues, is that these groups tend to skew left politically.

He offers data to support this claim. Among federal bureaucrats, 95 percent of donations in the 2016 presidential election went to Hillary Clinton. In journalism, a 2004 Pew survey found that liberals outnumbered conservatives five to one. In academia, McGinnis estimates the ratio of liberal to conservative professors at top universities today is likely twenty to one. Most strikingly, in the film industry, a study of political contributions from 996 leading actors, directors, producers, and writers found they supported Democrats over Republicans by a 115-to-1 ratio.

Such dominance is maintained, McGinnis believes, through gatekeeping that favors the training and hiring of, for instance, new academics and journalists who think like their superiors. And this is where the wealthy, who also possess outsized political influence, can improve things by being a democratic counterweight to entrenched left-leaning power.

There are many routes to acquiring wealth. “Unlike the intelligentsia,” McGinnis writes, “the wealthy cannot easily exclude individuals with unorthodox views from joining their ranks.” For that reason, the rich arrive at their positions from a variety of backgrounds, beliefs, and political leanings. For every George Soros, there is a Peter Thiel. For every Bill Gates, there is a Miriam Adelson. In other words, the wealthy look like America, ideologically speaking.

And contrary to popular belief, the rich are also a dynamic and constantly churning class, especially at the highest levels. McGinnis notes that almost 60 percent of those on the current Forbes 400 list were not on it twelve years earlier. And 90 percent of the grandchildren of the wealthiest one percent drop out of that lofty tier. Recently, the dynamism of the wealthy may even be on the rise. In 1982, 60 percent of the Forbes 400 came from wealthy backgrounds. That is only 32 percent today. McGinnis even questions the received wisdom that the rich are getting richer in relative terms. He notes that in 1937, John D. Rockefeller’s net worth was 1.5 percent of US GDP, almost the same as Elon Musk’s 1.6 percent share in 2025.

In making these points, McGinnis never decries the right of left-leaning elites to have outsized influence on our political process. He only claims that the wealthy serve as an important counterweight to them. “A democracy, like a tree, flourishes with many roots,” he writes. In a nation founded on freedom of thought and a never-ending contest of ideas, a fuller representation of national perspectives promotes better political outcomes.

It’s a nuanced argument, which McGinnis bolsters by noting that the financially successful tend to have a more pragmatic worldview than other elites, as their wealth invests them in the economic success of the nation while also insulating them from worry about disapproval.

The wealthy’s activities also spread benefits across the political spectrum, McGinnis argues. The rich are traditionally leading supporters of the arts and charity. The first hospital in the United States appeared in 1751 thanks to a group of successful merchants that included Benjamin Franklin. More recently, rich alumni helped Harvard University weather the storm of President Trump cutting off their public funding.

Overall, McGinnis, a lawyer by training, makes a strong case that we should respect the contributions the rich make to our democracy. But does that mean we should idolize and emulate them? That is a thornier question that McGinnis doesn’t try to answer.

In the mid-1990s, Bill Gates, the president of Microsoft, was in his 30s and the richest person in the United States. I was a serial underachiever with big ideas and a spotty work ethic. Amid a quarter-life crisis, I read a business biography titled Gates: How Microsoft’s Mogul Reinvented an Industry and Made Himself the Richest Man in America. It lit a fire in me to apply sustained focus and effort to my life, the way Gates had done. As it turned out, I couldn’t quite match Gates’ outlying work ethic, much less his financial success. But the attempt led me to graduate school in 1995, where I improved on my undergraduate GPA by almost a full grade point. Gates literally changed my life.

Even so, the biography also illustrated a darker side to Gates’ success. As a young businessman, he was a domineering workaholic with a compulsive need to win. Such traits are probably not rare on the Forbes list. Those of us without them might count ourselves lucky in that regard. The rich are good at making money. Beyond that, they are as flawed as the rest of us.

But that hardly explains the political hostility toward the wealthy today. In some cases, it may be envy of their ability to afford any lifestyle they want. And if McGinnis’ assertion that the rich counterbalance left-leaning elites is true, some may be hostile because they correctly see the wealthy as an impediment to their political objectives.

Furthermore, many now ascribe to the Robin Hood school of economic thought, which sees financial success as a zero-sum game. If Elon Musk has more, it must be because I have less. This is closely allied to the Marxist assertion that the rich have stolen their success from the slaving of the classes below them, so why not take it back?

It has always been hard for me to understand how the financial success of billionaires such as Larry Ellison, Warren Buffett, or even Jimmy Buffett drains my bank account. Am I also a worse ball player because Luka Doncic averages 33 points per game in the NBA this season? Only in the most strictly relative sense.

There are all kinds of outliers, from money to spirituality to health. Somewhere out there is an invisible cadre of the one-percenters of happiness, and I suspect they come from a diverse span of the wealth spectrum. Perhaps we should respect the contributions such atypical people make, and even learn what we can from them, while neither idolizing nor demonizing them.