What I Got Wrong About Silicon Valley

For decades, Mark Lemley’s career as an intellectual property attorney followed a predictable and comfortable path. As a Stanford University professor who consulted for giants like Amazon, Google, and Meta, he operated in a field he viewed as largely apolitical, one where his personal democratic values seemed to align perfectly with the companies he served. That orderly world, however, has been upended.

In a dramatic shift this past January, Lemley announced on LinkedIn that he was severing ties with Meta. He expressed his profound struggle with Mark Zuckerberg’s apparent embrace of what Lemley termed “toxic masculinity and Neo-Nazi madness.” This decision reflects a broader, unsettling transformation within Silicon Valley. Zuckerberg, now in his early forties, has publicly evolved into a MAGA-supporting mixed martial arts enthusiast who expresses concern that corporate America lacks masculinity. His platforms have scaled back fact-checking efforts, and his social circle now includes figures from Mar-a-Lago. He is not alone; a significant group of billionaires appear to be prioritizing corporate prosperity over societal health.

When meeting Lemley at his Stanford office this July, his casual Hawaiian shirt suggested a man ready for a break. In the six months since his public stand, he notes that while many powerful figures privately express support, almost none have joined him publicly. The climate of fear is palpable. Lemley himself has contemplated an exit strategy, a sentiment he says is common among those who oppose the current administration. “Everybody I’ve talked to has a potential exit strategy,” he admits, wondering aloud about obtaining citizenship elsewhere.

This political tension casts a long shadow over a sector otherwise energized by an artificial intelligence boom. While the tech community’s workforce still leans left, its leadership has largely responded to the political landscape with silence or active appeasement. A telling moment was Donald Trump’s second inauguration, where a notable contingent of tech elites, after contributing substantial donations, occupied prime seating. Venture capitalist David Hornik, a rare vocal critic, explains the prevailing caution: “Everyone in the business world fears repercussions, because this administration is vindictive.” Another seasoned investor, Michael Moritz, described the dynamic as a delicate effort to avoid what feels like a “protection racket.”

The consequences of dissent are clear. When Apple’s Tim Cook declined to join a presidential trip to the Middle East, President Trump publicly noted his absence and subsequently threatened a 25 percent tariff on iPhones. This incident has contributed to a culture of reticence. When approached for comment, many top executives were conspicuously unavailable, citing packed schedules or a desire to decompress from politics, while eagerly redirecting conversation to safer topics like AI.

This silence marks a departure from recent history, where employee activism served as a powerful check on corporate leadership. Google workers, for instance, famously organized to demand stronger commitments to diversity and to reject certain military contracts. Their leverage came from a hot job market where talented individuals could easily find new positions, implicitly holding their employers accountable to stated values. That internal pressure seems to have diminished, leaving a vacuum in the valley’s moral compass.

(Source: Wired)