Careless People: A Cautionary Tale of Power, Greed, and Lost Idealism

by Sarah Wynn-Williams

allow us in. And I don’t want to help Facebook try. The way I see it, the only way in will be to collaborate with the CCP and make compromises we shouldn’t. I tell Marne and I think she gets it. She takes on nearly all the China-related tasks herself.

Mark, meanwhile, is learning Mandarin. He tells people he’s studying every day, and he gets together with Mandarin-speaking employees for conversational practice. Eventually, he’s interviewed in Mandarin, onstage in a classroom full of Chinese students. The video of this is completely charming; he’s loose and self-deprecating and funny. The students cheer and burst into applause when he first busts out his badly accented Mandarin. “I need some practice after all,” he tells them, and they laugh. “My wife is Chinese”—more laughter and applause. “We speak Mandarin to her grandmother.” When the footage is ...

Facebook will grant the Chinese government access to Chinese users’ data—including Hong Kong users’ data—in exchange for getting into China? This can’t be true. It’s one of those crazy ideas the other offices at Facebook are always floating that Marne and I beat back down before they go very far. This proposal, which would surely violate the consent order Facebook agreed to with the Federal Trade Commission in 2012 (and the earlier 2011 agreement with the Irish

Data Protection Commission), doubtless is the work of juniors who haven’t subjected it to any scrutiny by the actual decision makers at Facebook. This is so far-fetched I’m sure there’s no danger of it becoming real anytime soon or ever. So I ignore it, even though the next sentence in the email explains exactly how Facebook would accomplish this: New users in China will agree to a modified DUP/SRR reflecting this practice, but we will have to re-TOS Hongkongese users.

Translation: new users in China will have a new Data Use Policy they’ll agree to when they sign up for Facebook—a policy that discloses that the Chinese government will have access to their data—and existing users in Hong Kong will be forced to accept a new Terms of Service (the contract Facebook has with its users) that will also contain this stipulation.

Later—just a few months later—I’d learn no, no … this was how the head of the China project was thinking things would play out. But I’ll get to that.

She’s replaced by Joel Kaplan. It isn’t a complete surprise. Joel, the former Bush aide, is coming from the role of vice president for US policy. Plus, he’s Sheryl’s ex-boyfriend, and by now I’ve realized that Facebook’s leadership includes a web of people all entangled as bridesmaids, best friends, neighbors, and exes.

They hire each other for jobs with big salaries, responsible for each other’s promotions and bonuses. A tiny enmeshed group of people increasingly responsible for shaping the attention of billions.

One of the conceits of Davos is that the logistics are incredibly difficult, and that’s if you’re a billionaire with a large staff. It’s a ridiculous place to hold anything. The location is high up in the remote Swiss mountains in the dead of winter. Getting there requires a flight to Zurich followed by a long drive through treacherous icy, windy roads, or train, or—if you’re one of the top attendees (and not staff like me)—helicopter. The town is tiny, one main street surrounded by ski chalets. The scarcity of hotel rooms, restaurants, and convenience stores seems to be the point.

I’ve managed Facebook’s presence at Davos for years, but this time, Tom’s also going to be there, on assignment for the Financial Times. So we have to bring the baby. When I confide in other staffers about this plan, they say, alarmed, “Don’t let Sheryl know. She needs to know all your attention is on her.” Which told me all I really need to know about Sheryl’s real attitude to combining work and motherhood. In fact, when a woman I work with closely expresses surprise

upon learning I have a child, she tells me, “Good job!”—openly admiring the fact that she’d had no idea—and I feel a flush of pride. Both of us acknowledging the s...

These are then dished out by their grace and favor according to status. Everything at Davos—every speaking slot, every car pass, every drinks invitation, every meeting room, the distance you sit at dinner from the front table—is distributed according to social status. The ultimate type A personalities at Davos understand these minute power calibrations and spend their time comparing each and every one, constantly striving for more. So you overhear people saying sniffily that they’re surprised that a certain prime minister is staying in the Hilton Garden Inn rather than the Seehof Hotel, or that a celebrity mistakenly tried to cut in line for a panel, too uneducated to realize they were pushing past a Nobel laureate. The narcissism of small differences.

In other words, the WEF has weaponized the concept of status envy to create a Hunger Games for the 0.001 percent.

Know who this setup is not so great for? Anyone trying to do their job with a baby in tow. Know who it’s made for? Sheryl Sandberg. At Davos, every cell in her body is tingling, primed and hard at work weighing, assessing, and measuring whom we should stop to speak to, who gets a selfie, whom we share information with or give swag to, and who has committed some past slight that renders them ineligible for even a polite head nod. And they’re all doing this! Being around all this constant calculation is exhausting.

Sheryl often tells the story about how she decided to locate the Facebook European headquarters in Ireland in 2008, after the Irish government gave her a special phone when she landed in the country on her first business trip. The phone connected her to someone in the Irish government who could solve any problem or address any accommodation she needed. Every time she meets an Irish politician she brings it up, and sure enough she starts this meeting by praising the phone

and telling the prime minister, “I told folks at the White House that they should be like the Irish government, because you are so good to business. That phone!”

Sheryl says, “I appreciate that there was substantial pressure and scrutiny this year on global tax rules and arrangements,” and thanks Kenny for his “careful” and “considered” handling of it. What she’s thanking him for is an additional five years of double Irish for Facebook and the other tech companies that Kenny had somehow wangled. We’re protected from tax until 2020. But what comes after that? I feel sorry for him. I know that’s not the right response to tax avoidance, but Ireland has severe austerity measures in place. This man needs the economic boost Facebook’s international headquarters provides. It’s hard to know what he can give that will satisfy Sheryl. He’d already promised her at Davos three years ago that even if European countries make him tax Facebook, he won’t raise the corporate tax above what it is now in Ireland: 12.5 percent. (In comparison, it’s 35 percent in the US.) Of course, 12.5 percent is a lot more than nothing, which is what Facebook is currently paying. Kenny starts explaining the pressure he’s facing. “Now, you know Ireland had no choice but to comply with what these other countries.…” Sheryl interrupts. “Did you know Facebook has over five hundred employees from fifty-four nations based in Dublin, and we’ve just leased a building with capacity for over two thousand employees?” “Have I told you about the Knowledge Development Box?” Kenny asks with a twinkle in his eye. “Sarah, stop taking notes,” Sheryl instructs, knowing Kenny’s about to ...

So is this what it looks like when a company conspires with a government to avoid paying taxes? I know Kenny’s just trying to do right by his people and keep a bunch of jobs in Ireland. But still. It doesn’t feel right, this backroom deal.

In other words, we should tell the world the lapdog has been a pit bull. Of course Sheryl agrees to this.

tell her no, I can’t. But people say no to Sheryl so rarely, she doesn’t know what to do with this. She retreats to her bed, making no effort to hide her frustration and resentment. I know something has broken between us. I know consequences will follow, but I don’t know what they’ll be. Sadie tries to console me, she tells me things will be fine, but there are unspoken rules with Sheryl about obedience and closeness. Those closest to Sheryl are rewarded.

Marne and Sadie often appear in her unwanted designer clothes; both assumed plum seats on boards that Sheryl had been asked to serve on. There are courtside basketball tickets and introductions to celebrities. Sheryl lends them the keys to her vacation homes. Sadie is very conscious of the benefits of being Sheryl’s “little doll,” as she calls it and having Sheryl tell her she loves her. She’s the one who explained to me the benefits of “being on the pedestal.” She’s acutely aware of others she shares that with. But she’s also very aware of the expectations that come with it. How carefully calibrated the rewards and demands are. Sheryl recently instructed Sadie to buy lingerie for both of them with no budget, and Sadie obeyed, spending over $10,000 on lingerie for Sheryl and $3,000 on herself. When Sadie tries another of the bras Sheryl purchased her for the first time, she emails her. “This bra is INCREDIBLY beautiful and fits perfectly. So grateful. This is my breasts

equivalent of flying privately for the first time.” “Happy to treat your breasts as they should be treated,” Sheryl responds. Sadie confides she’s never spent this much on single items of underwear in her life, messaging Sheryl that the experience is “a total Pretty Woman moment (the good one not the one where they kick her out). I feel like the fanciest twenty-six-year-old in the world.” Sheryl responds by asking her twenty-six-year-old assistant to come to her house to try on the underwear and have dinner. Later the invite becomes one to stay over. Lean in and lie back. At times Sadie shares with me how stressed out she is about her relationship with Sheryl. I urge her to find a new job somewhere else,...

When the plane lands in California, it’s pouring rain. We stand scattered around the jet with Sheryl’s black car idling nearby and the rest of us scanning the Uber app and juggling umbrellas while waiting for our luggage to be returned by the overworked staff. Sheryl walks purposefully toward me. I think she’ll make a conciliatory gesture or extend a thank-you for what was a challenging but successful week at Davos. I raise my umbrella politely and she leans in close. “You should have got into bed.” Then she turns her back and stalks off...

decide it’s best to tell him what happened in the plane. After I do, he simply instructs me not to tell that story to anyone.

I tell his boss, Elliot, who laughs nervously and then gives me essentially the same advice. I decide to confide in Debbie, who is underwhelmed by my fears, telling me that “half the department” has been in Sheryl’s bed by now.

return to work in August 2016. My first day back, Joel decides to do a performance review, as he says “it’s performance review season.” A quick Google search confirms my suspicion that you are not supposed to be given a performance review of your maternity leave. In fact, I understand that pushing someone to work during their maternity leave is against the law. Nevertheless. “You weren’t responsive enough,” he says. “In my defense, I was in a coma for some of it.” “It’s not just me, Sarah. Some of your other colleagues found it challenging to engage with you.” “I mean, you know, I was in hospital, in a coma and near death, but I accept that this did make it hard to engage with me at times.”

“I’m worried about India, especially pumping.” I explain my fear that I’ll start hemorrhaging again during forty hours in the air. I let her know that the idea of me traveling to India while I’m still having medical issues is causing a lot of stress in my house. I don’t reveal the extent of Tom’s distress. “You can fly with me,” she offers. “That way if anything goes wrong you’ll have someone onboard.” That might be helpful only if Stacey could obtain a medical degree before the flights. Otherwise, what exactly is she going to do if there’s a postsurgical medical emergency?

“You can lean on me and Joel’s assistant.” This is her solution to both the medical issue and Joel’s behavior. When the two of us meet up with Joel’s assistant in India, she christens

Trump heavily outspent Clinton on Facebook ads. In the weeks before the election, the Trump campaign was regularly one of the top advertisers on Facebook globally. His campaign could afford to do this because the data targeting enabled it to raise millions each month in campaign contributions

through Facebook. In fact, Facebook was the Trump campaign’s largest source of cash.

Mark quietly takes it all in. At first, he’s skeptical and pushing back, but that gradually turns into curiosity. He starts to ask questions, trying to understand the mechanics of it all. He doesn’t seem upset that the platform would be used this way, not in the

slightest. If anything, there’s admiration for the ingenuity of it. Like, these tools were there all the time for anyone to use this way. How smart that they figured it out.

When all this was explained to Sheryl at that business operations meeting, once she grasped what Trump’s campaign did, her immediate response was not horror but that it was brilliant and innovative and do you think we might have a shot at hiring Trump’s guy Brad Parscale to come work at Facebook? No one said anything. After an awkward moment, chastened, she shifted gears: “Of course that’s silly. He can have his pick

of jobs right now.” A pause. “But maybe there are others from the Trump campaign we could bring inside Facebook?”

To achieve a spontaneous encounter, I had to get Mark in close proximity to President Xi. State dinners were obviously out after our experience in Panama. And President Xi, like the pope, wasn’t going to come to Mark. But I was able to negotiate Mark a slot for a keynote speech right before President Xi’s keynote speech and convince APEC to make the “connectivity revolution” the theme. Even more important, I was able to secure dressing rooms next to each other. This gives us the best opportunity in years for Mark and Xi to meet. We game out different ways of making it happen, rehearse multiple times what to say, and get to the venue unreasonably early to give us as much time as possible to make the connection. I’m primed and ready to be wingman again, only this time without the mojitos.

When our security team lets us know that Xi is on his way, we move outside our dressing room, into the cavernous event space, poised for our “spontaneous” encounter. Mark braces himself—ready for one of the more consequential moments of his career—as Xi’s security detail arrives. It’s a phalanx of men, in identical gray uniforms, marching in formation past us. Mark stares in disbelief, mouth open. They just keep coming, dozens and dozens of them. It’s almost comical. Just when you think there could not be any more, more step in.

As Xi approaches, the thick line of men moves into a formation. They create an impenetrable dividing line between his dressing room and ours, one that stretches all the way down the hall to the entrance. A human Chinese wall. President Xi is so obscured that he doesn’t even have to risk making eye contact with Mark. The troops are now still and silent enough that we can hear Xi’s fo...

human wall silently files out, leaving Mark, me, and the rest of the small Facebook group loitering outside the dressing roo...

I find it hard not to admire Xi for so completely outmaneuvering us. The Chinese clearly went to the organizers just like I did and asked, “Where will the president be backstage? Who else will be around?” And when they learned it would be Mark Zuckerberg, they took serious precautions. I’m about to compliment their foresight and their sheer commitment—the boots on the ground—that made that happen. I’ve never seen anything like it. Bu...

As he sits in the chair leading this conversation with heads of state, it’s like his mind is elsewhere. He seems preoccupied and barely listening. When he does listen, he’ll turn to me and ask me for the answer to the question and sometimes the question itself. He’s phoning it in. Suddenly, I’m leading a Q&A

with the leaders of the free world. I can’t believe this is happening. It’s strange. Instead of enjoying what should be the pinnacle of my career, I’m also preoccupied. I spent so long trying to help Mark get comfortable with presidents and prime ministers and get him operating as a global player. Presiding over a room full of the most powerful people in the world should have been a career highlight for both of us. But what I’m seeing is that the more comfortable he gets, the less he cares. As his importance compounds, his regard diminishes. He sails through the whole session, presiding over some of the most powerful people in the world as if none of it matters. Uninterested.

We had prepped him for a meeting that would focus on Obama’s legacy, but we ended up with a meeting focused on Mark’s. “Fake news, he kept going on about fake news and misinformation,” Mark steams. “He doesn’t get it. He’s got it totally wrong, totally out of proportion. He said that Facebook’s playing a destructive role globally. And I think he actually believes that.”

Elliot shakes his head sympathetically. “‘Not taking it seriously.’ That’s what he said. I’m not taking these threats seriously enough.” Mark quivers, furious. “I told him fake news wasn’t a big thing on Facebook. It’s less than one percent of what’s on the platform. That it wasn’t fake news that swung the election for Trump. And that realistically there’s not an easy solution. I mean, what does he want me to do?”

“And you know what Obama’s focused on?” Mark says incredulously. “The next election … already.”

“They’ve only just lost this one,” Elliot says.

“Yeah, he said he was ‘warning me’ that we need to make serious changes or things are going to get worse in the ne...

“Warning me,” he repeats, incensed. Angry that Obama had taken him to task on the role Facebook had play...

Under his anger, I can tell Mark’s genuinely hurt. I think he likes and respects Obama. He’s also completely unused to frank criticism from anyone more powerful than

him. There are so few who fit that description anyway.

Mark owns a lot of land in Hawaii. He started with seven hundred acres of beachfront property in Kauai. Then he launched lawsuits against hundreds of Hawaiians who may have held titles to small plots on his estate, under an old Hawaiian law, to force them to sell their land to him. Many do not wish to sell. Mark was doing all