For years, a dangerous habit has taken hold in public discourse, in which any large-scale entrepreneur is reduced to a symbol of inequality without any serious analysis of their role in creating value. This trend reached a particularly crude peak at Monday’s Met Gala, where the conversation shifted away from art and creativity and turned into a parade of simplistic judgments directed at entrepreneur Jeff Bezos.
It is worth remembering that events of this kind are sustained by capital, by the ability to draw a crowd, and by figures who understand how to amplify their impact—not by good intentions or moralistic speeches. Bezos, in his role as a sponsor alongside Lauren Sánchez Bezos, did exactly that. He put his name, his influence, and his money into a space that, without that backing, would lose relevance. Those who questioned him seemed to forget that the cultural industry they claim to defend so fervently depends on that very financial muscle they now so lightly dismiss.
Added to this omission is the fact that an event of this magnitude sets in motion an economic chain that extends far beyond the red carpet. Behind every guest are designers, tailors, stylists, makeup artists, photographers, lighting technicians, and staff in logistics, security, transportation, and production. We’re talking about thousands of direct and indirect jobs that depend on this machinery running smoothly. Added to this is the activity in hotels, restaurants, luxury services, and suppliers that revolve around the event. This flow of money isn’t abstract; it translates into income, contracts, and real economic activity. Anyone who reduces the gala to a whim of the elite demonstrates a troubling ignorance of how the cultural industry operates.
The reaction on social media was predictable and, frankly, mediocre. Users who consume every detail of the gala rushed to call for a boycott, as if their outrage carried any structural weight beyond momentary noise. Bezos was attacked on the premise that he was trying to clean up his image, as if funding high-profile events had not always been a legitimate tool in the business world. That naivety—or cynicism, depending on how you look at it—does not stand up to the slightest scrutiny.
Even more troubling was the stance taken by public figures who chose not to attend, such as New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani, who opted to ride the wave of anxiety over inequality rather than exercise leadership based on his own judgment. In business terms, turning down an event of this magnitude due to media pressure is seen as a lack of character.
The shift of the debate toward political and social issues, driven by groups that singled out Amazon for supporting ICE or for its allegedly questionable labor practices, ultimately distorted the purpose of the gala. A space dedicated to design was used as a platform to channel grievances that, while they may have merit in other contexts, do not justify the automatic disqualification of the event’s sponsor. This forced blend of activism and spectacle produced a predictable result: art was sidelined, and the discussion was impoverished.
From a business perspective, the attitude toward Bezos borders on the absurd. He is held accountable for social responsibility while people ignore the fact that his involvement made it possible to hold an event with global reach. He is criticized for his influence while others take advantage of the visibility he generates.
Those who promoted the boycott and those who decided to stay away ended up playing the very role they claim to reject. They amplified the event, placed it at the center of the debate, and confirmed that, in the attention economy, noise also generates value. Bezos understood that from the start. His critics, on the other hand, acted as if they didn’t understand it.
In the end, the Met Gala not only exposed the fragility of certain arguments against capitalism, but also made it clear who understands how influence is built and who merely reacts to it.
