In HBO's documentary, The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley, about disgraced entrepreneur Elizabeth Holmes, behavioral economist Dan Ariel claims, "we have lots of people who are overconfident, and from time to time some of them work out, and we get penicillin." He argues that the Theranos founder, despite all her scamming and fraudulent deceiving, actually believed she could make it. Theranos, according to Elizabeth Holmes, was going to revolutionize healthcare.
After dropping out of Stanford in 2003, she used her tuition money to start her company. By 2010 she had raised 92 million dollars in venture capital, and Theranos's board of directors was recognized as "the most illustrious board in U.S. corporate history." In 2014, she appeared in Forbes 400 as the world's youngest self-made female billionaire. At that time, Theranos was valued at $9 billion.
Fast forward to January 3, 2022, when Holmes was found guilty on four counts of defrauding investors – three counts of wire fraud and one of conspiracy to commit wire fraud. After that, Theranos literally had no value anymore.
Holmes fashioned herself to a select group of incredibly successful disruptors– Musk, Zuckerberg, Besos, and her idol Steve Jobs. But she wasn't only after money. Instead, accumulating wealth would result from her real goal: fame.
The HBO documentary and Hulu's miniseries, The Dropout, both based on the Theranos creator story, share a sneak peek on Holmes's public persona overhaul. From her voice – when in public, an octave lower with formal instructional cadence, to her daily uniform—a black suit and a black cotton turtleneck, and hair pinned into an unruly bun. In her days of glory, the N.Y. Times described Holmes's look as promoting "impressions of power like confidence, and single-minded, maybe ruthless, in the pursuit of a goal." In fact, her public image helped Theranos raise $945 million from high-profile investors, including former Education Secretary Betsy DeVos, Rupert Murdoch, and the Walton family.
Such attention and dedication in meticulously crafting her public persona reminded me of another character involved in a recent notorious scandal-turned-into-miniseries-and-documentary: Anna Sorokin.
Like Holmes, Sorokin, aka Anna Delvey, believed she was destined to do something unique. In her case, it was the Anna Delvey Foundation– a private members' club and "dynamic visual arts" foundation to be housed in a historic building at 281 Park Avenue South. Holmes, wearing her Steve Jobs-inspired turtleneck dressed like a tech disruptor, fooled heavyweight investors. Delvey, with her signature Celine dark glasses, Dior, and Fendi clothing, perfected the heiress look and impressed the NYC glitzy circles. Dressing the part definitely paid off to both of them. At least, until it didn't. But before it, Holmes and Sorokin could convince notorious business players that they were up to something big. In the end, they left an undeniable mark in history as con artists. But most importantly, these two machiavellian characters seemed to seriously believe in the "end justifies the means" motto– or its modern twist, "fake it till you make it."
I can't help thinking that this generation, both Holmes and Sorokin are Millenials, were heavily influenced by the image obsession promoted by social media. But, of course, social media is the usual culprit and source of all evil in today's world. However, I feel that searching for fame has been one of the most influential drivers to success since the invention of moving pictures and the evolution of modern entertainment and media. Millennials might be taking the bad rep this time, but I suspected the seed was planted way before them.
Nevertheless, I can't avoid thinking of the implications of accepting faking as fair play or even its glamorization in today's world. One is faking reality by using filters on pictures posted on Instagram, but faking blood test results on cancer patients is entirely different. It is almost like accepting sociopathy as a conventional personality trait, like being funny or charming. Of course, we have experienced our fair share of sociopaths in recent history. But is their success and lack of empathy shaping an entirely different perception of reality? So, how far can we go faking anything before reality checks in? It seems that after the post-truth era, we might be living now in the post-fake age.