Billionaire Eugenics Isn’t Science Fiction. It’s a Pattern and it's Racism.

There is a “tale as old as time” recurring obsession circulating through the upper floors of the billionaire class. It isn’t simply wealth accumulation, it isn’t about “philanthropy and service,” and it isn’t just the pursuit of influence.

The deeper fascination, one that surfaces again and again in emails, investments, conferences, topics of interest and philanthropic ventures, is genetics—the belief that the human species can be engineered, optimized, extended, and even improved to match their desired ideals.

Elon Musk seems to believe that he can—and perhaps should—seed the planet with his offspring, or Mars if he has to. Jeffrey Epstein invested in this same idea and may have influenced Musk in that regard. According to reports about Epstein’s private discussions and funding interests, he was deeply fixated on genetics and the concept of reproducing what he believed to be superior human traits.

History has heard this idea before. We’ve read about the Annunaki “gods” in ancient Mesopotamian mythology—powerful beings said to have created humanoid workers to mine and labor on their behalf. Whether interpreted literally or symbolically, the story reflects a very old human anxiety: the idea that powerful elites might one day design a class of beings to serve them.

But the Annunaki are far from the only example.

In Greek mythology, the gods created and destroyed entire generations of humans, shaping them to suit their purposes. The myth of Prometheus even tells of humans being fashioned from clay and animated by divine force. In Jewish folklore, the Golem was an artificial humanoid formed to serve its creator. Hindu texts describe divine beings and avatars who manipulate the material world and its inhabitants.

Is the story of Adam and Eve—humans created directly by God—really that different from these ideas? Some more speculative interpretations even suggest that the Garden of Eden could be understood symbolically as a kind of genetic laboratory, where humanity was deliberately engineered. In a similar vein, a few alternative theories propose that Noah’s Ark may have preserved DNA or genetic material rather than housing literal pairs of animals. Whether taken metaphorically or not, these interpretations reflect a long-standing human fascination with the idea that life itself might be designed, shaped, or preserved through intentional creation.

Across cultures and across centuries, the same archetype appears: powerful creators controlling the landscape while designing life, real or artificial, to carry out their work and desires.

Today, that mythological pattern has begun to reappear in technological form. Artificial intelligence systems are being designed to replace human labor, automate entire industries, and perform the tasks that once sustained millions of livelihoods. The difference now is that the creators are no longer gods in the sky.

They are billionaires in boardrooms building bunkers to preserve themselves, and themselves alone.

The ancient stories warned about the dangers of creators who begin to see themselves as superior to their creations. Those myths often ended the same way: the creators lost control of the systems they built, or the imbalance of power eventually destroyed the world they ruled.

Twentieth Century Evolution of the Same

In the twentieth century, the world witnessed the catastrophic consequences of eugenics ideology, culminating in the racial hierarchy fantasies of Nazi Germany. The idea that certain humans were genetically superior—often mythologized as blonde, strong, Nordic “Aryans”—became the justification for some of the worst atrocities in modern history. As I outline in my book, Knock It Off!, Hitler distorted history by attributing a Persian Aryan attribute to the Germanic Nordics. After World War II, those ideas were widely condemned and supposedly buried.

Yet ideologies rarely disappear. They mutate. And the new Aryan Nazi ideal morphed into the “all American” ideal.

Today, the language has changed. Instead of “racial purity,” the vocabulary is biohacking, genetic optimization, longevity science, and human enhancement. Billionaire bros are obsessed with longevity concepts, equal and opposite to their trophy wives obsession with plastic surgery. But the underlying fascination with physical perfection and the biological hierarchy of humans remains visible in certain elite circles.

One of the most disturbing windows into this mindset surfaced after the death of financier Jeffrey Epstein. Investigations into Epstein’s emails revealed extensive discussions about genetics, epigenetics, and reproduction among his associates and scientific contacts. Various reports described Epstein’s interest in funding projects related to human genetic research and even speculative conversations about using his own DNA to influence future generations. Whether those ideas were serious or the delusions of a man intoxicated by wealth and influence is almost beside the point. What mattered was the worldview: a belief that some humans—especially wealthy, powerful ones—might represent a superior genetic stock which they believe is worth replicating.

That worldview is not isolated. It echoes across Silicon Valley and elite venture capital networks, where enormous resources are flowing into research focused on extending the human lifespan. Billionaires increasingly fund companies devoted to reversing aging, rewriting DNA, and dramatically expanding longevity. Figures such as Peter Thiel, Elon Musk, and Larry Ellison have openly discussed or invested in technologies aimed at radically extending life. Meanwhile, Bill Gates has directed vast resources toward biomedical research through global health initiatives that include genetic and vaccine technologies.

None of these pursuits are inherently sinister, until you factor in the conversation between Bill Gates and Jeffrey Epstein where they discussed the idea of a global flu pandemic that would “wipe out the poor.” Epstien furthered those discussions with someone initialed S A, who stated that the “poor are the Muslim communities.”

Starting to understand why we are bombing Iran?

Longevity treatments rarely begin as universal public goods. They begin as expensive experimental technologies accessible only to the wealthy. If aging becomes a solvable problem, who gets access to the solution? And who remains mortal?

Are the vaccines and cures available to the general public helpful, or harmful? And is that intentional or not?

At the heart of the story is a brutal irony. The world often describes evolution as “survival of the fittest.” But the systems being built by extreme wealth increasingly look less like Darwinian evolution and more like survival of the narcissist.

The irony of elite culture is that the billionaire men attempting to engineer eternal youth through biotechnology and biohacking often mirrors the obsessions with aesthetics of the women around them. On one side of the cultural equation you have tech moguls pouring billions into laboratories trying to defeat aging biologically. On the other side you have the trophy-wife ecosystem of extreme cosmetic intervention—plastic surgery, fillers, implants, lifts, resurfacing, and sculpting—an entire aesthetic industry devoted to manufacturing the illusion that time has stopped.

One side attempts to defeat aging with genetics and medical technology. The other attempts to defeat it cosmetically.

Both are chasing the same fantasy: that mortality, decay, and imperfection are problems that wealth can solve.

Hovering behind this cultural performance is a very specific aesthetic ideal. It is the tall, blonde, sculpted, eternally youthful figure that has long dominated Western advertising and political imagery. This “all-American” archetype—often celebrated in media, fashion, and even political branding—echoes suspiciously close to the old mythology of Nordic or Aryan physical superiority. Ironically, these historical narratives are themselves deeply inaccurate. As I discuss in the introduction to my book Knock It Off, the Viking and Aryan identities often invoked in modern myth were culturally mixed, migratory, and complex societies, not the racially pure caricatures imagined by twentieth-century propaganda.

But mythology has always been more powerful than facts, especially when it flatters those who believe themselves destined to shape the future.

And shaping the future is exactly what the billionaire class is doing.

At the same time that longevity science advances, the technological elite is racing to build the next defining infrastructure of civilization: artificial intelligence. AI promises extraordinary breakthroughs, from medical diagnostics to climate modeling. Yet even the most optimistic technologists acknowledge that it will transform the labor market in ways humanity has never experienced before.

Entire industries may vanish. Transportation, logistics, retail, manufacturing, and service sectors could increasingly be replaced by automated systems. The workers most vulnerable to these disruptions are overwhelmingly those already economically precarious—people whose livelihoods depend on routine or manual labor: the poor and racial minorities.

The danger is not that billionaires are openly plotting to eliminate poorer populations. The danger is something far subtler and historically familiar: indifference. When the architects of the future see themselves as the innovators driving civilization forward, everyone else can begin to look like background characters in their story of progress.

Bunkers (aka Ballrooms)

Meanwhile, another curious trend has emerged among the ultra-wealthy: survivalism. Over the past decade, journalists and researchers have documented a surge in luxury bunkers and fortified compounds built by extremely wealthy individuals. Remote estates with underground shelters, self-contained infrastructure, and private security systems are quietly appearing across the globe. These projects are marketed as protection against everything from pandemics and climate disruption to social unrest and technological collapse.

The message beneath the architecture is difficult to ignore. The people designing the future are building lifeboats for themselves.

While the rest of humanity remains on the ship.

This culture of power also bleeds into politics. Figures like Donald Trump have built political brands around strength, dominance, and nationalist identity—ideas that resonate with older authoritarian traditions. While it would be irresponsible to claim that today’s elites are literally resurrecting twentieth-century fascism, it is impossible to ignore the ideological similarities that occasionally surface: admiration for dominance, fascination with hierarchy, reverence for a strong, white, blonde patriarchal society, and a belief that the powerful few should shape the destiny of the many.

Have you seen Trump’s latest blonde dye job? At this point it almost feels like part of the brand. It also makes you wonder whether some of the women around him are selected partly for the same aesthetic—Pam Bondi and Karoline Leavitt certainly fit the mold: blonde, polished, television-ready. The only appointment that doesn’t quite match the visual theme is Kash Patel. That one is harder to decode. I mean, unless the most important qualifications were loyalty, complicity, and controllability… and perhaps with a side of his own mythic aspirations for Valhalla, as Patel referenced in his speech about Charlie Kirk: “I’ll see you in Valhalla, brother,” Kash stated, a reference to neo-Nazi, Odinistic, white-supremist groups growing in the US.

Taken individually, each of these trends might seem harmless or even beneficial. Longevity research could cure diseases. Artificial intelligence could improve productivity. Preparedness planning could simply reflect responsible risk management.

But taken together, they form a pattern.

A small global class now controls vast amounts of technology, capital, and data. They are building systems that may determine how humanity works, communicates, travels, learns, and even ages.

That assumption is the seed from which every eugenics movement in history has grown.

As wild as this may sound, this isn’t science fiction. It’s the logical outcome of unchecked wealth combined with technological power and a belief in one’s own superiority.

The real question is not whether billionaires are shaping the future—they already are. The question is whether the rest of humanity will be included as partners in that future, or treated as expendable variables in someone else’s grand experiment.

The only meaningful response available to ordinary people is not panic but awareness. Power systems, no matter how vast, depend on participation. The platforms we use, the products we buy, the services we subscribe to, and the data we willingly surrender all feed the machinery of modern corporate empires.

Choosing differently matters.

Supporting small businesses matters. Protecting personal data matters. Questioning technological systems that concentrate power rather than distribute it matters. Unsubscribing from platforms that harvest attention and behavior as commodities matters and using free models wherever possible, if you must use their services.

Because the quiet truth about power is this: even the most powerful machine stops working the moment people decide to unplug it. So, wherever you can, unplug.