Last week, I sent our teenage daughter an email with a one-word subject line: Caution. Attached was a LinkedIn post by entrepreneur Robert Glazer, featuring four former Forbes cover stars – Elizabeth Holmes of Theranos, Adam Neumann of WeWork, Sam Bankman-Fried of FTX, and Travis Kalanick of Uber. Once hailed as visionaries, each, ultimately, fell from grace. I added a simple note: Not all that glitters is gold.
Glazer’s insight was sobering: “If we make people believe they are infallible, they eventually believe they can do no wrong – especially when they do.” Idolizing leaders, he argued, fosters a hubris that corrodes not only individuals but entire organizations.
The deeper truth? Long-term success – whether in business or society – depends on an internal moral compass.
We often blame corporate collapses on greed. Gordon Gekko’s infamous line, “Greed is good,” echoes through the story of Enron and its accounting scandals. But greed is a symptom. The real cause is a failure of values – truth, accountability, respect for others’ property. Holmes and Bankman-Fried didn’t just make mistakes; they lied, defrauded, and destroyed trust. Adam Smith’s invisible hand may eventually punish bad actors, but it can’t enforce ethics. That must come from within.
As a young adult, I struggled with the Ten Commandments; my bar mitzvah portion, Parshat Yitro, made them personal. Why these ten? Over time, I came to see them not just as religious rules but a foundation for ethical living. They emphasize truth, loyalty, sanctity, and self-restraint – the core principles for a thriving moral society.
Take property rights. Chazal teaches that Noach’s generation was condemned not for murder or idolatry, but for theft. Why? Because theft erodes social trust. Without trust, societies crumble. Today, in places like San Francisco, where theft often goes unpunished, we see this erosion firsthand. By contrast, societies that uphold the rule of law foster innovation and stability.
Elizabeth Holmes and Sam Bankman-Fried ignored these principles. Their companies didn’t just implode financially – they collapsed morally. And moral collapse is often the real cause of ruin. As Intel’s Andy Grove said, “More businesses die from indigestion than starvation.” Overreach, poor governance, and hubris kill more than competition does.
The same holds true for nations. In Principles for Dealing with the Changing World Order, Ray Dalio argues that decline often stems from overspending, loss of fiscal discipline, and internal strife. Whether a business or a country, collapse is often self-inflicted.
The Stanford marshmallow experiment, conducted in the 1970s, tested children’s ability to delay gratification by offering them a choice: one marshmallow immediately or two if they waited 15 minutes. Years later, follow-up studies found that those who waited tended to have better life outcomes – higher academic achievement, better health, and stronger emotional coping skills. The same principle applies to institutions. Success correlates with restraint, patience, and character.
This week’s Torah portion, Balak, makes a similar point. The prophet Balaam fails to curse Bnei Yisrael. External threats prove ineffective. But soon after, the Jewish people falter from within, succumbing to immoral behavior with Midianite women, bringing a deadly plague. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks highlights the irony: the external enemy failed, but internal moral failure succeeded in harming the people. The Torah doesn’t immediately reveal that Balaam orchestrated this downfall – because it wants us to see that the real failure came from within.
The lesson is sobering but empowering: our greatest danger is ourselves. But that also means our strength lies within us too. Integrity, discipline, and moral purpose are what sustain institutions and nations through adversity.
I saw this resilience in Israel during the recent 12-day war with Iran. One day, we were ducking into bomb shelters; the next, life resumed. At a playground, I asked another mother to watch my kids if a siren sounded. She smiled: “Ah, your first war.” It was jarring – and inspiring. This is resilience – not merely enduring hardship, but integrating it into life without letting it define you. And that resilience is built on values – on community, courage, and an unshakable sense of purpose.
It is this resilience, grounded in moral clarity and communal strength, that offers a final lesson: we are capable of withstanding more than we think, so long as we do not lose sight of who we are and what we stand for.
