A Complicated Affection: Finding Humanity in the Architect of Meta’s Reign
Sarah Wynn-Williams’ "Careless People" is a book that has clearly ignited debate, a polarizing account of the rise of Meta and the individuals who shaped its trajectory. Depending on your perspective, and perhaps your investment portfolio, Wynn-Williams is either a truth-teller or a purveyor of falsehoods. Amidst this controversy, something unexpected occurred: I found myself developing a strange sort of affection for Sheryl Sandberg, the former COO of Meta, a figure I had previously viewed with a healthy dose of skepticism.
As a woman navigating the professional landscape, I acknowledge the potential for offense in admitting a lack of enthusiasm for Sandberg. She was, after all, the architect of Meta’s monumental success, the embodiment of a certain brand of female empowerment. The early 2010s were marked by a peculiar form of one-upmanship among ambitious women, where attending a live reading of "Lean In" became a badge of honor, a declaration of one’s aspiration to "have it all" without fully embracing the traditional "boys’ club" dynamic.
Sandberg, in her impeccably tailored power suits and surrounded by a team of assistants, presented an image reminiscent of 1980s Hollywood: the working woman who seamlessly balanced professional success with a fulfilling personal life. She marketed this idealized vision to countless women, many of whom lacked the resources and support she enjoyed.
My initial impression of Sandberg was that her persona felt overly manufactured, her "Girl Boss" triumph coming across as a thinly veiled marketing ploy for her book rather than a genuine reflection of her lived experience. She seemed to curate every perceived flaw, strategically deploying them to reinforce the narrative of modern womanhood she was peddling. It felt like yet another variation on the tired and unrealistic notion that women can effortlessly "have it all."
But then I encountered the anecdotes detailed in "Careless People" – stories of Sandberg’s desperate attempts to gain online clout by falsely claiming to have narrowly missed being on a plane that crashed, or leveraging a business trip to promote her book while simultaneously taking her family on vacation. These revelations, scandalous as they were, humanized her in a way I never anticipated. Through these glimpses of desperation and ambition, she became relatable, shedding the polished veneer of the corporate icon and revealing a flawed individual, not unlike the rest of us.
Wynn-Williams’ portrayal of Sandberg paints a portrait of a fragile creature, capable of kindness, intelligence, capriciousness, and even cruelty. A telling example is the account of Sandberg’s meeting with then-Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe. Even in an excerpt where Sandberg isn’t directly quoted, her underlying nervousness is palpable, understandable given the context of meeting a head of state. And, as the narrative suggests, that nervousness manifests as a certain sharpness. The subsequent chapter details the meeting itself, focusing on Sandberg’s relentless pursuit of a photo opportunity with the Prime Minister holding her book. It reads like a satire of powerful women in the business world, and I initially suspected Wynn-Williams of exaggeration.
But then I saw the photograph. There it was: Sandberg, beaming with what can only be described as glee, standing next to a visibly amused and somewhat confused Shinzo Abe. And, disturbingly, it was later revealed that she had posted the image after his assassination, as if to validate her own importance through association.
While this behavior is far from the carefully curated image Sandberg typically projects, it paradoxically made her more likable. The book delves into the increasingly dark consequences of Facebook’s relentless pursuit of growth, regardless of the ethical or social implications. But, having witnessed firsthand the devastating impact of Meta on democracy, I found a strange sort of charm in Sandberg’s humanity.
Yes, she may have played a significant role in the unraveling of nations, but she was, at her core, a woman trying to navigate a complex and often unforgiving world, striving to achieve her own version of success. She was ambitious, flawed, and sometimes even desperate – qualities that resonate with the human experience in a way that her carefully crafted public persona never did.
It’s a testament to Wynn-Williams’ writing that she managed to elicit such a complex and unexpected reaction. "Careless People" is not a simple condemnation of Meta and its leaders; it’s a nuanced exploration of the human cost of ambition and the unintended consequences of technological innovation. It forces us to confront the uncomfortable truth that even those who shape the world in profound ways are still, ultimately, just people, with all the flaws and contradictions that entails. And in Sandberg’s case, it’s those flaws that ultimately make her a more compelling, and even, dare I say, relatable figure. The book allows us to see beyond the carefully constructed facade and glimpse the human being beneath, a human being whose ambition, vulnerabilities, and occasional missteps are perhaps more familiar than we’d like to admit. It’s a reminder that even the most powerful figures are not immune to the human condition, and that even in the midst of immense success, there can be a profound sense of vulnerability and insecurity. It is in these moments, stripped of the trappings of power and influence, that we find a connection, a shared understanding of the human experience that transcends titles and achievements. And in that connection, perhaps, lies a sliver of understanding, a glimpse of empathy for a woman who, despite her flaws, played a pivotal role in shaping the world we inhabit today.
