We’re watching a familiar play: wealthy Silicon Valley elites step into the void left by elected leaders and dictate what counts as “science” and “public good.” Wendy Schmidt, who runs the Schmidt Family Foundation and the Schmidt Ocean Institute, has ramped up funding for deep-sea exploration, immersive media ventures, and global scientific collaborations — a philanthropic surge presented as noble rescue work while policy and accountability take a back seat.
Her organizations are funding high-tech ocean research aboard vessels like Falkor II and using robots such as SuBastian to stream deep-sea footage, while also launching Agog: The Immersive Media Institute to create virtual reality experiences intended to forge public empathy for the planet. Those sound bites about “bringing people along” and showing the unseen ocean are powerful PR, but they’re also a reminder that money buys not just research but narratives.
The Schmidts aren’t just funding submarines; they’ve been writing large checks to public media and other cultural institutions — including a multimillion-dollar grant to NPR to expand newsrooms — which raises honest questions about influence and editorial slant when philanthropy meets journalism. When foundations bankroll the media that then amplify climate urgency, Americans should ask whether debate is being narrowed rather than expanded.
Wendy Schmidt openly says philanthropy must “shore up” science because government funding has been cut, and she presents immersive media as a remedy to public skepticism about science. That may sound well-intentioned, but it also substitutes unelected donors’ priorities for democratic decision-making about research agendas and budgets. Science matters to national security and public health, and those priorities should be set transparently by accountable institutions, not shaped by whoever has the deepest pockets.
There is a conservative case for curiosity and discovery — America built its greatness on pushing frontiers — and private philanthropy has historically advanced useful research. But patriotic conservatives must resist the idea that technocrats and entertainers should lead public policy through immersive guilt tours and curated footage. We should welcome oceanography and innovation, not elevate theatrical XR experiences above robust, peer-reviewed science and accountable public funding.
What worries voters is less the exploration itself than the activist framing: projects aim to “inspire action” and reshape public sentiment, which can easily merge into policy prescriptions that restrict energy, growth, and working-class opportunity. When billionaires become the de facto policy-makers because they monetize moral urgency, ordinary Americans lose their voice in debates that affect jobs, energy prices, and national sovereignty.
If philanthropy is filling gaps left by budget cuts, fine — but it must come with transparency, rigorous scientific standards, and a marketplace of ideas where skeptics and mainstream voices are heard. Conservatives should demand that grants to media and cultural institutions be disclosed, that research funded by private donors meet the same peer-review standards as public science, and that taxpayer consequences be front and center in any climate or energy conversation.
At the end of the day, hardworking Americans deserve scientific integrity and accountable leadership, not curated spectacles funded by an elite class whose priorities may not reflect the country’s. Let’s support discovery and stewardship of our oceans, but we must insist that policy remain the province of the people through their representatives, and that science remain open to scrutiny rather than being sold as an unquestionable catechism by the donor class.