By Staff Reporter December 30, 2025
In a candid and introspective conversation that has sparked ripples across conservative and tech circles, Nicole Shanahan—former vice-presidential running mate to Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and a prominent Silicon Valley philanthropist—laid bare what she sees as a troubling dynamic among the spouses of tech titans.
Speaking with conservative podcaster Allie Beth Stuckey on her YouTube channel Relatable, Shanahan accused these “tech mafia wives” of unknowingly channeling their wealth into initiatives that fuel leftist political agendas, exacerbating social issues under the guise of progressive philanthropy.
The December 2024 interview, titled “Nicole Shanahan: My Regrets as a Tech Elite Who Funded the Left,” runs over an hour and delves into Shanahan’s personal evolution from a believer in social justice causes to a critic of the very systems she once supported. Drawing from her experiences as the ex-wife of Google co-founder Sergey Brin and her own foundation work, Shanahan paints a picture of elite women in the Bay Area whose charitable efforts—rooted in a search for purpose amid personal turmoil—have been co-opted to advance globalist narratives like the “Great Reset.”
The “Tech Mafia Wives” and the Groundwork for the Great Reset
Shanahan’s most pointed critique centers on how these women, often insulated in the opulent enclaves of Silicon Valley, have been maneuvered into funding what she describes as the foundational elements of a sweeping ideological overhaul.
“I don’t think many of the tech mafia wives realize that they were used to set the groundwork for what was called ‘the reset,'” she told Stuckey, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and disillusionment. She elaborated that their resources were “conscripted” through intricate networks involving non-governmental organizations (NGOs), Hollywood influencers, Davos elites, and even their husbands’ tech conglomerates.
According to Shanahan, the COVID-19 pandemic served as a catalyst, amplifying these women’s involvement in causes framed as humanitarian but ultimately aligned with broader control mechanisms.
“Specifically through a network of non-NGO advisors, relationship with Hollywood, relationship with Davos and their own companies,” she explained, highlighting how these alliances funneled funds into initiatives that normalized surveillance, equity mandates, and climate-driven policies—hallmarks of what she and others term the “Great Reset.”
This unwitting role, Shanahan argued, stems not from malice but from a vulnerability exploited by savvy operators in the philanthropic-industrial complex.
These women, she suggested, are often grappling with the isolation of extreme wealth—staff upheavals, family strains, even reliance on medications—making their pursuit of “impactful” giving an emotional lifeline.
Good Intentions, Worsening Outcomes
At the heart of Shanahan’s accusations is a scathing assessment of the tech industry’s philanthropy practices. Once a fervent participant, she confessed to having poured resources into grants aimed at uplifting marginalized groups, only to witness the opposite effect.
“They find their meaning through their philanthropic work,” she said of her peers. “I really believed in it. I really believed that I was giving Black communities a chance to like rise up out of oppression. I really believed that I was helping indigenous communities rise up out of oppression.”
Yet, in hindsight, Shanahan views these efforts as counterproductive, part of a “broken” model that perpetuates dependency and chaos.
“And now that I look back and see how all those grants [are] performing… Not just more money pumped into them… the problems of the community have gotten worse. Crime in the community has gotten worse. Mental health in the native community, the indigenous community has gotten worse… the whole model makes everybody worse off.”
She implicated the tech wives in this cycle, suggesting their funds—often directed toward social justice and environmental causes—provide the financial oxygen for leftist agitation. These initiatives, Shanahan claimed, masquerade as empowerment but serve to entrench progressive orthodoxies, from identity politics to regulatory overreach, all while ignoring root causes like economic opportunity or family stability.
Political Loyalties and the Climate-Social Justice Nexus
Shanahan didn’t stop at philanthropy; she extended her critique to the political ramifications, pointing to a disconnect in how these funds translate to voting patterns and policy influence.
Drawing from interactions with indigenous leaders, she noted a poignant irony: “They will even say, the indigenous community will even say that their biggest supporters in Congress have been Republicans, but yet they continue to vote Democrat.”
This, she posited, underscores the manipulative power of narratives around climate change and equity, which reliably sway “progressive women 100% of the time.”
In Shanahan’s view, a small cadre of tech elites—including the husbands of these women—wields outsized control over NGO agendas, steering billions toward causes that align with Democratic priorities.
Climate activism, she argued, frequently masks “geoengineering issues,” blending environmentalism with technocratic solutions that favor Silicon Valley’s interests. The result? An echo chamber where well-meaning donors fund the very agitation that polarizes communities and entrenches one-party dominance.
A Call to Awakening Amid Personal Regret
Throughout the interview, Shanahan’s tone was one of raw revelation—a far cry from the polished optimism of her past public persona. Describing her journey as a “mea culpa,” she urged her fellow tech wives to scrutinize their giving, warning that their complicity, however inadvertent, sustains a system that harms the very people it claims to help. Stuckey, ever the empathetic host, pressed gently on these confessions, creating space for Shanahan to unpack the emotional toll of her awakening.
As Silicon Valley grapples with its role in national politics—especially post-2024 election cycles where tech donors faced backlash for partisan giving—Shanahan’s words serve as both indictment and invitation.
Will these elite women heed the call to redirect their influence, or will the allure of virtue-signaling philanthropy continue to blur the lines between compassion and co-optation? Only time, and perhaps a few more unfiltered conversations, will tell.
Be the first to comment