Eric Ries on Financial Gravity and Building Companies That Stay Good

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Overview

In a Long Now Talks conversation at San Francisco's Cowell Theater, Eric Ries, author of The Lean Startup, discussed his new book, Incorruptible: Why Good Companies Go Bad…and How Great Companies Stay Great. He opened with the claim that runs through the whole evening: "My view is that a for-profit company is one that maximizes human flourishing. That's what it means to make a profit." The question behind the book is why companies that start with different founders, missions, industries and eras so often end up in the same place, and what builders can do about it. Ries argues that a real, nameable force causes this, that working alternatives already exist, and that the people who build companies have more agency than they believe.

30 min read

A Slow-Motion Tragedy Seen From the Front Row

Asked why he wrote the book and why now, Ries said it was never a project he wanted. It took years and he described the process as "very painful." He also said he did not expect the subject of corruption to become as topical as it has. The book grew out of his daily work. People still come to "the Lean Startup guy" for advice on starting companies, building them, making them more innovative and improving how they are managed. That work gave him a front-row view of enormous value creation, which he said he is proud of. It also showed him what he called the "dark underbelly" of the business.

More and more, Ries said, it felt like watching a slow-motion tragedy. Companies that had once been special ended up "boring," "indistinguishable," bureaucratic, or in some cases "downright malignant." Some founders were pushed out against their will. Others, like Frankenstein, could no longer command what they had made. At first this was personal rather than philosophical. He was trying to help specific people avoid this fate and felt he was "up against this invisible force that I couldn't name." He had believed management was the most powerful force in the universe and found out it was not. He described watching carefully designed management systems get deformed after a company went public, like time-lapse footage of something in a slow crusher, or an object falling into the gravity well of another planet.

His work inside large companies was frustrating in a different way. When he described the problem, people asked "What problem?" To them it was like gravity, simply how things are. Ries said he is "wired" to believe every problem can be solved once it is understood. So he set out to identify a force "more powerful than all of my rich and powerful friends combined," one that changes people without their noticing and destroys huge amounts of value on top of ecological damage.

The book itself was a last resort. For years he argued with founders one at a time, which he called "hand-to-hand combat," telling them to break the best practices everyone recommended. Eventually founders began to agree and then asked what they could read before raising the idea with a co-founder, board or lawyer. He found that answering "nothing" destroyed his credibility on the spot. Academic papers, single-company case studies and exhortational manifestos did not help anyone prepare for a board meeting. He also said writing was first of all a way to clarify his own thinking. He knew he was ready when he could predict every objection, including the ones investors raised. When a founder said "I talked to my investor," he could guess the reply: "He said it's probably too early to worry about that."

Violent Language and the Reduction of a Living Thing

The host pointed out how visceral the book's language is. Companies are "surgically deboned" or fed into a "meat grinder." Ries said the violent language fits because the system is violent. He, like many founders and builders who are "artists at heart," sees organizations as vital, living things. The current era of shareholder primacy says an organization is not alive at all and is only a financial instrument for maximizing shareholder returns. Ries calls reducing a living thing to a mechanical instrument a form of violence, and he said "something really precious is lost" when it happens.

He also called Incorruptible "kind of an old-fashioned book." It deliberately takes back words and ideas that he thinks earlier generations would have used easily, starting with "corruption" in the title. He said he avoided trendy terms: he writes "ethos" instead of "culture" and "fiduciary duties" instead of "stakeholders." The reason is that management writing usually stays on the visible surface: business models, strategy, culture, vision. Those things matter, he said, but he wanted to reach the forces that act on organizations whether anyone wants them to or not. To do that he borrowed metaphors from biology and physics.

Financial Gravity and the Collapsed Bridge

Ries offered a test as evidence of a hidden force. Take two public companies, remove the names from their press releases, and you will not be able to tell them apart. They come from the same crisis-communication consultants and say nothing. When very different companies all end up with the same values and behaviors, he reasoned, something must be pulling them there. He calls that force "financial gravity."

He explained the concept with a bridge. If a bridge collapses and an engineer says the cause was gravity, the answer is not wrong, but it is facile. The useful questions are whether the bridge was designed for its load, whether the materials were fatigued, and whether the metal had corroded. Studying how gravity stresses a structure is how engineers learn to build stronger ones. Ries described the book's goal the same way: to build an "architecture of institutional longevity."

In his account, the financial system keeps growing and has become a force of its own scale in an age of "total financialization of everything." The laws of financial gravity he works out in the book concern how financial systems pass values on to the people inside them without their awareness. He stressed that the particular values are not fixed. Today's system is "really hardwired for extraction and short-term thinking," but Ries says that is not a law of nature. It is a side effect of the system we built. Organizations operating in this hostile climate therefore have to be built unusually strong, like a spacecraft built for a planet with very high gravity.

Accountability, and the Exceptions Everyone Ignores

The host brought up Dan Davies's The Unaccountability Machine, which argues that complex systems and diffuse, opaque ownership produce "accountability sinks": outcomes no one wants and no one is responsible for. Ries said the idea is very close to his own. The book has a section called "Can a Superorganism Say I'm Sorry?" He asked whether anything in modern life is more ridiculous than a corporate apology. A customer service representative may truly be sorry while explaining a terrible policy, but it makes no difference because they have no power to change it.

Ries also partly disagreed with Davies. He said mechanisms for corporate accountability do exist. His evidence was the exceptions that ordinary people already know about. Ask people why companies go bad and they say it is inevitable wherever there is money, scale and greed. Then ask about Costco or Patagonia and they say those two are different. Almost every industry has well-known outliers, Ries said, but people treat them as "exceptions that prove the rule" and assume nobody could create a new one now.

His example was Vanguard. He recalled speaking with the firm's general counsel around its 50th anniversary. According to that account, Vanguard needed a special exemption from the SEC in 1975 because its structure was "too customer-centric" and not extractive enough, which made people reflexively suspicious. Ries asked whether anyone had applied for the same exemption in the fifty years since. The answer he said he got was no: "Who would copy Vanguard?"

Outliers That Outperform, and "Best Practices" That Destroy Value

Ries said we have to study the dark side to understand financial gravity. The first part of the book is titled "The Shape of the Abyss." But the outliers are important because they exist in the same "fallen environment" and face the same pressures, yet somehow resist them. He studied those companies and began using their techniques in his advising.

One story in the book is his work with Anthropic, where, he said, "we set up" an unusual governance structure called the Long-Term Benefit Trust. He said he claims no special credit for Anthropic's success and played "only a very tiny part." When investors called the structure new and risky, he pointed to the German optics company Zeiss, which he said has had that kind of structure since 1885. "Just cuz it's new to you doesn't mean that it's new," he said. He also noted the irony of self-described bold contrarians objecting that something was too new.

Ries said each kind of alternative structure has its own body of academic research, and his summary of that research is that these structures are "just flat out better." He listed longevity, financial performance, treatment of employees and environmental impact: "You name the metric, someone has studied it and found out that it's better." Researchers who study these structures tend to accept that nobody adopts them, while company builders have often never heard of them. Ries called this almost an "open secret" and an impossibility if markets really selected for value creation as we tell ourselves they do. The fact that these symptoms keep appearing tells him "something's up."

He went further on conventional governance. It took him years to accept that "most of the best practices we've been taught are value destroying," and he said this is supported by research, not just his opinion. Chapter nine has a chart listing best practices, the reason each is supposed to help, and the evidence that it does not. The practice of filling boards with independent directors is one example. Many stories in the book involve such boards deciding "for no apparent reason" to betray the company and sell it. His favorite detail: Enron was once named one of the five best boards in America because it had so many strong independent directors.

Concentric Circles of Agency, Starting With the Definition of Profit

The host described the book as a set of widening circles of leverage. It moves from a founder's commitment to mission, through culture, governance, aligned investors and supply-chain standards, and ends at civic infrastructure. Ries agreed and compared it to the Eames film Powers of Ten. He structured it this way because the underlying problem is a feeling of powerlessness, so he wanted to start with what people control most.

The first thing a person controls is the purpose of their own work. That exists "only between the ears," needs no one's permission, and does not even have to be shared. Ries said there is already "reams" of evidence that having a real purpose beyond financial returns is a competitive advantage. So the solutions part of the book begins by redefining profit. A leader can decide, without asking anyone, that a for-profit company is one that maximizes human flourishing.

Ries said the standard definition, revenue minus cost, does not hold up. He pointed to deferred liabilities, negative externalities and, above all, the idea that "you can consume a human life as an input factor of production and call that profit." Economics courses list these problems, he said, and then go back to the usual definition anyway. In his view, stating any purpose for an organization at all, even one as modest as making a high-quality product, improving customers' lives, or bringing "a little beauty into the world," makes you "a business revolutionary whether you know it or not," because the current business climate is so hostile to that statement.

He calls this the "builder's intuition" and connected it to Tim O'Reilly's phrase "create more value than you capture." There are better and worse ways to make money, and the good way creates new value and keeps part of it. Ries said some money-making methods celebrated today would have been crimes in his grandparents' time. He said share buybacks were illegal until about 30 years ago. When people tell him "you got to hand it to him" because a tactic made money, he answers that the danger comes precisely from the fact that it works.

Each technique in the book is meant to be useful by itself, so readers can go as far as they like, and together the techniques reinforce one another. The next circles cover the management system. Here he criticizes companies he calls "mission hopeful," which have lofty mission statements but a legal purpose that says something quite different. Then comes ethos, the problem of getting people to decide in line with the mission "when no manager is present," which he said can be done. After that come shareholders and boards, then alternative corporate forms, standards, and organizations that do more than resist gravity and actually use it to create positive externalities. Ries called that last part the most exciting and admitted it is not for everyone.

Novo Nordisk: A Nobel Laureate's Structure From the 1920s

Asked which case surprised him most, Ries noted that writing about longevity requires companies that have lasted. As a result, some early readers asked why there were no startup stories in the book, while others asked why there were only startup stories. Companies that are large today were "just two guys in a garage not that long ago."

His favorite is Novo Nordisk, which he identified as the maker of GLP-1 drugs. In his telling, the story begins with Marie Krogh, one of the first women to become a doctor in Denmark, who was diagnosed with diabetes when it was still fatal. She still went on the North American lecture tour of her husband, August Krogh, a Nobel laureate. At a dinner, a scientist told them about researchers in Canada who had just synthesized insulin. She persuaded her husband to visit the lab. After seeing the work, they decided to bring it to Denmark, not only to treat Marie but to treat many people.

Ries said the Kroghs believed the maker of a life-saving medicine should never face the temptation to choose between a fair price and "whatever I want." He said they anticipated Martin Shkreli long before his time. Their answer was to put a nonprofit foundation at the center, which Ries calls a "spiritual holding company" (spiritual in the sense of animating essence, not religion), dedicated to "science as a public trust," with a for-profit company as a subsidiary. The academic literature calls this an industrial foundation or steward ownership. Ries said the structure has lasted since the 1920s, through a public listing and every tactic that has ruined other brands. Private equity and similar approaches were turned away. He said the mission has produced more than $500 billion in shareholder value even though nonprofit trustees controlled it.

He said he now uses the story in meetings. When founders list the bankers, lawyers and VCs who designed their structure, he asks whether they are sure they are smarter than a Nobel laureate who worked this out from first principles in 1920 and saw it succeed.

Why the Book Avoids Policy, and Why Success Makes You a Target

The host, whose background is in antitrust, asked whether it works better for the state to impose measures such as the mandatory IP licensing of the trust-busting era, and noted how much a mandatory licensing regime for creative works used by LLMs could have solved. Ries said he had to answer carefully. He thinks the book's policy implications are obvious, so he chose not to address policy at all. In a polarized time, he said, a great deal has been written about what companies should be allowed to do, and almost nothing about what builders ought to want to do. Limiting himself to that question felt like "a superpower," because it lets builders act now while the policy debate goes on.

Capped margins come up often in the book. Ries pointed to a contradiction in business teaching. Students learn that higher margins are always better, and they also learn Jeff Bezos's line "your margin is my opportunity," which treats high margins as a liability that invites competitors.

He then described what he called his biggest realization. Founders are told to put off these "wacko" ideas until they have product-market fit and leverage. Ries's rule in the book is that "it's always too early until it's too late." Success does not simply bring power, he argued, because the more valuable something becomes, the more attractive a target it is. Founders are building up a huge store of what he considers the most underrated and valuable asset in business, trustworthiness, and leaving it "lying on the floor" with no doors or locks, because accounting cannot even measure it. When they lose control of the company, it is because they built something worth stealing.

AI Companies and the Governance Question

The host called AI companies perhaps the most important design challenge right now. OpenAI and Anthropic both tried to protect themselves from financial gravity. The structure has held up fairly well at Anthropic, the host said, though huge capital needs can distort a cap table, while OpenAI's structure went through a public upheaval. Ries answered about Anthropic with "so far, so good," but said the pressure is "gale force," a level of "insanity" with no precedent, and mentioned a report that the company had passed $30 billion in revenue. He said that on the day Anthropic "stood up to the Pentagon and said no to that contract," someone sent him a video of chalk messages outside its San Francisco office thanking the company. That is not what chalk outside a tech company usually means these days, he joked.

Ries said he has advised companies through the social media era and others, "somehow" made no money in Bitcoin, and had long been "an eccentric collector of obscure governance ideas." Before the pandemic he carried a 52-card deck of alternative structures to show founders.

In his view, AI is different because founders understood from the start that it holds great promise and great danger together. He described a Vatican conference on AI governance, where he sat about 20 feet from the Last Supper on a panel with OpenAI, Anthropic, Google, Meta, Palantir, Cohere and others. He said he noticed that every other panelist had been told by their communications team not to make news, so he was the only one who could speak freely. He asked the panel to acknowledge that none of their companies had standard governance, because handing this technology to a "profit-maximizing, paperclip-maximizing, sociopathic organization" would be almost immoral. Even founders he considers "evil," he said, found that too much. He thinks many AI founders watched what happened with social media and did not want a repeat, and he added that "now we're seeing it happen."

Because Anthropic created and publicized the Long-Term Benefit Trust, Ries said, it inadvertently proved that such structures can raise money, which weakened a common objection. He believes AI has also helped companies in other fields see the risks of their own technology. In one story from the book, a founder insisted he was not building "autonomous murder robots" and could not understand why people kept asking. Ries told him a promise did not reassure him much, and they talked about what would actually earn trust.

Mission Transmission in an AI-Run Organization

An audience member asked how to make an organization run mostly by AI with few people incorruptible. Ries said the answer is the same as for any organization, because a human is always involved somewhere. He added that trying to replace people entirely with AI is both wrong and not workable with current technology, and that an economy of AI agents serving other AI agents is a category mistake: you could turn the planet into the Sims or a titanium cube, but to what end?

He pointed to the long-known pattern in software that an organization's values pass automatically into what it builds, much as the org chart shows up in the software architecture. AI alignment, he said, is at bottom a governance problem, and he asks "who's aligning the aligners?" If the people doing alignment cannot agree on the purpose of their work, the result is incoherence. He cited an 18,000-word New Yorker profile of Sam Altman published that week as a public example of that idea falling apart. The deeper question for him is how to give an organization coherent values in the first place. If it has them, any software it builds or uses will extend them. He calls this "mission transmission" and said it rests on real operating procedures, not metaphor, and applies equally to one employee with a thousand agents or the reverse.

Lean Startup, Velocity, and One Admitted Mistake

Another audience member asked whether Lean Startup's focus on speed makes corruption more likely. Ries said the method has "held up pretty well." Interviewers keep asking whether he feels vindicated. In 2011 he predicted that the means of production would become more democratized, shortening cycle times in every industry, and that uncertainty would rise in every business plan. He said both have increased steadily for fifteen years. The common misunderstanding, he said, is that Lean Startup creates velocity. In fact it is a way of coping with change that is already accelerating.

He also rejected the idea that experimentation conflicts with fixed principles. Experimentation depends on them. If you commit to the scientific method, you do not then run an experiment on using astrology. He said he thought it was clear that Lean Startup stood for long-term thinking, humanistic values about improving the world, and scientific values about finding and sharing truth.

He then described his mistake, which he learned about from the Anakin and Padmé meme, where Anakin says "I'm going to change the world" and Padmé asks, "For the better, right?" The joke got less funny to him over time, until he checked his own book. The introduction to The Lean Startup ends by saying the next generation of entrepreneurs will have the tools "to change the world," period. He had assumed everyone agreed on the reason. "I did get that 100% wrong," he said, and he would fix it first in any new edition.

Costco, Private Regulation, and the Blurring of Sectors

The host cited a figure from the book: Costco controls about 9% of grocery sales but performs about 30% of the nation's food safety audits. Ries said Costco affects hundreds of millions of Americans who have never shopped there. Its standards exceed federal requirements, it audits more often, and it follows what another company calls a "no cherry-picking rule." A supplier's whole facility must pass, not only the product lines that go to Costco. Ries said Costco does almost as many inspections a year as the FDA, that FDA numbers had been falling since those statistics came out, and that newer data is unavailable because publication stopped, which he mocked sarcastically. He sees this as one of many cases where private actors take on the cost of positive externalities with no immediate benefit to themselves.

On the public/private question, Ries said his view is nuanced, partly because he spent years trying to build a stock exchange. Exchanges are self-regulatory organizations, private companies with a grant of sovereign power from the federal government, and according to Ries they have sovereign immunity from some lawsuits. For them the public/private split does not really apply. He said earlier generations kept separate spheres: public, private, civic, sports, and institutions like the Elks Lodge that he could never categorize as a child. Those spheres have declined as everything became financialized. He contrasted today's shrug at gambling in stadiums with Kenesaw Mountain Landis's crackdown after the Black Sox scandal. Since that separation will not return, he argued, new categories are needed, and his definition of profit supplies them. Tax status is not an organization's most basic trait. By his measure, the Smithsonian and Goodwill are "massively for-profit," while Philip Morris is "the ultimate not-for-profit," because he says its roughly $9 billion in net income is dwarfed by about $600 billion a year in negative externalities to the health system. (His father is a pulmonologist, he added.)

Shareholder Primacy as a Young, Fading Normative Consensus

The host mentioned impact-weighted accounting efforts, including one from Harvard, and studies suggesting nearly every company would be unprofitable if externalities were counted. Ries said that objection proves his point. The world's condition shows these firms have become value-destroying extraction machines. That explains why food gets worse after private equity buys a restaurant and why successful firms fail without a clear reason, which he calls "unusual failures." Such activity should be called corruption, not profit, he said.

He then said he believes the era of shareholder primacy "is already over," even though it remains the dominant idea. Young people think it is "completely insane," he said, and it has become "extraction primacy" that no longer even serves investors. He sees builders' responsibility as stating a positive new doctrine rather than only criticizing the old one, and he presents the book as an attempt to identify new best practices and their philosophical basis.

When the host noted that modern ideas of profit are only 100 to 150 years old and asked how they might change over the next century, Ries went back to history. His grandparents' generation lived through even darker times and then built most of the civic institutions that govern modern life. He compared today to the Star Trek planet whose inhabitants no longer know how to run the machines they depend on. Readers close to New York and Washington often tell him change is too hard. He replies that they admit the system is unrecognizable from their grandparents' day, so it could be unrecognizable again by their grandchildren's.

He called shareholder primacy "a very young idea," younger than most trees, not a pillar of capitalism, and something Adam Smith would have found "inane." He said it has never been put to a popular vote or passed by any legislature. It is a "normative consensus" set by a small group of lawyers, judges, academics and board members. The first step to breaking it, he said, is simply to say out loud that you disagree. When the host called it a misreading of the law, Ries said it binds every company, legal scholars cannot quite explain how it is and is not law at once, and board members are routinely told it is their fiduciary duty. So he treats it as law, which can be changed without new legislation.

He criticized reformers for splitting into factions: double, triple and quadruple bottom lines, "good profits" and "eco profits," and B Corp, steward ownership and employee ownership advocates who do not get along. Milton Friedman, he noted, did not propose a new category of "extractive exploitative company." He stated that the purpose of business is to maximize profits, and people found that persuasive. When test readers commented "you can't do that" on his redefinition of profit, Ries asked by whose authority, pointing out that no two companies' financial statements define profit the same way.

"You Are Traffic": The Question to Ask in a Job Interview

The host closed by noting that the book calls the "secret architect" of the economic system not a cabal but everyone in the room, and asked what people should do. Ries said he knew some would expect a disappointing "recycle to fix climate change" answer after an hour on systemic problems, and said that was not what he meant.

His founder habit, he said, is to tell every story from the company's side: mission-driven firms get better talent, more loyal customers and better long-term returns. The later chapters turn those same stories around. Companies are "addicts," hooked on quarterly results, and they are obsessed with the individual. Every action a person takes is "somebody's bonus metric." He said he has seen companies calculate "willingness to pay" in fine detail, testing whether customers will still buy if a product gets 3%, 4% or 5% worse and more expensive, and whether employees will stay under worse treatment. So individual choices about where to shop, work and invest carry real force, with no collective action, secret meetings or courage required.

He told of someone who said they were not courageous. His advice: at the end of a job interview, when asked for questions, ask whether the company is mission-driven. When they say yes, ask how they know. You will hear about free beer, T-shirts and volunteering, but not that the mission is written into the corporate charter. Ask whether it is. Interviewers are expected to answer every candidate question, so the question moves up the chain, and Ries said he has seen such questions reach the boardroom. Charters are public, he noted, and "spoiler alert, it's not in the charter." Asking innocently exposes the gap between a lofty mission statement and a legal purpose of maximizing shareholder value. One person asking may change nothing, he admitted, but two would worry the company, and ten would do much more, "no one had to have any courage."

The book's claims about mission-driven companies can therefore be read three ways, he said: as advice for building a company, as a guide to where to work, as a shopping guide, and, through retirement savings, as an investment guide. The last chapter is titled "You Are Traffic." You are not stuck in traffic; you are the traffic, creating the gravitational field that seems to hold you back. He called this "structuration": organizations shape people's lives and sense of what is possible, and people shape them in return. Because individuals hold what companies most crave, Ries ended with simple advice: "be picky."