Chapter Twelve - Just George

CHAPTER TWELVE

Just George

FOR A GUY accused of running the world, George Soros has lived a surprisingly quiet life.

He doesn’t throw parties. He doesn’t collect superyachts or private jets. He doesn’t go on press tours or host galas. He doesn’t even really try to defend himself publicly. Most people yelling about him on the internet wouldn’t recognize his voice, let alone his face.

So who is he?

He’s Hungarian. Born in Budapest in 1930. Jewish by birth, agnostic by temperament. A refugee who became a philosopher, then a banker, then a donor. He has five children across three marriages. His current wife, Tamiko Bolton, is decades younger. A health consultant he met later in life. By most accounts, he’s polite, intense, private, and deeply curious. His accent is thick. His humor is dry. His enemies call him cold. His friends call him principled.

He likes thinking. He likes reading. He likes arguing about ideas.

He’s also had health issues. Multiple surgeries. A few public stumbles. He’s survived war, communism, anti-Semitism, and financial collapses, but age still wins. In recent years, he’s begun handing off more responsibility to his son, Alex Soros, who now chairs Open Society Foundations. That’s created its own mini firestorm, because of course it has. A billionaire succession plan always gets the headlines.

But George Soros is not a Bond villain.
He’s a guy who thinks the world can be nudged in a better direction and that it’s worth spending money to try.

He plays chess. He walks a lot. He’s not flashy.
He doesn’t post on X.
He doesn’t try to be cool.
He’s not trying to win you over.

Which, in a world full of billionaires obsessed with attention, is maybe the strangest part of all.

People have tried to psychoanalyze him. They call him guilty, arrogant, self-righteous, or manipulative. But it’s possible he’s just someone who saw what war did to his country, watched what power did to governments, and decided he’d rather fund ideas than hoard wealth.

There’s no perfect version of that.
But there is a human one.

And it’s probably worth meeting him before deciding what you think of the myth.