This Is the Age of the Coward

The Age of the Coward is here, where America’s most powerful corporations, once eager to preach their values, now fold like cheap umbrellas at the first gust of political wind.

This Is the Age of the Coward

This is the Age of the Coward, the year of surrender, marked by the most pathetic display of corporate cowardice in modern American history: Disney, the proprietors of the 20th Century's defining stories of rebellion against an evil empire, folding like a cheap lawn chair at the mere shadow of Trump's executive orders. Their HR chief Sonia Coleman's mealy-mouthed memo about "business goals and company values" reads like a hostage statement written by someone who gave up before the fight even started. The House of Mouse has transformed into the House of Mice, scurrying to hide at the first hint of political thunder.

But Disney's spectacular self-neutering is just the headliner in America's new hit revue: Target, Walmart, and PBS are all competing to see who can grovel fastest. These corporate behemoths, who collectively control more wealth than several small nations combined, are tripping over themselves to prove they never really meant all that talk about principles and values. The spectacle of multibillion-dollar companies discovering their spines are made of cotton candy is nauseating. 

These companies spent millions on Super Bowl ads celebrating diversity—the same corporate giants plastered their websites with Black Lives Matter statements and rainbow logos and published countless press releases about their unwavering commitment to inclusion. Now, they're demonstrating that their much-touted values have all the staying power of a Snapchat message.

Bob Iger, a once-lionized CEO who built his reputation on principles and values, has transformed into a corporate Neville Chamberlain, waving his diversity program surrender papers and declaring peace in our time. This is Bob Iger, who wrote about the importance of moral leadership in his memoir. He might as well write a new book: "The Joy of Capitulation: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Boot."

Then there's Tim Cook, Apple's CEO, who proudly declared he was gay and wanted to help others feel less alone. Tim Cook who championed privacy rights and claimed to stand for human dignity. Tim Cook who is letting his company resume advertising on X despite its owner's public embrace of Nazism while donating to Trump's inauguration faster than you can say "courage" – his favorite word when removing headphone jacks, apparently less applicable when removing his backbone. These corporate leaders are sprinting for their chance to lead the retreat, waving white flags they started sewing before the battle began.

The brazen hypocrisy staggers the mind. Disney, which commands a market cap larger than the GDP of many nations, can't find the courage to even wait for court challenges? Meta, which regularly boasts its power to connect billions, suddenly can't muster the strength to defend its own policies and users? These aren't businesses making tough choices – they're paper empires run by moral cowards—simpering, whimpering, and weak. 

There’s a distasteful zeal to it all. Disney isn't content with merely gutting its DEI programs – it's proactively pulling transgender characters from upcoming shows and abandoning creative talent to online mob harassment. Meta isn't satisfied with policy tweaks – it's volunteering for digital lobotomy. 

The absolute gutlessness of it exposes the rot at the core of corporate America. Every CEO who authorized these retreats, every board that nodded along, and every executive who drafted these surrender notes are all telling us exactly who they are. They're showing us that all their grand statements about "standing firm" and "unwavering values" came with invisible footnotes: void where politically inconvenient.

Remember when corporate values statements were just bland PR exercises? Now, they're exercises in advanced fiction writing. Bob Iger's next Disney+ series should be "Tales from the Capitulation," starring himself as the hero who bravely ran away. Future corporate promises should come with warning labels: "Any resemblance to actual principles, living or dead, is purely coincidental." Or maybe they'll start adding asterisks: "We believe in equality*" (*offer expires at the first sign of political pressure).

This mass surrender is craven in every aspect. These aren't companies facing existential threats. They're not staring down bankruptcy. They're profitable giants choosing to fold because standing up might require effort or - God forbid - acknowledging that in a polarised world, their stock prices can never be entirely insulated from reality. They're abandoning commitments not because they must but because courage is less convenient and less comfortable than impotent cowardice.

Each act of corporate surrender makes it harder for others to stand firm. Every time a Disney caves, a Meta crumbles, or a Target targets its own values for destruction, they're making it more difficult for any company to maintain principles under pressure. They're creating a race to the bottom where whoever abandons their values fastest wins.

Welcome to American Business in 2025. Principles expire faster than milk. Bob Iger trades his Mickey Mouse ears for a white flag, and Tim Cook discovers his "brave stances" don't extend to protecting his employees from political intimidation. The mighty corporations of the world compete to show us who can bend lowest, abandon their values quickest, and demonstrate the most spectacular display of timidity. In this new corporate Olympics, the gold medal goes to whoever can prove they never really meant any of it in the first place.

This is truly the Age of the Coward.