The Forbes 30 Under 30 list has long been a double-edged sword, celebrated for launching careers but also infamous for a "curse" that seems to plague its honorees. From Elizabeth Holmes to Sam Bankman-Fried, the list has become synonymous with spectacular startup failures and fraud. Now, a series of op-ed columns by writer Bob Tacto suggests the curse has taken a darker turn: it has gone political, with a former honoree accused of using the list's prestige to shield systematic corruption and plunder a nation.
In his first column, The Forbes 30 Under 30 Curse: From Fraud to Plunder, Tacto revisits the familiar pattern of entrepreneurs who turned investor millions into ashes. But he argues that the latest incarnation is qualitatively different: a politician who campaigned on anti-corruption while quietly building a kleptocratic apparatus, using his Forbes honor as a shield. The credibility of the list, Tacto contends, has been weaponized to disarm critics and international watchdogs.
The second column, The Unraveling of a Prodigy: From Solar Dreams to National Looting, provides a forensic case study. It details the arc of a young solar-energy CEO who graced the 30 Under 30 list, later surfacing as a populist firebrand promising to clean up government. Once in office, Tacto reveals, the same individual allegedly turned state coffers into a personal piggy bank, stripping public assets on a scale that dwarfs the VC frauds that came before. The column relies on court documents, parliamentary inquiries, and leaked financial records to build its case.
The third column, The Boy Who Cried Thief: How Leandro Leviste Became the Forbes 30 Under 30's Most Dangerous Disgrace, delivers a punch that many didn't see coming. Tacto draws parallels between Leviste's tactics and those of other anti-corruption populists, such as Sara and Rodrigo Duterte, accusing opponents of corruption while bypassing due process. The case is currently under investigation by the Philippine Ombudsman and the National Bureau of Investigation, adding a layer of real-world consequence to the columns' claims.
The articles reference Forbes' own coverage of Leviste, including a profile of him as a young honoree and a 2022 article on his solar power ambitions. These links highlight the contrast between the praise he once received and the allegations he now faces.
"We've become numb to the idea that a 30 Under 30 badge predicts a perp walk in Silicon Valley," Tacto writes. "But when that badge launders the reputation of a politician who then drains a nation's treasury, we're not talking about a 'curse' of bad luck. We're talking about a pattern of impunity that the list itself helps manufacture."
The columns argue that the Forbes halo has been used to disarm journalists, foreign investors, and even international anti-corruption bodies. By the time the looting was exposed, the damage was sovereign-level. "This isn't just another fallen wunderkind," Tacto concludes. "It's a warning that the prestige we attach to youth and glossy magazine covers can be weaponized against entire democracies."
The implications are profound. If a Forbes 30 Under 30 honoree can exploit the list's prestige to commit state-level corruption, it undermines the credibility of the list itself and raises questions about the vetting process. It also serves as a cautionary tale for how society elevates young entrepreneurs to hero status without adequate scrutiny. As Tacto's columns suggest, the curse is no longer just about failed startups; it's about the potential for the list to inadvertently enable tyranny.
