I am not a product of Silicon Valley. I never pursued computer science and have never coded. My career hasn’t revolved around the discussions or sciences of technological progress. In 2018, I transitioned to Facebook Meta from the British and European political sphere, uncertain of what lay ahead.

As a Brit, the immense scale of America does not shock me. The distance from the power hubs on the East Coast feels significant when you first arrive in Northern California. It’s not merely 3,000 miles from Washington, DC, or New York; a 3-hour time difference creates a temporal dissonance. By the time the West Coast rises, the East has already moved on with its news agenda. Europe’s major events happen the night before. It feels isolated here. It’s understandable why those wishing to distance themselves from the scrutiny of the corporate world find refuge in this area. It serves as a natural haven for idealists daring to challenge the status quo.

There’s an alluring aspect to Silicon Valley, a place where affirmation flourishes. It draws in innovative minds brimming with creativity. Aspirations know no boundaries. Obstacles transform into opportunities, and every vibrant day could yield extraordinary breakthroughs. Anyone can conceive ideas that might revolutionize the world and amass wealth. However, it also functions as an industrial-scale breeding ground, predominantly for a certain male-centric environment—where assertive men and capable women must constantly vie for recognition. This ecosystem, which ideally serves new ideas, often distracts from the lives of average individuals. The wealth in this environment can create a disconnect from their everyday struggles, allowing an idealism that often overlooks harsh realities.

Upon my arrival at Facebook, the company was undergoing turmoil. Many employees were active during a time when their reputation diverged significantly from its former self. It was once an exhilarating ideal, spearheaded by a youthful genius with a remarkable mission, rapidly generating revenue while connecting the globe. Transforming from a group of rising stars to the public’s enemy was a cultural shock I was scarcely prepared for. It drew parallels to the Liberal Democrats in coalition government—a collective of idealists striving for change, leaving me bewildered as to why they were viewed unfavorably.

oThe most profound culture shock I faced in Silicon Valley had little to do with transatlantic differences. Since commencing my university journey in the mid-1980s, my path to success relied heavily on the power of words. At its core, politics embodies the contest of diverse narratives defining how things ought to be—liberalism, socialism, conservatism, fascism—all stories providing varying perspectives, analyses of problems, and proposed solutions. Winning an election hinges on how many resonate with your narrative about opponents’ affairs and visions.

Yet, Silicon Valley is populated with individuals viewing the world from a different lens: engineers. They navigate a realm of facts and processes. An engineer’s objective is to identify and solve issues, then move to the next challenge. They reside in a universe punctuated with acronyms, crafting a lexicon that feels akin to an exercise in boiling conversations down to their essence. Upon my arrival, I found myself immersed in XFNS, STOS, and FOAS, where every roadmap demanded a playbook, every community belonged to an ecosystem, and every topic was either TL;DR or worthy of deep dives. Everything—absolutely everything—needed quantification. In an early meeting, a senior engineer queried the likelihood of ‘government X’ passing law Y. I chuckled, believing it to be a jest. The notion of summarizing political processes into a pseudo-science seemed absurd. He didn’t laugh. When I retorted with “oh, maybe 23.67%,” he nodded earnestly. From that moment, I learned that persuasive narratives lacked weight without data points supporting every argument and evaluating potential outcomes. This realization grounded me. While science holds value, a systematic approach to problem-solving sharpens clarity in decision-making.

However, this perspective can also be reductive. It commodifies everything, stripping away nuances, instincts, and humanity. Conversations about data with engineers often resembled how carpenters discuss wood. This reflects a broader cultural shift in privacy and data protection expectations shaped by regulation, but the reliance on logic over emotion and intuition reveals why Silicon Valley sometimes seems insensitive to the concerns of those beyond its colorful campus.

I might not be the typical figure you envision in Silicon Valley. My career has revolved around suits and ties, not hoodies or flip-flops. Faced with the flood of brightly colored, quirky posters decorating Facebook’s vibrant MPK campus (a nickname for Menlo Park), my initial impulse was to respond in a very British fashion with gentle sarcasm. During one of my first meetings with a recent team, a poster boldly proclaimed a common Silicon Valley mantra. Trying to break the ice, I quipped, “Don’t bring your real self to work. If I present my real self, you won’t like it. Just bring your inauthentic self between 9 to 5, then return home and revert to your true self.” The room fell silent. One team member later approached me, visibly embarrassed, explaining that the statement resonated uncomfortably with them. At that moment, I realized I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

While Mark Zuckerberg is often recognized as a visionary leader, two attributes stand out: his boundless curiosity and fierce competitiveness. Many who achieve early success tend to stagnate, lost in their own triumphs. In contrast, Mark displays humility, drive, and a continuous thirst for knowledge. If he feels uninformed, he passionately immerses himself in learning, absorbing every bit of wisdom related to the topic. He contemplates deeply and evaluates every angle. And no one—truly no one—can hold silence like Mark. I tend to fill awkward silences with chatter, but Mark allows it to linger, often to an unbearable extent. Yet, when he does speak, his words are always profoundly considered. While he might embody an engineer’s rational mindset—absent of emotions—this should not be misconstrued as a lack of depth or curiosity; it’s precisely the opposite.

Simultaneously, he is perhaps the most competitive individual I’ve ever encountered; I say this as someone seasoned in frontline politics and who has encountered numerous competitive personalities throughout my time in the UK private school system.

This competitive spirit manifests in his passion for Mixed Martial Arts (MMA). He’s an avid UFC enthusiast and approaches his training with utmost seriousness. His involvement in MMA had to be disclosed to investors due to its potential business implications. Once characterized in the public eye as a geeky figure two decades ago, he has indisputably become quite muscular. Just ask Elon Musk, who, after challenging Mark to an MMA bout, made various excuses to avoid actually stepping into the ring with him. Mark’s commitment to MMA is so profound that he insisted during an offsite management day that some of his senior executives join him for training sessions at his personal gym. Everyone partnered up to practice techniques under the guidance of Mark’s professional instructors. Consequently, I found myself wrestling with my then-direct report, Joel Kaplan. This engagement sometimes felt overly intimate as we awkwardly navigated moves that established an entirely new level of corporate bonding.

Joel later humorously admitted he considered reporting it to the then-HR Director Lori Gaul, but when he looked for her, he found her in a chokehold from Mark Zuckerberg. Surviving that challenge meant that Joel left Meta, armed with a peculiar yet robust shared experience that fortified our collaboration in global business operations.