How to Rule the World: An Education in Power at Stanford University

These chapters meticulously document the narrator’s journalistic process, grounding the book’s explosive allegations in a detailed procedural narrative, contrasting his transparent methods with the opaque defenses of his subjects. The investigation begins with a single source’s tip, which the narrator subjects to rigorous verification. By detailing his work—corroborating an account of an internal Genentech review with four independent, high-level sources, consulting with external experts like science editor Tracy Jan and Alzheimer’s researcher Matthew Schrag, and seeking legal counsel—the narrator reinforces his credibility. This self-documentation serves an key rhetorical function: It frames the story as the product of methodical, evidence-based reporting rather than a personal crusade against MTL. The narrative juxtaposes Baker’s process with the defensive postures of MTL and his allies, whose responses rely on legal threats and institutional influence. The title of Chapter 9, “[[NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION]]”—the label Baker gives to his initial draft of the article—emphasizes the stakes of publication, reinforcing the asymmetry of power between a freshman journalist and the president of a major university.

The chapters dissect the strategies of defense deployed when powerful figures and organizations face reputational threats, foregrounding Baker’s thematic focus on Institutional Protection Over Accountability. MTL defense strategy begins with legal intimidation, leveraging the reputation of aggressive attorney Steve Neal to intimidate Baker and his colleagues at The Daily. He then pivots to a public relations campaign, with an email to the Stanford community attempting to reframe the story as “breathtakingly outrageous” criticism from a student newspaper, conspicuously omitting that the core allegations originate from his own former colleagues in the field of neuroscience. Genentech’s statement employs bureaucratic language to minimize the internal inquiry, calling it a “regular review” rather than a special investigation and denying a “formal” inquiry. This wording creates plausible deniability while confirming key facts. Scheller’s carefully worded claim that he does “not recall” any discussion of fraud provides a non-denial denial that avoids making a definitively false statement. Together, these tactics illustrate a pattern of crisis management that focuses on controlling the narrative and attacking the messenger, rather than addressing the substance of the claims.

The narrative juxtaposes the narrator’s public, professional triumphs with his private, personal collapse, pair his high-stakes investigative journalism with his own coming-of-age arc. In the same 48-hour period that he publishes his career-defining story and learns he has won a prestigious George Polk Award, he suffers emotional and physical exhaustion and collapses at the TreeHacks event. Waking with electrodes on his chest, and no memory of the previous night, the narrator confronts his deep vulnerability. This health crisis highlights the stress of holding a powerful secret, navigating legal threats, and bearing the responsibility for his sources’ safety as an 18-year-old freshman. The TreeHacks setting heightens this contrast: The narrator is organizing a massive event that embodies Silicon Valley’s hyper-commercialized culture while simultaneously dealing with the fallout of an investigation that questions the ethical foundations of an elite figure from that same world. 

After Baker’s article is published, he characterizes Stanford as a complex and contested space where institutional power, faculty loyalty, and journalistic integrity collide. MTL’s defense at the faculty senate meeting, which Baker describes as “a soliloquy that lasted several minutes” (231)—is met with complete silence, signals the faculty’s suspended judgment and the president’s eroding authority. MTL’s post-defense posture—“he waited for someone to speak up or respond” (231)—emphasizes his sense of entitlement and the faith he places in his institutionalized power to protect him. His email to all faculty is a strategic attempt to use his platform to isolate Baker and define the conflict as a dispute with The Stanford Daily, rather than an egregious violation of scientific ethics. However, the news that a professor has forwarded a corroborating account from a fifth Genentech source to the Stanford Board of Trustees demonstrates that the controversy has already escaped MTL’s attempts at containment. The board’s own investigation, proceeding at a glacial pace, suggests a reluctance to confront the crisis head-on.

The central conflict between the narrator and MTL is largely fought through proxies and intermediaries, a structure that highlights the formalized, high-stakes nature of the dispute. MTL rarely speaks for himself, instead deploying Steve Neal as his legal weapon and public voice. This strategy insulates the president from direct engagement, allowing him to maintain a veneer of authority while Neal employs aggressive tactics. Baker relies on his own support team, allied with him in his commitment to exposing the truth: His editor, who shares the final burden of publication; his advisors, who provide professional guidance; and his expert sources, who lend scientific and ethical weight to the reporting. Baker incorporates interstitial communications between these intermediaries—letters from Neal, consultations with Schrag, emails to the board chair—to convey the behind-the-scenes machinations driving the conflict forward and to emphasize the power imbalances at play. MTL’s proxies are some of the most influential figures in law and science, while Baker’s are mentors and volunteers from the world of journalism, framing the struggle as an asymmetric contest between institutional power and the public’s right to know the truth.