Burning Man:When an Unexpected Twist Left a Playground for the Wealthy Stuck in the Mud

Burning Man, an annual spectacle held in the heart of Nevada’s Black Rock Desert, has long been seen as a playground for the wealthy elite—a grandiose gathering where the rich, famous, and artistically inclined (with deep pockets) come together to embrace a communal lifestyle in one of the harshest environments on earth. Despite its countercultural origins, the event has increasingly catered to those with means, with luxury camps, high-end RVs, and exclusive parties forming a stark contrast to its supposed ethos of radical self-reliance and decommodification.

Famous faces like Mark Zuckerberg and Elon Musk have graced its grounds, joining an array of celebrities, influencers, and tech elites reveling in the desert’s unique atmosphere. However, the festival took an unexpected turn when torrential rains turned the once-dusty expanse into a thick, impassable mud pit, leaving thousands stranded.

Festival organizers had no choice but to advise attendees to “shelter in place” and ration their dwindling supplies of food and water. The extreme weather upended the usual routine of extravagant art displays, music, and self-indulgent social media posts, replacing them with survival concerns. Rather than posing for aesthetic Instagram shots, attendees found themselves wading through knee-deep mud, their luxury RVs and pop-up mansions rendered useless against nature’s force.

While some outsiders expressed sympathy for the unfortunate turn of events, others were less forgiving, labeling the predicament of these high-paying festival-goers as a “first-world problem.” The contrast between this temporary discomfort and the life-threatening struggles of migrants, refugees, and the economically disenfranchised worldwide was impossible to ignore.

One can’t help but question why affluent individuals willingly pay thousands of dollars—tickets alone can cost up to $2,750, not counting extravagant accommodations and travel expenses—to partake in an event that, at its worst, turns into a survival challenge. According to Burning Man’s own data, around 16% of attendees in 2022 had household incomes of at least $300,000. With such a demographic, it’s clear that Burning Man is less of an artist’s haven and more of a luxury escape for the well-heeled.

Burning Man’s ethos of radical inclusion seems increasingly at odds with the reality of its high price of entry, pushing out struggling artists and creatives who were once its core. As the festival’s image continues to shift from countercultural experiment to elite retreat, one has to wonder: Has the so-called magic of Burning Man finally been lost?

Back in 2014, I was invited to attend by a friend who traveled there with a group of architect friends. But when I met the friends of my friend, I just didn’t like their entitled vibe and kindly declined—no regrets. My friend hated every minute of it. When we caught up after her return, she told me she had completely fallen out with her so-called friends. One of them was demanding the front cover of Wallpaper magazine, even though she was not the editor but barely more than an intern, thinking his entitlement could buy his way to the front cover of Wallpaper.

If past years are any indication, Burning Man 2025 may once again highlight how even the wealthiest attendees can’t escape the forces of nature—or the growing criticism of what the event has become. This year, organizers are contending with financial challenges, including a reported $14 million shortfall, which has led to a tiered ticket pricing system. Prices now range from $550 to $3,000, with an aid program offering $225 tickets to lower-income individuals. Efforts are also being made to attract a more diverse crowd through initiatives like “Rising Sparks,” aimed at recruiting next-generation Burners.

Additionally, Spanish architect Miguel Arraiz has been chosen to design this year’s central art installation, marking the first time a Spanish architect has undertaken this role. However, logistical hurdles remain, as federal budget cuts to the Bureau of Land Management could impact law enforcement and permitting for the event.

With unpredictable desert weather and ongoing debates over accessibility, commercialization, and privilege, Burning Man 2025 is shaping up to be yet another year of scrutiny and challenges for an event that was once seen as a radical utopia.