Businessman Elon Musk is, more or less, a rogue state. His intentions are self-serving and nefarious, and his nation-state level resources allow him to flout the law with impunity. To put it into context, if dollars were meters, Musk’s money would be enough to take him to Mars and back, while a mere millionaire could only make a round trip from Paris to Amsterdam.
The sheer immorality of any one person possessing so much wealth is obvious to most people with basic amounts of empathy. However, when it comes to Musk and the other 14 people worth more than US$100 billion, the morality of it is almost a secondary concern. Their individual wealth is a society-distorting threat to democracy in the same way that economics has always recognized monopolies to be dangerous to a functional market.
For US$250 million in direct support — and an additional US$44 billion for control over X, nee Twitter, and with it the algorithm behind what 300 million users see on their timelines — Musk was rewarded with a copresidency. What else are we supposed to make of his appearance at Notre Dame’s reopening, joining US president-elect Donald Trump and various heads of state?
X’s valuation may be dropping as swiftly as its user count, but that is missing the point behind the purchase. X served its purpose by helping elect Trump, one study suggesting the platform’s algorithm was tweaked to boost conservative-leaning users. That Tesla stock has surged more than 40 percent since the election surely has little to do with the company’s fundamentals and much to do with investors speculating on an unprecedented boost to its fortunes to come. Tesla and SpaceX grew into behemoths on the back of public contracts and public subsidies, and from xAI to Neuralink, Musk’s other companies stand to benefit from his inside influence over regulation.
Plutocracy is not enough, though, because nothing is ever enough for the handful of men who have everything. Musk’s new obsessions (beyond the validation and human affection that he mistakenly believes he would find on social media) are attacking public servants, slashing social spending and going after the most vulnerable.
“In most cases, the word ‘homeless’ is a lie,” Musk tweeted recently. “It’s usually a propaganda word for violent drug addicts with severe mental illness.”
The most charitable interpretation is that Musk exists at various points along the Dunning Kruger scale. He is a fantastic venture capitalist, whose sci-fi enthusiast investments produced, let us be honest, far more interesting companies than something such as luxury goods or fast fashion. However, that provided him with incalculably more resources to be a blithering moron when it comes to things such as geopolitics or how to build and organize a just society.
The less charitable interpretation — the one presented by his former friend Sam Harris on a recent podcast appearance — is that he is “palpably, visibly deranged ... snorting ketamine and tweeting at all hours of the day and night,” has been radicalized by his own algorithm and presents himself as Tony Stark while actually being Dr Evil.
However, because plutocracy and pursuing a radical social agenda in the US still is not enough, Musk has set his sights on other nations as well. Over the past half-year, he has gone after Italian judges who blocked a migrant detention plan, promoted misinformation and stoked riots in the UK, floated the possibility of interfering directly in UK electoral politics by giving Nigel Farage’s party, Reform, US$100 million, and persistently ignored EU law regarding content moderation and disinformation on X.
When rogue states behave that way — election interference, active disinformation campaigns, social media manipulation — other states call them out or even impose sanctions. Musk is not simply a private citizen with an opinion and a large following. His sheer wealth, his control of X and his new position within the US government place him in a different category. So how do you solve that kind of problem, or at least respond to it?
Musk’s fellow billionaires have chosen the path of appeasement, if not outright enthusiasm, making pilgrimages to Mar-a-Lago to prostrate themselves before its idiot king and the man behind the curtain. No real surprise there.
What is more surprising is that prominent journalists and big media organizations have done the same, fueling Trump’s campaign to silence and intimidate through lawsuits, such as his latest one against the Des Moines Register for having published a poll he did not like.
The populist premier of Ontario, Doug Ford, has a potentially more effective strategy of taking on bullies — at least rhetorically.
“We will go to the extent of cutting off their energy, going down to Michigan, going down to New York State and over to Wisconsin,” Ford said in response to Trump’s taunting about making Canada a 51st state and imposing tariffs.
Likewise, when the Brazilian supreme court judge Alexandre de Moraes refused to back down and treated Musk’s companies as a single universe — freezing Starlink assets and ordering telecom providers to block access to X — Musk blinked.
Soon it would be the EU’s turn. What the union owes its citizens is not to play nice or mete out a meek slap on the wrist over the various alleged legal contraventions by Musk and X that are under investigation, it is to firmly and intently show that even interplanetary amounts of wealth do not mean impunity and that some things — such as democracy — are not for sale.
Alexander Hurst is a Guardian Europe columnist.
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