On New Year’s Day it should be possible to dredge up some inspiring thoughts about the year ahead. It’s difficult to do anything but peer fearfully around corners instead.
After a year that hardly shored up the case for humanity’s continued existence, the world’s richest man responded to a recent article about underfunded and understaffed converted hotels for homeless people in San Francisco with this: “In most cases, the word ‘homeless’ is a lie. It’s usually a propaganda word for violent drug addicts with severe mental illness.”
That was Elon Musk who, in June, tweeted, “just to be super clear, I am not donating money to either candidate for US President” and by November 5th had spent nearly $300 million organising the ground game that swung the swing states for Donald Trump.
The bet paid off handsomely. Since election day, Musk has seen his Tesla stock rise by $170 billion. His fortune is now reckoned to be about $442 billion, the equivalent of Norway’s GDP.
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The bet also bought him a berth superglued to Trump’s hip and the Oval Office as the new federal efficiency tsar. The one who finds regulators – such as the Federal Aviation Administration, the authority in charge of approving launch licences for rockets – extremely irksome for his businesses now has a key role in shaping federal policy and regulation, advising which programmes to eliminate and which to retain.
His attitude to workers’ safety and wellbeing within his own environment give little grounds for reassurance. He has discouraged workers from wearing yellow safety vests because he dislikes bright colours, according to a 2023 Reuters report, which also revealed at least 600 previously unreported injuries at SpaceX in the past decade such as electrocutions and amputations. It’s what happens when you move fast and break things. Twitter defines it. Now Musk’s personal political weapon, it is a scorched earth of dangerous disinformation, confusion, rumours, Hitler fanboys, white supremacists, conspiracy theorists and bots, spirit incarnate of Steve Bannon’s injunction to “flood the zone with s**t”. Cheap at $44 billion when it buys you a permanent spot on Trump’s Mar-a-Lago patio.
The multiple obscenities within all this are blinding, not least the multiple conflicts of interest and missed opportunities.
But what should be of more immediate concern is the ease with which his limitless money has allowed him to buy his way to the pinnacle of political power.
If the guardrails of the US Constitution buckle even slightly under his might and money, he can change the world. Regular contacts between Musk and Vladimir Putin over two years have been reported by the Wall Street Journal, with enormous implications for western security.
And, of course, Russian interference was a regular feature of the big election year of 2024. While Trump was being re-elected on the promise of lower grocery prices, his north star Putin had already “won” his own re-election in March with a 90 per cent vote from a 77.44 per cent turnout.
Putin’s fingerprints were all over destabilisation campaigns in the recent Moldovan, Bulgarian and Romanian elections. In Moldova, vote-buying, reportedly financed by Roman Abramovich, was the main weapon used to oppose pro-western president Maia Sana and a referendum to join the EU.
In Romania, when Calin Georgescu – a “Russia-aligned” far-right ultranationalist campaigning mostly on TikTok – appeared from nowhere to top the poll with 23 per cent of the vote, evidence of Russian disinformation tactics was so persuasive that the election was annulled. In Bulgaria, where protesters took to the streets against election interference, an investigation revealed common ties between Georgescu’s campaign, a Russian digital agency and more than 50 Bulgarian companies registered in the name of one owner in Plovdiv, Bulgaria’s second-largest city.
Back on this side of the Continent, Germany’s elections next month will be a closely watched bellwether. In Britain, where investigations have already documented Russian efforts to sway the Brexit referendum, alarm bells are sounding about a rumoured Musk plan to transform the political landscape. This would entail bankrolling the far right via a game-changing $100 million contribution to Nigel Farage’s Reform party.
While spending limits apply during UK campaigns and party funding rules require UK citizenship for those donating more than £500, interested parties are looking nervously at exemptions. They include UK-registered companies that carry out business in the UK – one such as Twitter/X for example.
In a country where millions can be legally funnelled to parties by wealthy donors, the fear seems to be more about a question of scale (unlimited money) and purpose (far-right policies) than the principle of foreign interference.
