By Jonah Goldberg
Wednesday, June 17, 2026
I am not a huge fan of Elon Musk as a political activist
or commentator. I think he’s made Twitter—sorry, X—worse. His support for the
nationalist right in Europe has been ugly. His tenure leading DOGE mostly
amounted to a missed opportunity and often descended into little more than
performative vandalism. His personal life is not exactly consonant with my
preference for bourgeois family values. Though, one can hardly accuse him of
being a deadbeat dad.
On the other hand, I am a huge fan of his accomplishments
in business and engineering. He helped create the foundations of the digital
economy with PayPal. At the helm of Tesla, he made the electric car into a
viable industry (something climate activists once lionized him for). Starlink,
his internet satellite business, has been transformative. And, finally, there’s
SpaceX, which went public last week. It’s a testament to human ingenuity,
immigrant success, and American greatness on a scale that is hard to describe.
If Musk is successful in his ambitions, he will be more
responsible than any other human for making ours an interplanetary species.
That would mean that long after nearly every name of every politician and
businessman you can think of has been forgotten, people will still remember
Elon Musk.
But none of that is very relevant to the explosion of
outrage over his status as the world’s first trillionaire. I offer my opinions
about Musk only because a remarkable number of people think if you defend the
morality or legality of him being so rich, you must be on Team Elon. I am not.
I am on Team Capitalism.
But the confusion hardly ends there. If you followed the
reaction on social media to Musk’s shattering of the trillionaire barrier,
you’d think that he now has $1 trillion in the bank. Indeed,
indignant politicians rushed
to propose
taxes on Musk’s wealth as if it were a suddenly discovered treasure ship
(with laughably questionable math). Many people talked about Musk “hoarding” dollars that rightfully belong to the poor, the people, or
perhaps Social Security beneficiaries.
That $1 trillion doesn’t exist, save as a function of
accounting. He owns a large number of shares in SpaceX. Those shares have an
estimated book value—for now—of about $1.03 trillion. If the stock price dips
in the future, as I expect it will, he
might not be a trillionaire for very long.
Let’s say, heaven forbid, that SpaceX has a disaster on
the launch pad, loses some major NASA contract, and the stock price tumbles.
What happens to those dollars he supposedly hoarded? Do they vanish? No,
because they never existed in the first place.
A shocking number of people think—or demagogically
pretend to—that the economy is a static pie, that all wealth in the economy
exists in the form of a finite number of dollars. This zero-sum fallacy is why
people think he’s hoarding wealth. He’s not. He’s creating wealth, and I
don’t just mean for all of the SpaceX welders and cafeteria staff who now own more than $1 million worth of
stock.
Increased innovation and productivity grow the pie, which
means more pie for more people. That’s what economic growth means. In
1969, the year I was born, the U.S. GDP was about $1 trillion in nominal
dollars. (If you adjust for inflation, U.S. GDP was around $1 trillion a
century ago.) Does Musk now own all of America’s wealth? Of course not, because
the economy has grown massively since then.
Other than dislike for Musk, the main driver of all this
outrage is our obsession with income inequality. To some, it’s just not right
that anyone be so rich when others are so poor—or feel so poor compared
to Musk. This is an aesthetic complaint masquerading as a policy position. In
objective terms, no one was made poorer by Musk getting richer. Subjectively,
however, we’re all poorer in the sense that the richest person in the world
became marginally richer.
That’s a vibes argument.
If your neighbor wins the lottery, you will be poorer in
comparison. But your ability to clothe, feed, and house you and your family
will not have changed.
If I cure cancer tomorrow, I will get very rich. Where’s
the injustice? The world gets a cure for cancer, the economy saves countless
billions fighting cancer, and I get to buy a bunch of cool stuff. Everyone,
except maybe some drug companies and oncologists, comes out a winner.
I’ll never cure cancer. But capitalism probably will,
eventually. Which is just one of a trillion reasons why I am on Team
Capitalism.
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