00 | Introduction: Musk’s Caesar Delusion — From Tech Deity to Political Ruin
He thought the people were calling him, but in fact it was his platform that was imitating him.
Never in the whole history has a “favored courtier” received such extraordinary treatment:
- He held no cabinet post, yet was more honored than the cabinet, with critics accusing the President of being his shadow.
- He had no official position, yet entered the White House at will, and even left with a master key.
- He wasn’t part of the President’s inner circle, yet flew on Air Force One, and even had his son mentored by the President.
- He didn’t share the President’s name, but lived and dined with his family, as though he were a second son.
However this star of the age, Elon Musk, behaves with a temperament more childish than his son X. To him, favors and courtesy mean nothing. If he is displeased, he turns instantly. Whether justified or not, he draws the knife without hesitation — regardless of the cost to the old man who treated him like family.
When the President chose not to retaliate, Musk escalated: opposing the President’s Big Beautiful Bill due to conflicting interests, he even threatened lawmakers not to pass it.
His motives were not idealistic, but selfish. The bill’s EV subsidies didn’t favor Tesla enough. For Musk, there is no line between public policy and personal gain. Touch his interest, and you’re an enemy.
After the bill passed, many thought he had simply lost control again. But then came a more alarming move: on his X platform, he launched a poll — “Should I found a third party?” The answer: Yes. He declared, “The people have spoken.”
It appeared to be a democratic experiment. In reality, it was a digital coronation.
Musk doesn’t want to join politics. He wants to be Caesar — the one who smashes the old regime, rises above laws, and is crowned by the masses. But X is no Senate, and his poll is no referendum. His so-called “voice of the people” is nothing more than algorithm-amplified resonance from his echo chamber.
He isn’t listening to public will. He’s manufacturing it. He doesn’t want a democracy. He wants algorithmic anointment.
Throughout history, tech titans have flirted with politics — some from reformist zeal, others for influence. Musk’s motives are confused and self-serving: he opposes Trump’s policies when they displease him, resents the GOP’s lack of loyalty, despises Democratic regulation, and mocks traditional media. Ultimately, he doesn’t seek to change the world — just to control it only for himself.
But politics is not a product launch. Founding a third party in the U.S. is not as simple as founding a company. It strikes at the core of a deeply entrenched two-party system. And history shows no success: from Ross Perot to the Greens, Libertarians, and Andrew Yang’s Forward Party — all fizzled after a flash of media light.
Musk thinks he can break that cycle. That his charisma, tech credentials, and platform traffic can build a new political cult. But his dream party isn’t made of elected representatives. It’s made of followers, fans, and code.
This delusion is seductive — and destructive. It carries five fatal costs:
- Strategic Misjudgment:
No breakthrough, only split votes weaponized by rivals. - Political Fragmentation:
Hurts the GOP more than his enemies. - Market Backlash:
Loses boardroom trust, spooks investors. - Narrative Collapse:
From king of discourse to a man shouting in the void. - Personal Disintegration:
He is no Steve Jobs. He cannot survive collapse.
This series will trace these five fault lines, dismantling the illusion of a self-anointed digital savior.
Musk is no political reformer. He is a platform-spoiled orphan, a prince drunk on engagement. He wants not democracy, but a theater that forever keeps him at center stage. And outside the stage lies a reality that is cold, complex, and responsibility-laden.
Musk’s third party, will never mark a new beginning — but the first step toward ruin.