It ended, as many things do these days, with a poll. Apparently on a whim, Elon Musk, while attending the World Cup final in Qatar on 18 December, tweeted: ‘Should I step down as head of Twitter? I will abide by the results of this poll.’ Seventeen-and-a-half million people voted, and nearly sixty per cent demonstrated their belief that, yes, the days of the Musk regime on Twitter should come to an ignominious end.
Given that Musk’s schtick on the social media platform has been to offer democracy to its users – all the while making sure that he remains in charge – it appears to be a binding obligation, and the business pages (and stock market) have reacted to the poll’s result as if it is hard news. But what does it tell us about Musk and his quixotic, or simply absurd, attitude towards business?
You don’t become the wealthiest man on the planet by being an idiot, and Musk is anything but a fool. However, it’s increasingly hard to follow the logic behind many of his decisions, unless one believes that he is a bored plutocrat whose often bizarre ideas are a form of reputational Russian roulette. It was unsurprising to see him lean into right-wing politics, urging Twitter’s users to support Republican candidates in the midterm elections in the United States; it was also no great shock to see him row back from the controversy that this caused, as he claimed he was simply trying to offer two sides of the argument. The less generously inclined might describe it simply as trolling.
You don’t become the wealthiest man on the planet by being an idiot, and Musk is anything but a fool
So what does Musk actually believe? When trying to answer this question, an old joke springs to mind: ‘these are my principles, and if you don’t like them, I have others.’ The restoration of Donald Trump onto Twitter – again, a decision reached by public poll – should have been an epochal moment, a daringly controversial assertion of free speech and the right to unfettered opinions, however shocking they might be. Instead, it has been a damp squib. Trump has eschewed his formerly favoured platform, preferring to offer his endlessly entertaining opinions on Truth Social instead. Musk, apparently in pique, has suspended the accounts of several journalists who have criticised his takeover of the social media platform. He has also limited the abilities of Twitter users to vote in polls, announcing his intention of restricting them to the paid-for accounts, or ‘Twitter Blue’, which allows anyone to verify their accounts for a monthly fee; we shall see shortly whether this is a parting gift to the service, or a means of ensuring his continuing presence.
Opinion is divided as to whether Musk is, in the words of David Brent, ‘basically just a chilled out entertainer’, or a megalomaniac Bond villain-manqué who seeks to influence global trends and politics through his extraordinary wealth. Musk likely sees himself as a Shakespearean figure, a Coriolanus or Macbeth: a man of extraordinary talents and energy, only compromised by the limits that others place on his ambition. In fact, the character that he is perhaps closest to is Timon of Athens, the protagonist of one of Shakespeare’s least-loved and most misunderstood plays. Timon is incredibly rich but also vain, prone to bestowing expensive gifts on his ungrateful friends in order to soak up their sycophancy, even as they laugh at him behind his back.
The play is a cautionary tale of sorts; Timon ends up bitter, impoverished and alone, an outcast from his own city. Yet he revels in his own misanthropy, believing that he has seen through the venal side of humanity through his actions, and encouraged the worst and most selfish actions from his fellow man.
Much the same could be said of Musk, who can console himself, whatever happens with Twitter and any future toys he buys, that he has shown us at our most basic, clambering in our millions to listen to what he says, and jumping to his tune. Regrettably, this is Elon Musk’s world, and all we can do is tweet in it.
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