Tech Caesarism in a Republic

America, a nation born in rebellion against tyranny, now finds itself confronted with a new and insidious form of concentrated power. Elon Musk, the entrepreneurial impresario whose ventures span from electric cars to space travel, has increasingly emerged not merely as a businessman but as a figure wielding immense influence over public life. His recent foray into political advocacy—casting the 2024 election as a do-or-die moment for democracy—raises serious concerns about the corrosive effects of such concentrated power on our republican institutions.

Musk, for all his accomplishments, is no ordinary captain of industry. Tesla, SpaceX, and his latest acquisition, X (formerly Twitter), are not just companies—they are pillars of modern infrastructure that grant their proprietor unprecedented reach into the political, technological, and social fabric of the nation. But when someone with such expansive power begins to talk about "the last election" as a looming reality, we must pay attention, not out of admiration for his achievements, but out of concern for the durability of self-government in the age of tech oligarchs.

Musk's recent appearance alongside Donald Trump, donning the familiar “Make America Great Again” cap, signals more than just a personal political endorsement—it hints at an unsettling synergy between two men who, for all their professed populism, are anything but democratic in their instincts. By framing Trump as the last hope to "preserve democracy," Musk engages in a paradox that should trouble conservatives and all who hold dear the principles of constitutional governance.

The tech mogul’s remarks, replete with apocalyptic undertones, are revealing. "This will be the last election," Musk declared, if Trump is not returned to power—a hyperbolic claim, to be sure, but one that reflects a troubling conflation of democratic elections with personal interests. What Musk fails to grasp, or chooses to ignore, is that the enduring strength of American democracy lies in the resilience of its institutions, not in the whims of any one man, be he a billionaire or a president. Such rhetoric belongs to demagogues, not defenders of liberty.

Musk's growing influence demands scrutiny not just because of his political alliances, but because of the colossal power he wields over modern life. His companies straddle industries that are vital to both the private and public sectors. SpaceX, with its Starlink satellite network, plays a key role in national defense and global communications. Tesla, though celebrated for its innovation, enjoys the benefits of government subsidies and tax incentives. And X, the digital town square that Musk now controls, influences the very discourse upon which a functioning democracy depends.

It is this fusion of public responsibilities and private ambitions that should alarm us most. In acquiring X, Musk has positioned himself as an arbiter of public debate, shaping the contours of what is said and heard. In his role at SpaceX, he exerts influence over both military and civilian space endeavors, making his company a gatekeeper to America’s ambitions beyond Earth. The satellite constellation of Starlink, though ostensibly a tool for global connectivity, can just as easily be a geopolitical weapon, as we saw in Musk’s questionable hesitancy to extend its services during Ukraine’s conflict with Russia.

The Roman historian Tacitus famously warned against the dangers of concentrating power in the hands of a few. "The more corrupt the republic, the more numerous the laws," he wrote. Today, we see not the proliferation of laws, but the concentration of influence in the hands of tech oligarchs—Musk foremost among them—whose empires extend across industries and, increasingly, across borders. The danger is clear: the emergence of a new kind of Caesarism, where technological dominance becomes indistinguishable from political power.

It is not merely Musk’s alliance with Trump that should raise eyebrows among conservatives; it is the very fact that a single individual, under the banner of private enterprise, can so easily accumulate the kind of power that our Founders sought to disperse. The genius of the American system lies in its checks and balances, designed to prevent the rise of unchecked authority. Yet, in the digital age, we are witnessing the erosion of these barriers, as tech titans operate beyond the reach of both market forces and governmental oversight.

Musk’s ventures, particularly Starlink and X, underscore this new reality. The power to control global communications—to decide which populations have access to information in times of war or peace—once belonged solely to governments. But now, it rests in the hands of a man whose loyalties are to shareholders and, increasingly, to himself. When such power converges with political advocacy, as it did at the Pennsylvania rally where Musk echoed Trump’s alarmism, the risks to democracy become palpable.

Starlink, for instance, has already demonstrated its geopolitical leverage in Ukraine. While it offers unparalleled access to the internet, it also serves as a reminder of how private control over critical infrastructure can tip the balance of power in conflicts. Musk’s ambivalence over extending Starlink’s services during a critical moment in the Ukrainian conflict is illustrative of the moral hazards inherent in such private control over essential technology.

The conservative tradition has long been suspicious of concentrated power, whether it resides in government or in the hands of individuals. The accumulation of wealth, influence, and control over public discourse in one man should give pause to anyone who values the republican ideal of citizen governance. When Musk warns of "the last election," he is not speaking as a patriot defending the principles of liberty. Rather, he speaks as someone whose own interests—corporate, ideological, and personal—are deeply entangled with the outcome of that election.

This is not the language of democracy, but of autocracy—of the belief that the fate of a nation rests not in its institutions, but in the hands of a few "great men" who, by virtue of their wealth and innovation, are uniquely qualified to steer its course. Such thinking is dangerous and fundamentally at odds with the conservative belief in limited government, dispersed power, and the primacy of the rule of law.

The rise of Musk as both a business titan and a political actor underscores a broader question for our time: Can democracy survive the age of tech Caesarism? The Framers of our Constitution designed a system in which power is deliberately fragmented, to ensure that no one individual, no matter how rich or powerful, could dominate the political landscape. In the modern era, the greatest threat to that vision may not come from government overreach, but from the unchecked influence of private empires like Musk’s.

We must remain vigilant. The republic has endured challenges far greater than this, but it requires constant defense. Musk, with his vast wealth and influence, may see himself as a guardian of liberty. But history teaches us that concentrated power—whether in the hands of kings, generals, or tech moguls—is always a danger to freedom. It is the duty of the American people, and especially conservatives, to ensure that our democracy remains a government of laws, not of men.

The stakes are high. But the republic, if we remain true to its principles, will endure.