Musk vs. Trump: The Populist Breakup That Was Bound to Happen

I can’t say I was surprised when the news broke. I had predicted it. I remember mentioning it once or twice—perhaps even writing it down. It wasn’t exactly difficult to foresee that two megalomaniacs couldn’t walk the same tightrope for long. Musk and Trump, two fellow travelers, have clashed and split. Could they reunite? It’s not impossible, but highly unlikely. Even if they do, we can safely say it will no longer be the close-knit, bosom buddy relationship of old.

The significance of this break lies in how it highlights the complex nature of power dynamics. One of the defining characteristics of the populism surrounding Trump’s rhetoric is, of course, anti-elitism. From the early days of his campaign, Trump had set his sights on the Neocon-Democrat elites. Ironically, the Republican Party—which Trump belongs to—was once the very cradle of the neocon movement. But over time, the tables turned. Neocons gradually shifted into the Democratic camp. Meanwhile, within the Republican Party, a Paleoconservative (Paleocon) rhetoric began to dominate.

Before going further, it’s worth reviewing the difference between Neoconservatism and Paleoconservatism. We owe the conceptual clarity here to Paul Gottfried. Old-school conservatism, or Paleoconservatism, draws from the traditions of the Southern agrarian states, adheres to a tightly knit, organic WASP Christianity, and calls for the U.S. to rally around these values, turn inward, and isolate itself. Neoconservatism, by contrast, emerged as a reaction against détente and peaceful coexistence policies favored by the Kissinger school. It advocated instead for asserting U.S. military power across the globe. The Vietnam War was a major turning point that intensified the divide between these two camps. During this period, Paleocons accused Neocons of being imperialists and betraying the ideals of the Republican tradition. It’s clear in hindsight that the Neocons won that battle. Especially after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the Neocons went full throttle, merged with neoliberals, and began voicing the most radical demands for global dominance. This also marked a convergence between the war industry (and its institutional arm, the Pentagon) and financial capital (with its nerve center, Wall Street). Naturally, energy companies were soon part of this coalition as well. Over time, tech firms concentrated on the U.S. West Coast, along with the pharmaceutical industry, joined in this partnership in an increasingly dominant way.

Some scholars—George Hawley, for instance—argue that Paleocons are an outdated force in American politics, and even though Trump’s rhetoric sometimes overlaps with theirs, he isn’t the figure to revive their ideology. On moral issues like xenophobia, opposition to immigration, abortion, same-sex marriage, and LGBTQ rights, yes—Trump does echo Paleocon values. But economically, it’s clear that he shares very little with them. Like the Paleocons, Trump is fond of tariffs and economic protectionism. But when it comes to isolationism, he diverges sharply. His businessman instincts take over—he eyes Canada and Greenland, feels no qualms about seizing Ukraine’s valuable minerals or expropriating Arab wealth. It’s hard to call that isolationism. In fact, on these fronts, he performs like a textbook Neocon. More importantly, however, the widespread antisemitism and complaints about Jewish influence within Paleocon circles have no real counterpart in Trump’s politics. On the contrary, Trump moves with a strong affinity for Israel. While he may not be fond of butcher-politicians like Netanyahu, he remains remarkably aligned with the core principles of Zionism. So, linking Trump to Paleocon ideology can be quite misleading. Perhaps it’s more accurate to see him as someone who interprets Paleocon ideas in his own unique way.

So how did Trump manage to triumph ideologically over the broad-based coalition of Neocons and Neoliberals? In fact, this bloc didn’t remain unified; it fractured over time. The main reason was the unchecked financialization of financial capitalism itself. This excess led, for example, to growing uncertainty in price-setting—especially for sectors like energy. Cemil Şinasi Türün lays this out beautifully in his latest work. Türün draws attention to the symbolic divide between the "Stonecutters" (energy and mining companies) and the "Paper Pushers" (financial elites), and the tension and struggles between them. In the initial tripod of power—financial capital, energy companies, and military capital—the one in the middle collapsed, replaced by other capital groups like the pharmaceutical industry.

Another fracture appeared when some tech firms on the U.S. West Coast began to claim that the bloated bureaucracy created by financial globalization had become suffocating and inconsistent with globalization’s goals. Although the tech moguls saw this, they mostly remained timid. In this environment, Elon Musk—an Asperger’s-afflicted, hyperactive figure—became their trailblazer and spokesperson. He took the risk. After Trump won, a string of tech leaders—Bezos, Zuckerberg, and others who had previously mumbled their doubts—lined up like prayer beads in the White House and pledged allegiance.

Behind Trump’s electoral success were the energy companies and the tech firms that had grown frustrated with the slow, bureaucratic machinery of globalization. The military and financial oligarchy—whose last act of cunning was triggering the Russia-Ukraine war—lost. Trump loathed the Neocon bureaucracy and sought to purge it. But he and Musk had very different ideas of what that meant. Trump wanted to wipe out the old guard and install his own bureaucracy. For that pruning job, he enlisted Musk. And Musk delivered, laying off hundreds of thousands of people without hesitation, families and all.

But here's the twist: Musk’s anti-bureaucracy stance is far more radical and anarchic. He’s a techno-globalist. He pushes the bureaucracy-averse attitude seen in financial globalists to an extreme and fiercely opposes any form of bureaucratic intervention. What pushed him over the edge were the taxes levied on his own companies. That’s when all hell broke loose. A critical development. One to watch closely.