Trump and Musk's breakup reveals the truth of populist politics, writes Lewis Goodall

6 June 2025, 13:19

By Lewis Goodall

@lewis_goodall

It had long been speculated that the divorce between Donald Trump and Elon Musk —when it came—would be bloody.

But few predicted it would be quite so fast, so public, and so spectacular. Within hours, an alliance that once appeared unshakable collapsed in full view. Only days ago, they were in the Oval Office praising each other — Musk calling Trump enormously helpful, Trump doing the same in return. But last night, Musk accused Trump of appearing in Jeffrey Epstein’s files, and Trump responded by threatening to strip Musk of government and federal contracts. Musk, for his part, shot back with a camp retort: “Be my guest — you’ll lose access to the International Space Station.”

The commercial impact for Musk was brutal, with Tesla’s value down $150 billion overnight. Politically, the fall-out is just as dramatic. This was a powerful alliance — built on convenience and shared utility. Musk has claimed Trump would not have won the 2024 election without him. That’s probably an exaggeration, but it’s true that Musk’s financial contributions — he was by far the largest political donor in 2024 — and his control over the algorithm on X (formerly Twitter) were hugely beneficial to Trump. The MAGA right was able to dominate the conversation like never before, amplified and platformed every hour of the day. Even those who don’t share their politics were drawn into their orbit.

Their influence extended far beyond the US. In the UK, Musk’s interventions shaped the national conversation too — remember the period in which he accused our own Prime Minister of complicity in grooming gang cover-ups. It was a potent synthesis of Silicon Valley’s economic and technological power and the political energy of Trumpism. But now, it appears to have come to a shuddering halt.

Many things can be true at once. It was entertaining. It was dysfunctional — as the Trump circle always was. It was petty and childish. And yet entirely predictable. This is what happens when a political project is based not on ideas, but on personality. That’s the real problem. And yes, they may still reconcile — talks between the two are reportedly underway — but the rupture is still revealing.

It reflects something essential about Trump: he needs enemies. He thrives on conflict. And in this town, there was only ever going to be room for one of them. Trump has already vanquished most of his opponents — Democrats barely register as a threat, Republicans have surrendered, and cultural elites now largely keep their heads down. The contrast with his first term is striking. But in the end, the revolution eats its children — and Trump and Musk, two of the most powerful figures in recent American politics, were always destined to turn on each other.

There’s a smaller, though telling, echo of this dynamic in the UK. Overnight, Reform UK’s chairman Zia Yusuf unexpectedly resigned. Only days ago, he was defending the party on national radio, praising its message and its potential. A wealthy man, Yusuf had invested considerable time and personal resources into Reform, and was hailed by Nigel Farage as a future star of the party — someone who would professionalise it and possibly even stand as an MP. His role in the party’s victory in the Runcorn by-election was widely credited.

Now he’s gone. His resignation followed an apparent row with the party’s newest MP, Sarah Pochin, after she raised the issue of banning the burqa at Prime Minister’s Questions. Yusuf criticised her comments online, calling them “dumb”. Once again, a split played out in full public view.

The issues may be very different — in the US, the divide centres on Trump’s new spending bill and the national debt, which Musk opposes. Their interests were never really aligned. Musk is an old-school, libertarian-leaning Republican. Trump is a populist. Trump’s political genius was to merge those two instincts — but under the pressure of government, they begin to diverge.

And here’s the point: what links Trumpism and Reform isn’t policy. It’s personality. These are not traditional parties rooted in enduring ideas or collective vision. They are vehicles for individual ambition — Farage here, Trump in the US. When you build a movement around one man, everything else becomes disposable. That’s why Farage has fallen out with so many allies over the years. That’s why this sort of politics burns through people, through allies, through institutions.

These movements are brilliant at campaigning — at emoting, at performing, at saying what people want to hear. But governing? Governing is another matter. The glue that holds traditional parties together — shared beliefs, negotiated compromises — doesn’t apply. When your entire appeal is based on disruption, chaos follows. And when the unifying cry of “drain the swamp” fades, you’re often left with mutual loathing — and not much else.

Ultimately, Trump and Musk never really agreed on anything. Their alliance was born of timing, convenience, and short-term mutual gain. Musk wants immigration, Chinese imports, and lower deficits. Trump wants what benefits Trump. It was always going to end like this.

So what does this tell us about the future of populist politics? Maybe this: for all the noise, for all the hype, it may not last. In both the UK and the US, we’re still several years out from our next general elections. And if recent days have shown us anything, it’s that movements built on ego and grievance may struggle to survive the pressures of power — let alone exercise it.