-Analysis-
Monarchy is defined as the absolute rule of one person, who ascends the throne either by divine right or by election.
Ever since defeating the forces of Britain’s King George III and declaring independence in 1776, the United States has maintained a strong anti-monarchist tradition.
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Few adherents of monarchy remain today, yet President Donald Trump increasingly styles himself — both in form and substance — as a lone ruler. More modern dictator than old-fashioned king, he lashes out at all declared enemies in ways that can only be described as tyrannical.
Old and new monarchs alike tend to gather fawning courtiers, distribute privileges and cash to their favorites, and surround themselves with dynasties of family members.
It may seem hopelessly outdated in the 21st century, but in an era when many have turned away from the standard model of democratic constitutional government, no absurdity seems too far-fetched.
Trump’s standout courtier until recently was businessman Elon Musk, entrusted with special assignments. Musk featured prominently at campaign rallies, the inauguration festivities, and later took on an informal government role as head of DOGE, the Department of Government Efficiency, tasked with streamlining federal bureaucracy through aggressive rhetoric and borderline illegal measures.
Musk’s symbol became the chainsaw. But it now appears the blade has lost its sharpness.
The actual effects — and financial gains — of his purge efforts fell far short of his grand promises. Whether Musk voluntarily withdrew from the White House or was subjected to Trump’s legendary catchphrase from his reality-TV days — “You’re fired!” — remains unclear.
Either way, Musk has now announced plans to refocus on his businesses. Trump himself recently referred to Musk’s government work in the past tense.
This rupture was preceded by a series of loud public clashes between Musk and Cabinet colleagues, some of whom overturned his personnel decisions. Musk insulted Trump’s trade adviser Peter Navarro saying he was “dumber than a sack of bricks.”
Competing capitalisms
Washington observers had been predicting Musk’s exit as early as January. Three main reasons seem to explain the break.
First, the most personal: two narcissistic personalities, both endlessly hungry for praise and admiration, inevitably struggle to coexist. Trump likely resented Musk’s eccentric appearances, often sitting silently through them. At its core, it may simply be a case of jealousy — Musk was stealing Trump’s spotlight.
The second reason is less obvious. Trump and Musk share a disruptive political style, treating governance like a business venture, communicating through social media, and showing the same impulsiveness in decision-making. So why couldn’t they form a perfect team? Because their careers are mirror images built on shaky financial ground — volatile stock valuations that make their wealth almost illusory.
Yet the fall of Tesla’s stock price hurts Musk more directly than Trump’s dwindling approval ratings hurt him. Furthermore, Musk hails from the tech world, while Trump’s roots are in real estate — a deep cultural rift. As the dust settled on their first 100 days together, it was clear the duo no longer complemented each other.
Trump is an ethnonationalist
But the third and most important reason is that Trump and Musk ultimately represent two different capitalist factions. Though they share a blend of radical libertarianism and unrestrained authoritarianism, their foreign trade interests are at odds.
Trump is an ethnonationalist whose protectionist policies aim to reindustrialize America and re-empower the white working class — the ideological heart of the MAGA formula that romanticizes the past and confines the American Dream to native-born Americans. Though Trump is an often hypocritical blasphemer, he still enjoys the backing of the religious right. Musk, too, promotes a brand of white-supremacist Übermensch ideology — but he has no use for a nationally isolated America. Instead, he dreams of a world dominated by unchained fintech capital, free of borders or constraints.
The showdown between ethnonationalist and technoglobalist strategies was seen as inevitable by Harvard economist Dani Rodrik: “The economic nationalists want to return to a mythical past marked by American industrial glory, whereas the tech camp envisions an AI-administered utopian future. One is populist, the other elitist. One has faith in the wisdom and common sense of ordinary people, the other only in technology. One wants to stop immigration across the board, the other welcomes skilled newcomers. One is parochial, the other essentially globalist. One wants to break up Silicon Valley, the other to empower it. One believes in soaking the rich, and the other in spoon-feeding the rich.”
Yet the result is already clear: “The tragedy is that the less-educated working-class voters who flocked to Trump’s anti-elitist message will remain the losers. None of the contending wings of Trump’s coalition offers a compelling vision for them”
Chilling returns
Whether the looming global economic crisis might halt this march toward disaster is doubtful.
After all, in the Trump era, it’s less about the classic bread-and-butter issues and more about the white (and no longer exclusively male) majority’s fear of losing demographic and cultural dominance.
Trump’s voracious geo-economic hunger for territory and resources rankles those who had bet everything on technological hyper-globalization.
It’s chilling how eerily relevant analyses from the 1880s and 1920s now seem — those dealing with financial capital, imperialism, fascism, and even Carl Schmitt’s Nazi-era concept of a “Greater Area.”
Trump’s voracious geo-economic hunger for territory and resources particularly rankles those who had bet everything on technological hyper-globalization. The Silicon Valley elites who bowed dutifully at Trump’s inauguration backed the wrong horse. Trump is wrecking their business and making them poorer — and Musk couldn’t shield them. Now he must focus on his space projects, sell off Tesla, and try to keep his China business afloat. No surprise, then, that Trump’s tariff policy became the final straw.
And when two dogs fight over a bone, a third can run away with it. Vice President JD Vance, a cold and calculating political operator, is already poised to take over if Donald Trump becomes untenable in Congress — or simply loses interest. It’s the fear of every Caesar in history: regicide.
