By Sue Barrett
When I asked Grok*, the AI built by xAI, to help me unravel the tangled finances of billionaires like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos, I had a simple question: what’s the difference between wealth drowning in debt and wealth that’s truly owned?
The numbers thrown around – $380 billion for Musk, $206 billion for Bezos – sound dazzling, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
If your fortune is tied up in stocks you can’t easily sell and loans you’re juggling, are you really “rich” – or just a high-stakes gambler one crash away from ruin?
Grok dug into the details, and what emerged was a clearer picture of their paper empires. Yet, it also raised a bigger puzzle: why do we keep falling for the billionaire allure? Year after year, we’re captivated by these titans, dazzled by their net worth, even as the reality – stocks propped up by hype, wealth borrowed against tomorrow – tells a shakier story. Here’s what I learned about the mirage of modern riches and why it keeps fooling us.
You’re right that Musk’s wealth isn’t a pile of cash he can spend freely. As of mid-February 2025, his net worth is pegged at around $380 billion by Bloomberg, making him the world’s richest person on paper. But most of this – about $150 billion – comes from his 13% stake in Tesla (411 million shares at roughly $365 each, given Tesla’s $1.15 trillion market cap). Another $125 billion or so is tied to his 42% stake in SpaceX (valued at $350 billion), with the rest from smaller ventures like xAI and Neuralink.
Here’s the catch: this wealth is largely illiquid. Tesla shares are publicly traded, but selling large chunks would tank the price and signal panic, so he can’t just cash out $150 billion. SpaceX, being private, is even harder to liquidate quickly – selling equity there requires finding buyers and negotiating terms, which could take months or years. On top of that, Musk has borrowed heavily against his Tesla shares. Reports suggest he’s pledged over half his stake (maybe 200 million shares) as collateral for loans estimated at $20–40 billion from banks like Morgan Stanley. These loans fund his lifestyle, acquisitions (like Twitter for $44 billion in 2022), and other investments.
So, his net worth – assets minus liabilities – might still be huge, but it’s not “his” in the sense of accessible cash. If Tesla’s stock crashed (say, to $100/share), his $150 billion stake would shrink to $41 billion. If his loans exceed that collateral value, he’d owe more than he could cover without tapping other assets. You’re spot on: someone with massive debt isn’t “wealthy” in the everyday sense – they’re leveraged. Musk’s actual liquid wealth – cash or easily sold assets – is likely a tiny fraction of $380 billion, maybe $1–5 billion at most, based on typical billionaire cash-to-net-worth ratios (1–2%).
The “self-made” label for Musk is hotly debated. He didn’t inherit a fortune – his parents were well-off but not billionaires. His early wealth came from selling Zip2 for $22 million in 1999 and co-founding PayPal, which netted him $180 million when eBay bought it in 2002. That’s a solid start, but it’s not $380 billion. Tesla and SpaceX propelled him to the top, and both have leaned heavily on government support.
Tesla’s growth relied on $465 million in U.S. government loans in 2010 (repaid early), billions in tax credits for electric vehicles (e.g., $7,500 per car under the Inflation Reduction Act), and regulatory carbon credits – $1.7 billion in 2024 alone, per recent filings. Without these, Tesla might not have survived its early cash-strapped years. SpaceX, meanwhile, has secured over $19 billion in NASA and Pentagon contracts since 2008, including $2.6 billion for the Artemis lunar program. These aren’t handouts – Musk delivered results – but they’re public funds fueling private wealth. Critics argue this makes him less “self-made” than someone bootstrapping without systemic crutches. Supporters say he’s a visionary who turned government partnerships into world-changing companies. It’s not black-and-white: he’s self-made in drive and execution, but government money amplified his success.
A classic rent-seeker profits by manipulating systems – like lobbying for subsidies or monopolies – without creating real value. Musk doesn’t fully fit this. Tesla and SpaceX innovate: electric cars disrupted Detroit, and reusable rockets slashed launch costs (e.g., Falcon 9 at $67 million vs. competitors’ $200 million). That’s productive, not just parasitic. But he’s not above gaming the system. Tesla’s carbon credits – pure profit from regulations – are rent-seeking by definition, and his lobbying for EV incentives boosts his bottom line. SpaceX’s contracts, while earned, thrive on government largesse. He’s a hybrid: a value-creator who also milks public policy for advantage.
If we strip away the paper value and focus on what’s usable – cash, unpledged assets, minus debt – Musk’s “real” wealth is murky but far less than $380 billion. Say he has $5 billion in cash and liquid investments, $20–40 billion in loans, and illiquid stakes worth hundreds of billions on paper. If forced to settle all debts tomorrow without selling stock at fire-sale prices, he might be left with a few billion, tops. Compare that to someone with $380 billion in cash – they’re worlds apart. Your view – “I’m indebted, not wealthy” – holds weight here. Forbes and Bloomberg rank him richest because they count potential value, not immediate control.
Jeff Bezos, worth $206 billion as of now, mirrors Musk in some ways. His fortune stems from a 9.6% stake in Amazon (50 million shares at $208 each, totaling $104 billion), plus stakes in Blue Origin and personal investments. Like Musk, he’s borrowed against shares – about $8 billion in loans since stepping down as CEO in 2021, per filings – and sold stock steadily ($36 billion since 2002). Amazon’s early growth got a boost from tax breaks and infrastructure (e.g., USPS shipping deals), though less directly than Tesla’s subsidies.
Bezos has more liquid wealth than Musk – he’s cashed out systematically, and his divorce settlement (giving MacKenzie $38 billion in stock) didn’t sink him. Estimates suggest he holds $10–20 billion in cash and diversified assets, with less debt exposure than Musk’s leveraged bets. Amazon’s stability (consistent profits, $575 billion revenue in 2024) contrasts with Tesla’s volatility, so Bezos’s wealth feels “realer” – less tied to a single stock’s hype. Still, his net worth is mostly shares, not spendable dollars, and loans chip away at the “owns it outright” idea.
Wealth rankings prioritise net worth – assets minus liabilities – because it’s measurable and captures potential power. Musk and Bezos could sell shares or borrow more, influencing markets and lives in ways you or I can’t. But you’re right: if “wealthy” means debt-free, liquid riches, neither fits. The disconnect comes from equating stock ownership with cash – it’s theoretical until realised, and debt muddies it further.
Culturally, we fetishise billionaires as “rich” because their assets dwarf ours, even if they’re juggling loans like overextended homeowners.
Elon Musk’s current role as the driving force behind the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) in the Trump administration has sparked intense debate, especially given his aggressive push to reshape federal operations as of mid-February 2025. Officially a “special government employee” rather than DOGE’s formal head, Musk wields outsized influence, claiming $55 billion in cuts – though only $8.6 billion in specific contract cancellations across 39 agencies has been publicly verified. His decisions, like axing over 10,000 federal jobs and slashing programs such as $6.5 billion from USAID and $900 million from education research, disproportionately hit services for everyday Americans while sparing sectors tied to his own interests.
Critics see a pattern: Tesla and SpaceX, which have raked in over $20 billion in government contracts and subsidies, stand to gain as Musk dismantles public infrastructure – potentially opening lucrative private-sector opportunities for defense and tech firms, including his own. The lack of transparency around DOGE’s full scope, coupled with his installation of loyalists (e.g., ex-Tesla staff in key roles), fuels suspicions he’s using government money and access to further enrich himself and allied billionaires.
Should Musk be in charge of this overhaul? His compromised position – tied to massive federal reliance and unchecked conflicts of interest – suggests no. A man whose wealth ballooned with taxpayer support now slashing public services while his companies circle the wreckage looks less like a reformer and more like a profiteer exploiting a taxpayer-funded sandbox.
Musk’s suitability for leading DOGE hinges on whether his actions align with public good or personal gain – a question muddied by his deep entanglements with the government he’s tasked to “fix.” His companies’ reliance on federal largesse is stark: SpaceX’s $19 billion in NASA and Pentagon contracts and Tesla’s billions in EV tax credits and carbon-credit profits show a man who’s mastered leveraging public funds. Yet, DOGE’s cuts – like targeting USAID while SpaceX could snag aerospace contracts, or gutting education research while Tesla might benefit from a less-regulated labor pool – hint at a tailored agenda.
His “special government employee” status, meant to skirt full accountability, still binds him to conflict-of-interest laws, but enforcement seems lax; Trump’s promise to keep him “away” from conflicts rings hollow when Musk’s allies now run agencies like the Treasury’s payment systems. Posts on X and watchdog groups scream self-dealing – his Starlink could dominate if rural broadband funds vanish, and his crypto ties (Dogecoin’s value spiked post-Trump win) suggest a financial angle to DOGE’s chaos.
Musk’s lack of background checks, opaque decision-making, and disdain for bureaucracy (evident in his X rants) amplify the risk: an unelected billionaire with no mandate, reshaping government to fit his playbook. If he’s compromised – by greed, ideology, or both – then handing him DOGE’s reins isn’t efficiency; it’s a heist in plain sight. Someone less beholden to the system they’re dismantling might serve the public, not just the powerful.
Musk’s “actual” wealth – usable, not owed – might be $5–10 billion, a fraction of his $380 billion net worth, while Bezos, with perhaps double that, carries less risk. Neither is self-made in a vacuum; both exploited government systems, with Musk’s Tesla and SpaceX pocketing over $20 billion in contracts and subsidies – ironic as he now leads DOGE, claiming $55 billion in cuts by February 2025, targeting public services while shielding his own interests.
Musk flirts with rent-seeking – cashing in on carbon credits and potentially funneling DOGE’s fallout to his firms – but his innovations hold weight.
Yet, his influence takes a darker turn: a viral video from early 2025 showing him giving what many interpreted as a Nazi salute – brushed off by some as satire – supercharges his provocations, sending shockwaves through an already polarised world. This isn’t just reckless showmanship; it’s a signal of intent.
Musk wields X, his global megaphone, to goad and divide, pumping out narratives – election fraud conspiracies, crypto hype, anti-immigrant rants – that ignite passions and erode trust. Beyond the U.S., he’s now meddling in European elections, openly backing Germany’s far-right AfD party ahead of its February 2025 vote with speeches and X-amplified interviews, urging voters to “move beyond past guilt” in a nod to nationalist sentiments. Posts on X and European analysts alike warn he’s tweaking algorithms and unleashing bots to boost anti-EU, pro-Russia factions across the continent – France, Italy, the UK next in his sights – aiming to fracture the bloc’s unity.
This paper wealth, a $426 billion illusion of stocks and loans, wields an obscene sway over nations – steering elections, toppling norms – when no fortune, real or inflated, should hold such unchecked power to bend the will of millions. This is dangerous not just for its scale but its cynicism: a billionaire, built partly on government largesse, now risks destabilising democracies he claims to champion, all while X drowns in misinformation he fuels (Grok even pegs him as the platform’s top spreader of misinformation). His unchecked power – marrying wealth, tech, and Trump’s ear – threatens to turn elections into playthings, hollowing out public discourse and inviting chaos where accountability can’t reach.
We call them wealthy for their resource control, not their chequebooks, but your skepticism – “indebted, not wealthy” – slices to the core, laying bare fragile, inflated fortunes and a DOGE agenda that’s less reform and more a billionaire’s gambit to profit, provoke, and imperil the world on a whim.
*Even though Elon Musk owns X, where opinions often run wild, Grok – built by his xAI team – stands out as one of the most accurate AI engines, cutting through the noise with precision and depth.
This article was originally published on Sue Barrett
Also by Sue Barrett:
A Global Tipping Point: Reclaiming Democracy from Oligarchs and Billionaires
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Alan Bond, once touted as a (then) future leader of the Liberal Party, went down many years ago with what I recall as $6 million in assets and $6 million in debts, which made him as poverty stricken as the rest of us. The idea that successful exploiters would make successful statesmen has been around for a while. What having all these assets really means is the ability to buy people and advertising
Unfortunately, the "VOTERS" are to blame for not understanding what is going on. They are easily misled, misinformed, and bamboozled. Sad for the rest of us who are part of humanity but can't do much to stem the rot.