Pleasant Politics

Chapter 1: Personal Radicalization

Paige Holland-Thielen chooses a restaurant with a gluten-free menu, heads for a table in the garden, orders a sandwich. She recently moved here with her partner, to Rochester, Minnesota. Far away from California or Texas, far away from Elon Musk. The places where Musk's companies are located, says the woman with long, curly hair, are beautiful. But nothing would bring her back there.

Holland-Thielen has been through an odyssey. For four and a half years, the engineer worked in a leadership position at Musk's space company SpaceX, accompanying rocket launches and satellite flights. When she started in Austin, Texas, in 2018, Holland-Thielen says, SpaceX was "a dream job." "I've always loved space. Now I had the chance to really make something happen, to shoot real rockets into space."

At least since Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, humanity has known how close genius and madness can sometimes be. And listening to Holland-Thielen, it was similar with Musk as in the novel, in which the evil, murderous alter ego of Dr. Jekyll gradually breaks through.

Dr. Elon and Mr. Musk? "That Elon can be an asshole," Holland-Thielen says, she knew when she signed on with SpaceX. Only the extent and speed of his radicalization were unimaginable to her.

Holland-Thielen sips her water, then reports on Musk's escalation, at first slow, then progressing ever faster. There's this scene from the early 2020s, for example. Holland-Thielen was a team leader, responsible for the organizational process of rocket launches at SpaceX, when she learned through a colleague that Musk was currently on the way to a customer in a private jet with his - male - team leaders. "Everyone was there. Except me. Even though everything converged with me," Holland says. An oversight? That's when she first realized how Elon ticked, Holland-Thielen says. But when she told her manager about it, suggesting complaining directly to Musk about his sexism, he advised against it: That would lead directly to dismissal. He and the team, however, could not afford to lose Holland-Thielen at the moment.

Soon Holland-Thielen found out that it wasn't just happening to her. She and her colleagues had to put up with sexual harassment in the workplace several times. One higher-ranking employee, for example, once reacted to a graphic with a "sexual allusion to an erect penis," asking her, "How can we get it up, higher, highest?" Musk himself had spoken many times on X and in internal emails about his "wiener," his sausage - and wanted that to be understood as a joke in hindsight. That's also what it says in a letter to the board of directors and a lawsuit Holland-Thielen and other employees filed against Musk in 2022. Both are available to DER SPIEGEL. She and seven other SpaceX managers were fired as a result. Almost nothing is left of Musk's once-touted "No Asshole" and "Zero Tolerance" policy toward foul-mouthed, abusive bosses, the employees complain in the letter. SpaceX's "current systems" and "culture do not live up to the company's stated values." Musk, who considers the lawsuits unfounded, mocks people based on their gender, sexual orientation, age or religion. The billionaire treats and judges women according to their bra size, runs "his company in the dark Middle Ages" and offers "those who question the 'Animal House' environment that they can find another job if they don't like it."

All of this, the employees conclude, leaves only one conclusion: "SpaceX must quickly and expressly distance itself from Elon's personal brand."

In fact, SpaceX is farther from that than ever. As with Tesla, Musk has filled the company's supervisory bodies with friends and relatives, at least people loyal to him. No objection is to be expected. Musk, the largest shareholder himself, exercises three roles simultaneously: Chief Executive Officer, Chief Technical Officer, and Chairman of the Board.

Equipped with such omnipotence, Musk has shed any shyness about using his company as a means of coercion. SpaceX is indispensable not only for NASA. With Starlink, Musk also has enormous blackmail potential - against democrats as well as despots.

The company appears in almost every global crisis: Starlink is used by paramilitary forces in Sudan, to fight Houthi rebels in Yemen, or in a hospital in the Gaza Strip. When Russia invaded Ukraine two and a half years ago and destroyed communications infrastructure across the board, it was Musk who, in an allegedly generous act, quickly restored Internet access to Ukrainians: He had Starlink activated there and donated receiving antennas. And when Hurricane "Helene" recently hit the southern U.S. states, President Joe Biden had to call on Musk for help to provide 30 days of free Starlink use for the areas affected by the hurricane.

The more chaotic and insecure conditions become in the world, the better for Musk. From this perspective, too, Donald Trump would be a blessing for him. Global Internet traffic via his satellites has tripled in the past year alone. Starlink now has three million customers in 99 countries. More than six and a half billion dollars, analysts estimate, Musk is likely to turn over with them per year. 7,000 of his satellites circle the Earth today in low orbits, accounting for about 60 percent of all active spacecraft. One could say: Musk has long dominated space as well.

How far he goes with this arsenal was recently shown in Brazil. When a constitutional judge there dared to ban Musk's short message service X from the country because the platform was continuously spreading disinformation and thus endangering public order, Musk insulted and threatened the court and Brazil's president - and finally picked a bizarre fight over his Internet provider Starlink, which is essential for local farmers, for example, who often control their machines with the help of the service. In the end, Musk accepted the millions in fines to get X unlocked again. But that seems to have only reinforced him in his furor - as his enthusiasm for Brazil's former right-wing populist president Jair Bolsonaro shows.

For Holland-Thielen, her former boss is now a "dangerous person." She says she can't understand how people can still work in his companies and drive his cars. "I never want to give Elon another dollar or get one from him," she says. "I'm very, very shocked by what he's become."