An Open Letter to Elon Musk

Dear Elon:

I’ve admired you for a long time—not just for your mind, but for your boldness. You’ve made the impossible possible. You’ve dreamed bigger than anyone else, and for a while, you reminded the world that humanity could still reach for the stars.

But something’s shifted.

You were once the guy who wanted to save the world. Now, you’re a man with the world’s blood on his hands—and people are starting to notice. Right now, there’s chaos and distraction. But that fog will lift. And when it does, the truth about the levers you’ve pulled—quietly, selfishly—will come to light:

• There’s food rotting in warehouses that could have fed millions of children.
• Global hunger has already cause deaths
• There’s border tech and system shutdowns you’ve influenced that will eventually be tied to real suffering—and even death.

And the irony? You didn’t need to do this. You had the power. The brilliance. The admiration. You didn’t need to play the villain. But somewhere along the way, you got caught up. And I get it. You came from pain. You were overlooked. Bullied. Then suddenly, you’re holding the keys to Earth and Mars—and the world finally sees you.

That kind of power is seductive. But it’s also corrosive.

Here’s the truth no one in your inner circle seems to be saying out loud:

If you don’t correct course now, your future holds only a diminished Tesla, and a hollowed-out SpaceX—companies rotting from the inside, abandoned by even your wealthiest and most loyal supporters.

Why?

Because even the elite don’t want to be tied to blood-stained innovation.

Elon, you’re on the verge of becoming a cautionary tale—not because your tech failed--but because your soul did.

But there’s still time.

Time to reroute.

Time to acknowledge the damage.

Time to say: “Look, I get it. I’m ready to rebuild.”

Or even better:

“I lost sight. I lost balance. I want to do better—publicly, transparently, and powerfully.”

Then, follow through. But for real. 

• Reopen the departments or rehire the people you gutted — at your own expense.

• Feed those people who are hungry. 

• Hire the brightest minds and rebuild a true infrastructure for the most vulnerable—and give them the opportunity to own a Tesla tiny home. 
  

• Create new “economic revival zones” in the communities left behind

• Turn all your tech toward healing—not control. 

That’s redemption. That’s a legacy.

You’ve already changed the world once.

But, can you do it again? This time with clean hands, and clear intentions?

You could still be the hero.

Or become a villain.

Either way, the world will remember you.

The question is: Which side of history do you want to be on?

Sincerely,

Jon

Editor's Note:  What do you think—can legacy be saved? Drop your thoughts in the comments. And if you believe in innovation with integrity, share this post.