Is Elon Musk Finally Getting Serious About Philanthropy? If So, Here’s What It Might Look Like
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NASA/Bill Ingalls, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
What happens when an obscure SEC filing reveals that the world’s richest person made a $5.7 billion mystery gift last year? You guessed it—rampant speculation ensues. Where might Elon’s billions end up, what vehicles is he using to move the money, and when, if ever, will actual nonprofits see any of it?
Musk’s latest move is a perfect representation of just how massive, unaccountable, and, well, strange the highest echelons of philanthropy have become as a result of obscene wealth accumulation at the top. In fact, it’s kind of sad that we’ve become so inured to this level of opacity around a gift of such monumental scale, coming from so prominent a public figure as Elon Musk. Divisive as he can be, Musk’s words and deeds carry weight. But with apex billionaire donors easily sidestepping flimsy transparency rules, we’re left with only a vague notion of what’s going on.
From the dates on the filing, we do know when Musk moved the money—late November, right around the time he trolled World Food Program Director David Beasley and feuded with the likes of Bernie Sanders over taxes. Around the same time, Musk delivered on a Twitter promise to sell 10% of his Tesla shares, which came out to about $16 billion in total. The $5.7 billion mystery gift obviously went toward defraying the tax bill on that.
What’s unclear is whether Musk parked it all in a donor-advised fund (or funds), transferred it to his Musk Foundation, or some combination of the two. No charities have come forward with any relevant gift announcements, and in case you’re wondering, WFP’s Beasley says that no big gift has been forthcoming.
If I had to guess, I’d say it’s all sitting in a DAF. Ever popular with the busy billionaire set, DAFs are tailor-made for quick tax savings and delayed gifting decisions. And besides, the Musk Foundation’s tax records show he’s already been throwing most of his foundation’s annual distribution toward a DAF at Fidelity to satisfy the legal requirement—another popular billionaire move.
As the great guessing game continues, we thought it’d be more interesting (and fun) to ponder a question we’ve asked of many of these emergent philanthropic hegemons: not just where their money is headed, but where it should be headed. Musk’s philanthropic activity to date has been uninspired and relatively scant, which, combined with all the online taunting, earned him the notable title of Worst Philanthropist of the Year in our 2021 IPPYs. But what if he actually got his act together? Now that he finally, maybe, seems poised to give at scale, what would “Elon Musk the good philanthropist” look like?
Of course, I don’t mean “good” in the sense of being a nice, boring sort of billionaire philanthropist (Boring Company pun unintended). Elon Musk is Elon Musk, and we have to take that into account. As we explored a year ago, when he first beat out Jeff Bezos on the wealth charts, Musk’s giving record also provides some idea of what he might support—but not much.
So without further ado, here are a few areas that we might reasonably expect—even hope—Musk will tackle with his giving.
Go green in a big way
We’ll start with an obvious one. There’s clear synergy with Tesla’s business model, and Musk has made some modest overtures toward environmental giving already. The main outside point of reference here is the $10 billion Bezos Earth Fund, through which the Amazon founder has embarked on a surprisingly progressive program of green mega-giving.
Seeing as Musk featured a picture of his rival’s suggestively shaped spacecraft as his Twitter photo for a while (it’s now back to his own rocket), he’s clearly attuned to how he measures up against Bezos. If the spirit of competition between the two moguls extended to the realm of high-dollar environmental philanthropy, we certainly wouldn’t complain.
Of course, it’s probably unrealistic to expect Musk’s green giving to contain an appreciable environmental justice angle, though here’s to hoping. A year ago, he announced a $100 million XPrize competition to source carbon removal solutions, which marked his first real foray into mega-philanthropy. With $5 billion-plus, Musk could ramp up that research-centric support on a truly massive scale. Alternatively, he could also take a policy-centric approach, backing organizations advocating for clean energy and infrastructure and taking on the fossil fuel industry. We can dream.
Fund applied (and basic) science research
Musk’s potential as a scientific research donor needn’t be limited to the environmental field. Given his reputation as a tech guy, it wouldn’t be too great a stretch to see him pour billions into scientific research, launching the next Simons or Kavli foundation. However, it is questionable how committed he would be to basic scientific research, untethered to any particular practical application.
In December 2020, Musk stoked controversy on Twitter by appearing to elevate “engineering” over “science.” He wrote, “Much of what people think of an [sic] science is actually engineering, eg no such thing as a ‘rocket scientist,’ only rocket engineers. Latter is who put humans on the moon.”
Still, the boundaries there are fuzzy. There are still plenty of directions he could take—in artificial intelligence, medicine, computing and more—that might be said to tick both boxes. If Musk does go with the basic research route, he’d be taking the long view. Corporations and philanthropy have been playing a larger role in science funding, relative to federal government support. And both are weighted toward applied, rather than basic, research. So there are lots of opportunities there for a private mega-funder.
Get into life extension
I’m torn on this one. One, because I’m as put off as any by the prospect of immortal billionaire overlords. And two, because Musk hasn’t actually been among the idea’s most enthusiastic techie proponents. He recently poked fun at Jeff Bezos for investing in an anti-aging startup. And yet, at a Vanity Fair event back in 2015, he pronounced, “I definitely don’t want to live forever. One hundred good [years], in total, is probably totally fine. Maybe a bit longer.”
Hard to say where he stands on the matter now, but life extension seems to be like catnip for mega-rich tech guys. And there is an argument for billionaire investment in life extension research, even if it’s driven by selfish reasons. While massive increases to lifespan (let alone immortality) remain very much the stuff of the sci-fi section, significant new investment in this area may very well lead to medical advancements that benefit the wider population. If that’s the case, what’s the cost of not pursuing a longer life?
Become a card-carrying effective altruist
That leads us to a giving philosophy that could inform Musk’s future philanthropy, if it isn’t doing so already. Effective altruism may have its detractors, but the numbers-focused approach to doing good seems to be irresistible to the tech bro set. And Musk and much of his fanbase fit that demographic.
We also just got some concrete indication that an effective altruist ethos may guide Musk’s giving. Apparently, Elon has brought on Igor Kurganov, “a professional poker-player-turned-philanthropist” with career winnings of over $18 million, as a point person for some of his grantmaking. In keeping with those solid bro credentials, Kurganov appears to embrace effective altruism with gusto. He co-founded Raising for Effective Giving, which recommends “cost-effective” charities, and has worked with the Centre for Effective Altruism in the past.
If Musk is moving in that direction, what might his effective altruism shape up into? It’s hard to say, but one good direction could be addressing the existential threats to life on Earth that he seems to believe merit aggressive expansion into space. Long-view funding to safeguard humanity against catastrophe—including future pandemics—would certainly be a worthwhile philanthropic endeavor for Musk, and not out of character with his overall philosophy.
Actually give to the World Food Program
OK, Musk probably won’t take Beasley up on that $6 billion donation. The general consensus has been that Musk’s trolling of the WFP director was just that—trolling—and I tend to agree.
Still, the idea that a random Twitter interaction could lead to some kind of billion-dollar mega-gift, or even just a conversation about one, was an illustration of just how unprecedented and weird the billionaire giving arena has become. Apex donors like MacKenzie Scott, Jeff Bezos and Jack Dorsey are making up the rules as they go, moving staggering sums out the door, philanthropy for which we lack any real norms, let alone transparency requirements.
It seems a foregone conclusion that Musk will join that group. The question is, can he conduct his giving in a way that serves the public interest—even if billionaire giving is inherently problematic from a democracy standpoint?
Whether or not any of the above can provide an answer, it’s fascinating to note the populist, even participatory, tendencies of Musk’s emergent philanthropic experiment. Musk may not be transparent, but through his use of social media, he’s been accessible and unguarded in a way that’s been historically rare among the wealthiest donors. The fact that these free-wheeling interactions may influence the movement of billions of dollars is at once exciting and also deeply unsettling.
