Raphaël Glucksmann stated this: “My enemy is Elon Musk.”
Let’s take Glucksmann seriously for a minute.
Let’s compare the two men's respective track records, since he’s the one initiating the debate.
On one side, we have Elon Musk. A man who, in twenty years, founded a space company that was said to be doomed to bankruptcy, but then landed rockets vertically, something entire nations considered impossible.
This man's innovations in electric vehicle manufacturing forced the entire global automotive industry to enter electric vehicle production.
This man gave internet to and connected regions no one wanted to wire, even the trenches of Ukraine, via his Starlink satellite system.
This man is building a curated AI, neural interfaces, and bought and cleaned up a world-wide social network to champion a certain idea of uncensored free speech for everyone, for free.
You can hate the man. You can’t deny his work.
On the other side, we have Gluckmann, a man who in twenty years, has written op-eds, edited magazines, championed causes, and made a career out of indignation. His material legacy, the tangible and lasting impact he's had on the world, could fit on a Post-it note.
His output consists of commentary on the output of others. And the best part is, he knows it. Because this is the same man who lucidly declared: "When I go to New York or Berlin, I feel more at home culturally than when I go to Picardy. And that's precisely the problem."
He was right. That was the problem. Except he didn't learn from it: he made a career out of it. He diagnosed the disconnect between the elites and the people, identified himself as a symptom, and then spent the next decade embodying exactly what he denounced. This is the man who chooses Elon Musk as his enemy. Not because he fights him—he doesn't have the means—but because declaring oneself the adversary of someone who does something is the last refuge of someone who does nothing.
We assume a stature we lack by pointing the finger at someone greater than ourselves. A builder doesn't waste time looking for enemies. He's too busy building.
To define oneself by hatred is to admit that one has no plan to offer in its place.
And it is THIS man, more at home in Brooklyn than in Amiens, who wants to preside over France.
SLIGHTLY ENHANCED TRANSLATION:
Raphaël Glucksmann stated this: “My enemy is Elon Musk.”
Let’s take Glucksmann seriously for a minute.
Let’s compare the two men's respective track records, since he’s the one initiating the debate.
On one side, we have Elon Musk. A man who, in twenty years, founded a space company that was said to be doomed to bankruptcy, but then landed rockets vertically, something entire nations considered impossible.
This man's innovations in electric vehicle manufacturing forced the entire global automotive industry to enter electric vehicle production.
This man gave internet to and connected regions no one wanted to wire, even the trenches of Ukraine, via his Starlink satellite system.
This man is building a curated AI, neural interfaces, and bought and cleaned up a world-wide social network to champion a certain idea of uncensored free speech for everyone, for free.
You can hate the man. You can’t deny his work.
On the other side, we have Gluckmann, a man who in twenty years, has written op-eds, edited magazines, championed causes, and made a career out of indignation. His material legacy, the tangible and lasting impact he's had on the world, could fit on a Post-it note.
His output consists of commentary on the output of others. And the best part is, he knows it. Because this is the same man who lucidly declared: "When I go to New York or Berlin, I feel more at home culturally than when I go to Picardy. And that's precisely the problem."
He was right. That was the problem. Except he didn't learn from it: he made a career out of it. He diagnosed the disconnect between the elites and the people, identified himself as a symptom, and then spent the next decade embodying exactly what he denounced. This is the man who chooses Elon Musk as his enemy. Not because he fights him—he doesn't have the means—but because declaring oneself the adversary of someone who does something is the last refuge of someone who does nothing.
We assume a stature we lack by pointing the finger at someone greater than ourselves. A builder doesn't waste time looking for enemies. He's too busy building.
To define oneself by hatred is to admit that one has no plan to offer in its place.
And it is THIS man, more at home in Brooklyn than in Amiens, who wants to preside over France.