Court or Cabinet? How Trump and Musk Mirrored a Monarch and his Favourite

Donald Trump and Elon Musk are perhaps the most consequential figures of our time. Given the recent ‘break up’ between the former head of the ‘Department of Government Efficiency’ and the President, it is worth looking back at this troubled relationship. As with any divorce, both parties are left wondering ‘what went wrong?’ and ‘how did I not see the signs?’. From the outside, anyone could see how the Trump/Musk partnership would end; that is, in tears.

Recent events have, however, been very unusual for a liberal democracy. Predictions are hard to come by, and policy is at the personal behest of Trump. In light of this, his professed affinity for monarchy should be taken a little more seriously. The President might be better described as a king. Trump the 45th and 47th bears resemblance to one of England’s most consequential Kings, namely James VI and I.

Aside from the shared ‘double title’, Trump operates not unlike this troubled monarch. James acquired the throne unexpectedly. Having ruled Scotland, he wanted his English kingdom to secure him a lasting name in Europe as Rex Pacificus, the King of Peace.

The President, when campaigning, positioned himself as somewhat of a ‘Trump Pacificus’ for Ukraine and Gaza. He claimed he would solve the Ukrainian conflict in just 24 hours, subsequently proposing to create peace in Palestine by turning Gaza into the ‘Riviera of the Middle East’. Like his royal counterpart’s ambitions, these plans have repeatedly failed to come to fruition. However, Trump made clear the image he wishes to cultivate: a peacemaker, no matter the cost to his country’s allies.

His actions reflect this somewhat, but the cost is America’s standing on the world stage. Donated planes from Qatar and a defeatist attitude in Ukraine suggest Trump would prefer a headline in his favour at the expense of the liberal international order America has so often championed. Even King James had more tact.

Like James, however, Trump’s words are mismatched with his actions. The President, in moves supposedly key to his peace-making, continues to bomb Yemen, support Israeli military advances, and previously threatened the sovereignty of Greenland. If Trump wanted a regal coat of arms, he might think of trying “peace through war” as his motto.

Aggressive actions abroad have left the President unpopular in Europe, not unlike old King James. He allowed his court favourite, the Duke of Buckingham, to ruin England’s ambitions on the continent through the Cadiz Expedition, an attempt to seize control of the Spanish port. This mismanaged military disaster squandered any potential in James’ peacemaker ambitions. The whole affair was chaos.

Enter Buckingham’s equal in Trump’s court: Mr Musk. Minister of meddling in the elections of allies, Musk has been clear in his advocacy of far-right political parties abroad, with the AfD in Germany being one of them. However, his recent departure from the administration and the farewell press conference saw little fanfare. The biggest headlines from the event came from speculation over Musk’s black eye, supposedly from his child, X. Buckingham, on the other hand, met his demise at the end of a blade. In comparison, Musk was lucky.

Looking back on his time in the administration, his unconventional presence shaped our early perceptions of the Trump White House. An unelected bureaucrat influencing decisions both domestically and abroad, Musk was, in essence, a court favourite. Close to power, unchecked in influence, and able to spend lavishly on personal interests. Buckingham held court parties; Musk brought a car show to the White House. They both turned places of governance into personal playgrounds.

Buckingham’s presence in court, not unlike Musk, caused outrage across the country. After James’ death, his son Charles faced widespread criticism over Buckingham’s inept actions. Trump, with a disapproval rating of 52% according to The New York Times, is attempting to rid himself of some controversy in saying goodbye to Musk. The billionaire ties that bind them, however, are still strong. When someone donates over $280 million to your campaign, you might owe them a favour or two, break up or not.

These aforementioned similarities may initially seem a little surface-level. However, if English history teaches us anything, it is that unchecked power and favouritism have seldom ended well for rulers. It is undoubtedly a good thing that the White House is seeing the back of Musk. If he does return, or even ‘come back and forth’ as Trump predicted, the degradation of liberal democracy will continue.

The last time unchecked power ran wild in England, it ended in civil war and execution. Let’s hope this American King doesn’t lead his country down a similar path.