On Monday, Sir Keir Starmer rightly defended robust debate but insisted it “must be grounded in facts, not lies”, in response to Elon Musk’s falsehoods about his role in dealing with child sexual exploitation. The prime minister has wisely not engaged Mr Musk directly, partly because the world’s richest man is a member of Donald Trump’s inner circle. Sir Keir recognises this epistemic crisis as a coordinated campaign to spread disinformation, sow division, and erode trust. As the philosopher Lee McIntyre aptly notes: “The truth isn’t dying – it’s being killed.”
The goal is clear: to create groups in society that unquestioningly accept an authoritarian leader’s word. In this way, opinions are no longer based on facts but rooted in identity. Disinformation becomes a potent political weapon, making voters believe falsehoods while distrusting – even hating – those who don’t. Mr Musk values the power to shape belief systems to enable pliable governance. Politicians who refuse to align with his agenda can be discarded, as he bets his followers will support whichever candidate he endorses. The Reform UK leader, Nigel Farage, has learned this the hard way, and the Tories’ Kemi Badenoch risks repeating the same error.
Mr Musk uses X much like Mr Trump once used Twitter – communicating with millions to influence media, lawmakers and political parties. This weekend, Musk fuelled a Trumpian media loop with disinformation about child sexual abuse and grooming gangs. The health secretary, Wes Streeting, summed up many people’s fatigue when asked about Mr Musk’s antics by replying: “Do I have to?” Mr Musk’s attention-seeking is as exhausting as it is reckless. Lacking any grasp of British law or the 2022 child abuse inquiry, he smeared both the current prime minister and his predecessor Gordon Brown. The latter was outraged enough to contact the BBC’s Today programme on Monday morning with evidence to contradict Mr Musk’s claims.
Sir Keir rightly condemned those, like Mr Musk, who amplify figures such as the convicted criminal and far-right agitator Tommy Robinson, prioritising self-interest over that of the victims or of the wider criminal justice system. His warning about threats to the Labour minister Jess Phillips recalls the toxic rhetoric that contributed to the murder of Jo Cox MP by an extremist during the 2016 Brexit referendum campaign – a grim reminder of the deadly cost of escalating hate. Good information isn’t enough to counter bad. Regulation is needed to curb harmful content, though the challenge will be to balance free expression and surveillance.
Mr Musk’s “success” owes less to his brilliance and more to a political and media landscape ripe for exploitation. Britain is not yet the US, where Trumpian poison has tainted the well, and it must not be allowed to go the same way. France’s president, Emmanuel Macron, wondered who could have foreseen that “the owner of one of the largest social networks in the world would support a new international reactionary movement and intervene directly in elections”. Mr Musk’s European interventions might be self-serving. In the US, he clearly aims to shape regulations in his favour, leaving rivals wary of his political power. His aim is to install far-right extremists loyal to plutocratic power, using attacks on liberal elites, feminists, migrants and Muslims as his rallying cry. The irony? By dismissing campaigns for equality as grievance politics, Mr Musk and his ilk are deploying the very tactics they deride.
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