In a blistering and symbolic rebuke delivered from across the Pacific, former U.S. Vice President Kamala Harris issued a grave warning against Elon Musk, condemning his recent remarks about empathy as not only dangerous but reminiscent of the darkest periods in modern history. Speaking before an audience of 4,500 real estate professionals at the Australian Real Estate Conference (AREC) on the Gold Coast, Harris called out what she described as a cold-blooded worldview that devalues compassion and erodes the ethical fabric of Western civilization.
Though she never mentioned Musk by name, there was little doubt as to who her words were aimed at. Harris was referring to the now-infamous podcast appearance Elon Musk made in March, where he appeared on Joe Rogan’s show and dismissed empathy as “the fundamental weakness of Western civilization.” Musk, who currently serves as the head of the Trump administration’s Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), further explained that “they’re exploiting a bug in Western civilization, which is the empathy response.”
The language, couched in technological metaphors, implied that compassion is a systemic flaw—something to be corrected rather than celebrated.
Harris didn’t hold back in her response. “There was someone that is very popular these days, at least in the press, who suggested that it is a sign of the weakness of Western civilizations to have empathy,” she told the AREC audience. “Imagine. No, it’s a sign of strength to have some level of curiosity and concern and care about the wellbeing of others.”
The rebuke, delivered calmly but with unmistakable moral force, painted Musk as the emblem of a growing political and cultural trend that equates strength with cruelty and leadership with domination.
Her speech took a darker turn as she warned of ideological echoes from a past the world cannot afford to forget. “I do worry, frankly, about what’s happening right now in the world,” Harris said. “It’s important that we remember the 1930s. It’s important that we remember that history has taught us that isolation does not equal insulation.
It is important that we understand and remember history, which taught us the interdependence and interconnection between nations. History that has taught us the importance of relationships of trust, of the importance of friendships, integrity, honesty.”
The warning was layered and deliberate. It was not just about Musk’s rhetoric, but the larger political environment that allows such rhetoric to gain legitimacy. Musk’s role as the efficiency czar in Donald Trump’s administration has been marked by sweeping cuts to federal programs, a disdain for humanitarian policy, and increasing alignment with far-right ideologies.
Critics argue that his views reflect a tech-centric authoritarianism where efficiency is valued above ethics and success is measured in terms of control, not compassion.
Harris’s comments alluded to a particularly controversial moment from the night of Trump’s second inauguration. Musk, appearing at a government-backed event, was filmed making what appeared to be a “Roman salute”—a gesture widely associated with fascist symbolism.
That incident was followed by a disturbing series of posts on Musk’s social platform X (formerly Twitter), where he appeared to make puns and allusions to names of prominent Nazi figures. Though Musk dismissed the gestures and posts as jokes or misinterpretations, critics say they were part of a long pattern of flirtations with extremist ideas.
The ideological collision between Harris and Musk is not just a clash of personalities—it is a reflection of two competing visions for the future of American leadership. Harris, grounded in democratic ideals and liberal values, spoke at the conference about the power of ambition, resilience, and integrity.
She encouraged those in attendance to reject cynicism and to embrace leadership rooted in care. “I don’t hear no. I eat no for breakfast,” she said. “Don’t you listen. And this is again what I mean about applauding ambition.”
In stark contrast, Musk’s vision is one of stripped-down governance and brutal realism. His DOGE department has become notorious for mass layoffs, erasing protections for vulnerable communities, and encouraging a corporate-style government that prioritizes metrics over morality.
To Musk, empathy is not a cornerstone of civilization—it is an exploitable vulnerability.
What makes the exchange more than philosophical is its real-world consequences. Under Musk’s direction, DOGE has proposed controversial policies that strip funding from mental health programs, eliminate regulatory oversight on AI development, and reduce social safety nets under the guise of government efficiency.
Harris warned against precisely this kind of technocratic indifference. Speaking of innovation and artificial intelligence, she said, “It is important to celebrate innovation but, again this may be just the prosecutor in me, one must ask also: are there vulnerable people and are we doing what we can to ensure they’re safe?”
Her remarks reflect growing concerns within the Democratic Party and international diplomatic circles that Musk’s influence extends far beyond business and into the fundamental direction of American values. As foreign policy experts warn of democratic backsliding and domestic political divisions deepen, Harris’s invocation of the 1930s is not hyperbolic—it’s a historical alarm.
The 1930s were a time when democratic institutions were undermined by charismatic figures who replaced compassion with conquest and solidarity with scapegoating.
The stakes are further complicated by the global platform Musk wields. With companies like Tesla, SpaceX, and Neuralink, and his control of X, Musk commands immense cultural, economic, and digital power. His views are amplified in ways that traditional politicians can scarcely match.
The idea that such a person would publicly argue against empathy—an idea central to human coexistence—has sent ripples through civil society and international leadership circles alike.
Harris, whose public appearances are increasingly viewed as part of a long-term political recalibration following her narrow loss in the 2024 presidential race, appears ready to challenge Muskism directly. Her Gold Coast address wasn’t just a condemnation—it was a philosophical call to arms, reminding people across the globe that the choices made today about how to treat others will determine whether tomorrow’s world resembles the fragile peace of post-war progress or the chaos of a darker past.
In closing, she reaffirmed that leadership is not about how many people you can crush underfoot, but about how many lives you lift up. “This misplaced idea that the sign of the strength of a leader is who you beat down,” she said, “It’s wrong.”
The message was clear: a civilization that loses its empathy may gain power, but it forfeits its soul.
As AREC concludes and Harris returns to the United States, the reverberations of her words are only beginning to echo. Her confrontation with Musk’s worldview may mark the opening shot in a broader ideological battle for the moral compass of the 21st century.
Whether the public heeds her warning—or forgets the lessons of the 1930s—remains the question history will answer.