The Day We Celebrated a Trillionaire

Apparently, we’re meant to be impressed. Elon Musk is on track to become a trillionaire.

A trillionaire.

Not a millionaire. Not a billionaire. A trillionaire.

A number so absurd that most of us can’t even comprehend it. And yet, every time the discussion comes up, someone inevitably jumps in with:

“He’s earned it.”

“He’s worked hard for it.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Communist.”

“Socialist.”

“Fascist.”

I’ve been called all three. Which is impressive, considering they are wildly different political ideologies. The truth is, I don’t know what label people want to give me. What I do know is this: Something feels fundamentally wrong when one person can accumulate a trillion dollars while millions of people cannot access basic necessities. I understand hard work. I grew up watching it. My parents weren’t born into wealth. Their first home was in Punchbowl, and when they moved in they sat on milk crates because they couldn’t afford furniture. And for those not familiar with Sydney geography, Punchbowl isn’t exactly Kirribilli. My parents worked for everything they had. Every opportunity my brother and I received came from sacrifice (mum didn’t go to get her hair done, or buy new clothes). Because we excelled in music, Mum and Dad found a way to pay for the best instruments and the best teachers. At one point, my violin teacher charged $245 an hour, with a minimum two-hour lesson. My mother didn’t even blink. Not because we were wealthy. Because she believed in investing in her children.

I attended an elite school on a 75% scholarship. That sounds glamorous until you realise Year 12 fees were almost $47,000 a year. Even with the scholarship, my family still had to find nearly $12,000. That wasn’t privilege falling from the sky. That was hard work.That was sacrifice. That was parents choosing their children’s future over their own comfort.

So no, I don’t hate wealth. I don’t resent success. I don’t think people should be punished for working hard. I don’t believe everyone should have exactly the same amount of money. But somewhere between “worked hard” and “worth a trillion dollars”, we’ve lost the plot. Because while we celebrate people becoming unimaginably wealthy, children are drinking unsafe water. People are dying because they can’t afford healthcare. Americans are going into medical debt because they needed an X-ray. Schools are teaching children from outdated resources because budgets don’t stretch far enough. Families are choosing between medication and groceries. Workers are being told that raising the minimum wage is “economically irresponsible” while politicians happily vote themselves another pay rise and collect salaries that exceed $300,000 a year.

Tell me again how there’s no money. Tell me again how we can’t afford it. Tell me again how the system is working exactly as intended. Actually, maybe that’s the problem. Maybe the system is working exactly as intended. And that’s what should terrify us. Because when billion-dollar corporations legally pay less tax than the average teacher, nurse, tradie, or small business owner, we’re told that’s just good business.

When multinational companies exploit loopholes, we’re told it’s legal. Maybe it is. But legality and morality have never been the same thing. History is full of things that were legal and completely wrong. The question isn’t whether people can become wealthy. The question is how wealthy is enough?

At what point does society stop applauding accumulation and start asking what our obligations are to one another? Because I can’t imagine having a trillion dollars and sleeping soundly while children go hungry. I can’t imagine looking at homelessness, failing healthcare systems, overcrowded schools, disability services stretched beyond capacity, and thinking:

“You know what I need?

A little bit more.”

Perhaps that’s my problem. I still believe in humanity. I still believe we have responsibilities to one another. I still believe the measure of a society isn’t how many billionaires it produces, but how it treats the people at the bottom. The elderly woman choosing between heating and food. The single mother skipping meals so her children can eat. The disabled child waiting years for support. The family drowning in medical bills. The teacher buying classroom supplies with their own money. The neighbour doing it tough. I don’t know what political label that makes me.

Communist?

Socialist?

Fascist?

None of those seem quite right. What I am is someone who believes that wealth should come with responsibility. That success should come with generosity. That humanity should come before profit. And that if becoming a trillionaire while others suffer is considered a success story, then perhaps we’ve forgotten what success is supposed to mean. Maybe the question isn’t why anyone would object to a trillionaire. Maybe the question is why so many people defend it. Because when history looks back on us, I don’t think it will ask how many billionaires we created.

I think it will ask why, in the richest period humanity has ever known, we still allowed so many people to be left behind.