In the global theater of economics, one narrative repeats with stubborn frequency: that of the elite who, in their insatiable quest to accumulate more capital and power, end up undermining the very foundations of their own empire. This isn't just a matter of ethics or social justice; it's a principle of pure economic logic and systemic stability. The unchecked greed that seeks to concentrate wealth by draining it from the middle classes is not only an act of inequity but an act of self-sabotage.

The premise is simple: no company, however visionary, can flourish in a desert. Its survival and growth depend on a healthy consumer base with purchasing power and the ability to spend. When the obsession with cost-cutting, tax avoidance, or wage suppression is taken to the extreme, it creates a deadly paradox: it weakens the very crowd that is expected to buy the products and services that generate the profits.
A Case Study: Elon Musk and the Consumer Dilemma

Let's put this principle into a modern context with a tangible example: the empire of Elon Musk, specifically Tesla and Starlink.

1. The Tesla Customer: Who Buys a Premium Electric Car?

Tesla's vehicles, despite their long-term mission of accessibility, remain, for the most part, luxury or high-end products. Their natural customer is not the person struggling to make ends meet, but the upper-middle and upper class: well-paid professionals, small and medium-sized business owners, technologists, and investors. These are individuals whose purchasing power relies on a robust economy and a healthy flow of capital within the middle strata of society.

Now, imagine a scenario where corporate and economic policies—whether through wage suppression, mass outsourcing of jobs, or the erosion of small businesses—achieve their short-term goal: concentrating even greater wealth in the hands of a few. As a side effect, the middle class shrinks. Savings evaporate, debt accumulates, and discretionary spending plummets.

The question becomes inevitable: who will buy the next Tesla Model Y or the futuristic Cybertruck? If the consumer base that aspires to these products is financially wounded, sales stagnate. Orders are canceled. Factories, built with enormous investment, operate below capacity. Undermining the very people who can afford your products isn't a strategy; it's shooting yourself in the foot.

2. Starlink: Connectivity That Relies on a Connected Economy

The same reasoning applies to Starlink. Its satellite internet service, while vital for rural areas, has a monthly cost and an initial equipment outlay that places it out of reach for households in financial difficulty. Its subscribers are, again, rural businesses, remote workers with good salaries, expatriate communities, and technology enthusiasts. All of them are links in an economic chain that depends on consumption and services.

If the prosperity of these classes is compromised, Starlink becomes a dispensable luxury. People will seek cheaper alternatives or simply cut that expense. The vision of a global connectivity network crashes against the wall of an impoverished local economic reality.
The Historical Lesson: The Walls of Prosperity are Fragile

Economic history is full of examples where extreme wealth concentration precedes crisis. The Great Depression of 1929 wasn't just due to a stock market crash, but to deep-seated inequality that left the real economy—the one of consumers—without the strength to sustain growth.

The "Robber Barons" of the Gilded Age, as Mark Twain called them, amassed legendary fortunes, but they did so in an environment of brutal social tensions and instability that ultimately threatened the entire system. A castle cannot stand if the foundation it's built on is crumbling.
Conclusion: Self-Destruction by Design

Greed that ignores the economic ecosystem is short-sighted. To believe that value can be extracted indefinitely without replenishing it or caring for the health of the market is like cutting down a tree by its roots to sell the wood, while expecting it to keep bearing fruit.

Visionary entrepreneurs like Musk build technological marvels that, in theory, could benefit humanity. But if the model that supports them contributes—directly or indirectly—to eroding society's ability to pay for those marvels, the project is doomed. The self-destruction doesn't come from an external competitor or an obsolete technology, but from an internal miscalculation: the failure to understand that prosperity, to be sustainable, must be shared to some extent.

In the end, the greatest risk for the powerful is not government regulation or social protest, but their own predatory logic. In their attempt to hoard the entire pie, they may end up destroying the oven it's baked in.