I don't know how many people realize that if Elon Musk pulls off what he's building, it will be the biggest social reset in human history. To understand why, you need to understand a concept almost nobody really gets: rent. Yesterday I was talking about it with someone. I told them something simple: the moment a rent sets in, whatever kind it is, it gets paid for. Not necessarily in dollars. It gets paid for in stagnation. So what is a rent? A rent is income that doesn't come from the value you create, but from the position you hold. You don't win because you're better. You win because nobody is allowed to come and beat you. The mechanism is almost always the same. A company succeeds. Then, instead of continuing to innovate, it goes for regulatory capture: licenses, standards, quotas, approvals, lobbying. It turns its lead into a wall. And behind that wall, new entrants can't get in. But they're the ones who innovate. They're the ones who drive prices down, raise quality, create new wealth. When you block them, nothing dramatic happens. Nothing happens at all. Prices stop falling. Quality stalls. The pie stops growing. And when the pie stops growing, the only way to get richer is to take someone else's slice. This is the point almost nobody sees: what people blame on "capitalism" (frozen inequality, a broken social ladder, the feeling that the game is rigged from the start) are the effects of that stagnation. The symptoms of rent. Not of capitalism. Capitalism is competition. Rent is its negation. Now, Elon Musk. He said that by 2036, money won't matter anymore. Most people read it as science fiction. I read it as an implicit critique of our entire monetary system. His reasoning: AI and robots will produce more than we can possibly consume. So prices will collapse. Deflation, not inflation. And this is where it gets interesting. For decades, the role of central banks has been to stabilize prices. In practice: to stop them from falling. Yet in an economy that innovates, the natural direction of prices is down. Look at what a computer cost thirty years ago. Preventing prices from falling was the worst thing we could have done. Because it created an entire generation of rentiers. People who got rich not by creating something, but by owning something at the right time. An apartment. A plot of land. An asset shielded from falling prices by money printing and by rules that choke supply. In a world not captured by the state, house prices would be extremely low. And who would stay rich? The people who keep creating value. The ones whose wealth comes from the valuation of their company, because their company keeps innovating. Wealth you have to re-earn every single year. That's where Elon's line really makes sense. In a world of deflationary abundance, human life would look like a video game. Or a game of chess. If you're good and you start at the bottom, you can rise very, very fast. In a few years. If you're bad and you inherit the inertia of a position you don't know how to maintain, against people who keep innovating, you fall very, very fast too. No more rent. No more entitlement. Just your ability to create value, put back on the line every day. It would be the greatest equalizer in human history. Not equality of outcomes imposed from above. Equality of the playing field, imposed by abundance. I think Elon Musk is reinventing the rules of capitalism. Or rather, bringing them back to their original form: the Austrian school. Real capitalism. Value creation as the only legitimate source of wealth. And at the end of the road, something neither rent nor redistribution has ever achieved: the end of poverty on a global scale.

Il existe une espèce fascinante dans l'écosystème français : le streamer blanc de gauche. Son habitat naturel, c'est une chaise gaming à 600 balles, un micro Shure, une lumière RGB violette et un loyer payé par 12 000 subs Twitch. Son cri de ralliement : « Moins de fachos, plus d'humanistes ». Il serait incapable de définir l'un ou l'autre, mais il sait très bien de quel côté tombent les likes. Son logiciel tourne sur trois processus. Le premier, c'est le confort. Il gagne très bien sa vie à crier « GG » devant Elden Ring, n'a jamais embauché personne, et vit le capitalisme de plateforme comme une oppression qu'il subit avec beaucoup de courage, entre deux placements de produit pour une boisson énergisante. Le deuxième, c'est l'écosystème. Il y a les festivals subventionnés, les partenariats avec les collectivités, les invitations sur le service public et les cachets d'associations financées par vos impôts. Le système a fait de « faire barrage » une ligne de revenu. Il répète « extrême droite » comme un sort de protection, sans trop savoir ce que ça recouvre, mais il a compris l'essentiel : dans le camp du Bien, on ne perd jamais un contrat. Lui appelle ça des convictions. Un comptable appellerait ça une stratégie de diversification des revenus. Le troisième, ce sont les fréquentations. Il s'entoure de gens bien plus malins que lui, qui ont parfaitement compris son utilité : une caution morale pas chère qui retweete sans lire. Il croit être un allié. Eux voient un paillasson avec un setup RGB. Mention spéciale à leur réaction quand l'un des leurs commence à penser par lui-même : « On a perdu @Sardoche, il a vrillé complet. » Non, Sardoche n'a pas vrillé. Il a simplement 50 points de QI de plus que la moyenne de la bande, ce qui lui permet de connecter des choses qu'eux n'arrivent même pas à formuler. Quand on pense en slogans, voir quelqu'un penser tout court ressemble forcément à une crise de folie. Le plus beau, c'est qu'il est sincère. Il n'a pas choisi le camp du Bien, il est né dedans, comme on naît avec un abonnement Netflix payé par les parents. Et le jour où son audience de 15 ans de moyenne d'âge aura grandi et payé ses premiers impôts et son premier loyer parisien, il ne comprendra pas pourquoi le chat est devenu silencieux.