The ethical dilemma troubling the art world now besets the automotive fraternity: does the behaviour of the creator reflect on the worth of the work?
A syndicate of French Tesla owners is suing Tesla because of the activities of the car company’s owner, Elon Musk.
It’s a strange continuum for the anarchic billionaire to find himself on ‒ the roll call of artists liable for cancellation. There’s Caravaggio, Renaissance chiaroscuro genius and murderer; Picasso, whose treatment of women would not likely pass the #MeToo test; Rolf Harris, the family entertainer whose paintings lost their allure after his conviction for sexual assault of teen girls.
Even an untutored beholder would have to concede both that a Caravaggio painting would be just as magnificent if he had been as benign as a spring lamb, and that – notwithstanding arguments about batteries and manufacture – a Tesla car remains innocent of carbon emissions, even if the company owner now seems a bit bored with net zero.
The French suit filed in June demands compensation for his bringing the cars into such disrepute they can no longer be reliably used or enjoyed. Dozens of Teslas have been vandalised by opponents of American President Donald Trump, for whom Musk was a campaigner and adviser. A dozen were torched at a Tesla dealership in France.
Fear of such reprisals has not noticeably abated since Musk fell out with Trump and called for his impeachment ‒ possibly because he apologised a few days later.
The French commercial court has been told Musk has made his marque into a symbol of right-wing extremism, dragging undeserving car owners and lessors into an ugly political morass.
This is not just because he served in the new climate change-sceptical White House, or because of his peculiar solo high-fives which disturbingly resemble Nazi salutes. The litigants also cite his public support for the Alternative for Germany party, which German security authorities have since declared an extremist right-wing entity requiring surveillance.
The litigants further complain that they invested in a clean, green brand, only to find that Mr Tesla himself was now rocking a very different set of values.
High-profile Tesla cancellers include singer Sheryl Crow, who said, “You are who you hang out with,” and actor Jason Bateman, who complained he felt he was flashing a Trump sticker.
Even Trump is considering selling his Tesla.
Musk’s shenanigans also appear to be a factor in plummeting Tesla sales in Europe, often in favour of – oh, the political ignominy – Chinese BYD EVs, which recently out-earned Tesla.
Coincidentally, France’s competition and consumer authority is threatening to fine Tesla for misleading advertising about the car’s self-drive capabilities, and irregularities in contracts.
Musk is hardly the only tycoon to have mortified customers and admirers. Sir James Dyson swerved from being a Brexit supporter to relocating his consumer electricals empire to Singapore. Billionaire Sir Jim Ratcliffe, as his Ineos petrochemicals business shrinks, is pulling back on goodwill incursions into sport. He’s now ghosted the All Blacks, cancelled the Ineos Britannia America’s Cup yachting challenge, and is alienating fans with cost-cutting at football’s holy of holies, Manchester United. Jeff Bezos is now a byword for vulgar grandiosity.
Yet Ineos vehicles and Amazon delivery vans remain unmolested and there are no mass bonfires of Dyson stick vacs.
Another multi-billionaire might start developing free stick-on kits that make Teslas look like harmless old Morris Minors. Not Musk. He’s just launched the first diner in his planned Tesla fast-food chain, complete with Tesla-shaped burger boxes and hats.
As he’s said, “If you’re not failing, you’re not innovating enough.”
The brand’s namesake, the late Serbian polymath Nikola Tesla, might fairly protest that his reputation has now been innovated enough.
