Hundreds protest Musk at Libertyville Tesla dealership: ‘What Elon has done to the brand is just make it feel dirty'
Hundreds of anti-Elon Musk and Donald Trump protesters gathered along Milwaukee Avenue in Libertyville Saturday, criticizing the new administration and the outsized influence the world's richest man has had on the federal government and joining a wave of similar protests across the country.
Musk is seemingly the functional leader of the newly created Department of Government Efficiency and has become a focal point of criticism as DOGE cuts federal staff and contracts.
'Elon Musk paid to own Donald Trump, who promised to bring down prices on day one, and now people are paying even more,' said Lauren Beth Gash, chair of the Lake County Democratic Party, who was helping run the protest.
During Saturday's protest, a small group of conservative counter-protesters were stationed just a dozen yards away, and the two groups traded barbs and insults. The word 'traitor' was thrown back and forth.
In the background of the politically charged confrontation was the Libertyville Tesla dealership.
Tesla dealerships have been the site of anti-Musk protests across the country in recent weeks, and while at the Lake County protest organizers said their criticisms were not directed towards the electric vehicle manufacturer, the dealerships provide an obvious and convenient gathering point to criticize the billionaire, who leads the company and is its single largest individual shareholder.
Caught in the crossfire
The brand's connection to Musk has grown increasingly 'problematic,' according to Jacqueline Babb, senior lecturer of integrated marketing communications at Northwestern University, as well as a lesson in the importance of distancing a product from an individual.
Babb is a Tesla owner herself, and considers it a 'phenomenal' product.
'But I do have concerns about the type of message that I send by driving it,' she said. 'As consumers, we surround ourselves with consumer brands, and they tell a story of who we are and how we're seen in the world. Your car does tell a story about who you are.'
When brands 'become synonymous with a person,' like with Tesla, Babb said, it 'becomes less about the product' and 'more about this person.' In this case, a 'potentially polarizing' one.
Babb was reminded of the case of Lance Armstrong and the nonprofit Livestrong Foundation. The renowned cyclist saw his public persona destroyed by a doping scandal, and the nonprofit was a casualty of the fallout.
'They ultimately had a reputation crisis on their hands because of their founder,' she said.
While it isn't yet clear if criticisms of Musk will translate to significant drops in Tesla sales in 2025, for some Illinois car owners at least Tesla's public association with Musk has become too much.
That includes Highland Park resident Theresa Niland, a former Tesla owner who even served two years as a board member of the Tesla Owners Club of Chicago.
Niland first heard about Musk and Tesla in 2012 when she saw a Tesla Model S. It was 'beautiful,' she said, calling it her 'dream car.' She admired Musk's work at the time as well, Niland said, and would finally buy a used Tesla in 2020.
She loved getting away from gas and oil and Tesla's advanced technological features, many of which she still can't find in any other car. Still, in December, Niland sold it for two primary reasons.
'There was nothing wrong with it when I sold it, but I lost confidence in Tesla,' she said, recounting her issues trying to get it serviced. 'It was almost as though Elon no longer cared about the car company … he was on to something different.'
She had also begun to experience some of the public backlash to Musk's growing public presence.
'When I was out to dinner, someone had written in the ice a slur across the back window,' Niland said. 'I was yelled at as I was driving. You just feel like a pariah. You also feel like, 'What am I saying when I drive this car?''
While Niland said she doesn't judge others for the cars they drive, 'It just felt so different getting into that car and driving it than it did when I first bought it.'
It was a shift in sentiment she felt in subtle ways from other Tesla owners during her time on the owners' board, Niland said. Meetups saw less attendees, and board members left quietly. People 'just were no longer interested in identifying as a Tesla owner.'
One person she had convinced to buy a Tesla later reached out saying they could not buy the car after statements made by Musk. Another Tesla owner confided in her that they just wanted to sell it.
Niland said she considers herself relatively moderate with her politics, but the car's negative connotations became too much for her. While she'll express her views to friends and online, she wasn't the type to put up signs or march, she said.
'What Elon has done to the brand is just make it feel dirty,' Niland said.
It was 'bittersweet' selling the car, she said, but she 'couldn't keep it anymore.'
'I'd get in every day and have those horrible feelings about, 'Why am I driving this car,' and thinking that something horrible is going to go wrong and I'm going to be left with a piece of junk,' she said.
But since then, Niland said, she 'couldn't be happier' she did after events in January and February.
Babb said it was a 'cautionary tale' for businesses to keep a 'healthy distance' between a brand and one individual.
While she personally understands a company's reputation 'is more than just one person,' Tesla 'would be well advised to regain a focus on how the features of its product benefit its consumers and distance itself from a person. That's a best practice anyway'
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Refugees—except for white South Africans —aren't important enough to matter to longtermism. Its view of humanity is far too large to notice Saman, Farhad, and their children, or to understand why America might have a moral obligation to give this family a safe home. Longtermism is a philosophy with a special appeal for smart and extremely rich sociopaths. It can justify almost any amount of hubris, spending, and suffering. Sam Bankman-Fried, the cryptocurrency mogul who is serving a 25-year sentence for fraud, conspiracy, and money laundering, was a longtermist. It isn't clear that Musk, during his manic and possibly drug-addled months of power in the Trump administration, applied moral reasoning when hacking at the federal government. His erratic behavior and that of his troops in the Department of Government Efficiency seemed driven more by destructive euphoria than by philosophy. But in February, on Joe Rogan's show, Musk used the loftiest terms to explain why the cries of pain caused by his cuts should be ignored: 'We've got civilizational suicidal empathy going on. And it's like, I believe in empathy. Like, I think you should care about other people, but you need to have empathy for civilization as a whole and not commit to a civilizational suicide. The fundamental weakness of Western civilization is empathy.' Here is another category of the long view, with an entire civilization in place of the planet's future inhabitants. Musk's sphere of empathy is galactic. In its cold immensity, the ordinary human impulse to want to relieve the pain of a living person with a name and a face disappears. Vance once called himself 'a proud member of both tribes' of the MAGA coalition—techno-futurists like Musk and right-wing populists like Steve Bannon. But when Vance invokes a moral code, it's the opposite of Musk's. The scope of its commitment is as narrow and specific as an Appalachian graveyard—the cemetery in eastern Kentucky where five generations of Vances are buried and where, he told the Republican National Convention last summer, he hopes that he, his wife, and their children will eventually lie. Such a place is 'the source of America's greatness,' Vance said, because 'people will not fight for abstractions, but they will fight for their home.' Politically, this is called blood-and-soil nationalism. Religiously, Vance traces his moral code to the Catholic doctrine of ordo amoris, the proper order of love: first your family, he told Sean Hannity of Fox News, then your neighbor, your community, your nation, and finally—a distant last—the rest of humanity. But Vance's theology is as bad as his political theory. Generations of Americans fought and died for the idea of freedom in the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, World War II, and other conflicts. 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