At the company’s annual meeting in Texas, 75 per cent of investors waved through the record-breaking deal that could hand Musk control of a quarter of Tesla’s shares. This, despite a year of sliding sales, customer backlash, staff cuts and a share price that has been bouncing around like one of Musk’s malfunctioning robots.
As the result was announced, Musk strutted onto the stage at Tesla’s gigafactory to the sound of pounding techno and a crowd of cheering retail investors. He grinned, pumped his fists in the air and was joined by two “Optimus” humanoid robots in a bizarre, self-congratulatory dance routine under blinding blue and purple lights.
“With AI and robotics, you can actually increase the global economy by a factor of 10 or 100,” Musk told the audience in a rambling speech that mixed sci-fi prophecy with sales pitch.
“There’s not like an obvious limit.” He claimed his robots could “eliminate poverty” and perform surgery better than humans, before adding, “Optimus is kind of like an infinite money glitch.”
If only Tesla’s real-world balance sheet looked half as optimistic. The company’s profits have been squeezed by relentless price cuts, competition from China’s EV makers and Musk’s habit of picking online fights rather than focusing on car sales. Even his political dalliances with Donald Trump have scared off buyers in key markets. Over the 12 months ending June 2025, Tesla’s revenue was about US$92.7 billion, a decline of 2.7 per cent year-on-year.
But shareholders, apparently immune to reality, decided to back the self-styled genius anyway. Many seemed more interested in keeping their idol happy than in corporate governance or financial discipline.
Boston College Law School professor Brian Quinn said, “What is Tesla worth without Musk or even a part-time Musk? Much less than it is worth now."
Musk’s pay deal, previously struck down by a Delaware judge as ludicrously excessive, was resurrected thanks to Tesla’s move to Texas, which allowed Musk and his brother Kimbal to vote their 16 per cent stake in favour. The company’s leadership spent the past two weeks frantically lobbying investors, warning that the world might end if Musk did not get his money.
Even Norway’s $2.1 trillion sovereign wealth fund, one of Tesla’s largest backers, could not stop the madness. It called the payout “pay for unchecked power, not pay for performance.”
New York state comptroller Thomas DiNapoli agreed, saying, “The board has rewarded distraction and entrenched a CEO who answers to no one.”
Still, the fanboys won the day. Three of Musk’s most loyal directors were re-elected, and retail shareholders, who hold roughly a third of Tesla’s stock, turned out in droves to keep their hero on his throne.
Musk used the victory lap to tease plans for Tesla’s next big leap into artificial intelligence, including possible talks with Troubled Chipzilla, Samsung and TSMC about making AI5 chips, and even a Tesla-built “terra-fab” for manufacturing its own silicon.
None of that changes the fact that Tesla’s fundamentals look wobbly. Sales are down, margins are shrinking, and its much-hyped “robotaxi” future remains mostly PowerPoint. But as long as Musk can fill a stage with flashing lights and humanoid gimmicks, the cocaine nose jobs of Wall Street seem happy to keep the party going.
