What Enron Tried to Bury—and What Elon Musk Is Selling

In times like these, we can’t separate business from politics—or illusion from reality.

Here’s what I’m thinking about this week. I'm being asked by some of my consulting clients to weigh in on what is happening in business because of the politics of the Trump administration and how to prepare. I am doing that on a one-on-one basis, but mostly I've been thinking about the smoke and mirrors we felt comfortable believing, even when they shouldn't have been considered close to normal. Accountability that maybe wasn't ours to demand, but also, perhaps we shouldn't have looked away from it for all these years either. And the trust that we placed—or didn't care enough to invest in challenging—in those we elected to represent us and the future of our country was hubris at best, and criminally negligent at worst.

Enron went into bankruptcy in 24 days. From the time they were exposed to full bankruptcy... 24 days. I've been thinking about Enron and relating it to business today. I think it's important to understand how things work now, and have for a long, long time, no matter what your professional future is or you hope it to be.

I was brought in as a consultant at Enron as they were trying to figure it all out—what to salvage, what to spin, what to pretend had never happened. The specific question I was asked to weigh in on? Should Enron change its name as they went through what they hoped would be a “reconfiguration” of the company?

We all have regrets in business. That’s one of mine. I wish I’d asked, How does that play out in your mind? How would you actually do that? What I actually said was, "You will never get away with that. Don't even try it." I wish I had what their answers might have been in my back pocket now, especially as I watch Elon Musk spin his own kind of illusion—backed, just like Enron, by a cocktail of bravado, government protection, and a market too intoxicated to question the fundamentals.

I was never in the boardroom—or any room—with Ken Lay. But I was with people who were. The energy was pure adrenaline and delusion. Kenneth Lay, the founder and chairman, was exactly what you’d expect by all accounts: charming, performative, wired. He could flip from calm executive to after-hours partier in a snap. He’d float into meetings talking about Aspen powder or his private jet, then toss around billion-dollar ideas like poker chips. He didn’t do spreadsheets. He sold belief.

Sound familiar?

Elon Musk might be more disciplined (although I don't really see that), and certainly more digitally savvy, but the personality—hyper-confident, untouchable, addicted to attention—is the same. And the government’s role in keeping both afloat? Also the same.

Enron wasn’t just a business scandal—it was a political one. Kenneth Lay was a personal friend of President George W. Bush—known to Bush as “Kenny Boy.” Enron was one of Bush’s largest campaign donors. When the company began to collapse in late 2001, Lay made direct calls to Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill and Commerce Secretary Don Evans, asking them to intervene. They declined—at least officially. But the access itself told the story.

Meanwhile, Senator Phil Gramm, the powerful Texas Republican and chair of the Senate Banking Committee, helped deregulate the energy derivatives market—an essential step that allowed Enron to mask its risk and balloon its false profits. Gramm’s wife, Wendy Gramm, had chaired the Commodity Futures Trading Commission, where she helped push through the exemption Enron used. Within weeks of leaving the commission, she joined Enron’s board.

That’s not just revolving-door politics. That’s the blueprint.

And now we have Elon Musk—tied not just to one administration, but to all of them. Under Barack Obama, Tesla received a $465 million loan from the Department of Energy in 2010—money Musk later framed as the “key” to Tesla’s success. Under Donald Trump, he gained influence with advisors like Peter Thiel and personally met with the president multiple times. Trump even cited Musk as someone he “likes a lot” and consulted about space and manufacturing. And under Joe Biden, despite personal tensions, Musk’s companies still benefit enormously from federal EV incentives and clean energy subsidies embedded in the Inflation Reduction Act. Tesla’s market capitalization has repeatedly jumped based on how included or excluded the company is from White House plans.

In other words, no matter who’s in office—Musk wins. And with senators like Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema shaping EV and energy policy while holding closed-door meetings with industry leaders, it’s clear that today’s political power brokers are no more immune to billionaire influence than those in Enron’s day.

Let’s talk about the numbers.

Tesla is not the profitable powerhouse people think it is. For years, the company made more money from selling government-issued emissions credits than from selling actual cars. In 2020, Tesla earned $1.6 billion from regulatory credits—more than double its net profit of $721 million. Without that support? They would’ve posted a loss. These credits were paid for by other automakers who couldn’t meet environmental standards—a system created by the government and leveraged expertly by Musk.

SpaceX is almost entirely funded through federal contracts from NASA and the Department of Defense. The Boring Company? Heavy on hype, light on product. X, formerly Twitter? A financial mess bleeding ad revenue and credibility, yet still operating as if it’s too central to fail.

And yet, despite all this, Musk remains protected, even celebrated. The SEC fined him for market manipulation, sure—but barely. The fine was $20 million, and he paid it out of petty cash. He tweeted false statements about taking Tesla private at $420 a share and faced no criminal consequences. The DOJ and SEC continue to investigate him on various issues—his Twitter acquisition, his compensation plan, his stock moves—but nothing sticks. Sound familiar?

At Enron, perception was everything. They built a culture that rewarded risk-taking and punished truth-telling. When whistleblowers came forward—like Sherron Watkins, who wrote to Lay warning of an impending implosion—they were ignored. Meanwhile, executives cashed out stock, hosted extravagant parties, and reassured everyone that things were just fine.

I wasn’t in the room the day one of the executives reportedly showed up to a high-level investor meeting still reeking of cigars and scotch, charming the room with stories of private islands and “smart growth.” But I heard about it from someone who was. He knew it was a lie. They all did. But the stock was up, and that’s all that mattered.

And now, again, we live in a market that rewards illusion. Tesla’s valuation defies logic. Government contracts and subsidies flow freely. Politicians court Musk’s favor even as his companies spiral or stagnate. Why? Because he controls the narrative—and when you control the story, you don’t need to show the numbers.

Financially, the disparities are glaring. Tesla, despite reporting billions in U.S. income, has paid zero federal income tax in several years. Enron also managed to pay zero in corporate taxes in four of its last five years—while receiving millions in federal rebates. SpaceX, benefiting from billions in government contracts, is structured to minimize tax exposure through reinvestment strategies and federal R&D credits. And yet the American taxpayer continues to underwrite these empires.

So let me return to that moment in the room when I was asked if Enron should change its name.

I said no—they wouldn’t get away with it. But now, I wonder if they were right to believe they could. Maybe the answer they never said out loud was this, because the people who are supposed to stop us are already in our pocket. And the American people won’t notice—until it’s too late.

And maybe that’s the same answer Elon Musk relies on now.

Because this isn’t just about Donald Trump. Or Joe Biden. Or George W. Bush. Or Barack Obama. It’s not just about one party or another. It’s about a corporate system that continues to reward myth over measurement, that keeps funneling public money into private power, and that shields the powerful from consequence—while the rest of us in business foot the bill.

So I’ll ask the question again—updated for 2025. How do they think they can get away with this? And maybe the more urgent question should be addressed. Why haven’t we made it clear they can’t? These are difficult times, but it's also a time to take stock of your career, your business, your line in the sand, and a future that might not be about playing by the rules. Food for thought this week.

— Christine Merser

Christine Merser has been a leading marketing strategist for over thirty years, working with companies, politicians, and individuals to achieve groundbreaking success. Her innovative strategies and forward-thinking approaches have inspired others to redefine how they reach their marketing goals. Known for her curiosity, creativity, and ability to adapt to ever-changing landscapes, Christine continues to shape the future of marketing with fresh perspectives and actionable insights.