On November 6, Tesla’s shareholder meeting passed a globally shocking resolution: with more than 75% approval, it agreed to grant CEO Elon Musk a compensation package worth nearly one trillion US dollars.

According to the agreement, if he can achieve a series of ambitious operational and financial targets in the next ten years— including building a fleet of one million autonomous robotaxis, successfully selling one million humanoid robots, generating up to USD 400 billion in core profit, and ultimately raising Tesla’s market value from about USD 1.4 trillion to USD 8.5 trillion— his shareholding will increase from the current 13% to 25%. When that happens, Musk will not only have firmer control over the company, but may also become the world’s first “trillion-dollar billionaire.”

To many, this is a jaw-dropping number and a reflection of our era: while some people struggle to afford rent with their monthly salary, another kind of “worker” gains the most expensive “wage” in human history through intelligence, boldness, and market faith.

But this raises a question: on what grounds does Musk deserve such compensation? How is his “labor” different from that of ordinary people? How should we understand this capitalist reward logic and its social cost?

Is One Trillion Dollars Reasonable? Why Are Shareholders Willing to Give Him a Trillion?

A trillion-dollar compensation is almost unimaginable to most people. It equals the entire annual GDP of Poland (population 36 million in 2024), or one-quarter of Japan’s GDP. For a single person’s labor to receive this level of reward is truly beyond reality.

Musk indeed has ability, innovative thinking, and has built world-changing products— these contributions cannot be denied. But is he really worth a trillion dollars?

If viewed purely as “labor compensation,” this number makes no sense. But under capitalist logic, it becomes reasonable. For Tesla shareholders, the meaning behind this compensation is far more important than the number itself.

Since Musk invested his personal wealth into Tesla in 2004, he has, within just over a decade, led the company from a “money-burning EV startup” into the world’s most valuable automaker, with market value once exceeding USD 1.4 trillion. He is not only a CEO but a combination of “super engineer” and brand evangelist, directly taking part in product design and intervening in production lines.

Furthermore, Musk’s current influence and political clout make him irreplaceable in Tesla’s AI and autonomous-driving decisions. If he left, the company’s AI strategy and self-driving vision would likely suffer major setbacks. Thus, shareholders value not just his labor, but his ability to steer Tesla’s long-term strategy, brand, and market confidence.

Economically, the enormous award is considered a “high-risk incentive.” Chair Robyn Denholm stated that this performance-based compensation aims to retain and motivate Musk for at least seven and a half more years. Its core logic is: the value of a leader is not in working hours, but in how much they can increase a company’s value, and whether their influence can convert into long-term competitive power. It is, essentially, the result of a “shared greed” under capitalism.

Musk’s Compensation Game

In 2018, Musk introduced a highly controversial performance-based compensation plan. Tesla adopted an extreme “pay-for-results” model for its CEO: he received no fixed salary and no cash bonus. All compensation would vest only if specific goals were met. This approach was unprecedented in corporate governance— tightly tying pay to long-term performance and pushing compensation logic to an extreme.

Musk proposed a package exceeding USD 50 billion at that time. In 2023, he already met all 12 milestones of the 2018 plan, but in early 2024 the Delaware Court of Chancery invalidated it, citing unfair negotiation and lack of board independence. The lawsuit remains ongoing.

A person confident enough to name such an astronomical reward for themselves is almost unheard of. Rather than a salary, Musk essentially signed a bet with shareholders: if he raises Tesla’s valuation from USD 1.4 trillion to USD 8.5 trillion, he earns stock worth hundreds of billions; if he fails, the options are worthless.

For Musk, money may be secondary. What truly matters is securing control and decision-making power, allowing him greater influence within Tesla and across the world. In other words, this compensation is an investment in his long-term influence, not just payment for work.

The Forgotten Workers, Users, and Public Interest

Yet while Tesla pursues astronomical valuation and massive executive compensation, a neglected question emerges: does the company still remember who it serves?

In business, companies prioritize influence, market share, revenue, and growth— the basics of survival and expansion. But corporate profit comes not only from risk-taking investors or visionary leaders; it also relies on workers who labor, consumers who pay, and public systems that allow them to operate.

If these foundations are ignored, lofty visions become towers without roots.

Countless workers worldwide—including Tesla’s own factory workers—spend the same hours and life energy working. Many work 60–70 hours a week, some exceeding 100, bearing physical and mental stress. Yet they never receive wealth, status, or social reward proportionate to their labor.

More ironically, Tesla’s push for automation, faster production, and cost-cutting has brought recurring overwork and workplace injuries. Workers bear the cost of efficiency, but the applause and soaring market value often go only to executives and shareholders.

How then do these workers feel when a leader may receive nearly a trillion dollars from rising share prices?

How Systems Allow Super-Rich Individuals to Exist

To understand how Musk accumulates such wealth, one must consider institutional structures. Different political systems allow vastly different levels of personal wealth.

In authoritarian or communist systems, no matter how capable business elites are, power and assets ultimately belong to the state. In China, even giants like Alibaba and Tencent can be abruptly restructured or restricted, with the state taking stakes or exerting control. Corporate and personal wealth never fully stand independent of state power.

The U.S., by contrast, is the opposite: the government does not interfere with how rich you can become. Its role is to maintain competition, letting the market judge.

Historically, the U.S. government broke up giants like Standard Oil and AT&T— not to suppress personal wealth, but to prevent monopolies. In other words, the U.S. system doesn’t stop anyone from becoming extremely rich; it only stops them from destroying competition.

This makes the Musk phenomenon possible: as long as the market approves, one person may amass nation-level wealth.

Rewriting Democratic Systems

And Musk may be only the beginning. Oxfam predicts five more trillion-dollar billionaires may emerge in the next decade. They will wield power across technology, media, diplomacy, and politics— weakening governments’ ability to restrain them and forcing democracies to confront the challenge of “individual power surpassing institutions.”

Musk is the clearest example. In the 2024 U.S. election, he provided massive funding to Trump, becoming a key force shaping the campaign. He has repeatedly influenced politics in Europe and Latin America, and through his social platform and satellite network has shaped political dynamics. In the Ukraine war and Israel–Palestine conflict, his business decisions directly affected frontline communications.

When tech billionaires can determine elections or sway public opinion, democracy still exists— but increasingly with conditions attached.

Thus, trillion-dollar billionaires represent not only wealth inequality but a coming stress test for democracy and rule of law. When one person’s market power can influence technology, defense, and global order, they wield a force capable of challenging national sovereignty.

When individual market power affects public interest, should governments intervene? Should institutions redraw boundaries?

The Risk of Technological Centralization

When innovation, risk, and governance become concentrated in a few individuals, technology may advance rapidly, but society becomes more fragile.

Technology, once seen as a tool of liberation, risks becoming the extended will of a single leader— if AI infrastructure, energy networks, global communication systems, and even space infrastructure all fall under the power radius of a few tech giants.

This concentration reshapes the “publicness” of technology. Platforms, AI models, satellite networks, VR spaces— once imagined as public squares— are owned not by democratic institutions but private corporations. Technology once promised equality, yet now information is reshaped by algorithms, speech is amplified by wealth, and value systems are defined by a few billionaires.

Can These Goals Even Be Achieved?

Despite everything, major uncertainties remain. Tesla’s business spans EVs, AI, autonomous-driving software, humanoid robots, and energy technology. Every division— production, supply chain, AI, battery tech— must grow simultaneously; if any part fails, the plan collapses.

Market demand is also uncertain. One million robotaxis and one million humanoid robots face technological, regulatory, and consumer barriers.

Global factors matter too: shareholder and market confidence rely on stable supply chains. China is crucial to Tesla’s production and supply, increasing external risk and political exposure. Recent U.S.–China tensions, tariffs, and import policies directly affect Tesla’s pricing and supply strategy. Tesla has reportedly increased North American sourcing and asked suppliers to remove China-made components from U.S.–built vehicles— but the impact remains unclear.

If all goes well, Tesla’s valuation will rise from USD 1.4 trillion to 8.5 trillion, surpassing the combined market value of the world’s largest tech companies. But even without achieving the full target, shareholders may still benefit from Musk’s leadership and value creation.

To age with security and dignity is a right every older person deserves, and a responsibility society—especially the government—must not shirk.

I have been writing the column “Seeing the World Through Australia’s Eyes”, and it often makes me reflect: as a Hong Kong immigrant who has lived in Australia for more than 30 years, I am no longer the “Hong Kong person” who grew up there, nor am I a newly arrived migrant fresh off the plane. I am now a true Australian. When viewing social issues, my thinking framework no longer comes solely from my Hong Kong upbringing, but is shaped by decades of observation and experience in Australia. Of course, compared with people born and raised here, my perspectives are still quite different.

This issue of Fellow Travellers discusses the major transformation in Australia’s aged care policy. In my article, I pointed out that this is a rights-based policy reform. For many Hong Kong friends, the idea that “older people have rights” may feel unfamiliar. In traditional Hong Kong thinking, many older people still need to fend for themselves after ageing, because the entire social security system lacks structured provisions for the elderly. Most Hong Kong older adults accept the traditional Chinese belief of “raising children to support you in old age”, expecting the next generation to provide financial and daily-life support. This mindset is almost impossible to find in mainstream Australian society.

Therefore, when Australia formulates aged care policy, it is built upon a shared civic value: to age with support and dignity is a right every older adult should enjoy, and a responsibility society—especially the government—must bear. As immigrants, we may choose not to exercise these rights, but we should instead ask: when society grants every older person these rights, why should our parents and elders deprive themselves of using them?

I remember that when my parents first came to Australia, they genuinely felt it was paradise: the government provided pensions and subsidised independent living units for seniors. Their quality of life was far better than in Hong Kong. Later they lived in an independent living unit within a retirement village, and only needed to use a portion of their pension to enjoy well-rounded living and support services. There were dozens of Chinese residents in the village, which greatly expanded their social circle. My parents were easily content; to them, Australian society already provided far more dignity and security than they had ever expected. My mother was especially grateful to the Rudd government at that time for allowing them to receive a full pension for the first time.

However, when my parents eventually needed to move into an aged care facility for higher-level care, problems emerged: Chinese facilities offering Cantonese services had waiting lists of several years, making it nearly impossible to secure a place. They ended up in a mainstream English-speaking facility connected to their retirement village, and the language barrier immediately became their biggest source of suffering. Only a few staff could speak some Cantonese, so my parents could express their needs only when those staff were on shift. At other times, they had to rely on gestures and guesses, leading to constant misunderstandings. Worse still, due to mobility issues, they were confined inside the facility all day, surrounded entirely by English-speaking residents and staff. They felt as if they were “softly detained”, cut off from the outside world, with their social life completely erased.

After my father passed away, my mother lived alone, and we watched helplessly as she rapidly lost the ability and willingness to communicate with others. Apart from family visits or church friends, she had almost no chance to speak her mother tongue or have heartfelt conversations. Think about it: we assume receiving care is the most important thing, but for older adults who do not speak English, being forced into an all-English environment is equivalent to losing their most basic right to human connection and social participation.

This personal experience shocked me, and over ten years ago I became convinced that providing culturally and linguistically appropriate care—including services in older people’ mother tongues—is absolutely necessary and urgent for migrants from non-English backgrounds. Research also shows that even migrants who speak fluent English today may lose their English ability if they develop cognitive impairment later in life, reverting to their mother tongue. As human lifespans grow longer, even if we live comfortably in English now, who can guarantee we won’t one day find ourselves stranded on a “language island”?

Therefore, I believe the Chinese community has both the responsibility and the need to actively advocate for the construction of more aged care facilities that reflect Chinese culture and provide services in Chinese—especially Cantonese. This is not only for our parents, but possibly for ourselves in the future. The current aged care reforms in Australia are elevating “culturally and linguistically appropriate services” to the level of fundamental rights for all older adults. I see this as a major step forward and one that deserves recognition and support.

I remember when my parents entered aged care, they requested to have Chinese meals for all three daily meals. I patiently explained that Australian facilities typically serve Western food and cannot be expected to provide daily Chinese meals for individual residents—at most, meals could occasionally be ordered from a Chinese restaurant, but they might not meet the facility’s nutrition standards. Under today’s new legislation, what my parents once requested has now become a formal right that society must strive to meet.

I have found that many Chinese older adults actually do not have high demands. They are not asking for special treatment—only for the basic rights society grants every older person. But for many migrants, even knowing what rights they have is already difficult. As first-generation immigrants, our concerns should go beyond careers, property ownership and children’s education; we must also devote time to understanding our parents’ needs in their later years and the rights this society grants them.

I wholeheartedly support Australia’s current aged care reforms, though I know there are many practical details that must still be implemented. I hope the Chinese community can seize this opportunity to actively fight for the rights our elders deserve. If we do not speak up for them, then the more unfamiliar they are with Australia’s system, the less they will know what they can—and should—claim.

In the process of advocating for culturally suitable aged care facilities for Chinese seniors, I discovered that our challenges come from our own lack of awareness about the rights we can claim. In past years, when I saw the Andrews Labor Government proactively expressing willingness to support Chinese older adults, I believed this goodwill would turn smoothly into action. Yet throughout the process, what I saw instead was bureaucratic avoidance and a lack of understanding of seniors’ real needs.

For example, land purchased in Templestowe Lower in 2021 and in Springvale in 2017 has been left idle by the Victorian Government for years. For the officials responsible, shelving the land has no personal consequence, but in reality it affects whether nearly 200 older adults can receive culturally appropriate care. If we count from 2017, and assume each resident stays in aged care for two to three years on average, we are talking about the wellbeing of more than a thousand older adults.

Why has the Victorian Government left these sites unused and refused to hand them to Chinese community organisations to build dedicated aged care facilities? It is baffling. Since last November, these officials—even without consulting the Chinese community—have shifted the land use application toward mainstream aged care providers. Does this imply they believe mainstream providers can better meet the needs than Chinese community organisations? I believe this is a serious issue the Victorian Government must reflect upon. Culturally appropriate aged care is not only about basic care, but also about language, food and social dignity. Without a community-based perspective, these policy shifts risk deepening immigrant seniors’ sense of isolation, rather than fulfilling the rights-based vision behind the reforms.

Raymond Chow

The Australian government has in recent years aggressively pushed forward aged care reform, including the new Aged Care Act, described as a “once-in-a-generation reform.” Originally scheduled to take effect in July 2025, it was delayed by four months and officially came into force on November 1.

Elderly Rights Enter the Agenda

The scale of the reform is significant, with the government investing an additional AUD 5.6 billion over five years. Australia’s previous aged care system was essentially based on government and service providers allocating resources, leaving older people to passively receive care. Service quality was inconsistent, and at one point residential aged care facilities were exposed for “neglect, abuse, and poor food quality.” The reform rewrites the fundamental philosophy of the system, shifting from a provider-centred model to one in which older people are rights-holders, rather than passive recipients of charity.

The new Act lists, for the first time, the statutory rights of older people, including autonomy in decision-making, dignity, safety, culturally sensitive care, and transparency of information. In other words, older people are no longer merely service recipients, but participants with rights, able to make requests and challenge services.

Many Chinese migrants who moved to Australia before or after retirement arrived through their children who had already migrated, or settled in Australia in their forties or fifties through skilled or business investment visas. Compared with Hong Kong or other regions, Australia’s aged care services are considered relatively good. Regardless of personal assets, the government covers living expenses, medical care, home care and community activities. Compared with their country of origin, many elderly people feel they are living in an ideal place. Of course, cultural and language differences can cause frustration and inconvenience, but this is often seen as part of the cost of migration.

However, this reform requires the Australian government to take cultural needs into account when delivering aged care services, which represents major progress. The Act establishes a Statement of Rights, specifying that older people have the right to receive care appropriate to their cultural background and to communicate in their preferred language. For Chinese-Australian older people, this is a breakthrough.

Therefore, providing linguistically and culturally appropriate care—such as Chinese-style meals—is no longer merely a reasonable request but a right. Similarly, offering activities such as mahjong in residential care for Chinese elders is considered appropriate.

If care facility staff are unable to provide services in Chinese, the government has a responsibility to set standards, ensuring a proportion of care workers can communicate with older people who do not speak English, or provide support in service delivery. When language barriers prevent aged care residents from having normal social interaction, it constitutes a restriction on their rights and clearly affects their physical and mental health.

A New Financial Model: Means Testing and Co-Payment

Another core focus of the reform is responding to future financial and demographic pressures. Australia’s population aged over 85 is expected to double in the next 20 years, driving a surge in aged care demand. To address this, the government introduced the Support at Home program, consolidating previous home care systems to enable older people to remain at home earlier and for longer. All aged care providers are now placed under a stricter registration and regulatory framework, including mandatory quality standards, transparency reporting and stronger accountability mechanisms.

Alongside the reform, the most scrutinised change is the introduction of a co-payment system and means testing. With the rapidly ageing population, the previous model—where the government bore most costs—is no longer financially sustainable. The new system therefore requires older people with the capacity to pay to contribute to the cost of their care based on income and assets.

For home-based and residential care, non-clinical services such as cleaning, meal preparation and daily living support will incur different levels of co-payment according to financial capacity. For example, low-income pensioners will continue to be primarily supported by the government, while middle-income and asset-rich individuals will contribute proportionally under a shared-funding model. To prevent excessive burden, the government has introduced a lifetime expenditure cap, ensuring out-of-pocket costs do not increase without limit.

However, co-payment has generated considerable public debate. First, the majority of older Australians’ assets are tied to their homes—over 76% own their residence. Although this appears as high asset value, limited cash flow may create financial pressure. There are also concerns that co-payment may cause some families to “delay using services,” undermining the reform’s goal of improving care quality.

Industry leaders also worry that wealthier older people who can afford large refundable accommodation deposits (RADs) may be prioritised by facilities, while those with fewer resources and reliant on subsidies may be placed at a disadvantage.

The Philosophy and Transformation of Australia’s Aged Care

Australia’s aged care policy has not always been centred on older people. Historically, with a young population and high migration, the demand for elder services was minimal, and government support remained supplementary. However, as the baby-boomer generation entered old age and medical advances extended life expectancy, older people became Australia’s fastest-growing demographic. This shift forced the government to reconsider the purpose of aged care.

For decades, the core policy principle has been to avoid a system where “those with resources do better, and those without fall further behind.” The essence of aged care has been to reduce inequality and ensure basic living standards—whether through pensions, public healthcare or government-funded long-term care. This philosophy remains, but rising financial pressure has led to increased emphasis on shared responsibility and sustainability.

Ageing Population Leads to Surging Demand and Stalled Supply

Beyond philosophy, Australia’s aged care system faces a reality: demand is rising rapidly while supply lags far behind. More than 87,000 approved older people are currently waiting for home-care packages, with some waiting up to 15 months. More than 100,000 additional applications are still pending approval. Clearly, the government lacks sufficient staffing to manage the increased workload created by reform. Many older people rely on family support while waiting, or are forced into residential care prematurely. Although wait times have shortened for some, the overall imbalance between supply and demand remains unresolved.

At the same time, longer life expectancy means residential aged care stays are longer, reducing bed turnover. Even with increased funding and new facilities, bed availability remains limited, failing to meet rising demand. This also increases pressure on family carers and drives demand for home-based services.

Differences Between Chinese and Australian Views on Ageing

In Australia, conversations about ageing often reflect cultural contrast. For many older migrants from Chinese backgrounds, the aged care system is unfamiliar and even contradictory to their upbringing. These differences have become more evident under the latest reform, shaping how migrant families interpret means testing and plan for later life.

In traditional Chinese thinking, ageing is primarily a personal responsibility, followed by family responsibility. In places like Hong Kong, older people generally rely on their savings, with a light tax system and limited government role. Support comes mainly in the form of small allowances, such as the Old Age Allowance, which is more of a consumption incentive than part of a care system. Those with serious needs are cared for by children; if children are unable, they may rely on social assistance or move somewhere with lower living costs. In short, the logic is: government supplements but does not lead; families care for themselves.

Australia’s thinking is entirely different. As a high-tax society, trust in welfare is based on a “social contract”: people pay high taxes in exchange for support when disabled, elderly or in hardship. This applies not only to older people but also to the NDIS, carer payments and childcare subsidies. Caring for vulnerable people is not viewed as solely a family obligation but a shared social responsibility. Australians discussing aged care rarely frame it around “filial duty,” but instead focus on service options, needs-based care and cost-sharing between the government and individuals.

Migrants Lack Understanding of the System

These cultural differences are especially evident among migrant families. Many elderly migrants have financial arrangements completely different from local Australians. Chinese parents often invested heavily in their children when young, expecting support later in life. However, upon arriving in Australia, they are often already elderly, lacking pension savings and unfamiliar with the system, and must rely on government pensions and aged care applications. In contrast, local Australians accumulate superannuation throughout their careers and, upon retirement, move into retirement villages or assisted living, investing in their own quality of life rather than relying on children.

Cultural misunderstanding can also lead migrant families to misinterpret the system. Some transfer assets to children early, assuming it will reduce assessable wealth and increase subsidies. However, in Australia, asset transfers are subject to a look-back period, and deeming rules count potential earnings even if money has been transferred. These arrangements may not provide benefits and may instead reduce financial security and complicate applications—what was thought to be a “smart move” becomes disadvantageous.

Conclusion

In facing the new aged care system, the government has a responsibility to communicate widely with migrant communities. Currently, reporting on the reform mainly appears in mainstream media, which many older migrants do not consume. As a result, many only have superficial awareness of the changes, without proper understanding. Without adequate community education, elderly migrants who do not speak English cannot possibly know what rights the law now grants them. If people are unaware of their rights, they naturally cannot assert them. With limited resources, failure to advocate results in neglect and greater inequality. It is time to make greater effort to understand how this era of reform will affect our older people.