I read the excerpts and felt the room tilt. Donald Trump held his phone like a trophy and announced, “You would not believe the texts I got from these tech guys.” The effect was immediate: billionaires reduced to supplicants, and a new kind of spectacle unfolding in private.
I’m going to walk you through what the reporting from Wired and an upcoming book by New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan alleges, why it matters, and how you should read the posture of power when the cameras are gone. You’ll see the players—Mark Zuckerberg, Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, Meta, Amazon, X/Twitter—and why a text thread can be as revealing as a White House tape. I’ll skip the pundit theater and give you the pattern.
In a private meeting, Trump brandished a string of fawning messages and laughed—then invited others to watch.
The scene, as reported, reads like a private roast. Trump reportedly told guests, “You would not believe the texts I got from these tech guys. I’ve got to show you,” and then scrolled through messages from the likes of Zuckerberg and Bezos. The book, Regime Change: Inside the Imperial Presidency of Donald Trump, is set to publish on June 23 and Wired ran excerpts that sparked this latest controversy.
This isn’t only theater. It’s an exercise in dominance: by showing private messages, the host transforms flattery into a prop. You can think of the display like peacocks preening—public and performative. For executives who thrive in public markets and press cycles, the calculus is obvious: a personal reachout can grease a lane. For the man holding the phone, it becomes ammunition.
Did Trump really show tech CEOs’ texts?
According to Wired’s account of Haberman and Swan’s reporting, yes. The examples cited include a photo of a letter from one of Zuckerberg’s children praising a “golden age of America,” and a selfie Bezos allegedly sent with his then-fiancée, Lauren Sánchez. The book quotes Trump boasting about the fold-change in tech elites’ attitudes since 2016, then sharing the evidence with onlookers.
At one point, Elon Musk was in the room and heard the mockery first-hand.
Musk wasn’t merely a peripheral name in the narrative; he was present when Trump showed the texts. That matters because Musk’s reaction—he reportedly called the texts “First-class groveling”—frames him as both judge and beneficiary of the spectacle. The man who once leapt for Trump at a rally became the mocker rather than the mocked.
That dynamic complicates the industry map. You don’t need to imagine secret loyalties; you can watch how alliances shift when access and approval are on offer. Musk’s posture turned private messages from potential leverage into public entertainment.
Why would CEOs text Trump with personal notes or selfies?
For many executives, the calculus is transactional: influence, regulatory relief, procurement, or simply to keep a line open. A child’s note or a selfie isn’t naive sentiment so much as a strategic nudge toward human connection—until that nudge is used as material for mockery. Bezos and Zuckerberg have steered massive platforms and budgets; the temptation to personalize outreach to the president is understandable. Whether it’s wise is another question.
On substance, the messages matter less than the dynamic they reveal.
You can read the texts for content—a child’s patriotic note, a selfie, a friendly line—or you can read them for what they reveal about power mechanics. When CEO outreach becomes performative groveling, institutions lose dignity and leverage. Meta and Amazon don’t just deliver services; they lobby, influence, and hire armies of policy staff. A private text that ends up on display rewrites the negotiation table.
The spectacle also raises ethics and optics. When leaders of major platforms double-text for attention, their companies’ public responsibilities meet private expediency. The moment resembles a theater curtain pulled back: the backstage is messier than the stage ever showed.
What did Elon Musk do with the moment?
Musk’s role—observer, commentator, occasional ally—gave him a front-row seat to the humiliation of fellow billionaires. He reportedly delighted in the reveal, which fit his persona as both provocateur and power-player on platforms like X. Whether he ever shared Trump’s private texts is unknown, but the episode underscores how close public tech figures sit to political theater.
You should care because the pattern is structural, not anecdotal. When massive tech platforms seek favor, they don’t always use lobbyists in suits; they use photos, kids’ letters, and DMs. That personal approach can short-circuit accountability and reframe influence as intimacy.
I’ve read the reporting, sifted the public evidence, and seen this playbook before: flattery bought access and access turned into policy tilts. You’ll want to watch how Meta, Amazon, and X respond—public statements, congressional testimony, and regulatory pressure will be the next visible moves. If you follow tech, press, or politics, this is a thread worth pulling.
So tell me: when private grovel becomes public spectacle, who pays for the quiet erosion of norms?