Once upon a time, we lived in a society where the innermost thoughts of the one percent were largely confined to their own brains and the inner circles of their social and professional relationships. Then came the Internet, which gave anyone with a wireless connection or a smartphone the ability to broadcast their good and bad ideas to millions of people at once. Among the most aggressive adopters: Silicon Valley billionaires. When Marc Andressen wrote a 5,000-plus-word post titled “The Techno-Optimist Manifesto” in 2023, it went viral, and became something of a template for kindred grandiose edicts from various CEOs and founders in the tech industry. At the time, I wrote that Andreessen’s manifesto had the pathos of the Unabomber manifesto but lacked its ideological coherence. Now another sort of manifesto has been produced by Palantir CEO Alex Karp in the form of a summary on X of his book, The Technological Republic. It shares the same intellectual lapses endemic to the genre Andreessen helped launch, but it’s bleaker, more antidemocratic, and nihilistic in its worldview.

As a longtime social-media user, I’m sympathetic to the inclination to post one’s every opinion to the Internet, no matter how idiotic. But this isn’t just a matter of the wealthiest people in the world floating iffy ideas about innovation or posting cat memes. Their posts serve as a kind of evangelicalism for a new order in which technocrats are in charge, equality is a naïve aspiration promoted by woke mediocrities, and technology customized to attain power is an unalloyed good.

That this roster of tech-bro shibboleths is remarkably tone deaf in the current environment of economic and political uncertainty bothers Valley propagandists not a whit. Someone recently threw a Molotov cocktail at Open AI CEO Sam Altman’s house, Elon Musk’s unfavorability is at an all-time high in recent polls, and a majority of Americans think AI will do more harm than good. But instead of treating this information as valuable feedback, the oligarchs have doubled down on exactly the things that give people pause about their metastasizing infiltration of all aspects of public and private life.

Karp’s manifesto-via-tweet asserts primarily that we can achieve peace through war, and that billionaires brandishing “grand narratives” in the manner of Elon Musk should be in the country’s driver’s seat, sending ordinary citizens to the battlefield whether they like it or not. (Among the recommendations in Karp’s unhinged rantings is a proposal to revive the military draft—a singularly boneheaded idea at a moment when the country is waging an unprovoked, illegal, and massively unpopular war.)

This is a convenient philosophy for a billionaire who runs a company engorged on defense contracts and likes to construct grand narratives himself. But we are at an inflection point where a big chunk of our economy is affected by AI and the incestuous circle of spending and investing that Karp, Musk, and their peers are perpetuating—to say nothing of the cataclysmic implications for labor markets as jobs get replaced or changed. The billionaire tech-bros’ insistence on telling us exactly what they aim to do, on saying the bad quiet parts out loud, is designed to indoctrinate you. But if it doesn’t, they don’t care. They’re going to proceed anyway, and if recent history is any indication, no one with regulatory power is going to stop them.

By way of analytic context: Palantir is a data analytics company and defense contractor that sells surveillance technology to the US government and allied countries, as well as to the private sector. It’s won $1.9 billion in US contracts since 2008, and Karp received $6.8 billion in compensation in 2024, making him the highest-paid public company CEO that year. Under the Trump administration, Palantir has won contracts to consolidate data on individual Americans and track migrants, raising concerns about data privacy and the government’s ability to surveil its own citizens and potentially, to punish political dissenters. Palantir’s technology has also been used to target Iranians and Palestinians in Gaza for bombing, to devastating effect.

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It comes as no surprise then that Karp’s vision for America encourages maximal usage of Palantir’s technology to exert power, against both US citizens and foreign powers who may or may not be current adversaries. This strategy would, among other things, increase profits for Palantir. More war and less diplomacy is hardly a winning message with the public, so Karp has to lend his self-interested agenda a certain civilizational gravitas, in the Musk vein. He positions himself as a heroic defender of an idea of America defined by a nebulous “national” culture that reflects the values of “the West.” If this sounds like the sort of back-of-the-cereal-box ethnonationalism now coursing through the MAGA/groyper world, that’s because it is; non-Western cultures are very much not included.

But beyond such affinities with the Trumpian right, Karp’s self-serving manifesto also reflects the insular worldview of the Silicon Valley elite. The billionaire cohort of tech oligarchs simply isn’t obliged to move in any space that treats the open endorsement of quasi-eugenicist racial chauvinism as dangerous or offensive. They’ve also repeatedly seen that there are no consequences for evangelizing a warmongering authoritarianism. If you’re a billionaire, you indeed rarely face any consequences for anything, because every problem can be solved with money. As far as Karp is concerned, the current problem to be solved is the “hollow pluralism,” as he calls it, that insists our democracy include all citizens regardless of their cultural background or net worth.

The key corollary, of course, is that Karp wants more scrutiny for American citizens and anyone who doesn’t belong to whatever he considers “Western civilization” at the moment. Meanwhile, there’s one group Karp thinks should have more privacy: “The ruthless exposure of the private lives of public figures drives far too much talent away from public service. The public arena—and the shallow and petty assaults against those who dare to do something other than enrich themselves—has become so unforgiving that the republic is left with a significant roster of ineffectual, empty vessels whose ambition one would forgive if there were any genuine belief structure lurking within.” This is a jaw-dropping claim to make in a country whose president who is in the Epstein files, has been the subject of multiple accusations of sexual assault, has been found guilty of financial fraud—and has suffered no real consequences for any of it. If anything, the exposure of Donald Trump’s private behavior has underscored how little accountability actually matters if our lawmakers aren’t willing to enforce laws and ethical norms.

You, on the other hand, are a collection of data points, and in Karp’s view the government and Palantir are entitled to scrutinize your personal life down to every purchase, message, location, and transaction. Alex Karp and Donald Trump are to be granted privacy and a consequence-free existence—you’ll scrape by in a job-starved regime running on AI and maximal surveillance, and be grateful not to end up in a detention camp or on a dissident watch list.

In fact, Karp believes that the country’s problems lie not with powerful public figures like himself but with everyday Americans, who in his view must share more fully in the risk and costs of the wars we fight. “National service should be a universal duty,” he writes. “We should, as a society, consider moving away from an all-volunteer force and only fight the next war if everyone shares in the risk and the cost.” Karp is 58, has never served in the armed forces himself and doesn’t have children, so he’s not advocating for anything that would put himself or anyone he loves in danger. He has never experienced the horrors of war firsthand. Like many Silicon Valley billionaires, he travels with a personal security force that ensures his personal safety at every level—but he’s happy to endanger the lives of others if it justifies spending more money on Palantir’s burgeoning defense portfolio. Like any other war profiteer, Karp will simply keep padding his bottom line, and will never be compelled by law to fight and die in a needless war because a billionaire wanted to make more money.

Under his dystopian vision, Palantir would thrive and grow because safety and security are conflated with hard power—i.e., technological and military shows of force. Basic norms of international relations will be discarded entirely—a process now sent into overdrive by the Trump White House. “The limits of soft power, of soaring rhetoric alone, have been exposed,” Karp writes. “The ability of free and democratic societies to prevail requires something more than moral appeal.”

Karp’s glib invocation of “soaring rhetoric” marks a wild distortion—or incredible ignorance—of what soft power is. American hegemony has been built less on the spoils of modern warfare than things like cultural exports, economic influence, the primacy of the dollar as the world’s reserve currency, and the country’s ability to form alliances with other democratic nations without ever firing a gun, much less dropping a bomb. When we have ditched this framework to go to war with other countries in the post–Cold War era—via the invasions of Iraq, Afghanistan, and now Iran—the results have been costly and disastrous.

But there is no sophisticated theory of international relations behind Karp’s recipe for still more rudderless intervention. His assessment of global realpolitik would make Hans Morgenthau roll over in his grave–possibly with enough centrifugal force to precipitate a minor explosion himself. Karp’s bellicosity exceeds that of even the most extreme national security hawks. He explicitly disdains the idea of debating the value of technologies like the targeting-and-surveillance complexes marketed by Palantir. Instead, he believes that we should build first and ask questions later—because, he says, that is what our adversaries would do.

Except that they don’t. By Karp’s logic, any of our foreign adversaries who have access to devastating weapons will use them. This is not just a cynic’s understanding of warfare; it’s that of an ill-informed amateur. Karp nods to the nuclear deterrence of the Cold War, but doesn’t acknowledge that an unfettered arms race by one party in a nuclear standoff is a good way to undermine that deterrence. Worse, he doesn’t understand that all war is a failure of diplomacy and should be viewed only as a last resort, not as a preemptive strategy for defense.

The rest of his manifesto is mostly a hodgepodge of grievances about the usual preoccupations of the right wing. He claims that intolerance of religious belief is “pervasive” in America, where a majority of people are religious and provisions for the free exercise of religion are literally written into our Constitution. He says that America was too hard on Germany after World War II, even though the Marshall Plan was instrumental in preventing occupied Germany–and the rest of the European continent—from sinking into further violence. (In Karp’s ideal world, postwar Germany would be a major Palantir customer.) He dips a toe into eugenics by claiming that certain cultures are superior to others and that diversity and inclusion baselessly elevates inferior humans. He claims that we’re too cautious about public speech, but has railed against pro-Palestinian protesters and said they should be exiled to North Korea because their behavior is “unforgivable.” (Israel is also a Palantir client, and in case there was any confusion, the company recently took out a full-page ad in The New York Times that read in full, “Palantir stands with Israel.”)

Karp has claimed to be a socialist, and a liberal, when doing so has been rhetorically convenient, but it’s hard to look at his actions and speech and conclude that he’s anything but an ideological nihilist. However, even a nihilist can have a religion of sorts (Karp labels everything he considers woke “a ‘pagan’ religion”), and Karp’s is a corporatized imperialism whereby the United States acquires and maintains power via weaponized AI. As a happy byproduct of these arrangements, Alex Karp also acquires and maintains wealth and power.

As a vision statement, his manifesto is grim and muddled by personal resentments, but as documentation of Karp’s own motivations and interests, it is a good articulation of what’s going on in his head. Only a few years ago, these maunderings would have stayed in his head, but Karp’s fellow oligarchs have provided him with the technology to broadcast them—and he cannot resist. But no one has to buy his mangled self-justifications, or his ahistorical insistence that America will experience peace and prosperity only if we become a global bully ever on the lookout to eliminate nebulously perceived threats. Palantir’s tweet thread, and the nihilistic tech-bro worldview behind it, deserves what any troll on a social media platform usually gets: the mute button.