In a stunning development that has captivated the media and public alike, Elon Musk, the world’s richest individual and a polarizing figure in global business, appears to have drastically scaled back his charitable endeavors in 2025. The shift coincides with his highly publicized connection to actress Sydney Sweeney, sparking rampant speculation about whether the Euphoria star has influenced the tech mogul’s retreat from philanthropy. Once lauded for pledges like his $5.7 billion donation of Tesla shares in 2021, Musk’s Musk Foundation has fallen under scrutiny for failing to meet its legal obligations, raising questions about his priorities and the true reasons behind this unexpected withdrawal. The truth, as it unfolds, is both complex and surprising.

Musk, whose net worth soared past $400 billion in 2024, has long positioned himself as a visionary tackling humanity’s greatest challenges—from climate change to space exploration. His Musk Foundation, established in 2002, has supported causes like renewable energy, STEM education, and pediatric research, often with headline-grabbing donations. In 2023 alone, the foundation gave away $237 million, with significant grants to educational initiatives in Texas and the X Prize Foundation’s carbon removal competition. Yet, recent reports reveal a stark decline in activity. The foundation fell $421 million short of its required 5% charitable distribution in 2023, a shortfall that has only worsened into 2025, with estimates suggesting an even larger deficit this year. This marks a dramatic departure from Musk’s earlier commitments, including his 2012 pledge to the Giving Pledge, where he vowed to donate the majority of his wealth.

The timing of this retreat has fueled intense speculation, particularly due to Musk’s association with Sydney Sweeney. The pair first made headlines in early 2025 after being spotted together at a high-profile tech gala in Los Angeles. Sweeney, known for her roles in Euphoria and The White Lotus, has become a cultural icon, blending girl-next-door charm with a savvy media presence. Their public appearances—ranging from a SpaceX launch event to a Tesla factory tour—have sparked rumors of a personal relationship, though neither has confirmed anything beyond a professional connection. Social media platforms, particularly X, buzzed with theories that Sweeney’s influence has shifted Musk’s focus from philanthropy to a more private, celebrity-driven lifestyle.

But is Sweeney truly the catalyst for Musk’s charitable withdrawal, or is there more to the story? Insiders suggest the truth lies in a combination of personal, professional, and systemic factors, with Sweeney’s role being more symbolic than causal. Musk’s involvement in the incoming Trump administration as head of the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) has consumed much of his time since January 2025. Tasked with slashing trillions from federal spending, Musk has been embroiled in high-stakes policy battles, leaving little bandwidth for managing his foundation. “Elon’s plate is overflowing,” said a former Tesla executive anonymously. “Between DOGE, Tesla’s sales slump, and his other ventures, charity has taken a backseat.”

The Musk Foundation’s structure offers further clues. Unlike traditional philanthropies with robust staff and transparent operations, the foundation is a lean operation, run by Musk and two associates with no dedicated employees. This skeletal setup has drawn criticism for its lack of accountability. In 2023, the foundation spent just two hours per week on operations, a figure that experts say is woefully inadequate for an entity with $9.45 billion in assets. Musk’s reliance on donor-advised funds (DAFs) has also raised eyebrows. In 2022, over $36 million was funneled to a Fidelity Charitable DAF, allowing Musk to claim tax deductions without immediately distributing funds to charities. This tactic, while legal, delays actual giving, potentially indefinitely, and obscures transparency.

Critics point to a pattern of self-serving philanthropy. Roughly half of the Musk Foundation’s grants in 2021 and 2022 went to entities tied to Musk’s businesses or personal interests, such as Ad Astra, a private school for his children and SpaceX employees’ kids, and The Foundation, a new nonprofit he controls to build a school in Austin. A $5 million grant to a UN program for rural internet access indirectly benefited Starlink, a SpaceX subsidiary. These moves have led some to question whether Musk’s philanthropy is more about tax benefits and self-promotion than societal good. “He’s mastered the art of looking charitable while serving his own agenda,” said philanthropy analyst Alan Cantor.

Sweeney’s influence, while overstated, isn’t entirely baseless. Sources close to Musk describe a shift in his public persona since meeting the actress. Once known for marathon work sessions and relentless focus, Musk has been spotted at glitzy events and Hollywood gatherings, a departure from his earlier ascetic lifestyle. His X posts, once dominated by memes about AI and space, now occasionally reference pop culture, with one cryptic tweet about “new inspirations” fueling speculation about Sweeney. Some speculate her media-savvy approach has encouraged Musk to prioritize his public image over less visible charitable work. “Sydney’s a branding genius,” said a marketing expert. “She may not be telling him to ditch charity, but her world of glamour could be pulling him away from the grind of philanthropy.”

Yet, the truth behind Musk’s withdrawal is less about Sweeney and more about systemic issues in billionaire philanthropy. The Musk Foundation’s shortfalls—$41 million in 2021, $234 million in 2022, and $421 million in 2023—reflect a broader trend among ultra-wealthy donors. Tax laws allow foundations to claim deductions for stock donations without mandating immediate payouts, creating what critics call “warehouses of wealth.” Musk’s $7 billion in stock contributions since 2020 saved him an estimated $2 billion in taxes, yet much of that wealth remains locked in DAFs or redirected to his own projects. This system, experts argue, prioritizes donor benefits over public good, with minimal consequences for non-compliance beyond modest penalties.

Musk’s defenders argue he’s playing a long game. His focus on transformative technologies—electric vehicles, Starlink, Neuralink—could have greater societal impact than traditional charity. The X Prize Foundation’s carbon removal competition, backed by a $54 million Musk grant, aims to combat climate change, while his educational initiatives could reshape STEM learning. “Elon’s not about handing out cash; he’s about solving root problems,” said a SpaceX engineer. Supporters also note his 2024 donation of 268,000 Tesla shares, worth $112 million, to unnamed charities, suggesting he hasn’t abandoned giving entirely.

Public reaction is divided. On X, fans rally behind Musk, dismissing the philanthropy critique as media bias. “He’s building the future, not writing checks for optics,” one user posted. Critics, however, see hypocrisy in Musk’s DOGE role, where he scrutinizes government spending while his own foundation flouts IRS rules. Sweeney, caught in the crossfire, has faced online vitriol, with some blaming her for “distracting” Musk. She’s remained silent, focusing on her upcoming projects, including a Barbarella remake.

The truth about Musk’s withdrawal is less about a single cause—be it Sweeney or DOGE—and more about a man stretched thin by his own ambitions. His foundation’s failures reflect a system that enables minimal accountability, but they also highlight Musk’s unique approach: prioritizing disruptive innovation over conventional charity. Whether this is a flaw or a feature depends on one’s perspective. As Musk navigates this storm, his legacy as a philanthropist hangs in the balance, overshadowed by questions of motive and impact. One thing is certain: the narrative around Musk and Sweeney has only begun, and the world is watching.