Elon's last grift

Optimus sub-prime

The US is one big grift these days: the Trump Administration, traditional and social media, corporations, crypto, financial markets are all selling some kind of spurious promise. It’s hard to pick the most egregious example. But for me, it’s hard to go past Tesla. Having lost its dominant position in the electric car market, the company ought to be on the edge of delisting. Instead, its current market capitalisation is $US1.33 trillion ($A 2 trillion). Shareholders have just agreed on an incentive deal with Elon Musk, premised on the claim that he can take that number to $8.5 trillion.

Having failed with the Cybertruck and robotaxis, Tesla’s value depends almost entirely on the projected success of the Optimus humanoid robot. There’s a strong case that Optimus will be outperformed by rivals like Unitree But the bigger question is: why build a humanoid robot at all?

The choice of a humanoid form factor reveals more about the sloppy thinking of our tech elite than about engineering logic. The design represents a triumph of anthropomorphic fantasy over functional optimization, producing machines that excel primarily at generating media buzz rather than performing useful work.

In promoting Optimus, Tesla offers a long list of functions such as robot might perform: lifting and stacking goods in warehouses, operating in dangerous situations with ground too uneven for wheels and tracks, and performing various kinds of domestic labour.

In each of these cases, there is a better alternative available. Modern warehouses are designed around automated systems that exploit the advantages of robotics —conveyor networks, sorting systems, and wheeled or tracked robots specifically designed for lifting and moving tasks.

Industrial robots—fixed-position systems with multiple articulated arms—have dominated automotive and electronics assembly for decades precisely because they abandon human form constraints in favor of functional optimization.

Mobile warehouse robots can navigate autonomously while carrying loads that would topple any humanoid robot. Meanwhile, human workers remain more cost-effective for complex picking tasks, combining visual recognition, fine motor control, and problem-solving capabilities that no current robot approaches.

In less controlled environments, with uneven ground surfaces, quadruped robots (commonly presented as dog-like) are more stable than bipeds. They can be equipped with a wide range of grasping appendages including, but not limited to, the mechanical hands of a humanoid robot. Examples are already in use for tasks like bomb disposal and disaster response.

In domestic applications, Musk’s presentations envision Optimus folding laundry, preparing meals, and performing general housework—tasks that supposedly justify the human form factor because homes are designed for human occupancy.

This argument doesn’t stand up to even minimal scrutiny. Specialized appliances consistently outperform generalist approaches in domestic environments—robotic vacuum cleaners navigate more efficiently than any humanoid could, dishwashers clean more thoroughly than humanoid hands, and washing machines handle laundry with greater consistency than any robot attempting to mimic human movements. Where genuine flexibility is required, the combination of purpose-built tools and human intelligence remains unmatched. The complexity of truly autonomous domestic robots would require artificial intelligence capabilities that remain decades away, if achievable at all.

A final idea is that of robots as companions for lonely humans. This seems likely to fall into the “uncanny valley” - too human-like to be viewed as a machine, but too mechanical to be seen as human. But, if there is any market for Optimus, this will probably be it.

The humanoid form factor serves primarily to create an illusory impression of human-like intelligence. By mimicking human appearance and movement, these robots suggest cognitive capabilities they fundamentally lack. The fact that humans are more intelligent than dogs encourages the fallacious (implicit) inference that robot resambling a human must be more intelligent than one resembling a dog.

The humanoid form factor consistently proves inferior to specialized alternatives across every proposed application domain. I persists because it generates the kind of media attention and investor enthusiasm that Tesla requires for its business model. Effective robotics emerges from careful analysis of specific problems and optimisation for particular environments, not from attempts to recreate human form and movement. Until the technology sector abandons its anthropomorphic fantasies in favour of functional engineering, robotic development will remain trapped between impressive demonstrations and practical irrelevance.

Meanwhile, Tesla’s share price keeps going up, along with (until very recently), crypto, AI stocks, and the fortunes of the Trump family. By this time, the remaining sceptics have given up short-selling and retired to the sidelines to wait for the crash. That’s about the best advice I could give (bearing in mind that I Am Not a Financial Advisor).

But I’d be interested to read any contrary views on why humanoid robots are The Next Big Thing, or why bubbles like this can last forever.

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