Why Do So Many Americans Hate Sam Altman?

The jury took their seats in Courtroom 9 of the Oakland Federal Court yesterday. Nine individuals, assembled as an "advisory jury," are set to observe a trial expected to last four weeks, ultimately providing a recommendation to Judge Rogers. Today, Tuesday, opening statements are about to begin.

On the same day the jury selection was underway, OpenAI announced a new amended agreement with Microsoft. This agreement eliminated one key thing: Microsoft's exclusive license to OpenAI's intellectual property. It's gone. And this was precisely the final lock OpenAI had placed on itself when it transitioned to a "capped-profit" structure in 2019.

What Exactly is Musk's Lawsuit About?

Reuters and CNBC's trial diary compiled a case list two weeks before the trial began. When Musk initially filed his lawsuit in 2024, he included 26 counts, ranging from securities fraud and racketeering (RICO) to antitrust violations. As the trial enters court today, only two counts remain: unjust enrichment and breach of charitable trust.

The remaining 24 counts were either dismissed by the judge during the motion phase or voluntarily withdrawn by Musk himself. Just days before the trial, he proactively dropped some claims related to "fraud," focusing the case on its core and simplest assertion: "OpenAI promised me it would always be non-profit. Now it isn't."

Based on this single assertion, Musk is seeking damages of up to $134 billion. According to his complaint, the compensation would be returned entirely to OpenAI's non-profit arm, but he demands the removal of Altman and Brockman and the reversal of the entire for-profit conversion. This is the "true core" of the lawsuit. The subject isn't stock distribution. It's about who the entity known as OpenAI ultimately belongs to.

Judge Gonzalez Rogers has split the trial into two phases. First comes the determination of liability, to be concluded by mid-May. If liability is established, the next phase will address damages. The jury will only participate in the first phase, and only in an advisory capacity. The final verdict rests with the judge. This means that for Musk, winning the "narrative battle" is more crucial than winning "damages." He needs the jury to believe that "this company made promises to its donors back then, and then systematically dismantled those promises." If these nine people agree, the judge will piece together the rest.

OpenAI's strategy is almost a mirror image. They need the jury to believe that Musk's true motive for suing is competitive jealousy, not breach of trust. On the day of jury selection, OpenAI's official account fired the first shot: "We can't wait to present our evidence in court. The truth and the law are on our side. This lawsuit has always been an unfounded, jealous competitive attack... We finally have the chance to depose Musk under oath before a California jury."

Note the phrase "depose Musk under oath." This is a strategy. What OpenAI truly wants is to portray Musk, in the public forum of X, as "the xAI founder who lost to OpenAI." Convincing the judge is secondary. This way, average California residents on the jury will enter the courtroom with that bias.

How Were OpenAI's "Locks" Removed?

To understand why Musk is so angry, one must first understand the three locks OpenAI placed on itself in 2019, each with a clear design intent.

You'll notice one thing. The OpenAI of 2019 was trying to prove to donors that "even if we make money, there's a limit; we must stop at a certain point." The OpenAI of April 27, 2026, is trying to prove to investors that "we have no brakes."

The explanation for the profit cap is the most direct. In a 2025 letter to employees, Altman wrote, "The 'capped-profit' structure made sense in a world with only one AGI company, but it's no longer applicable when multiple competitors exist." In plain English: there are competitors now, so I need to be able to earn more.

The dismantling of the AGI trigger clause is the most subtle. Originally, "achieving AGI terminates the Microsoft commercial license" meant AGI is for the public good, for humanity, and OpenAI would not privatize it. After the rewrite, AGI is determined by an "independent expert panel," the Microsoft license is extended to 2032, explicitly "covering models post-AGI," and Microsoft is permitted to independently pursue AGI. This is a version where even the key to "defining who achieves AGI" has had its lock cylinder changed.

The final lock was the exclusive license. Its dismantling occurred the moment Musk's jury was seated. The decoupling of revenue sharing from "OpenAI's technical progress" means that even if OpenAI announced tomorrow that it had achieved AGI, no commercial terms would trigger a change as a result.

Musk's side will argue in court that this was a deliberate dismantling of protective mechanisms. OpenAI's side will argue this was a necessary adjustment in a competitive environment. But there's one thing neither side will dispute: that 2019 "self-imposed restraint list" has not a single item left today.

"Scam Altman" – Why Do So Many People Dislike Sam Altman?

On X, the day of jury selection was livelier than inside the courtroom. Two hours after OpenAI's official account fired its shots, Musk fired back with seven consecutive tweets. Fast-paced, harsh words, dense rhythm – a classic Musk rapid-fire mode. He gave Altman a nickname: Scam Altman.

He also reposted a video clip of former OpenAI board member Helen Toner, where she stated word by word, "Sam is a liar."

"Sam is a liar" – these weren't Musk's words first. Former OpenAI CTO Mira Murati said it when she left, Ilya Sutskever said it during the "failed coup" to oust Altman, and Jan Leike publicly stated it when he resigned along with the entire superalignment team.

People who dislike Sam Altman actually fall into three groups, each for different reasons.

The first group is the old OpenAI board. Their defining event was the five-day firing saga in November 2023. The board used the phrase "not consistently candid in his communications with the board."

What exactly did they catch? In May 2024, Helen Toner publicly stated that the board learned about the launch of a product that would reshape the global AI industry from Twitter. She also claimed Altman concealed his ownership of the OpenAI Startup Fund, repeatedly stating publicly "I have no financial interest in the company" until he was forced to admit it in April 2024.

There were multiple instances of providing inaccurate information to the board regarding safety processes. Two senior executives reported Altman's "psychological abuse" to the board, providing "evidence of lying and manipulation" in the form of screenshots. After Toner published a research paper OpenAI disliked, Altman allegedly tried to push her off the board.

The second group is the old OpenAI safety faction.

In May 2024, OpenAI's "superalignment team" collapsed almost overnight. Leading the resignations was Jan Leike, one of OpenAI's most senior AI safety researchers. His resignation letter on X was one of the most scathing departure pieces in the English-language AI community that year, stating that "safety culture and processes have taken a backseat to shiny products."

Then came Ilya Sutskever, OpenAI co-founder, chief scientist, and one of the key instigators of the failed coup. Later, CTO Mira Murati (who briefly took over the company during Altman's firing), Chief Research Officer Bob McGrew, and Vice President of Research Barret Zoph all resigned within the same week. The "non-disparagement agreement" scandal broke after this. Departing employees were asked to sign NDAs or forfeit their equity.

The third group is the old Silicon Valley "contract" faction. This group is the hardest to define and also the largest.

They include early donors like Musk from 2015, early OpenAI employees who genuinely believed in the "non-profit mission," many angel investors who bet on early-stage startups in Silicon Valley, and a significant number of neutral observers who view OpenAI as "common property of humanity."

What this group shares is that they paid non-monetary costs – reputation, time, trust, social capital – for OpenAI's promises. What they find hardest to forgive Altman for is very specific: every time OpenAI dismantled one of its "locks," Altman said, "This is for the mission."

When the profit cap was removed, he said, "It's to allow OpenAI to continue investing in AGI research." When the AGI trigger clause was rewritten, he said, "It's to allow OpenAI to fulfill its mission even post-AGI." When the Microsoft exclusivity was canceled, he said, "It's to allow OpenAI to move towards a broader collaborative ecosystem."

This is why a part of Silicon Valley reluctantly finds itself siding with Musk in this lawsuit.

The Weight of a Promise Made in Silicon Valley – The Verdict in Four Weeks

From this analysis, you can probably see clearly now. It's not about the money.

Money is what OpenAI is about. In 2026, Altman is the CEO of a private AI company valued at over $500 billion; he doesn't need it. In 2026, Musk's xAI has reached the Grok 5 era, with Anthropic to chase and OpenAI to surpass; he needs it even less.

They are fighting over something that only a few long-time participants in Silicon Valley truly care about. Can a non-profit organization, which raised funds from society, accumulated moral capital, recruited talent, and secured regulatory exemptions in the name of "the common good of humanity," transform itself within a decade into an ordinary for-profit company jointly controlled by its CEO and VC investors?

If this is possible, then every future AI startup can do the same. "Non-profit" would become a cheap early-stage narrative tool – used to get headlines, pass regulatory scrutiny, and recruit employees – only to be quietly dismantled once the valuation is large enough.

If Musk wins, Silicon Valley might experience a long-lost sense of awkwardness. It turns out that what you said in 2015 can still be brought up word for word in 2026, forcing you to testify under oath in a California federal court. If OpenAI wins, the world will continue to operate as it has for the past decade in Silicon Valley. Tell your story early, scale up later, and in between, methodically dismantle the contracts that bridge the story and the scale.

There will be an answer in four weeks. But the label "Scam Altman" has already been etched into social media, and it will linger, regardless of the verdict. The root of why so many people dislike Altman is that he made those who believed in him feel deceived. The amount of money he makes is secondary.

And the feeling of being deceived is something a verdict cannot undo.