Salesforce CEO Marc Benioff is no stranger to controversy, but the tumult that unfolded this October in San Francisco may mark a new chapter in the tech billionaire’s public life. After igniting outrage with comments suggesting President Donald Trump should send National Guard troops to patrol San Francisco’s streets, Benioff issued a full-throated apology—just as new revelations surfaced about his company’s efforts to pitch federal immigration authorities on using Salesforce’s artificial intelligence to enhance deportation operations. For a city that prides itself on progressive values and a CEO who once championed liberal causes, the events of this week have left many reeling and asking: Who is the real Marc Benioff?
The firestorm began when The New York Times published an interview with Benioff, conducted from his private jet, in which he declared, “We don’t have enough cops, so if they can be cops, I’m all for it,” referring to the possibility of National Guard troops supplementing San Francisco’s police force. The remarks landed with a thud in a city still wrestling with its identity and reputation, especially as the annual Dreamforce conference—Salesforce’s flagship event—welcomed more than 45,000 attendees to the Moscone Center in early October 2025.
Local officials and longtime allies wasted no time voicing their dismay. San Francisco Supervisor Matt Dorsey called Benioff’s comments “a slap in the face to San Francisco,” adding, “It’s insulting to our cops, and it’s honestly galling to those of us who’ve been fighting hard over the last few years to fully staff our SFPD.” District Attorney Brooke Jenkins was even more direct, telling KGO-TV, “To invite chaos into our city, no, Mr. Benioff needs to know that’s not the solution. And I want the president to know we don’t want his version of law and order.”
California Governor Gavin Newsom and other San Francisco officials also chimed in, emphasizing that federal troops were not needed and that crime rates were, in fact, declining. According to KQED, Mayor Daniel Lurie reported that crime was down nearly 30% citywide, and the city was finally seeing net gains in both police officers and sheriff’s deputies for the first time in years. The message from City Hall was clear: the city was turning a corner, and outside intervention wasn’t welcome.
The backlash didn’t stop with politicians. The most dramatic rupture came from within Benioff’s own circle. Ron Conway, the influential Silicon Valley investor often called the “Godfather of Silicon Valley” for his early bets on Google and Airbnb, resigned from the Salesforce Foundation board after more than a decade. In a scathing email obtained by The New York Times and other outlets, Conway wrote, “It saddens me immensely to say that with your recent comments, and failure to understand their impact, I now barely recognize the person I have so long admired.” Conway’s resignation, which he attributed to a misalignment of values, sent shockwaves through both the philanthropic and tech communities.
Laurene Powell Jobs, founder of Emerson Collective and widow of Steve Jobs, added fuel to the fire with a pointed essay in The Wall Street Journal. Without naming Benioff directly, she lambasted a style of philanthropy that she described as “quiet corruption corroding modern philanthropy: the ability to give as a license to impose one’s will. It’s a kind of moral laundering, where so-called benevolence masks self-interest.” Powell Jobs specifically referenced Benioff’s competitive approach to civic giving, as quoted in The Standard: “If there is anyone who’s doing more for the local community, I want their name, because I’m very competitive.” Her critique resonated with many who worry that big-money donations have become a way for the ultra-wealthy to shape public policy to their liking, rather than a means of genuine civic engagement.
All of this unfolded as Salesforce’s Dreamforce conference, the city’s largest annual tech gathering, was underway. While the event itself was deemed a public safety success—Mayor Lurie noted, “Dreamforce brought more than 45,000 people into San Francisco, and it was a public safety success. This didn’t happen by accident”—the mood was unmistakably tense. Protesters gathered outside the Moscone Center, with activist Michael Petrelis calling Benioff’s National Guard proposal “fascism” that “you can’t sugarcoat.” The controversy even spilled into the entertainment lineup: comedians Kumail Nanjiani and Ilana Glazer canceled their scheduled performances, citing “unforeseen circumstances.”
Benioff, for his part, tried to steer the conversation back to business during his keynote, focusing on Salesforce’s new AI-powered Agentforce product. But the damage was done. On October 17, Benioff posted a lengthy apology on X (formerly Twitter): “Having listened closely to my fellow San Franciscans and our local officials, and after the largest and safest Dreamforce in our history, I do not believe the National Guard is needed to address safety in San Francisco. My earlier comment came from an abundance of caution around the event, and I sincerely apologize for the concern it caused. It’s my firm belief that our city makes the most progress when we all work together in a spirit of partnership. I remain deeply grateful to Mayor Lurie, SFPD, and all our partners, and am fully committed to a safer, stronger San Francisco.”
But even as the apology was making headlines, another controversy was brewing. Internal documents obtained by The New York Times revealed that Salesforce had recently pitched Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) on using its AI technology to help recruit 10,000 new officers and enhance deportation operations. The proposal included a five-page memo, spreadsheets, and slides showing how Salesforce’s AI could process tip-line data and investigations—an initiative that would mark a significant expansion of the company’s involvement with federal enforcement agencies. According to The San Francisco Chronicle, the timing of this proposal could not have been worse for Benioff, who was already facing accusations of abandoning progressive values in a city that has long prided itself on being a sanctuary for immigrants.
The ICE revelations struck a nerve in San Francisco, where partnerships with federal immigration authorities are deeply controversial. While Salesforce has worked with ICE under previous administrations, this new proposal to actively expand the agency’s enforcement capacity represented a major shift. The news fueled further criticism from activists and local officials, who questioned whether Benioff’s public statements about civic engagement matched his company’s actions behind closed doors.
This series of events has also raised questions about Benioff’s political trajectory. Once a stalwart supporter of Democratic causes—he hosted fundraisers for Hillary Clinton and has donated to Barack Obama and Kamala Harris—Benioff now finds himself at odds with many in his party. Venture capitalist David Sacks, Trump’s AI and crypto adviser, even suggested that Benioff may be moving toward the Republican Party after Conway’s resignation. As Mission Local noted, Benioff has become increasingly vocal about his dissatisfaction with San Francisco’s approach to policing, despite evidence from city budgets and multiple mayors that the police have not been defunded.
All of this comes as President Trump has already deployed National Guard troops to cities like Los Angeles, Chicago, and Portland, moves that have sparked protests, lawsuits, and heated debate about the constitutionality of federal intervention in local affairs. Legal experts continue to question the wisdom and legality of such deployments, and San Francisco’s leaders have made it clear they want no part of it.
As the dust settles, the events of this week have left a lasting mark on both Benioff and the city he calls home. The juxtaposition of his National Guard retraction with the ICE software proposal has forced a reckoning over the role of corporate power, philanthropy, and civic responsibility in shaping the future of San Francisco. For now, Benioff’s apology stands as a public admission of misjudgment—but the broader questions about his leadership and values remain far from resolved.
