It doesn’t take a conspiracy to dismantle democracy — just concentrated wealth and time.
Across the globe, but especially in the United States, the ultra-wealthy have learned to bend democratic institutions not through revolution or coups d’état, but through slow but determined erosion. They don’t storm the halls of power; they sponsor those halls, sue them if they resist, and slowly discredit them if they persist. They present themselves to the public and a pliant media as hardnosed realists and pragmatists — people who know how to get things done – rational actors disillusioned with what they denounce as ‘the inefficiencies of self-rule.’ But what they’re really doing is waging a cold and relentless war on the very machinery of democratic life.
The corrosion starts subtly: A billionaire funds a lawsuit, quietly buys a newspaper, or drops millions into a political race. It initially appears to be wholesome participation (Bezos saving journalism by giving it room to breathe) — civic engagement by successful individuals. But with the benefit of time, the scale and intent reveal something else.
When Peter Thiel bankrolled the lawsuit that bankrupted Gawker Media, he wasn’t just seeking justice for a perceived personal slight. He was sending a clear message: If you cross a billionaire, we will destroy you — and we won’t need to win an argument to do it. You will not be debated; you will be swiftly liquidated.
The legal system, which in theory protects the weak from the powerful, is in practice yet another arena where wealth sets the rules. Strategic lawsuits against public participation (SLAPP suits) have become the favorite tool of oligarchs to intimidate journalists, whistleblowers, and activists into silence. The goal isn’t to win in court; it is to bleed critics dry with legal fees and drag them through years of debilitating litigation. In a democracy, speech should be protected; in an oligarchy, it is priced and, in that way, snuffed out.
The media, too, has been captured — not in a dramatic coup, but through purchase after purchase.
Rupert Murdoch’s sprawling empire has normalized the idea that facts are pliable, that narratives are weapons, and that partisanship isn’t a danger but a business model. Elon Musk’s takeover of Twitter (now X) is a more recent version of the same impulse: Control the flow of information, and you control what people believe is real. Democracy depends on shared reality, while plutocracy, in sharp contrast, thrives and prospers in the fog.
Meanwhile, the electoral process itself is flooded with dark money. The idea that votes are the currency of democracy is now hopelessly quaint. Billionaires channel millions into Super PACs, shell organizations, and influence networks with surgical precision. In a real sense, these actors don’t fund ideas; they fund outcomes. Their money distorts policy long before any citizen casts a vote. And once elected, politicians must continue courting the donors who got them there, making governance a marketplace rather than a deliberation.
But the richest trick of all is privatizing democracy through philanthropy. With breathless press releases and carefully branded initiatives, billionaires position themselves as democracy’s very saviors. But since they don’t believe in the messy business of collective decision-making, of schools being run by communities or health systems being publicly accountable. Instead, they fund the institutions they like and withdraw support from those they don’t. They develop “solutions” and pilot programs without public mandate, then pull the plug when results don't align with their metrics. What they call generosity is actually manipulative, cynical governance without consent.
And through it all, they refuse to pay their share. Amazon pays no federal income tax in some years. Elon Musk goes years without paying a cent in personal taxes, instead living off loans collateralized by his own wealth. This isn’t innovation; it’s naked extraction. The mega-rich benefit from public roads, public workers, public infrastructure, and public order, and then deny the very public its claim to that wealth. As state budgets starve, public services falter, and trust in government collapses. The wealthy then turn around and say: “See? Democracy doesn’t work.”
And then the final insult: After years of sabotage, these same people declare the system broken and offer themselves as its replacement. The rise of openly anti-democratic ideologies like “effective accelerationism” or the “Dark Enlightenment” — both of which advocate for rule by an elite technocratic caste — is no accident, nor unforeseen consequence. They are the ideological aftershocks of a material, concerted campaign. They cloak the raw pursuit of power in the language of efficiency and order and denounce democracy as too slow, too irrational, too emotional. But what they mean is: Democracy lets the wrong people decide.
But democracy was never supposed to be efficient. It was meant to be participatory, inclusive, and accountable. These qualities are not design flaws — they are its very strength. A truly participatory democratic system is what prevents government from becoming the private playground of the rich. And it is precisely these strengths that billionaires target and weaken, not with coups or tanks, but with lawyers, accountants, algorithms, and well-heeled PR firms.
What we are witnessing is not the failure of democracy. We are witnessing its deliberate asphyxiation and dismembering by those who fear it the most: People with too much to lose from the many having a real say in how their lives are run and what priorities should be followed by those they vote into office. Such people do not want to fix democracy: They want to outlive it, and then replace it with a system where wealth itself is the qualification for rule. And if we let them, they will not just own our homes and our media — they will own our very futures and destinies.
The fight is not and has never been between ideologies – the left vs. the right – but between power that answers to the people and power that doesn’t answer at all.
Ahmed Bouzid is the Co-Founder of The True Representation Movement
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Eric Trump, the newly appointed ALT5 board director of World Liberty Financial, walks outside of the NASDAQ in Times Square as they mark the $1.5- billion partnership between World Liberty Financial and ALT5 Sigma with the ringing of the NASDAQ opening bell, on Aug. 13, 2025, in New York City.
Why does the Trump family always get a pass?
Deputy Attorney General Todd Blanche joined ABC’s “This Week” on Sunday to defend or explain a lot of controversies for the Trump administration: the Epstein files release, the events in Minneapolis, etc. He was also asked about possible conflicts of interest between President Trump’s family business and his job. Specifically, Blanche was asked about a very sketchy deal Trump’s son Eric signed with the UAE’s national security adviser, Sheikh Tahnoon.
Shortly before Trump was inaugurated in early 2025, Tahnoon invested $500 million in the Trump-owned World Liberty, a then newly launched cryptocurrency outfit. A few months later, UAE was granted permission to purchase sensitive American AI chips. According to the Wall Street Journal, which broke the story, “the deal marks something unprecedented in American politics: a foreign government official taking a major ownership stake in an incoming U.S. president’s company.”
“How do you respond to those who say this is a serious conflict of interest?” ABC host George Stephanopoulos asked.
“I love it when these papers talk about something being unprecedented or never happening before,” Blanche replied, “as if the Biden family and the Biden administration didn’t do exactly the same thing, and they were just in office.”
Blanche went on to boast about how the president is utterly transparent regarding his questionable business practices: “I don’t have a comment on it beyond Trump has been completely transparent when his family travels for business reasons. They don’t do so in secret. We don’t learn about it when we find a laptop a few years later. We learn about it when it’s happening.”
Sadly, Stephanopoulos didn’t offer the obvious response, which may have gone something like this: “OK, but the president and countless leading Republicans insisted that President Biden was the head of what they dubbed ‘the Biden Crime family’ and insisted his business dealings were corrupt, and indeed that his corruption merited impeachment. So how is being ‘transparent’ about similar corruption a defense?”
Now, I should be clear that I do think the Biden family’s business dealings were corrupt, whether or not laws were broken. Others disagree. I also think Trump’s business dealings appear to be worse in many ways than even what Biden was alleged to have done. But none of that is relevant. The standard set by Trump and Republicans is the relevant political standard, and by the deputy attorney general’s own account, the Trump administration is doing “exactly the same thing,” just more openly.
Since when is being more transparent about wrongdoing a defense? Try telling a cop or judge, “Yes, I robbed that bank. I’ve been completely transparent about that. So, what’s the big deal?”
This is just a small example of the broader dysfunction in the way we talk about politics.
Americans have a special hatred for hypocrisy. I think it goes back to the founding era. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed in “Democracy In America,” the old world had a different way of dealing with the moral shortcomings of leaders. Rank had its privileges. Nobles, never mind kings, were entitled to behave in ways that were forbidden to the little people.
In America, titles of nobility were banned in the Constitution and in our democratic culture. In a society built on notions of equality (the obvious exceptions of Black people, women, Native Americans notwithstanding) no one has access to special carve-outs or exemptions as to what is right and wrong. Claiming them, particularly in secret, feels like a betrayal against the whole idea of equality.
The problem in the modern era is that elites — of all ideological stripes — have violated that bargain. The result isn’t that we’ve abandoned any notion of right and wrong. Instead, by elevating hypocrisy to the greatest of sins, we end up weaponizing the principles, using them as a cudgel against the other side but not against our own.
Pick an issue: violent rhetoric by politicians, sexual misconduct, corruption and so on. With every revelation, almost immediately the debate becomes a riot of whataboutism. Team A says that Team B has no right to criticize because they did the same thing. Team B points out that Team A has switched positions. Everyone has a point. And everyone is missing the point.
Sure, hypocrisy is a moral failing, and partisan inconsistency is an intellectual one. But neither changes the objective facts. This is something you’re supposed to learn as a child: It doesn’t matter what everyone else is doing or saying, wrong is wrong. It’s also something lawyers like Mr. Blanche are supposed to know. Telling a judge that the hypocrisy of the prosecutor — or your client’s transparency — means your client did nothing wrong would earn you nothing but a laugh.
Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.