How to blow the case against elite corruption

Donald Trump's White House is the most nakedly corrupt institution in America. To do business in these United States, major corporations and foreign governments have rightly calculated that they need to bribe the president, and they need to do it with gold.

Tim Cook, the CEO of Apple, appeared in the Oval Office with a glass plaque on a 24-karat base, complete with Trump's name on it. Swiss business executives gave America's head of state a Rolex table clock, valued at over $130,000, and a gold bar engraved with "45" and 47" on it, representing the 79-year-old's two terms in office (he lowered tariffs on Switzerland soon after).

All the while, Trump's sons, by blood and by marriage, are cashing in on the father's presidency. Jared Kushner, qualified by virtue of being Ivanka Trump's husband, is conducting diplomacy in the Middle East while collecting hundreds of millions of dollars from governments in the region. As his dad signs off on legislation backed by the crypto industry and has the military slaughter men in boats on the Caribbean, Donald Trump Jr. is hawking Bitcoin while advising defense contractors on how to get real money from the Pentagon.

And then there's the immigration czar, Tom Homan, meeting a guy in a parking lot and allegedly taking $50,000 stuffed in a bag as part of an FBI sting operation.

It's all rather corrupt, and they're not really bothering to hide it.

That's been a gift to the opposition. In a November report, Democrats on the House Judiciary Committee, led by Rep. Jamie Raskin of Maryland, issued a report detailing how, among other things, "Donald Trump has turned the Oval Office into the world's most corrupt crypto startup operation." While his administration promotes digital tokens that facilitate black markets, the president and his family have personally amassed "crypto holdings worth as much as $11.6 billion," collecting over $800 million in crypto sales in the first six months of 2025. You can even "invest" in crypto on Truth Social now.

So how have Democrats managed to undermine their case against corruption? By defending the appearance of it themselves.

Consider the case of Virgin Islands Del. Stacey Plaskett, a nonvoting member of the House of Representatives. In November, it was revealed that Plaskett was texting back and forth with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein in the middle of a 2019 congressional hearing. Epstein had previously donated thousands of dollars to her campaign; Plaskett had also traveled to his New York City mansion to solicit a $30,000 donation for the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee.

Democrats stay silent on Stacey Plaskett, an ex-Republican who texted Epstein in Congress

Rep. Ro Khanna told The Redoubt that the “Epstein class needs to go,” but wouldn’t say if that includes his Democratic colleague.

The RedoubtCharles R. Davis

Speaking on the House floor, Raskin, just seen denouncing Trump's crypto corruption, defended Plaskett on the grounds that she merely "took a phone call from one of her constituents."

He later defended those comments on CNN.

"What rule did she violate? People text and email and call us all the time," Raskin said. "It's unfortunate that he's got some people's phone numbers," he continued, referring to a deceased pedophile, "but, you know, he's no longer with us."

After sophistry like this — in the service of a Democrat who texted a billionaire donor "Thanks!" after he complimented her beauty mid-hearing — it is difficult not to be jaded about the whole Epstein endeavor.

Indeed, after this SMS scandal, more Democrats (86) voted to condemn "the horrors of socialism" than to censure Stacey Plaskett (0). One could be forgiven for thinking that, in the eyes of many lawmakers, it's better to be tight with a wealthy predator than to be too far to the left.

Bipartisanship in action

That's hardly the only example of America's political opposition whiffing on a chance to be the party against corruption, wherever it may be found.

In a Nov. 3 appearance on CNN, House Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries described another lawmaker — one indicted by the Biden Department of Justice for allegedly accepting "$600,000 in bribes from two foreign entities" in exchange for government favors — as a "beloved member of the House of Representatives."

That member, Rep. Henry Cuellar of Texas, a conservative Democrat, had just been pardoned by Trump, the latest in a series of such grants of impunity for those accused of corruption. In 2024, Trump expressed solidarity with Cuellar, describing him as a "Respected Democrat Congressman [who] wouldn't play ball with Crooked Joe's Open Border game."

Jeffries, likewise, was more critical of the prosecution than the man who allegedly took bribes.

"Listen, the reality is this indictment was very thin to begin with, in my view," the House Democratic leader said. "I don't know why the president decided to do this," he added, but "I think the outcome is exactly the right outcome."

This defense — voiced long before by other high-ranking Democrats — may well be strategic. Cuellar, at least, can vote, and the thinking may be that a conservative Democrat in that south Texas seat is better than no Democrat at all.

But that strategy, for it not to hurt the party as a whole, hinges on most of the public failing to notice. Those paying close attention are likely to come to the same conclusion as the low-information voter: that when it comes to corruption in Washington, and politics in general, it's a cynical game and no one is clean.

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