Political

US Elections: Who Said You Can’t Buy Votes in a Democracy?

In the 2024 U.S. election cycle, a small number of ultra-wealthy individuals are playing a major role in shaping the campaign landscape. Donors like Timothy Mellon, heir to the Mellon fortune, have contributed tens of millions to pro-Trump super PACs. On the Democratic side, groups like Future Forward USA Action, a “dark money” organisation, have poured large sums into left-leaning super PACs. The top 100 donors, mostly from corporate backgrounds, now account for over 60% of all Super PAC donations, raising concerns about unequal influence in America.

The 2010 Citizens United v. FEC decision gave Democracy its true meaning, allowing unrestricted political spending as a form of protected free speech. By permitting corporations and unions to funnel limitless funds into campaigns, it effectively turned elections into financial battlegrounds. Super PACs—political action committees unaffiliated with any candidate but able to amass substantial funds—emerged as a consequence, enabling wealthy donors and corporations to wield unprecedented influence in American politics.   

Today, as seen with billionaire campaigns, corporate-backed policies, and local election spending sprees, elections seem increasingly swayed by those who can afford to saturate the media landscape, shaping political discourse and decisions. The following cases illustrate this financial reality:

Bloomberg’s 2020 Campaign: Michael Bloomberg, the former New York City mayor, invested over $1 billion of his own fortune into his 2020 presidential bid. Although he ultimately withdrew, his campaign underscored how personal wealth can generate visibility and sway public opinion, especially through extensive advertising in media-rich Super Tuesday states. Bloomberg’s self-funded bid signalled to Americans that, with enough money, any candidate can command national attention—regardless of grassroots support or traditional campaigning.

Tom Steyer’s Run for the Presidency: Hedge fund manager Tom Steyer similarly invested vast personal wealth into his 2020 presidential campaign, spending upwards of $340 million. Although he failed to secure the nomination, Steyer’s presence in debates and media coverage demonstrated how ample funds could buy a platform. For a brief period, his advertising spend in early primary states artificially inflated his standing, drawing attention to a campaign otherwise lacking widespread support.

The California Proposition 22 Campaign: In California, corporations like Uber, Lyft, and DoorDash collectively spent over $200 million to support Proposition 22, a measure allowing them to maintain gig workers as independent contractors rather than employees. Their extensive advertising blitz, highlighting flexibility for drivers while omitting worker protections, ultimately led to a victory. This illustrated how corporate funding can dictate policy outcomes, shaping legislation to suit business interests rather than public good.

Peter Thiel’s Support of Senate Candidates: In the 2022 midterms, billionaire Peter Thiel backed Senate candidates in Ohio and Arizona, spending millions to boost candidates who otherwise lacked strong local support. This financial backing, funded by Thiel’s personal fortune, strengthened their campaigns’ visibility. Thiel’s involvement exemplifies how ultra-wealthy donors can amplify particular ideologies, regardless of broad-based approval, creating a pipeline for fringe perspectives to reach the main stage.

Ken Griffin’s Chicago Mayoral Influence: Hedge fund CEO Ken Griffin poured millions into Chicago’s 2019 mayoral race, funding Bill Daley, a candidate favouring business-oriented policies. Although unsuccessful, Griffin’s contributions underscored the reality of local elections where financial influence is disproportionate. When individuals can inject such substantial sums into smaller races, the outcome often favours elite interests over community needs, diluting true democratic representation.

Democracy’s Death

While proponents argue that political spending is free speech, in reality, it gives voice to the wealthiest few, marginalising average voters. Research has shown that candidates backed by the affluent are significantly more likely to succeed in campaigns, leading to legislation that often favours the elite over the common good. From tax policies to weakened regulations on corporate practices, decisions skew toward interests benefiting those with deep pockets, undermining the principle of equal representation.

These instances highlight a concerning reality: wealth now seems to dictate political influence in Western democracies. In a system where votes are increasingly bought, the core democratic ideal of equality suffers. With campaign financing largely unchecked, it is essential to question whether democracy remains for all or serves mainly the affluent. As the wealth gap continues to grow, the public must grapple with a hard truth: elections may increasingly reflect the interests of those who can pay, not those they are meant to represent.

The issue isn’t with any specific type of democracy; authoritarian or representative, it’s democracy itself that is proving fundamentally flawed, revealing deep cracks in its promises of equality, justice, and human rights. When some of the world’s most prominent democracies—nations such as the US, the UK, the EU, and others—selectively decide who deserves rights and whose suffering can be overlooked, it exposes democracy’s failure to genuinely represent or protect all people. For example, in Gaza, while the humanitarian crisis intensifies, Western democracies largely remain silent, prioritising political alliances over human lives and ignoring the displacement and daily tragedies faced by Palestinian civilians.

This selective approach is evident within these countries’ borders as well. In the UK, for instance, democratic ideals are routinely undermined by policies targeting immigrants and minorities, as exemplified by the Windrush scandal, where Black Britons were unjustly detained or deported. In the US, systemic racism and police violence against Black and minority communities persist, despite the country’s commitment to “liberty and justice for all.” In India, the world’s largest democracy, discriminatory policies and religious nationalism have stoked violence against Muslim communities, leaving minorities with limited legal recourse. Across Europe, refugees are detained in dehumanising conditions, and treated as scapegoats rather than individuals in need of asylum, while nationalist policies further erode their rights and protections.

These aren’t isolated issues of poor governance or temporary lapses in policy; they point to democracy’s structural inability to ensure fair treatment for all. When democratic nations consistently fail to protect vulnerable populations and turn a blind eye to atrocities that don’t serve their interests, it becomes clear that democracy itself has failed. This isn’t a matter of needing a new form of democracy; it’s about acknowledging that democracy has failed the people in all its forms. 

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