Chapter 6: The Death of Democracy Is Profitable
Your weekly excerpt from one of my books. This week: "The Last American President: A Broken Man, a Corrupt Party, and a World on the Brink"

FYI, I’ll be a guest on Ali Velshi‘s show on MSNOW at 10 AM Eastern time, 7 AM Pacific time, internet and news gods willing.
Chapter 6: The Death of Democracy Is Profitable
We can have democracy in this country, or we can have great
wealth concentrated in the hands of a few, but we can’t have
both. —Louis D. Brandeis, Other People’s Money
Jakelin Caal Maquin was only seven years old when she died in the custody of our government.
This little girl with bright brown eyes had journeyed thousands of miles from Guatemala’s remote highlands with her father, Nery Caal. Unlike the immigrants constantly demonized by Trump, they followed the law, surrendering to Border Patrol agents at a legal port of entry in New Mexico and formally requesting asylum.
Already ill upon arrival, Jakelin’s condition was ignored. When she began vomiting and having seizures during a bus transfer, there was no medical equipment to help her. By the time they reached a hospital in El Paso, her body temperature had peaked at 105.9 degrees. She died fewer than forty-eight hours after arriving in the United States from dehydration, shock, and liver failure.1
The Department of Homeland Security immediately deflected responsibility, claiming the family hadn’t consumed food or water for days. Her father quickly exposed this lie through an attorney, stating they had adequate sustenance throughout their journey.2
No translator was present during intake. Forms were in English, a language neither spoke. The facility was overcrowded, understaffed, and with far from adequate medical care.
Trump’s new system—designed to punish, not protect—functioned exactly as intended.
While Jakelin’s story briefly made headlines, another story didn’t: the one playing out on Wall Street in the weeks following her death. Stock prices for CoreCivic and GEO Group, two of America’s largest private prison companies, rose steadily. These corporations made fortunes from contracts to manage ICE detention centers, contracts made possible by Trump’s brutal immigration policies. Their business model depended on keeping migrants detained as long as possible at the lowest possible cost.3
This wasn’t just tragic. It was profitable.
Throughout my decades as an entrepreneur—from starting The Electronics Joint in East Lansing when I was seventeen to my current radio program—I’ve never encountered businesspeople who deliberately set out to profit from human suffering. Yet here we are, in supposedly the most advanced democracy on Earth, watching a machinery of cruelty generating reliable returns for investors.
Jakelin’s death wasn’t an accident or the result of a “broken” system. It was the inevitable outcome of a system transformed to serve profits over people. The GOP’s multidecade embrace of “public/private partnerships” outsourcing government functions to for-profit industry has produced a system where cruelty isn’t a bug: it’s a feature.
The Business of Cruelty
The defining feature of Trump’s governance is transactional authoritarianism like in Hungary or Russia: the wielding of state power not to achieve public good but to reward friends, punish enemies, and enrich connected interests. This approach directly parallels the transactional worldview we explored in Chapter 1, where his father, Fred, taught him that every relationship is purely a matter of winning and losing.
Under previous administrations of both parties, migration was treated as a complex issue requiring both humanitarian responses and security concerns. The system wasn’t perfect, but there was at least nominal recognition—reinforced by both American and international law—that asylum seekers deserved humane treatment.
Trump replaced this approach with deliberate cruelty, designed to deter immigration by making the process as painful as possible. As one senior administration official told the Washington Post, Trump loved the idea of people being “afraid of coming.”4
This cruelty was first manifested in his first term’s “zero tolerance” family separation, which tore more than 5,500 children from their parents with no adequate system to track them.5 Nearly a thousand of those children the first Trump administration trafficked into shady “Christian” adoption schemes remain missing.
Underpinning these barbarous policies was a web of private contractors eager to profit. GEO Group and CoreCivic saw revenues soar, making over $1.3 billion from ICE contracts in 2019 alone. GEO Group’s stock nearly doubled in the months after Trump’s 2016 election.6
Caliburn International, operating the largest detention center for migrant children in Homestead, Florida, charged the government $775 per day per child, roughly three times the cost of a room at the Trump International Hotel in Washington. Not coincidentally, Trump’s former chief of staff, John Kelly, joined Caliburn’s board shortly after leaving the White House.7
These corporations didn’t just passively benefit: they actively lobbied for harsher policies. GEO Group and CoreCivic spent $4.5 million on federal lobbying during Trump’s first presidency and donated hundreds of thousands to his inauguration and Republican campaigns. CoreCivic’s CEO told investors in 2019 that the company expected “meaningful growth” due to immigration detention needs.8
The perverse incentives were obvious. Private detention companies had every reason to maximize detainee numbers, minimize spending on care, lobby for harsher policies, and fight alternatives to detention, even when those alternatives were more humane and cost-effective.
Internal documents from GEO Group revealed the company targeted an “occupancy rate” of 95 percent in immigration detention facilities, effectively creating a corporate quota for human beings in cages.9 This mirrors exactly how Trump, as we saw in Chapter 3, operated his business empire, prioritizing the appearance of success and short-term profit over long-term sustainability or human welfare.
This wasn’t merely corruption in the conventional sense. It was, even worse, the systematic repurposing of government power to serve private interests, transforming human suffering from a problem to be solved into a profitable commodity to be traded.10
The Authoritarian Profit Model
Jakelin’s death illustrates a larger truth: authoritarian governance isn’t just politically dangerous; it’s economically rewarding for the right people.
Trump’s presidency perfected what I call the Authoritarian Profit Model, with four key components:
Deregulation makes corporations richer by removing protections for workers, consumers, and the environment. Trump’s first administration eliminated over one hundred rules on everything from power plant emissions to workplace safety, delivering hundreds of billions in savings to corporations while imposing enormous costs on public health. His second term immediately restarted this process, with his EPA administrator announcing what the agency called “the most consequential day of deregulation in U.S. history” in March 2025, targeting dozens of environmental rules for elimination.11
Privatization shifts public services to unaccountable private firms, creating profit centers while reducing democratic control. Beyond immigration detention, Trump expanded privatization in education (through DeVos’s school vouchers), health care (through dismantling the ACA), and infrastructure through public-private partnerships that socialized costs while privatizing profits. In his second term, this approach has expanded to nearly every federal function through the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), which is systematically outsourcing government operations to private contractors.12
Nationalism creates enemies who can be blamed for problems actually caused by corporate exploitation. By demonizing immigrants, Muslims, and “disloyal” Americans, Trump created pretexts for military spending, border militarization, and surveillance, all massive profit centers for contractor-donors. This technique draws directly from Roy Cohn’s playbook, as we saw in Chapter 2, where creating enemies serves as both distraction and justification for consolidating power.13
Crisis exploitation uses real or manufactured emergencies to override democratic processes and fast-track controversial policies. Whether declaring “national emergencies” for border wall construction or using COVID-19 to suspend environmental regulations, the Trump administration repeatedly used crises as cover for actions that would face significant opposition under normal circumstances.14
Trump didn’t stumble into this model. He inherited its architecture from decades of neoliberal policy beginning with Reagan, which increasingly subordinated democratic governance to market forces. (Louise jokes that when I die, she’ll put “It all started with Reagan!” on my tombstone.)
What distinguished Trump was his willingness to strip away pretense. No more dog whistles or pretending tax cuts for the wealthy would somehow benefit everyone through “trickle-down” effects. Instead, he turned cruelty into performance, using public displays of dominance to thrill his base while distracting from the wholesale transfer of wealth happening behind the curtain.
As Adam Serwer memorably put it in The Atlantic: “The cruelty is the point.”15 But what Serwer missed was the profitability of that cruelty, serving as both a spectacle for the masses and an enrichment vehicle for GOP-aligned elites.
The Pandemic: Profiting from Catastrophe
If any doubts remained about the Trump administration’s prioritization of profit over human life, the COVID-19 pandemic erased them. The worst public health crisis since 1918 became a case study in how authoritarian governance transforms collective tragedy into private gain.
Trump’s incompetence and focus on the 2020 election gave America the highest per capita death rate of any major country. Over a million Americans died, almost half unnecessarily, according to The Lancet.16
He intentionally downplayed the virus’s lethality, comparing it to seasonal flu while privately admitting to Bob Woodward it was “deadly stuff.”17 He mocked masks, promoted unproven treatments, and pushed for premature reopening against expert advice.
While ordinary Americans suffered unprecedented health and economic devastation, for certain segments—particularly those with Trump administration connections—the pandemic was an extraordinary profit opportunity:
· American billionaires gained over $1.1 trillion between March and December 2020, a 40 percent increase during a period when millions lost jobs, health care, and homes.18
· Pharmaceutical companies received billions in public funding to develop vaccines with minimal conditions. Moderna, for example, received $2.5 billion in taxpayer money, then patented a COVID vaccine developed with significant contributions from NIH scientists and priced it for maximum profit.19
· Well-connected businesses received billions through the Paycheck Protection Program while small businesses were shut out. Companies linked to Trump family members, administration officials, and donors received millions.20
Meanwhile, oversight was systematically obstructed. Trump removed the inspector general tasked with overseeing the $2 trillion CARES Act, limited the congressionally created Pandemic Response Accountability Committee, and refused to comply with transparency requirements.21
The more chaos Trump created, the more predictable the markets became for those with inside information. Several senators sold stocks after receiving classified briefings before the public understood the pandemic’s severity. Cabinet officials and White House staff had unprecedented access to policy decisions and market-moving information.22
The pandemic revealed in the starkest terms that the authoritarian profit model doesn’t just corrode democracy: it kills people. Literally, measurably, and unnecessarily.
Climate Sabotage for Profit
Trump’s climate policies revealed how the same model applies to slow-moving catastrophes. He initiated the most comprehensive rollback of environmental protections in American history, eliminating over one hundred environmental rules including major climate policies like the Clean Power Plan. He pulled America out of the Paris Climate Agreement, making us the only nation to withdraw from this landmark effort.23
These weren’t ideological decisions but economically motivated acts of environmental sabotage, designed to benefit industries that had heavily funded Republican campaigns. Oil, gas, and coal companies saw record access and influence. Coal magnate Robert Murray, who donated $300,000 to Trump’s inauguration, provided an “action plan” that became a blueprint for environmental rollbacks.24
The financial benefits for these industries were immediate and substantial, while the costs were socialized: borne by communities suffering from increased pollution, workers exposed to toxic chemicals, future generations facing a hostile climate, and vulnerable populations already on the front lines of climate change.25
Indigenous communities like the Standing Rock Sioux saw their lands threatened by expedited pipeline approvals. Predominantly Black and Latino “fence-line communities” near industrial facilities experienced increased toxic emissions as enforcement actions against polluters plummeted.26
In a functioning democracy, the overwhelming public interest in environmental protection would have prevailed over the narrow interests of polluting industries. But in Trump’s America, only shareholder value and campaign contributions mattered, even at the expense of planetary habitability.
His second term has accelerated this pattern. Not only are environmental regulations being eliminated at unprecedented speed, but climate scientists have been systematically purged from the EPA, NOAA, and the Department of the Interior, replaced by industry lobbyists. The very phrase “climate change” has been scrubbed from government websites and communications, as if eliminating the words could eliminate the reality.
Weaponizing the Military and Surveillance State
One of the most reliable profit centers in the authoritarian playbook is what Eisenhower termed the military-industrial complex. Trump, despite occasional rhetorical gestures toward reducing foreign commitments, proved exceptionally skilled at channeling taxpayer dollars to this sector.
During his first presidency, defense spending rose to $740 billion, the highest level since World War II when adjusted for inflation. The five largest defense contractors received over $150 billion in Pentagon contracts in fiscal year 2020 alone.27
The administration pushed through controversial arms sales to Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and other regimes with troubling human rights records, overriding congressional objections. The grateful Saudis later funded Trump’s son-in-law’s investment firm with $2 billion.28
What distinguished Trump’s approach was the increasing militarization of domestic policy, deploying weapons and surveillance technologies developed for warfare against American civilians, particularly immigrants and protesters.
Border security became a lucrative frontier for the military-industrial complex. The “border wall” was less about migration management than channeling billions to contractors like Fisher Sand & Gravel, whose CEO pitched Trump directly on Fox News.29
Beyond physical barriers, the border region became a testing ground for surveillance technologies from companies like Palantir, which received over $1.5 billion in government contracts during Trump’s first presidency. These technologies—including facial recognition, drone surveillance, and predictive analytics—were deployed against migrants before expanding to monitor protesting citizens.30
This militarized approach reached its apex during racial justice protests following George Floyd’s murder. When demonstrations erupted in Washington, DC. Trump deployed National Guard troops, Border Patrol tactical units, and unidentified federal officers who used tear gas and rubber bullets against peaceful protesters, all for a presidential photo opportunity. In Portland, federal officers with no identification drove around in panel vans, snatching protesters off the street.31
This wasn’t just political theater; it was a business opportunity for companies producing riot gear, less-lethal weapons, and surveillance equipment. As police departments nationwide received federal funding for military equipment, companies manufacturing tear gas, Tasers, and surveillance systems saw surging demand.32
In Trump’s second term, this domestic militarization has expanded dramatically. Facial recognition systems initially deployed at the border are being implemented in major cities.
Law enforcement agencies from ICE to local police departments have received expanded funding for surveillance technologies with virtually no systems to make sure they’re being used ethically or even legally. The distinction between counterterrorism and domestic policing has effectively collapsed, with profit-seeking contractors supplying both sectors.
January 6: The Final Payday
Even after Trump incited a violent mob to storm the Capitol—the most flagrant assault on our nation from within since the Civil War—corporate America’s response seemed appropriate at first.
Multiple companies issued press releases condemning Trump’s role in inciting the violence while pausing political donations to the 147 Republican members of Congress who’d voted against certifying Joe Biden’s Electoral College win. Those announcements generated positive press coverage, creating the impression of a principled corporate response.
But within months, the money flowed again. By August 2021, over sixty major corporations had resumed donating to election deniers, including Toyota, Walmart, Pfizer, and Johnson & Johnson.33
Political action committees from industry groups like the US Chamber of Commerce also quickly returned to funding politicians who had voted to overturn the election. Dark money groups continued channeling corporate funds to these same politicians without the reputational risk of visible contributions.34
CEOs issued vague but high-sounding statements about unity and democracy. PR firms crafted messaging that let companies appear concerned while avoiding any substantive commitments. Lobbyists worked behind the scenes to make sure these corporations weren’t held to account, and the Republican politicians—who regularly voted for whatever the corporations wanted—remained unscathed.
This rapid reversion to business as usual happened, tragically, because in Trump’s new version of America the greatest sin wasn’t attempting to overthrow democracy; it was losing access to politicians who could deliver tax cuts, deregulation, and government contracts in exchange for campaign cash allowed by five Republicans on the Supreme Court.
That corporate response revealed what’s commonly called crony capitalism or oligarchy. When forced to choose between protecting our democracy and political access, most major companies chose the latter. Their executives correctly calculated that the public would quickly forget their complicity while the profits they made from political influence—including contracts, subsidies, and tax cuts—would endure.
Why It Matters
Jakelin Maquin’s tragic story is not an outlier; it symbolizes the post-Reagan, post–Citizens United transformation of American governance into a profit-making enterprise where the suffering of our fellow humans became a moneymaking opportunity.
Jakelin didn’t die because of policy, but because that policy put profit over protection, cruelty over humanity. This happens when democracy is gutted from within and sold to the highest bidder, the ultimate expression of the crony capitalism we detailed in Chapter 5, where billionaire donors purchase policy outcomes regardless of public interest.
Donald Trump didn’t invent this system. The corruption of our government has been rolling along since the Reagan Revolution, accelerating with Reagan’s neoliberal economics, corporate deregulation, and the post–Citizens United flood of money into politics. But Trump’s administration perfected it, stripping away any pretenses that our government exists to serve the common good while hiding the nearly medieval machinery of exploitation beneath it.
What makes Trumpism unique isn’t its corruption but its brazenness, essentially bragging that governance is just business by other means, that elected office should become a vehicle for private enrichment, and that human suffering is acceptable if it generates the right quarterly returns.
His second term brought this logic to its natural conclusion. When Elon Musk and the so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) began systematically dismantling federal agencies, it quickly became clear to anybody paying attention that it wasn’t actually about efficiency, waste, or fraud. It was, instead, about removing obstacles to profit-taking while eliminating consumer protections, gutting worker’s rights to unionize, doing away with environmental protections, ending investigations into Musk’s companies, and discarding any other limits on corporate and oligarchic power.
The proof was right there in front of us all: nobody was arrested or prosecuted for fraud; firing people, like the 7,000 removed from the Social Security Administration, couldn’t possibly have increased efficiency (instead, the program was made less efficient); and not a single clear item of “waste” has yet been identified (unless you consider saving the lives of starving African children “waste”).
The brazenness of this scam forces us to confront this truth head-on: that authoritarianism isn’t just dangerous but profitable, that democracy’s decline has powerful economic beneficiaries who will resist its restoration, and that oligarchs will lie to achieve their goals. If we fail to recognize these simple lessons, we’ll continue to live in a nation where the next Jakelin dies in silence at the same time quarterly profits soar in part because of her death.
The greatest threat American democracy faces today isn’t any single leader, political party, or even ideology. Instead, it’s the systematic subordination of democracy to market forces by a nakedly corrupt administration that views our constitutional system as quaint but archaic. It’s the belief that everything, including free speech, liberty, and even basic constitutional human rights, should only be available to the highest bidder among the nation’s wealthy.
This is the machinery that made Trump possible, facilitated by five Republicans on the Supreme Court and a supine media. And now in his second term, the contraption is running at full speed, steadily eating and disposing of what remains of the rule of law, democracy, and human decency.
As we’ll see in Chapter 8, this profit-driven erosion of democracy and our basic rights inevitably leads to America being captured by our nation’s oligarchs and their foreign allies, a situation where the public interest collapses while for-profit interests thrive. And as Chapter 9 will demonstrate, this domestic corruption then becomes an internationalized strategy, with wannabe autocrats worldwide learning from and reinforcing Trump’s approach.
The billionaire donors described in Chapter 5 didn’t just fund Trump’s campaigns: they funded this entire transformation of governance from public service into private profit centers. And unless we confront and dismantle this machinery, Trump may indeed become what Chapter 11 warns of: the last American president to be elected by a truly democratic system.


Compare this reality to the simple, straightforward prose of the Pledge of Allegiance. How can anybody recite "...with liberty and justice for all" without gagging?
Maybe states can use their sovereign right to use corporate charter laws and ban for profit detention systems?