By Kenneth Tiven
Just months before the US mid-term elections, President Donald Trump has once again demonstrated his willingness to push past traditional legal, constitutional, and ethical boundaries. With a war abroad faltering and domestic political tensions intensifying, the administration has unveiled a controversial new initiative critics describe as a taxpayer-funded political loyalty machine.
At the centre of the storm is a proposed compensation fund approaching $2 billion, created through Trump’s Justice Department and overseen by former Attorney General Pam Bondi, once Trump’s personal defence attorney. The administration says the fund is intended to compensate Americans allegedly harmed by what Trump calls the “weaponized” Biden administration. Yet, the proposal offers no clear legal definition of “weaponization,” no judicial oversight, and no meaningful congressional involvement.
Critics say the plan amounts to an executive-controlled slush fund—public money distributed with minimal accountability and broad political discretion. While Trump insists the initiative seeks justice for political victims, opponents argue it could become a mechanism for rewarding allies, including some tied to the January 6, 2021 Capitol riot. Trump pardoned more than 1,200 convicted rioters on his inauguration day.
The controversy erupted on the same day Republican primary elections delivered victories to several Trump-backed challengers over long-serving GOP incumbents. Hardcore MAGA voters propelled little-known candidates into nomination contests, reinforcing Trump’s tightening grip over the Republican Party.
Yet, not every effort succeeded. In a rare institutional rebuke, the Senate Parliamentarian ruled that a proposed $1 billion taxpayer allocation tied to Trump’s planned White House ballroom could not be included in the reconciliation bill designed to bypass a Senate filibuster. Trump claimed private donors would cover roughly $350 million of the ballroom’s cost, while taxpayers would finance an additional billion dollars for “security” measures—a justification critics viewed as politically opportunistic following a recent alleged assassination attempt.
Despite pressure from the White House, Senate Republican leadership declined to remove the parliamentarian, exposing growing discomfort within some corners of the Grand Old Party.
Further scrutiny followed revelations hidden inside a Justice Department release. Reporters discovered language effectively barring the Internal Revenue Service from investigating Trump, his family, or his businesses over tax filings submitted before May 2026. Critics immediately labelled the arrangement a presidential “get-out-of-audit-free” card.
The move carries enormous financial implications. Previous investigations into Trump’s taxes reportedly threatened liabilities exceeding $100 million. Those inquiries now appear neutralized through executive authority.
At the same time, newly released federal ethics disclosures reveal Trump’s personal brokerage account executed more than 3,600 stock trades during the first quarter of 2026 alone—roughly 60 trades per day. Many involved companies affected by federal regulation, administration contracts, or public endorsements made by Trump himself.
Modern presidents traditionally avoided such conflicts through blind trusts or divestment. Lyndon Johnson helped establish the modern blind-trust precedent in the 1960s, and even Jimmy Carter placed his peanut farm under outside management while in office. No modern president has simultaneously governed and actively traded individual securities at such a scale.
The result, critics argue, is an unprecedented fusion of political power and personal enrichment. Financial disclosures, legal settlements, and executive actions increasingly blur the lines between governance, retaliation, and private gain.
Two Capitol Police officers injured defending Congress during the January 6 attack have now sued the administration, arguing the compensation fund unlawfully rewards extremists and exceeds executive authority. The lawsuit contends Congress alone possesses the constitutional power to authorize such spending.
Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer condemned the arrangement as “self-dealing with a government seal,” arguing Trump effectively sued the government he controls, settled the case through his own Justice Department, and emerged with both financial and legal protections.
Even some Republicans have struggled to defend the initiative. Senate Majority Leader John Thune publicly questioned the fund’s purpose, while Louisiana Senator Bill Cassidy bluntly called it “a slush fund,” warning that government cannot simply invent powers without legal authority.
The proposal’s vague eligibility standards have only intensified concern. Anyone claiming political targeting under a previous administration may apply. A five-member commission appointed by the Acting Attorney General would determine awards without judicial review. To critics, the language serves as a signal to political loyalists and insurrectionist groups alike: compensation framed as victimhood.
The broader political environment reflects a country increasingly fractured. America’s primary election system—designed to allow competing voices within parties—now often rewards ideological intensity over consensus. This writer recently served as an election judge in a Pennsylvania precinct where voter frustration was palpable. One Republican voter studied the ballot and declared: “I can’t vote for any of these people,” and returned an unmarked ballot.
In that precinct, 72 of 84 voters were registered Democrats. Independents—now roughly 35 percent of Pennsylvania’s electorate—were barred from participating in the closed primary altogether.
The incident captured a deeper national mood: alienation, polarization, and growing distrust in institutions once assumed to be stable.
—The writer has worked in senior positions at The Washington Post,
NBC, ABC and CNN and also consults for several Indian channels
