motherjones--2020-10-30--“I’ll Have People”: The Resistance Has a Plan to Stop Trump From Stealing the Election

Chris Stanley lives in the Villages , the sprawling retirement community in Central Florida that ’ s home to more than 115,000 of the nation ’ s over-55 set .
At 56 , she ’ s young by Villages standards .
But as a veteran Democratic organizer who ’ s volunteered in every election since she was 18 , she ’ s already found her way to the presidency of the Villages Democratic Club .
She ’ s been putting in marathon phone banking shifts at the local party headquarters— “ where I ’ m practically living these days , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ remind people to return their mail-in ballots , the method many of her fellow seniors are relying on to vote safely during the pandemic .
( In most places , including Florida , it ’ s now too late to mail back your mail-in ballot ; instead , you should hand-deliver it , based on the rules in your state . )
Stanley doesn ’ t like the way President Trump has been talking about the election .
She takes particular issue with his public efforts to urge the courts to shut down @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , my band of retirees and I are preparing to be useful , ” she says .
By “ useful , ” she means staging a protest in the event that Trump follows through with those demands .
In early October , Stanley invited Hardy Merriman , a scholar of civil resistance , to hold a virtual training for 150 of her fellow Villages Democratic Club members .
Merriman walked them through the “ Hold the Line ” guide , a 55-page how-to that Merriman co-authored , offering guidance for what to do @ @ @ @ @ @ @ allies try to steal the election .
The guide also tackles how to remain nonviolent in the face of escalating political tensions , a crucial skill in the Villages , where geriatric citizens have leaned into some of the worst tendencies of Trump-era political discourse .
One letter to the editor of the local paper catalogued threats to drive into people rallying on the sidewalk , keyed cars , and beer poured on the seat of a golf cart , the vehicle of choice in “ Florida ’ s Friendliest Hometown.
” “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ re taking up bayonets , ” Stanley adds to that end .
But she does plan to act .
“ Otherwise , ” she says , “ that ’ s the end of American democracy .
That ’ s it .
It ’ s over.
” Stanley and her “ band of retirees ” are not alone in their concern for what could happen next week as the country awaits the outcome of the presidential election .
Trump ’ s repeated statements undermining confidence in the results have been buttressed by the actions @ @ @ @ @ @ @ roughshod over the sanctity of electoral process .
The Biden campaign has lawyered up to fight that battle in the courts , but the grassroots resistance that owes its renaissance to Trump ’ s 2016 victory has its own plans for that unwelcome outcome .
These activists have spent the last four years protesting Trump at every turn : over his treatment of women , over the separation of immigrant families , and over his hostility toward racial justice movements .
Now , they ’ re planning for a massive demonstration that they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the results of the election , while deescalating the violence they fear could accompany such an uprising .
The final weeks of the 2020 election have brought a particular strain of déjà vu for Stanley : the frustration she felt five presidential elections ago when the nation watched Florida election officials count the ballots in 2000 .
She tells me she had half a mind to leave her young child back home in North Carolina , where she was living at the time , and drive down to the Sunshine State to register @ @ @ @ @ @ @ back and waiting for votes to be counted !
” Stanley says .
“ There was no reason to believe it would be done in a democratic manner whatsoever .
I was so aggravated that there wasn ’ t mobilization on the ground.
” During those five uncertain weeks before the Supreme Court declared George W. Bush the victor , only the Republicans had managed to stage a meaningful protest : Hundreds of GOP operatives descended upon election canvassers in Miami-Dade County with the goal of shutting down the recount during the “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the demonstrators ’ starched-collar aesthetic .
This year , she ’ s convinced she might finally get her own Florida recount moment , possibly one that revolves around GOP efforts to challenge mail-in ballots over technicalities .
“ It won ’ t be hanging chads this time , ” she says , “ but it ’ ll be signatures , dates , the sealing of envelopes , and outright fraud.
” Hence , the Hold the Line training .
“ We ’ re hitting the streets , we ’ re going to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t pull the same stunt they did in 2000.
” Hold the Line was conceived by a group of veteran DC-based activists in late spring .
They wondered if Trump , a proud eschewer of democratic norms , would commit to a peaceful transfer of power—and what he might do to protesters who challenged him .
Then in June , the US Park Police fired tear gas at nonviolent demonstrators near the White House so Trump could cross the square for a photo-op at a nearby church .
“ That was another @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” Ankur Asthana , one of Hold the Line ’ s co-founders , says .
“ It was really the galvanizing moment.
” The guide outlines three “ red line ” scenarios that , if crossed , should prompt activists to engage : Trump declares victory before the results are clear ; the vote counts show signs of tampering ; or Trump refuses to leave office after losing .
It also imagines an attendant set of escalating dangers : Trump-aligned militias or white supremacists might try to instigate violence among peaceful protestors @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be called in to suppress protests in a violent manner .
The training then walks through how to prepare coordinated responses—strikes , boycotts , and , of course , protests—in an effort to shift the balance of power back toward democratic norms .
At first blush , the guide seems uniquely designed for the sort of DC-based clash that inspired its creation .
And there will , of course , be a role for protestors in the nation ’ s capital .
ShutDownDC , a direct action democracy group based in Washington , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ set in motion in the event of post-election chaos—and businesses in downtown DC have already begun refreshing the plywood barriers they placed over their windows during the racial justice uprisings this summer .
But the point of Hold the Line is to encourage activists to make a plan to take action at local level that can ensure the national outcome is protected—to counter whatever the 2020 version of the Brooks Brothers Riot might be .
“ They ’ re the leaders amongst their own communities , and they know best how to hold @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , another Hold the Line co-founder , tells me .
“ It ’ s their efforts at those local levels that will cause a wave.
” This , too , is the sentiment behind Protect the Results , a mass mobilization initiative from the Indivisible Project and Stand Up America that encourages local organizers to commit to a protest for November 4 .
So far , more than 400 events in 45 states have been planned .
Kierstyn Zolfo , a leader of an Indivisible group in Bucks County , Pennsylvania , tells @ @ @ @ @ @ @ courthouse in response to any one of a number of ballot-counting disasters looming over the swing state—especially if it appears that mail-in ballots are being disregarded in an effort to hand the state to Trump .
Yurie Hong , who leads an Indivisible group outside the Twin Cities , is concerned about a recent ruling from a federal appeals court requiring that late-arriving mail-in ballots be separated from those that arrive on time—a move widely viewed as a precursor to throwing them out .
“ I think it ’ s very likely that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ seeks to declare only Election Day votes valid , especially if he seeks to do so extrajudicially , ” Hong tells me .
Each of the various mobilization efforts stresses a nonviolent approach and de-escalation tactics in the event of clashes with Trump-aligned counter-protestors , a common side effect of civil disobedience in the Trump era .
While high-profile cases of deadly political violence have garnered headlines , low-grade intimidation tactics have followed grassroots protesters everywhere .
This has been particularly true in areas where Democratic engagement had been nearly nonexistent four years @ @ @ @ @ @ @ boiling point in June , when a man shouted “ White Power ” at anti-Trump protestors during a golf cart parade in honor of the president ’ s birthday .
“ I am concerned about what people feel emboldened to do in the face of kind of mass citizen movements , ” Hong tells me .
She says her group was mocked and threatened by Trump supporters when they clashed at the president ’ s rally in Mankato , Minnesota , over the summer .
Nothing dangerous happened then , she explains , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ higher right now.
” She worries that Trump might express a “ legitimization or validation of violent groups ” in the face of defeat .
Bucks County ’ s Zolfo has a similar fear : She says her group encountered members of the far-right Proud Boys at a pro-impeachment demonstration last December .
Nine months later , Trump publicly called on the Proud Boys to “ stand back and stand by.
” Of course , one way to avoid mass protests and the potentially violent confrontations that might accompany them is for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ groups I spoke with about post-election organizing stressed that they are , first and foremost , pouring their energy into a final push to get out the vote .
Sumter County , Florida , where most of the Villages is located , has been firmly red and will probably remain so , even though the seniors who pushed Trump over the finish line in 2016 are showing signs that they might to abandon him .
On November 4 , Stanley will come up for air and assess what comes next .
“ I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to be with me , ” she says .
“ But if it comes to it , I ’ ll have people .
”

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Chris Stanley lives in the Villages, the sprawling retirement community in Central Florida that’s home to more than 115,000 of the nation’s over-55 set. At 56, she’s young by Villages standards. But as a veteran Democratic organizer who’s volunteered in every election since she was 18, she’s already found her way to the presidency of the Villages Democratic Club. She’s been putting in marathon phone banking shifts at the local party headquarters—“where I’m practically living these days,” she told me earlier this month—to remind people to return their mail-in ballots, the method many of her fellow seniors are relying on to vote safely during the pandemic. (In most places, including Florida, it’s now too late to mail back your mail-in ballot; instead, you should hand-deliver it, based on the rules in your state.)
Stanley doesn’t like the way President Trump has been talking about the election. She takes particular issue with his public efforts to urge the courts to shut down ballot-counting after Election Day. “So, my band of retirees and I are preparing to be useful,” she says.
“We’re hitting the streets, we’re going to talk to people, so they can’t pull the same stunt they did in 2000.”
By “useful,” she means staging a protest in the event that Trump follows through with those demands. In early October, Stanley invited Hardy Merriman, a scholar of civil resistance, to hold a virtual training for 150 of her fellow Villages Democratic Club members. Merriman walked them through the “Hold the Line” guide, a 55-page how-to that Merriman co-authored, offering guidance for what to do in the event that Trump and his allies try to steal the election. The guide also tackles how to remain nonviolent in the face of escalating political tensions, a crucial skill in the Villages, where geriatric citizens have leaned into some of the worst tendencies of Trump-era political discourse. One letter to the editor of the local paper catalogued threats to drive into people rallying on the sidewalk, keyed cars, and beer poured on the seat of a golf cart, the vehicle of choice in “Florida’s Friendliest Hometown.”
“I’m not saying we’re taking up bayonets,” Stanley adds to that end. But she does plan to act. “Otherwise,” she says, “that’s the end of American democracy. That’s it. It’s over.”
Stanley and her “band of retirees” are not alone in their concern for what could happen next week as the country awaits the outcome of the presidential election. Trump’s repeated statements undermining confidence in the results have been buttressed by the actions of Republican lawmakers and GOP-appointed judges running roughshod over the sanctity of electoral process. The Biden campaign has lawyered up to fight that battle in the courts, but the grassroots resistance that owes its renaissance to Trump’s 2016 victory has its own plans for that unwelcome outcome. These activists have spent the last four years protesting Trump at every turn: over his treatment of women, over the separation of immigrant families, and over his hostility toward racial justice movements. Now, they’re planning for a massive demonstration that they hope never comes to pass—one to defend the results of the election, while deescalating the violence they fear could accompany such an uprising.
The final weeks of the 2020 election have brought a particular strain of déjà vu for Stanley: the frustration she felt five presidential elections ago when the nation watched Florida election officials count the ballots in 2000. She tells me she had half a mind to leave her young child back home in North Carolina, where she was living at the time, and drive down to the Sunshine State to register her discontent. “Everyone was sitting back and waiting for votes to be counted!” Stanley says. “There was no reason to believe it would be done in a democratic manner whatsoever. I was so aggravated that there wasn’t mobilization on the ground.”
During those five uncertain weeks before the Supreme Court declared George W. Bush the victor, only the Republicans had managed to stage a meaningful protest: Hundreds of GOP operatives descended upon election canvassers in Miami-Dade County with the goal of shutting down the recount during the “Brooks Brothers Riot,” so named for the demonstrators’ starched-collar aesthetic. This year, she’s convinced she might finally get her own Florida recount moment, possibly one that revolves around GOP efforts to challenge mail-in ballots over technicalities. “It won’t be hanging chads this time,” she says, “but it’ll be signatures, dates, the sealing of envelopes, and outright fraud.” Hence, the Hold the Line training. “We’re hitting the streets, we’re going to talk to people, so they can’t pull the same stunt they did in 2000.”
Hold the Line was conceived by a group of veteran DC-based activists in late spring. They wondered if Trump, a proud eschewer of democratic norms, would commit to a peaceful transfer of power—and what he might do to protesters who challenged him. Then in June, the US Park Police fired tear gas at nonviolent demonstrators near the White House so Trump could cross the square for a photo-op at a nearby church. “That was another indicator of what we could be facing,” Ankur Asthana, one of Hold the Line’s co-founders, says. “It was really the galvanizing moment.”
The guide outlines three “red line” scenarios that, if crossed, should prompt activists to engage: Trump declares victory before the results are clear; the vote counts show signs of tampering; or Trump refuses to leave office after losing. It also imagines an attendant set of escalating dangers: Trump-aligned militias or white supremacists might try to instigate violence among peaceful protesters, or the police or military might be called in to suppress protests in a violent manner. The training then walks through how to prepare coordinated responses—strikes, boycotts, and, of course, protests—in an effort to shift the balance of power back toward democratic norms.
At first blush, the guide seems uniquely designed for the sort of DC-based clash that inspired its creation. And there will, of course, be a role for protesters in the nation’s capital. ShutDownDC, a direct action democracy group based in Washington, has a chain of events it will set in motion in the event of post-election chaos—and businesses in downtown DC have already begun refreshing the plywood barriers they placed over their windows during the racial justice uprisings this summer. But the point of Hold the Line is to encourage activists to make a plan to take action at local level that can ensure the national outcome is protected—to counter whatever the 2020 version of the Brooks Brothers Riot might be. “They’re the leaders amongst their own communities, and they know best how to hold the lines locally,” Kifah Shah, another Hold the Line co-founder, tells me. “It’s their efforts at those local levels that will cause a wave.”
This, too, is the sentiment behind Protect the Results, a mass mobilization initiative from the Indivisible Project and Stand Up America that encourages local organizers to commit to a protest for November 4. So far, more than 400 events in 45 states have been planned. Kierstyn Zolfo, a leader of an Indivisible group in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, tells me protesters will gather outside the county courthouse in response to any one of a number of ballot-counting disasters looming over the swing state—especially if it appears that mail-in ballots are being disregarded in an effort to hand the state to Trump.
Yurie Hong, who leads an Indivisible group outside the Twin Cities, is concerned about a recent ruling from a federal appeals court requiring that late-arriving mail-in ballots be separated from those that arrive on time—a move widely viewed as a precursor to throwing them out. “I think it’s very likely that protests will be triggered if President Trump seeks to declare only Election Day votes valid, especially if he seeks to do so extrajudicially,” Hong tells me.
Each of the various mobilization efforts stresses a nonviolent approach and de-escalation tactics in the event of clashes with Trump-aligned counter-protesters, a common side effect of civil disobedience in the Trump era. While high-profile cases of deadly political violence have garnered headlines, low-grade intimidation tactics have followed grassroots protesters everywhere. This has been particularly true in areas where Democratic engagement had been nearly nonexistent four years ago. The Villages hit a particular boiling point in June, when a man shouted “White Power” at anti-Trump protesters during a golf cart parade in honor of the president’s birthday.
“I am concerned about what people feel emboldened to do in the face of kind of mass citizen movements,” Hong tells me. She says her group was mocked and threatened by Trump supporters when they clashed at the president’s rally in Mankato, Minnesota, over the summer. Nothing dangerous happened then, she explains, but “I think tensions are much higher right now.” She worries that Trump might express a “legitimization or validation of violent groups” in the face of defeat. Bucks County’s Zolfo has a similar fear: She says her group encountered members of the far-right Proud Boys at a pro-impeachment demonstration last December. Nine months later, Trump publicly called on the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by.”
Of course, one way to avoid mass protests and the potentially violent confrontations that might accompany them is for the presidential results to be decisive. The groups I spoke with about post-election organizing stressed that they are, first and foremost, pouring their energy into a final push to get out the vote. Sumter County, Florida, where most of the Villages is located, has been firmly red and will probably remain so, even though the seniors who pushed Trump over the finish line in 2016 are showing signs that they might to abandon him. On November 4, Stanley will come up for air and assess what comes next.
“I’m not expecting every 80-year-old retiree to be with me,” she says. “But if it comes to it, I’ll have people.”


motherjones--2020-10-30--How a Right-Wing Group Led by a Trump Lawyer Is Funding a Russian Activist Tied to the Putin Regime

The following article is based on a joint investigation by Mother Jones and openDemocracy .
Over the past 12 years , a prominent conservative nonprofit led by one of Donald Trump ’ s impeachment lawyers has provided $ 3.3 million in funding to a Russian organization run by a legal activist with ties to Vladimir Putin ’ s government .
The American Center for Law and Justice , founded in 1990 by right-wing evangelical Pat Robertson to pursue legal cases that benefit Christian conservatives , has been annually sending hundreds of thousands of dollars to its Moscow-based affiliate , the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ SCLJ ) , according to ACLJ ’ s tax records .
The chief counsel for the ACLJ—and its driving force—is Jay Sekulow , who famously shepherded Trump ’ s impeachment defense as one of his private attorneys .
The SCLJ is directed by Vladimir Ryakhovsky , an evangelical activist and Russian lawyer who serves on Putin ’ s human rights council .
The funds sent by the ACLJ to the Russian group , the ACLJ says in its tax filings , are meant to underwrite “ litigation and legal services related to religious @ @ @ @ @ @ @ On its website , the SCLJ says it provides “ legal assistance to religious organizations and citizens ” and mounts “ court cases related to the protection of the rights of citizens and organizations to freedom of conscience and religion.
” Its focus tends to be on issues related to evangelical churches , but in some cases it has sought to protect Muslims ’ rights .
In one instance , the SCLJ defended the Word of Life Evangelical Church when a local prosecutor targeted it for violating a law against missionary activity .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Law and Justice , another ACLJ-financed affiliate , generally embrace a fundamentalist view when it comes to civil liberties .
In 2013 , the SCLJ expressed support for Putin ’ s law banning gay-rights advocacy .
A year earlier , after the punk band Pussy Riot held an anti-Putin protest inside a church , the SCLJ called for a law to criminalize such “ blasphemous ” activity , as well as the “ dissemination of such information on the Internet.
” ( OpenDemocracy has reported that the ACLJ has sent at least $ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has been involved in numerous European court cases against sexual and reproductive rights .
The ACLJ is one of 28 American Christian right groups , according to openDemocracy , which have spent more than £280 million of dark money around the world since 2007 .
None of these groups disclose the identities of their donors or the full details of their global spending . )
For the past 26 years , Vladimir Ryakhovsky , who has directed the SCLJ since 1993 , has served in influential posts within the Russian government .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as a member of the Presidential Council on the Development of Civil Society and Human Rights , a governmental group that supposedly monitors assaults on political rights .
Last year , Putin overhauled the council , booting off members who had criticized his government and replacing its head with a former TV host widely seen as a Kremlin loyalist .
The four members bounced from the committee had sought to investigate actions taken by Russian security forces and the courts against participants in protests that had challenged the fairness of recent elections .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ in an interview that he intended to pay less attention to political rights and more to “ social rights.
” At the time of Putin ’ s remaking of the council , the Irish Times noted the panel “ has gained a reputation as a toothless advisory body that soft pedals when criticising the authorities.
” After Putin ’ s assault on the council , Ryakhovsky remained a member .
This year Ryakhovsky joined the Public Collegium on Press Complaints , a group that says it “ self-regulates and co-regulates the media ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ audience about violations of the professional ethics of a journalist.
” The outfit includes several journalists allied with the Putin regime .
Ryakhovsky ’ s brother Sergei is a leading evangelical Christian in Russia : the chief bishop of the Russian United Union of Evangelical Christians ( RUCEF ) .
The pair grew up in a family that belonged to the Pentacostal church , which at the time was outlawed .
Bishop Ryakhovsky has “ provided all-round support ” to the SCLJ , according to his spokesperson , and the SCLJ has been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ centers for evangelical believers in Russia.
” Sekulow , the spokesperson notes , “ noticed it in good time and then the cooperation between the SCLJ and the ACLJ ” began .
The bishop , he adds , “ knows Jay Sekulow well and considers him one of the most competent and respected human rights defenders.
” Bishop Ryakhovsky , too , is tied to the Putin government .
In 2006 , he was appointed by Putin to be a member of the Kremlin ’ s Civic Chamber , a consultative group that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that analyzes draft legislation—and he has served on that body since then .
( Vladimir Ryakhovsky was a part of the Civic Chamber in the mid-1990s . )
The bishop also sits on a religious council that advises Putin .
The bishop often posts photos on social media of himself with Putin and has called cooperation with the Russian leader easy .
His spokesperson notes that photos of the bishop with Putin are “ very important ” because they send “ a signal to the whole society that times have really changed ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is no longer outlawed or persecuted by the federal government .
In an email to openDemocracy , the spokesperson explained the bishop ’ s support for Putin in religious terms : “ Bishop Sergei Ryakhovsky , and the churches of RUCEF as a whole , support the head of state , as the Holy Scriptures clearly states that .
The Bible records the words of the Apostle Paul , in which he asks to ‘ perform prayers ’ for ‘ kings and for all rulers . '
” But he adds that Bishop @ @ @ @ @ @ @ policy stands : “ The pronounced conservative position of Vladimir Putin on the issues of traditional moral values and his pronounced support for the traditional family evoke great sympathy among the Evangelical believers .
Unfortunately , this position is quite different from ones of certain European leaders and some former US presidents.
” Bishop Ryakhovsky has indeed been a firm supporter of Putin ’ s regime .
In 2011 , he denounced anti-Putin protesters who charged that his government was rigging elections ; the following year he endorsed Putin ’ s presidential bid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his online biography , the bishop was awarded a letter of gratitude from Putin “ for his active participation in the preparation and conduct of Russian presidential elections ” —an election that Putin won but that was marred by serious allegations of voting irregularities and fraud .
On Russia Day 2019 , Sergei Ryakhovsky received a personal congratulation from Putin and invitation for a gala reception at the Kremlin .
Alexander Verkhovsky , director of Sova Center for Information and Analysis , notes that Sergei Ryakhovsky is loyal to the Putin regime “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Russia.
” An outfit led by an attorney for the US president financing an activist tied to the Russian president might once have seemed odd .
But as Putin in recent years has courted evangelical Protestants in Russia—where the dominant religion is that of the Russian Orthodox Church— conservative Christians in the United States have displayed an affinity for the Russian autocrat .
Sekulow and the ACLJ financing Vladimir Ryakhovsky is in sync with this trend .
In 2016 , though , Sekulow published a book that denounced a supposed global conspiracy comprised @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and radical Islam .
The volume was alarmingly titled Unholy Alliance : Russia , Iran , and Radical Islam ’ s Agenda for World Domination .
Sekulow , a Messianic Jew affiliated with Jews for Jesus , claimed that this axis of evil was an existential threat to the United States and Israel and that the Obama administration at the time was failing to counter the danger .
On its website , the ACLJ vowed “ to monitor this ever-ramifying national security situation.
” Yet the following year , Sekulow became a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the president in calling the Russia scandal “ a witch hunt.
” He was now enthusiastically working for a client who embraced Putin , denied or discounted Moscow ’ s attack on the 2016 election , and belittled concerns about the threat Russia posed to the United States .
“ The relationship between the Ryakhovsky brothers and the Putin administration is analogous to the relationship between some evangelicals and the Trump administration―including Jay Sekulow , ” says Frederick Clarkson , a senior research analyst at Political Research Associates , a progressive think tank @ @ @ @ @ @ @ appears that the White House model of courting evangelicals has been exported to Moscow.
” Long before he became famous for his defense of Trump , Sekulow was well-known as a crusader for conservative Christian causes , the host of his own radio show , and a frequent guest on right-wing media outlets .
And during his rise as a big-time player of the right , there has been controversy about the ACLJ ’ s finances .
In 2005 , Legal Times reported that Sekulow , with the ACLJ and a string of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has built a financial empire that generates millions of dollars a year and supports a lavish lifestyle—complete with multiple homes , chauffeur-driven cars , and a private jet that he once used to ferry Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia.
” In 2017 , the Washington Post revealed that Sekulow ’ s “ charity empire ” brought in nearly $ 230 million in donations from 2011 to 2015—and $ 28.5 million of that ended up with members of Sekulow ’ s family or their companies .
That year , CharityWatch.org reported that the family @ @ @ @ @ @ @ groups in Sekulow ’ s charity network ( which included the ACLJ ) raised a “ red flag.
” Neither Sekulow nor Vladimir Ryakhovsky responded to requests for comment .
Tatev Hovhannisyan of openDemocracy contributed reporting for this article .

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The following article is based on a joint investigation by Mother Jones and openDemocracy.
Over the past 12 years, a prominent conservative nonprofit led by one of Donald Trump’s impeachment lawyers has provided $3.3 million in funding to a Russian organization run by a legal activist with ties to Vladimir Putin’s government.
The American Center for Law and Justice, founded in 1990 by right-wing evangelical Pat Robertson to pursue legal cases that benefit Christian conservatives, has been annually sending hundreds of thousands of dollars to its Moscow-based affiliate, the Slavic Center for Law and Justice (SCLJ), according to ACLJ’s tax records. The chief counsel for the ACLJ—and its driving force—is Jay Sekulow, who famously shepherded Trump’s impeachment defense as one of his private attorneys. The SCLJ is directed by Vladimir Ryakhovsky, an evangelical activist and Russian lawyer who serves on Putin’s human rights council.
The funds sent by the ACLJ to the Russian group, the ACLJ says in its tax filings, are meant to underwrite “litigation and legal services related to religious freedoms and human rights in Russia.” On its website, the SCLJ says it provides “legal assistance to religious organizations and citizens” and mounts “court cases related to the protection of the rights of citizens and organizations to freedom of conscience and religion.” Its focus tends to be on issues related to evangelical churches, but in some cases it has sought to protect Muslims’ rights. In one instance, the SCLJ defended the Word of Life Evangelical Church when a local prosecutor targeted it for violating a law against missionary activity.
The SCLJ and the European Center for Law and Justice, another ACLJ-financed affiliate, generally embrace a fundamentalist view when it comes to civil liberties. In 2013, the SCLJ expressed support for Putin’s law banning gay-rights advocacy. A year earlier, after the punk band Pussy Riot held an anti-Putin protest inside a church, the SCLJ called for a law to criminalize such “blasphemous” activity, as well as the “dissemination of such information on the Internet.” (OpenDemocracy has reported that the ACLJ has sent at least $14 million to the ECLJ, which has been involved in numerous European court cases against sexual and reproductive rights. The ACLJ is one of 28 American Christian right groups, according to openDemocracy, which have spent more than £280 million of dark money around the world since 2007. None of these groups disclose the identities of their donors or the full details of their global spending.)
For the past 26 years, Vladimir Ryakhovsky, who has directed the SCLJ since 1993, has served in influential posts within the Russian government. In 2018, he was appointed by Putin as a member of the Presidential Council on the Development of Civil Society and Human Rights, a governmental group that supposedly monitors assaults on political rights. Last year, Putin overhauled the council, booting off members who had criticized his government and replacing its head with a former TV host widely seen as a Kremlin loyalist. The four members bounced from the committee had sought to investigate actions taken by Russian security forces and the courts against participants in protests that had challenged the fairness of recent elections. The new head of the council said in an interview that he intended to pay less attention to political rights and more to “social rights.” At the time of Putin’s remaking of the council, the Irish Times noted the panel “has gained a reputation as a toothless advisory body that soft pedals when criticising the authorities.” After Putin’s assault on the council, Ryakhovsky remained a member.
This year Ryakhovsky joined the Public Collegium on Press Complaints, a group that says it “self-regulates and co-regulates the media” and handles “complaints from the media audience about violations of the professional ethics of a journalist.” The outfit includes several journalists allied with the Putin regime.
Ryakhovsky’s brother Sergei is a leading evangelical Christian in Russia: the chief bishop of the Russian United Union of Evangelical Christians (RUCEF). The pair grew up in a family that belonged to the Pentacostal church, which at the time was outlawed.
Bishop Ryakhovsky has “provided all-round support” to the SCLJ, according to his spokesperson, and the SCLJ has been “one of the main legal support centers for evangelical believers in Russia.” Sekulow, the spokesperson notes, “noticed it in good time and then the cooperation between the SCLJ and the ACLJ” began. The bishop, he adds, “knows Jay Sekulow well and considers him one of the most competent and respected human rights defenders.”
Bishop Ryakhovsky, too, is tied to the Putin government. In 2006, he was appointed by Putin to be a member of the Kremlin’s Civic Chamber, a consultative group that monitors the federal government and parliament and that analyzes draft legislation—and he has served on that body since then. (Vladimir Ryakhovsky was a part of the Civic Chamber in the mid-1990s.) The bishop also sits on a religious council that advises Putin.
The bishop often posts photos on social media of himself with Putin and has called cooperation with the Russian leader easy. His spokesperson notes that photos of the bishop with Putin are “very important” because they send “a signal to the whole society that times have really changed” and that the evangelical church in Russia is no longer outlawed or persecuted by the federal government.
In an email to openDemocracy, the spokesperson explained the bishop’s support for Putin in religious terms: “Bishop Sergei Ryakhovsky, and the churches of RUCEF as a whole, support the head of state, as the Holy Scriptures clearly states that. The Bible records the words of the Apostle Paul, in which he asks to ‘perform prayers’ for ‘kings and for all rulers.'” But he adds that Bishop Ryakhovsky also backs Putin because of his policy stands: “The pronounced conservative position of Vladimir Putin on the issues of traditional moral values and his pronounced support for the traditional family evoke great sympathy among the Evangelical believers. Unfortunately, this position is quite different from ones of certain European leaders and some former US presidents.”
Bishop Ryakhovsky has indeed been a firm supporter of Putin’s regime. In 2011, he denounced anti-Putin protesters who charged that his government was rigging elections; the following year he endorsed Putin’s presidential bid. In May 2018, according to his online biography, the bishop was awarded a letter of gratitude from Putin “for his active participation in the preparation and conduct of Russian presidential elections”—an election that Putin won but that was marred by serious allegations of voting irregularities and fraud. On Russia Day 2019, Sergei Ryakhovsky received a personal congratulation from Putin and invitation for a gala reception at the Kremlin. Alexander Verkhovsky, director of Sova Center for Information and Analysis, notes that Sergei Ryakhovsky is loyal to the Putin regime “like all other mainstream religious leaders in Russia.”
An outfit led by an attorney for the US president financing an activist tied to the Russian president might once have seemed odd. But as Putin in recent years has courted evangelical Protestants in Russia—where the dominant religion is that of the Russian Orthodox Church— conservative Christians in the United States have displayed an affinity for the Russian autocrat. Sekulow and the ACLJ financing Vladimir Ryakhovsky is in sync with this trend.
In 2016, though, Sekulow published a book that denounced a supposed global conspiracy comprised of Putin’s Russia, Iran, and radical Islam. The volume was alarmingly titled Unholy Alliance: Russia, Iran, and Radical Islam’s Agenda for World Domination. Sekulow, a Messianic Jew affiliated with Jews for Jesus, claimed that this axis of evil was an existential threat to the United States and Israel and that the Obama administration at the time was failing to counter the danger. On its website, the ACLJ vowed “to monitor this ever-ramifying national security situation.” Yet the following year, Sekulow became a high-profile legal crusader for Trump and echoed the president in calling the Russia scandal “a witch hunt.” He was now enthusiastically working for a client who embraced Putin, denied or discounted Moscow’s attack on the 2016 election, and belittled concerns about the threat Russia posed to the United States.
“The relationship between the Ryakhovsky brothers and the Putin administration is analogous to the relationship between some evangelicals and the Trump administration―including Jay Sekulow,” says Frederick Clarkson, a senior research analyst at Political Research Associates, a progressive think tank that studies right-wing movements. “It appears that the White House model of courting evangelicals has been exported to Moscow.”
Long before he became famous for his defense of Trump, Sekulow was well-known as a crusader for conservative Christian causes, the host of his own radio show, and a frequent guest on right-wing media outlets. And during his rise as a big-time player of the right, there has been controversy about the ACLJ’s finances. In 2005, Legal Times reported that Sekulow, with the ACLJ and a string of interconnected nonprofit and for-profit entities, “has built a financial empire that generates millions of dollars a year and supports a lavish lifestyle—complete with multiple homes, chauffeur-driven cars, and a private jet that he once used to ferry Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia.” In 2017, the Washington Post revealed that Sekulow’s “charity empire” brought in nearly $230 million in donations from 2011 to 2015—and $28.5 million of that ended up with members of Sekulow’s family or their companies. That year, CharityWatch.org reported that the family connections and other associations among the various groups in Sekulow’s charity network (which included the ACLJ) raised a “red flag.”
Neither Sekulow nor Vladimir Ryakhovsky responded to requests for comment.
Tatev Hovhannisyan of openDemocracy contributed reporting for this article.


motherjones--2020-10-30--Donald Trump’s Top Swing-State Surrogates: His Cabinet

Before Donald Trump Jr. took the microphone to stump for his father in Cedar Rapids , Iowa , on Tuesday , the audience of Republican voters in this important swing state heard from a special guest : President Donald Trump ’ s Secretary of Agriculture , Sonny Perdue .
“ I ’ ve been in Iowa for a few days , ” Perdue said , “ and lem me tell ya , Biden is running third behind Trump and ‘ for sale ’ signs.
” I don ’ t know about the signs , but Perdue has spent more than @ @ @ @ @ @ @ It was his third visit to the state in the last two months .
And while no one doubts Iowa ’ s importance to agriculture , those visits fall into a pattern : Perdue has been showering attention on President Donald Trump ’ s most important re-election targets .
This month he has visited Iowa ( twice ) , Michigan , Pennsylvania , Georgia , Minnesota , and Wisconsin .
In September , he stopped in Florida , Georgia , North Carolina ( with Ivanka Trump ) , Nebraska ’ s second congressional @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he was in Georgia , North Carolina ( with Ivanka again—and the president ) , and Michigan .
With the exception of his current trip , and Thursday ’ s campaign appearance with his cousin , Georgia Sen. David Perdue , all of those swing-state visits were considered official government business .
But Perdue ’ s schedule is the norm among top officials in Trump ’ s government right now .
As the president uses government resources for personal and political means to an unprecedented degree—it was the attempt to coerce a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ led to his impeachment—his subordinates have deployed to battleground states for photo-ops , placed op-eds , made media hits , and crafted videos sometimes indistinguishable from campaign material .
It ’ s not a new development .
In 2011 , the Office of the Special Counsel released a damning report detailing how Karl Rove , George W. Bush ’ s chief political aide , coordinated with campaign strategists to send cabinet officials to targeted states and congressional districts .
Although less brazen than such Bush-era efforts , President Barack Obama ’ s top @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his first Department of Health and Human Services secretary , Kathleen Sebelius , was fined for violating the Hatch Act—which bars federal employees from campaigning in their official capacities—during a 2012 visit to North Carolina .
But right now , it ’ s hard to find a top Trump official who hasn ’ t visited a battleground state recently .
“ To a certain extent there is an advantage of incumbency , ” says Jordan Libowitz , a spokesperson for Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington , a watchdog group that has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Trump White House officials .
“ What we ’ re seeing from this administration goes a bit further , in that there ’ s this blurring of the political with the actual running of the government.
” CREW filed a complaint against Perdue after a North Carolina visit in which he told farmers they would continue receiving support , “ If America gets out and votes for this man , Donald J. Trump.
” In October , Perdue was ordered to reimburse the government for the cost of the event .
Perhaps @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his official duties with his political ones as much as Secretary of State Mike Pompeo , who has departed from a role that has traditionally been more , well , diplomatic in order to advance not just the president ’ s ambitions but perhaps his own .
In January , Pompeo visited The Villages , the sprawling Florida retirement community that ’ s crucial to Trump ’ s re-election plan , and asked voters at the Sumter County Fairgrounds , “ Is anybody tired of winning yet ?
” In July , he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ National Constitution Center in Philadelphia ( that ’ s in Pennsylvania , in case you forgot ) attacking “ rioters pulling down statues , ” criticizing the media , and condemning the New York Times ’ “ 1619 Project , ” which emphasized the centrality of slavery to the American story .
The next day he was in Iowa , where he met with the Iowa Farm Bureau to discuss trade policies and spoke to social conservative leaders about his faith .
In September , he went to Texas ( to speak at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Wisconsin ( where he blamed China for the coronavirus in an address to Republican state legislators ) .
He video-conferenced into a social conservative gathering in Florida , and in perhaps his biggest coup , addressed the Republican National Convention from Jerusalem .
On Tuesday , CNN reported that the Office of the Special Counsel was investigating whether Pompeo ’ s RNC speech had violated the Hatch Act .
But the White House has taken a dismissive attitude toward that law .
“ Let me know when the jail sentence starts , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ spring after criticizing Biden from the White House lawn .
When White House chief of staff Mark Meadows was asked about possible Hatch Act violations at the RNC , he said “ nobody outside the Beltway really cares.
” Pompeo ’ s media blitz is even less subtle than his travel schedule .
On October 15 , to pick just one date , he called into talk radio shows in Phoenix ( where he discussed releasing new Hillary Clinton emails ) , Detroit ( where he talked up trade deals that work for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ) , Orlando ( Clinton emails again ) , and Atlanta .
Acting Homeland Security Secretary Chad Wolf held a press conference in Philadelphia in October to celebrate the detention of 170 undocumented immigrations by the Immigration and Customs Enforcement Agency—even though very few of those apprehensions actually took place in Pennsylvania .
Wolf was in Arizona earlier this month .
The week before that , he was in Michigan and Wisconsin .
( CREW filed a Hatch Act complaint against Wolf after he participated in a naturalization ceremony at the White House @ @ @ @ @ @ @ . )
In September , ICE held a press conference in North Carolina to attack local authorities for sanctuary-city policies .
On Wednesday , ICE held a press conference in Minnesota , one of Trump ’ s targets .
The agency has put up billboards in Pennsylvania—and only Pennsylvania—with mug shots of undocumented immigrants who are wanted for crimes .
Interior Secretary David Bernhardt took some heat on Tuesday when he promoted a one-minute campaign-style video highlighting the president ’ s accomplishments , but it was hardly a one-time thing .
Last week @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Arizona , where he held a press conference touting Trump ’ s efforts on “ securing our border ” and announced a major drug bust .
Before that he was in Ohio .
He paid a visit to a Colorado construction project to praise the “ forceful advocacy ” of Sen. Cory Gardner , one of the most endangered Republicans in the Senate .
He ’ s visited Florida , North Carolina , and Wisconsin .
Energy Secretary Dan Brouillette has visited Pennsylvania four times since August to promote fracking—which is at the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the state .
( An October visit to Ohio was cancelled after staffers tested positive for Coronavirus . )
He visited Wisconsin in October , Michigan in September , and North Carolina in August .
EPA chief Andrew Wheeler made trips to Pennsylvania in June , August , and October ; went to Wisconsin in June and August ; toured Michigan and Minnesota in September ; and Ohio in October .
This week he ’ s in Florida for the second time in as many weeks , as well as Georgia .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ in this month , following visits to Steubenville , Ohio ; and Florida ’ s Miami-Dade College .
September saw him in North Carolina , Florida , Ohio ( twice ) , Pennsylvania , and Michigan .
He spent Labor Day in Wisconsin with Vice President Mike Pence .
What about Education Secretary Betsy DeVos ?
Glad you asked .
In the closing stretch of the election she traveled to North Carolina ( twice ) , Iowa , Michigan , Texas , Arizona , and Wisconsin ’ s crucial Waukesha County .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Michigan .
She visited Georgia at the end of August .
Maybe you ’ ve noticed a trend !
It ’ s not a recent one , either .
As my colleague Rebecca Leber has noted , it was happening in the spring and summer too .
There is plenty of official business to take care of in all of these states , of course , and these officials have a lot of latitude on how they do it .
( Perdue ’ s North Carolina trip , ostensibly to promote the Farmers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have been perfectly legal if he hadn ’ t called for “ four more years ” during it—a slip-up he acknowledged when asked about the campaign on a subsequent trip . )
Some justification can be made for almost all of these visits and media appearances .
A Department of Agriculture spokesperson noted that Perdue “ has traveled to all 50 states at least once ” and “ believes the best way to hear the concerns of America ’ s farmers and ranchers is to get out of Washington , DC and listen @ @ @ @ @ @ @ spokesperson explained that “ communicating our mission directly to the American people is one of the most important ways of strengthening it , and Secretary Pompeo continues to deliver on this essential priority.
” In response to a request for comment , Interior Department spokesperson Ben Goldey said that “ Elected officials—of both political parties—have been invited to participate in various aspects of the Secretary ’ s visits to states that these individuals represent , ” and he noted that in recent months Bernhardt met with Colorado Democratic Sen. Michael Bennet and Utah @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Republican target ) on their home turf .
“ All travel has been on official business pertaining to agency priorities including cleaning up the Great Lakes , meeting with Puerto Rican stakeholders to discuss recovery efforts , curbing food waste , promoting water infrastructure , touring Superfund sites , and hearing from farmers directly on conservation efforts , ” said EPA spokesperson James Hewitt , who noted that Wheeler has also visited three states that aren ’ t likely to be competitive—California , Wyoming , and Virginia .
“ We of course keep @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” But it sure is a pretty big coincidence that such a wide range of government agencies seem to be concentrating their attention on such a small collection of states at this particular moment in time .

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Before Donald Trump Jr. took the microphone to stump for his father in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, on Tuesday, the audience of Republican voters in this important swing state heard from a special guest: President Donald Trump’s Secretary of Agriculture, Sonny Perdue.
“I’ve been in Iowa for a few days,” Perdue said, “and lemme tell ya, Biden is running third behind Trump and ‘for sale’ signs.”
I don’t know about the signs, but Perdue has spent more than just a few days in Iowa. It was his third visit to the state in the last two months. And while no one doubts Iowa’s importance to agriculture, those visits fall into a pattern: Perdue has been showering attention on President Donald Trump’s most important re-election targets. This month he has visited Iowa (twice), Michigan, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Minnesota, and Wisconsin. In September, he stopped in Florida, Georgia, North Carolina (with Ivanka Trump), Nebraska’s second congressional district, and Iowa. In August, he was in Georgia, North Carolina (with Ivanka again—and the president), and Michigan. With the exception of his current trip, and Thursday’s campaign appearance with his cousin, Georgia Sen. David Perdue, all of those swing-state visits were considered official government business.
Perhaps no one in the cabinet has blurred his official duties with his political ones as much as Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, who has departed from a role that has traditionally been more, well, diplomatic in order to advance not just the president’s ambitions but perhaps his own.
But Perdue’s schedule is the norm among top officials in Trump’s government right now. As the president uses government resources for personal and political means to an unprecedented degree—it was the attempt to coerce a foreign government to smear Joe Biden that led to his impeachment—his subordinates have deployed to battleground states for photo-ops, placed op-eds, made media hits, and crafted videos sometimes indistinguishable from campaign material.
It’s not a new development. In 2011, the Office of the Special Counsel released a damning report detailing how Karl Rove, George W. Bush’s chief political aide, coordinated with campaign strategists to send cabinet officials to targeted states and congressional districts. Although less brazen than such Bush-era efforts, President Barack Obama’s top appointees also descended on swing states; his first Department of Health and Human Services secretary, Kathleen Sebelius, was fined for violating the Hatch Act—which bars federal employees from campaigning in their official capacities—during a 2012 visit to North Carolina. But right now, it’s hard to find a top Trump official who hasn’t visited a battleground state recently.
“To a certain extent there is an advantage of incumbency,” says Jordan Libowitz, a spokesperson for Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington, a watchdog group that has lodged Hatch Act complaints against a number of Trump White House officials. “What we’re seeing from this administration goes a bit further, in that there’s this blurring of the political with the actual running of the government.” CREW filed a complaint against Perdue after a North Carolina visit in which he told farmers they would continue receiving support, “If America gets out and votes for this man, Donald J. Trump.” In October, Perdue was ordered to reimburse the government for the cost of the event.
Perhaps no one in the cabinet has blurred his official duties with his political ones as much as Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, who has departed from a role that has traditionally been more, well, diplomatic in order to advance not just the president’s ambitions but perhaps his own.
In January, Pompeo visited The Villages, the sprawling Florida retirement community that’s crucial to Trump’s re-election plan, and asked voters at the Sumter County Fairgrounds, “Is anybody tired of winning yet?”
In July, he delivered a highly political speech at the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia (that’s in Pennsylvania, in case you forgot) attacking “rioters pulling down statues,” criticizing the media, and condemning the New York Times’ “1619 Project,” which emphasized the centrality of slavery to the American story. The next day he was in Iowa, where he met with the Iowa Farm Bureau to discuss trade policies and spoke to social conservative leaders about his faith. In September, he went to Texas (to speak at a church in suburban Plano) and Wisconsin (where he blamed China for the coronavirus in an address to Republican state legislators). He video-conferenced into a social conservative gathering in Florida, and in perhaps his biggest coup, addressed the Republican National Convention from Jerusalem.
On Tuesday, CNN reported that the Office of the Special Counsel was investigating whether Pompeo’s RNC speech had violated the Hatch Act. But the White House has taken a dismissive attitude toward that law. “Let me know when the jail sentence starts,” then-White House advisor Kellyanne Conway said last spring after criticizing Biden from the White House lawn. When White House chief of staff Mark Meadows was asked about possible Hatch Act violations at the RNC, he said “nobody outside the Beltway really cares.”
Pompeo’s media blitz is even less subtle than his travel schedule. On October 15, to pick just one date, he called into talk radio shows in Phoenix (where he discussed releasing new Hillary Clinton emails), Detroit (where he talked up trade deals that work for “Wisconsin and Michigan and Pennsylvania”), Orlando (Clinton emails again), and Atlanta.
Acting Homeland Security Secretary Chad Wolf held a press conference in Philadelphia in October to celebrate the detention of 170 undocumented immigrations by the Immigration and Customs Enforcement Agency—even though very few of those apprehensions actually took place in Pennsylvania. Wolf was in Arizona earlier this month. The week before that, he was in Michigan and Wisconsin. (CREW filed a Hatch Act complaint against Wolf after he participated in a naturalization ceremony at the White House as part of the Republican National Convention.) In September, ICE held a press conference in North Carolina to attack local authorities for sanctuary-city policies. On Wednesday, ICE held a press conference in Minnesota, one of Trump’s targets. The agency has put up billboards in Pennsylvania—and only Pennsylvania—with mug shots of undocumented immigrants who are wanted for crimes.
Interior Secretary David Bernhardt took some heat on Tuesday when he promoted a one-minute campaign-style video highlighting the president’s accomplishments, but it was hardly a one-time thing. Last week, he was in Nevada and in Arizona, where he held a press conference touting Trump’s efforts on “securing our border” and announced a major drug bust. Before that he was in Ohio. He paid a visit to a Colorado construction project to praise the “forceful advocacy” of Sen. Cory Gardner, one of the most endangered Republicans in the Senate. He’s visited Florida, North Carolina, and Wisconsin.
Energy Secretary Dan Brouillette has visited Pennsylvania four times since August to promote fracking—which is at the heart of Trump’s anti-Biden messaging in the state. (An October visit to Ohio was cancelled after staffers tested positive for Coronavirus.) He visited Wisconsin in October, Michigan in September, and North Carolina in August.
EPA chief Andrew Wheeler made trips to Pennsylvania in June, August, and October; went to Wisconsin in June and August; toured Michigan and Minnesota in September; and Ohio in October. This week he’s in Florida for the second time in as many weeks, as well as Georgia.
Labor Secretary Eugene Scalia was in Pennsylvania in this month, following visits to Steubenville, Ohio; and Florida’s Miami-Dade College. September saw him in North Carolina, Florida, Ohio (twice), Pennsylvania, and Michigan. He spent Labor Day in Wisconsin with Vice President Mike Pence.
What about Education Secretary Betsy DeVos? Glad you asked. In the closing stretch of the election she traveled to North Carolina (twice), Iowa, Michigan, Texas, Arizona, and Wisconsin’s crucial Waukesha County. In September, she was in Pennsylvania and Michigan. She visited Georgia at the end of August.
Maybe you’ve noticed a trend! It’s not a recent one, either. As my colleague Rebecca Leber has noted, it was happening in the spring and summer too.
There is plenty of official business to take care of in all of these states, of course, and these officials have a lot of latitude on how they do it. (Perdue’s North Carolina trip, ostensibly to promote the Farmers to Families Food Box program, would have been perfectly legal if he hadn’t called for “four more years” during it—a slip-up he acknowledged when asked about the campaign on a subsequent trip.) Some justification can be made for almost all of these visits and media appearances.
A Department of Agriculture spokesperson noted that Perdue “has traveled to all 50 states at least once” and “believes the best way to hear the concerns of America’s farmers and ranchers is to get out of Washington, DC and listen to them directly.” A State Department spokesperson explained that “communicating our mission directly to the American people is one of the most important ways of strengthening it, and Secretary Pompeo continues to deliver on this essential priority.” In response to a request for comment, Interior Department spokesperson Ben Goldey said that “Elected officials—of both political parties—have been invited to participate in various aspects of the Secretary’s visits to states that these individuals represent,” and he noted that in recent months Bernhardt met with Colorado Democratic Sen. Michael Bennet and Utah Democratic Rep. Ben McAdams (a top Republican target) on their home turf.
“All travel has been on official business pertaining to agency priorities including cleaning up the Great Lakes, meeting with Puerto Rican stakeholders to discuss recovery efforts, curbing food waste, promoting water infrastructure, touring Superfund sites, and hearing from farmers directly on conservation efforts,” said EPA spokesperson James Hewitt, who noted that Wheeler has also visited three states that aren’t likely to be competitive—California, Wyoming, and Virginia. “We of course keep the White House apprised of our travels.”
But it sure is a pretty big coincidence that such a wide range of government agencies seem to be concentrating their attention on such a small collection of states at this particular moment in time.


motherjones--2020-10-31--Facebook And Steve Bannon Hacked The Media. And They Won’t Stop.

Let ’ s talk about Steve Bannon—I ’ d like to say “ one last time ” but who are we kidding ?
Regardless of the election outcome , we know that America ’ s political and media ecosystem has been inexorably changed by a racist novel-loving , dual collar-wearing media entrepreneur from Norfolk , Virginia .
And if you thought the Bannon story was over after he got booted from the White House , or after he got pushed out of Breitbart News , or after his arrest by Postal Service agents this summer—you were wrong .
Like a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and in the closing weeks of this high-stakes election , he has been hauling out all of his old tricks to accomplish one simple goal : Sow chaos and confusion about Joe Biden , by any means necessary .
It was Bannon who shopped dubious material , supposedly off a Hunter Biden laptop , to the New York Post and other news outlets .
It was people in Bannon ’ s circles who have been desperately trying to “ pizzagate ” Biden with baseless rumors .
It is Bannon and Rudy Giuliani @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and Dan Friedman have comprehensively reported , keep pushing ever thinner and more loathsome allegations to every right-wing outlet site around .
And while mainstream media are not being hoodwinked as much as they were in the past , it doesn ’ t matter as much anymore because it ’ s easier—and more profitable—than ever to pump propaganda directly into America ’ s political bloodstream .
What made Bannon so effective over the years is the reengineering of our news ecosystem by tech platforms , most notably Facebook .
If Bannon helped make @ @ @ @ @ @ @ And even if Bannon were to end up behind bars , and Trump were to be booted out of the Oval , we ’ ll be living in the world they created for a long , long time .
The seeds for this were sown back in the 1990s , by the most powerful news site of the early years of online publishing , the Drudge Report .
Matt Drudge realized that white conservative resentment could be an internet profit center : He repackaged other outlets ’ stories under outrage-inducing headlines and sold @ @ @ @ @ @ @ traffic .
( Though this year , Trump has become too much even for Drudge . )
Learning at Drudge ’ s shoulder in those years was a young assistant named Andrew Breitbart , who went on to help Arianna Huffington launch what she intended as Drudge ’ s liberal counterpart , The Huffington Post .
Then Breitbart moved on to start his own site .
It was the mid-aughts ; social media was blossoming , traditional publishers ’ business model was crumbling , and the recession was fueling a toxic mix of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the early Obama years peddling birtherism and other conspiracy theories to an angry , white , and largely male audience to whom a Black president felt like an existential threat .
But Breitbart was still a marginal publisher , and Donald Trump a marginal celebrity .
Then , however , two critical things happened .
In 2012 , Andrew Breitbart died and control of the site went to Bannon , who in turn brought in an infusion of capital from hedge-fund billionaire Robert Mercer , ( who would also soon invest in a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
And , right around the same time , Facebook began tweaking its algorithm—the formula that determines which posts get shown in your personal feed—to include more content from publishers .
It aimed , as Mark Zuckerberg would famously say , to be the “ perfect personalized newspaper for every person in the world.
” No one back then understood what this meant .
In fact , many in the media were excited—Facebook promoting news could only be good for struggling newsrooms .
Maybe it was even good for democracy .
But we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ news.
” He wasn ’ t talking about journalism , or any verified account of facts .
He was talking about content—any content , of any quality .
And , given that Facebook was laser-focused on growth , and growth was fueled by sharing , and sharing was fueled by emotion , he was in particular talking about content that riled you up .
Content that made you love , but also content that made you hate .
What many of us didn ’ t know—but Steve Bannon did—was that content that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and very clickable and shareable .
And so , Breitbart turned the volume up to 11 .
It launched a vertical literally called “ Black Crime.
” It gave bylines to extremists and white nationalists .
It became , as Bannon would tell Mother Jones as Trump ’ s 2016 campaign roared ahead , “ the platform for the alt-right.
” And soon Breitbart was no longer marginal , nor were the toxic ideas it promoted .
Facebook ’ s algorithm helped it suck millions of Americans into an alternate reality where @ @ @ @ @ @ @ invaders , a casino developer was the champion of the working class , and any news that did not align with this narrative was fake .
( For a while , Breitbart had a section called “ Fake News Freakouts ” that was entirely about discrediting actual journalism . )
Yet even as he worked to delegitimize traditional media , Bannon also played them like a violin .
In 2012 , he established a nonprofit organization dedicated to investigating politicians , the Government Accountability Institute .
Its president was Peter Schweizer , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ platform at the Hoover Institution think tank to feed investigations of politicians to outlets like 60 Minutes and Politico .
As Bannon later explained to the Atlantic ’ s Joshua Green : It ’ s chilling to see how well Bannon diagnosed the problem he himself had been part of creating : The Facebook-fueled traffic machine was great for the kind of fast-and-cheap outrage content that Breitbart cranked out , but it was nowhere near enough to pay for the more time-consuming accountability reporting that news organizations had traditionally done .
In the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ teams were often the first to go .
Schweizer used his perch at GAI to research a book about the Clinton Foundation and the largely fake Uranium One scandal .
Then he and Bannon shopped embargoed copies to the New York Times and the Washington Post , both of which—entranced by the sexy exclusives—struck deals with GAI and ran major stories based on information in the book .
These stories did a lot to establish the Clinton corruption narrative that dominated 2016 .
Bannon had hacked the entire media ecosystem .
Not only @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his America ’ s bloodstream thanks to Facebook , he could also get it legitimized by mainstream news organizations .
Eager to prove their credentials as nonpartisan arbiters , they would launder right-wing propaganda—and , despite some soul-searching , that has kept happening throughout the Trump years .
As Washington Post media critic Margaret Sullivan trenchantly noted during January ’ s impeachment hearings : “ In an unceasing effort to be seen as neutral , journalists time after time fell into the trap of presenting facts and lies as roughly equivalent and then @ @ @ @ @ @ @ know the difference.
” And this year , Bannon tried to pull the same gambit again .
As Green , the most thorough journalistic chronicler of his media career , has reported , Bannon and Schweizer cranked up the old “ but her emails ” machine back in 2018 : “ Looking ahead to 2020 , it wasn ’ t hard to foresee that a moderate , two-term vice president like Joe Biden , popular across the party , was likely to run for president and be a good bet to win .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ turn up examples of ethically questionable behavior by Biden ’ s family members.
” In 2018 , Schweizer published Secret Empires , which laid out Hunter Biden ’ s business dealings and immediately went into heavy rotation in conservative media—especially Fox News .
Before long , the president was tweeting about it , even citing Schweizer as his source , and dispatching Giuliani to go dig for dirt in Ukraine .
That quest led directly to that fateful phone call with the Ukrainian prime minister , the impeachment hearings , and , most @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Hunter Biden ’ s laptop .
In 2020 , Bannon , Schweizer , and Giuliani ’ s work did not break through into mainstream media as the October Surprise they imagined—or led the president to imagine .
But it didn ’ t matter as much as it once might have .
By now , Trump ’ s campaign strategy was entirely predicated on turning out his base , and the base was getting marinated in disinformation 24/7 .
It was also being squeezed for all it was worth .
For there ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Just as with Drudge back in the day , it ’ s not just about the politics .
It ’ s about profit .
Each of those outrage clicks produces revenue for Breitbart and the myriad other right-wing sites , Facebook accounts , and video mills that have sprung up to emulate it .
And as audiences get sucked deeper into the fear-and-rage vortex , they also become the perfect mark for old-fashioned grift .
In August , Bannon was arrested in a fraud case ( he has pleaded not guilty ) involving @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wall that pulled in some $ 25 million in donations .
Brian Kolfage , the man at the center of the scheme , allegedly used donations to buy a luxe 40-footer named Warfighter .
( Bannon himself was arrested while hanging out on the 152-foot Lady May , owned by a fugitive Chinese businessman . )
The 24-page indictment against Bannon and his alleged co-conspirators lays out just how these wise guys may have thought of their rank-and-file supporters : “ Some donors wrote directly to Brian Kolfage , ” the indictment notes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have a lot of money and were skeptical about online fundraising campaigns , but they were giving what they could because they trusted Kolfage would keep his word about how their money would be spent.
” Kolfage assured them that he was not taking a penny in compensation , it alleges , even as he and Bannon redirected more than $ 1 million to accounts they controlled .
GoFundMe eventually took down the We Build The Wall page .
But guess who did not ?
Facebook .
And can you guess what that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s become , in effect , one of the right-wing “ news ” sites that were so effective in spreading disinformation in the 2016 campaign .
( Kolfage himself , prior to We Build the Wall , operated another propaganda page called Right Wing News that was eventually taken down by Facebook .
Not for peddling disinformation , though .
Just for using fake accounts to gin up traffic . )
You might conclude from this twisted tale that we ’ re full circle back to 2016—and you wouldn ’ t be wrong @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s actually worse .
In 2016 , Facebook could still claim that the architects of disinformation were manipulating its platform .
But now we have evidence that Facebook was actually helping push this propaganda .
As Mother Jones editor-in-chief Clara Jeffery and I reported last week , Mark Zuckerberg himself signed off on algorithm changes designed to favor conservative publishers—including , specifically , Breitbart—and throttle serious journalism including , specifically , Mother Jones .
In fact , Facebook has been looking out for Breitbart et al all the way back to 2016 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ campaign ’ s CEO ) , with the company ’ s lobbyists warning , according to our sources , that “ we can ’ t do a ranking change that would hurt Breitbart , even if that change would make the News Feed better.
” As late as last year , when Facebook rolled out its News Tab—designed , as Zuckerberg put it at the time , to be “ a place in the Facebook app dedicated solely to high-quality news ” —it pointedly included Breitbart .
So it ’ s not just @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , Facebook is gaming itself in favor of conservatives—and it ’ s working .
Every day , right-wing sources like Breitbart , The Daily Wire , and Trump himself top the platform ’ s engagement charts .
( The top four highest-engagement posts from the past month are from Trump ’ s Facebook page ; the # 3 best-performing post , ironically , was his claim that Facebook and Twitter are censoring conservatives . )
When a Republican congressional front-runner shared a video claiming that Jews are using Muslim immigrants to destroy Europe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ embraced ) , Facebook did nothing except add a pearl-clutching qualifier that the content may be “ sensitive to some people.
” ( The post has now , months later , been removed . )
When vigilantes gathered to organize armed patrols in Kenosha , Wisconsin , Facebook did nothing until a teen militant killed two people .
And on , and on .
Yes , in recent weeks Facebook has been rolling out a few changes—taking down QAnon groups , banning political advertising immediately after the election , even slowing distribution of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ so clumsily , it ended up boosting claims of censorship ) .
But how are we to believe there ’ s any kind of principle behind this 11th-hour epiphany ?
( “ It ’ s interesting to run the simulation of what would happen if Trump were up 10 points right now , ” a former Facebook employee told us . )
Facebook made Bannon and Breitbart , and it ’ s clear that it will enable the next Bannon , the next Breitbart , and the next Trump .
It will continue @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lies that separate them from their loved ones , their savings , and their own political best interests .
It will permit the disinformation machines to keep going , and going .
Unless we break those machines—by building a better model for news .
One where stories inspire action , not outrage and hate ; where investigations enlighten instead of obfuscating ; where opinion pieces advance ideas instead of cementing prejudice .
And where publishers approach their audience not as “ eyeballs ” to be monetized , but as partners .
That ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to build at Mother Jones ever since we were founded as a reader supported nonprofit , and these past four years you have stepped up in unprecedented ways to help us do it .
As we wait out these last few uncertain , anxious days before the election , that fills me resolve .
Because no matter what happens on November 3 , we know Bannon , Breitbart , and the rest of the propagandists will not be slowing down .
Neither will you .

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Let’s talk about Steve Bannon—I’d like to say “one last time” but who are we kidding? Regardless of the election outcome, we know that America’s political and media ecosystem has been inexorably changed by a racist novel-loving, dual collar-wearing media entrepreneur from Norfolk, Virginia. And if you thought the Bannon story was over after he got booted from the White House, or after he got pushed out of Breitbart News, or after his arrest by Postal Service agents this summer—you were wrong. Like a bad penny, Bannon keeps coming back, and in the closing weeks of this high-stakes election, he has been hauling out all of his old tricks to accomplish one simple goal: Sow chaos and confusion about Joe Biden, by any means necessary.
It was Bannon who shopped dubious material, supposedly off a Hunter Biden laptop, to the New York Post and other news outlets. It was people in Bannon’s circles who have been desperately trying to “pizzagate” Biden with baseless rumors. It is Bannon and Rudy Giuliani who, as my colleagues David Corn and Dan Friedman have comprehensively reported, keep pushing ever thinner and more loathsome allegations to every right-wing outlet site around. And while mainstream media are not being hoodwinked as much as they were in the past, it doesn’t matter as much anymore because it’s easier—and more profitable—than ever to pump propaganda directly into America’s political bloodstream.
What made Bannon so effective over the years is the reengineering of our news ecosystem by tech platforms, most notably Facebook. If Bannon helped make Trump, Facebook helped make Bannon. And even if Bannon were to end up behind bars, and Trump were to be booted out of the Oval, we’ll be living in the world they created for a long, long time.
The seeds for this were sown back in the 1990s, by the most powerful news site of the early years of online publishing, the Drudge Report. Matt Drudge realized that white conservative resentment could be an internet profit center: He repackaged other outlets’ stories under outrage-inducing headlines and sold the hell out of the ensuing web traffic. (Though this year, Trump has become too much even for Drudge.)
Facebook made Bannon and Breitbart, and it’s clear that it will enable the next Bannon, the next Breitbart, and the next Trump.
Learning at Drudge’s shoulder in those years was a young assistant named Andrew Breitbart, who went on to help Arianna Huffington launch what she intended as Drudge’s liberal counterpart, The Huffington Post. Then Breitbart moved on to start his own site. It was the mid-aughts; social media was blossoming, traditional publishers’ business model was crumbling, and the recession was fueling a toxic mix of economic and racial fears. Breitbart spent the early Obama years peddling birtherism and other conspiracy theories to an angry, white, and largely male audience to whom a Black president felt like an existential threat.
But Breitbart was still a marginal publisher, and Donald Trump a marginal celebrity. Then, however, two critical things happened. In 2012, Andrew Breitbart died and control of the site went to Bannon, who in turn brought in an infusion of capital from hedge-fund billionaire Robert Mercer, (who would also soon invest in a little-known British outfit named Cambridge Analytica).
And, right around the same time, Facebook began tweaking its algorithm—the formula that determines which posts get shown in your personal feed—to include more content from publishers. It aimed, as Mark Zuckerberg would famously say, to be the “perfect personalized newspaper for every person in the world.”
No one back then understood what this meant. In fact, many in the media were excited—Facebook promoting news could only be good for struggling newsrooms. Maybe it was even good for democracy.
But we misunderstood what Zuckerberg meant when he said “news.” He wasn’t talking about journalism, or any verified account of facts. He was talking about content—any content, of any quality. And, given that Facebook was laser-focused on growth, and growth was fueled by sharing, and sharing was fueled by emotion, he was in particular talking about content that riled you up. Content that made you love, but also content that made you hate.
What many of us didn’t know—but Steve Bannon did—was that content that makes you hate is easy to produce, and very clickable and shareable. And so, Breitbart turned the volume up to 11. It launched a vertical literally called “Black Crime.” It gave bylines to extremists and white nationalists. It became, as Bannon would tell Mother Jones as Trump’s 2016 campaign roared ahead, “the platform for the alt-right.”
And soon Breitbart was no longer marginal, nor were the toxic ideas it promoted. Facebook’s algorithm helped it suck millions of Americans into an alternate reality where white people were endangered, immigrants were invaders, a casino developer was the champion of the working class, and any news that did not align with this narrative was fake. (For a while, Breitbart had a section called “Fake News Freakouts” that was entirely about discrediting actual journalism.)
Yet even as he worked to delegitimize traditional media, Bannon also played them like a violin. In 2012, he established a nonprofit organization dedicated to investigating politicians, the Government Accountability Institute. Its president was Peter Schweizer, a conservative researcher who had previously used his platform at the Hoover Institution think tank to feed investigations of politicians to outlets like 60 Minutes and Politico. As Bannon later explained to the Atlantic’s Joshua Green:
“The modern economics of the newsroom don’t support big investigative reporting staffs… You wouldn’t get a Watergate, a Pentagon Papers today, because nobody can afford to let a reporter spend seven months on a story. We can.”
It’s chilling to see how well Bannon diagnosed the problem he himself had been part of creating: The Facebook-fueled traffic machine was great for the kind of fast-and-cheap outrage content that Breitbart cranked out, but it was nowhere near enough to pay for the more time-consuming accountability reporting that news organizations had traditionally done. In the great shrinking of American journalism, investigative teams were often the first to go.
Schweizer used his perch at GAI to research a book about the Clinton Foundation and the largely fake Uranium One scandal. Then he and Bannon shopped embargoed copies to the New York Times and the Washington Post, both of which—entranced by the sexy exclusives—struck deals with GAI and ran major stories based on information in the book. These stories did a lot to establish the Clinton corruption narrative that dominated 2016.
Bannon had hacked the entire media ecosystem. Not only could he pump demagoguery and lies into his America’s bloodstream thanks to Facebook, he could also get it legitimized by mainstream news organizations. Eager to prove their credentials as nonpartisan arbiters, they would launder right-wing propaganda—and, despite some soul-searching, that has kept happening throughout the Trump years. As Washington Post media critic Margaret Sullivan trenchantly noted during January’s impeachment hearings: “In an unceasing effort to be seen as neutral, journalists time after time fell into the trap of presenting facts and lies as roughly equivalent and then blaming political tribalism for not seeming to know the difference.”
You might conclude that we’re full circle back to 2016—and you wouldn’t be wrong, except for one thing: It’s actually worse.
And this year, Bannon tried to pull the same gambit again. As Green, the most thorough journalistic chronicler of his media career, has reported, Bannon and Schweizer cranked up the old “but her emails” machine back in 2018:
“Looking ahead to 2020, it wasn’t hard to foresee that a moderate, two-term vice president like Joe Biden, popular across the party, was likely to run for president and be a good bet to win. Nor was it difficult for GAI to turn up examples of ethically questionable behavior by Biden’s family members.”
In 2018, Schweizer published Secret Empires, which laid out Hunter Biden’s business dealings and immediately went into heavy rotation in conservative media—especially Fox News. Before long, the president was tweeting about it, even citing Schweizer as his source, and dispatching Giuliani to go dig for dirt in Ukraine. That quest led directly to that fateful phone call with the Ukrainian prime minister, the impeachment hearings, and, most recently, the right-wing media storm over Hunter Biden’s laptop.
In 2020, Bannon, Schweizer, and Giuliani’s work did not break through into mainstream media as the October Surprise they imagined—or led the president to imagine. But it didn’t matter as much as it once might have. By now, Trump’s campaign strategy was entirely predicated on turning out his base, and the base was getting marinated in disinformation 24/7.
It was also being squeezed for all it was worth. For there’s another piece to the Bannon/Facebook/Trump nexus: Just as with Drudge back in the day, it’s not just about the politics. It’s about profit. Each of those outrage clicks produces revenue for Breitbart and the myriad other right-wing sites, Facebook accounts, and video mills that have sprung up to emulate it. And as audiences get sucked deeper into the fear-and-rage vortex, they also become the perfect mark for old-fashioned grift.
In August, Bannon was arrested in a fraud case (he has pleaded not guilty) involving a crowdfunding effort to build a border wall that pulled in some $25 million in donations. Brian Kolfage, the man at the center of the scheme, allegedly used donations to buy a luxe 40-footer named Warfighter. (Bannon himself was arrested while hanging out on the 152-foot Lady May, owned by a fugitive Chinese businessman.)
The 24-page indictment against Bannon and his alleged co-conspirators lays out just how these wise guys may have thought of their rank-and-file supporters: “Some donors wrote directly to Brian Kolfage,” the indictment notes, “saying that they did not have a lot of money and were skeptical about online fundraising campaigns, but they were giving what they could because they trusted Kolfage would keep his word about how their money would be spent.” Kolfage assured them that he was not taking a penny in compensation, it alleges, even as he and Bannon redirected more than $1 million to accounts they controlled.
GoFundMe eventually took down the We Build The Wall page. But guess who did not? Facebook. And can you guess what that page is doing now? It’s become, in effect, one of the right-wing “news” sites that were so effective in spreading disinformation in the 2016 campaign. (Kolfage himself, prior to We Build the Wall, operated another propaganda page called Right Wing News that was eventually taken down by Facebook. Not for peddling disinformation, though. Just for using fake accounts to gin up traffic.)
You might conclude from this twisted tale that we’re full circle back to 2016—and you wouldn’t be wrong, except for one thing: It’s actually worse. In 2016, Facebook could still claim that the architects of disinformation were manipulating its platform. But now we have evidence that Facebook was actually helping push this propaganda. As Mother Jones editor-in-chief Clara Jeffery and I reported last week, Mark Zuckerberg himself signed off on algorithm changes designed to favor conservative publishers—including, specifically, Breitbart—and throttle serious journalism including, specifically, Mother Jones.
In fact, Facebook has been looking out for Breitbart et al all the way back to 2016 (when Bannon was also the Trump campaign’s CEO), with the company’s lobbyists warning, according to our sources, that “we can’t do a ranking change that would hurt Breitbart, even if that change would make the News Feed better.” As late as last year, when Facebook rolled out its News Tab—designed, as Zuckerberg put it at the time, to be “a place in the Facebook app dedicated solely to high-quality news”—it pointedly included Breitbart.
So it’s not just that conservatives are good at gaming Facebook, Facebook is gaming itself in favor of conservatives—and it’s working. Every day, right-wing sources like Breitbart, The Daily Wire, and Trump himself top the platform’s engagement charts. (The top four highest-engagement posts from the past month are from Trump’s Facebook page; the #3 best-performing post, ironically, was his claim that Facebook and Twitter are censoring conservatives.) When a Republican congressional front-runner shared a video claiming that Jews are using Muslim immigrants to destroy Europe (a theory that Bannon has also embraced), Facebook did nothing except add a pearl-clutching qualifier that the content may be “sensitive to some people.” (The post has now, months later, been removed.) When vigilantes gathered to organize armed patrols in Kenosha, Wisconsin, Facebook did nothing until a teen militant killed two people. And on, and on.
“It’s interesting to run the simulation of what would happen if Trump were up 10 points right now,” a former Facebook employee told us.
Yes, in recent weeks Facebook has been rolling out a few changes—taking down QAnon groups, banning political advertising immediately after the election, even slowing distribution of the Hunter Biden email story (albeit so clumsily, it ended up boosting claims of censorship). But how are we to believe there’s any kind of principle behind this 11th-hour epiphany? (“It’s interesting to run the simulation of what would happen if Trump were up 10 points right now,” a former Facebook employee told us.)
Facebook made Bannon and Breitbart, and it’s clear that it will enable the next Bannon, the next Breitbart, and the next Trump. It will continue to allow users to be drenched with lies that separate them from their loved ones, their savings, and their own political best interests. It will permit the disinformation machines to keep going, and going.
Unless we break those machines—by building a better model for news. One where stories inspire action, not outrage and hate; where investigations enlighten instead of obfuscating; where opinion pieces advance ideas instead of cementing prejudice. And where publishers approach their audience not as “eyeballs” to be monetized, but as partners.
That’s what we’ve been working to build at Mother Jones ever since we were founded as a reader supported nonprofit, and these past four years you have stepped up in unprecedented ways to help us do it. As we wait out these last few uncertain, anxious days before the election, that fills me resolve. Because no matter what happens on November 3, we know Bannon, Breitbart, and the rest of the propagandists will not be slowing down. Neither will you.