The Fight to Protect Music in the Age of AI

In a small studio in Georgia, surrounded by the hum of high-powered GPUs and the faint glow of solar panels, musician and technologist Benn Jordan is waging a quiet war. For over 25 years, Jordan has carved out a living as an independent artist, releasing music under various pseudonyms and building a loyal following. But in recent years, the rise of generative artificial intelligence (AI) has threatened the very foundation of his craft. Tech companies, armed with billions in venture capital, have been scraping music from platforms like Spotify and YouTube, using it to train AI models that generate derivative tracks—often without the consent of the original artists. For Jordan, this wasn’t just an ethical violation; it was a direct assault on his livelihood. “I still enjoy making music all the time,” he says in a YouTube video that has garnered over 600,000 views, “but I have entirely stopped releasing it.”

Jordan’s response to this crisis is a technological counterstrike: a pair of innovative tools called Harmony Cloak and Poisonify. These methods encode music files with adversarial noise—subtle, inaudible distortions that confuse AI models, rendering the music untrainable or even degrading the quality of the AI’s entire dataset. It’s a bold move, one that flips the script on the generative AI industry, which has long treated artists’ work as raw material to be mined without permission. As Jordan puts it, “Unethical generative AI companies have made artists feel incredibly powerless for quite some time now. But all of that is about to change.”

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The Rise of AI Music and the Artist’s Dilemma

The story of AI-generated music begins in 2015 with the publication of U-Net, a convolutional neural network designed for pattern recognition in biomedical imagery. Its efficient architecture, which required minimal training data, inspired the diffusion models that power today’s generative AI, from image generators like DALL-E to music tools like Suno and Meta’s MusicGen. By 2016, Google’s Magenta project was scanning vast libraries of music to create tools that could, for instance, turn a voice into a saxophone or generate a basic melody from a few circles on a screen. These were fun experiments, but as Jordan notes, they were often “a really expensive and inefficient way to do what modular synths have been doing for decades.”

The real trouble began when companies like Open AI, ByteDance, and Suno started using copyrighted music to train their models, often without transparency or consent. A 2016 Sony project, “Daddy’s Car,” billed as an AI-generated song, turned out to be performed, recorded, and mastered by humans, with lyrics written by a human too. “How exactly does this qualify as artificial intelligence?” Jordan quips, quoting the song’s nonsensical lyrics: “From tax man until tomorrow, never know.” By 2019, the landscape had shifted. Voice cloning services and consumer-facing platforms like Suno and Udio emerged, offering AI-generated music for a subscription fee. These services flooded streaming platforms with millions of AI-generated tracks, siphoning royalties away from human musicians.

The scale of the problem is staggering. Suno, a generative AI company launched in late 2023, is now embroiled in a legal battle with the Recording Industry Association of America, facing potential damages of $1.5 trillion for training its models on copyrighted data. As Jordan points out, asking a company, “What data did you use to train your base model?” often results in silence or evasion, as answering could expose them to billions in intellectual property (IP) infringement liabilities. On X, users have echoed this sentiment, with one posting, “AI companies scraping music without permission is just digital theft dressed up as innovation. Good for artists like Benn Jordan fighting back.” Another user lamented, “The fact that Suno pays AI ‘creators’ but not the musicians whose work they trained on is wild.”

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Harmony Cloak and Poisonify: The Artist’s Revenge

Jordan’s response to this crisis is both technical and philosophical. In 2023, he co-founded Voice Swap AI (now transitioning to Topset Labs), a company that trains vocal models on consensual data, paying artists royalties and offering them equity. The result? A platform with 150,000 users, no venture capital, and vocalists earning more from their AI models than from Spotify. But Jordan’s ambitions go beyond ethical AI. He wants to protect artists from exploitation at the source.

Enter Harmony Cloak and Poisonify. Harmony Cloak, developed by researchers at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, encodes music files with adversarial noise that disrupts an AI’s ability to detect melody or rhythm. In demonstrations, Jordan shows how AI models generate coherent extensions of unencoded music but produce chaotic, unlistenable noise when fed files treated with Harmony Cloak. Poisonify, Jordan’s own creation, takes this a step further. By embedding inaudible distortions, it tricks instrument classifiers into misidentifying sounds—a cymbal might be mistaken for a harmonica, a synthesizer for a string quartet. This not only makes the music untrainable but can degrade the AI model’s overall performance, creating a “snowball effect” of false positives.

In his YouTube video, Jordan demonstrates Poisonify’s impact on Suno’s song extension feature. An original track produces a passable extension, but the Poisonify-encoded version results in what he describes as “music from an airport spa that somebody downloaded off Napster in 1999.” Similar tests on Miniax Audio and Meta’s MusicGen yield even more dramatic results, with the latter crashing entirely. On X, a user commented, “Benn’s Poisonify demo is savage. It’s like he’s poisoning the AI’s water supply.” Another wrote, “Harmony Cloak and Poisonify are the artist’s equivalent of a DDoS attack. Brilliant.”

The technology isn’t perfect. Encoding a single album with Poisonify requires two weeks of GPU processing, consuming 242 kW of electricity—costing between $40 and $150 depending on location. Harmony Cloak, too, demands high-end GPUs, though the Knoxville team is working on a more efficient model. Still, Jordan envisions a future where these tools are offered as an API through distributors like Symphonic Distribution, allowing artists to “AI-proof” their music when uploading to streaming platforms.

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The Ethics of AI and the Pareto Principle

Jordan’s work raises deeper questions about the generative AI industry’s sustainability. He invokes the Pareto Principle, or the 80/20 rule, to argue that AI models have hit a wall. “AI image generators got really good really fast, but are still nowhere near perfect,” he says. Despite massive investments, issues like rendering text or hands remain unsolved without specialized workarounds. Music AI faces similar limitations: new features often prioritize bells and whistles like inpainting over core quality improvements, and models frequently ignore user prompts in pursuit of clearer sound.

This stagnation, Jordan argues, stems from the industry’s reliance on unethically sourced data. “Concentrating on the input data and working with vocalists is way less expensive and much easier than the trial and error of retraining base models,” he says. Voice Swap’s success—built on consensual data and artist collaboration—proves this point. A post on X echoed this view: “Benn’s right—AI companies burning billions on retraining models are just chasing their tails. Pay artists, use clean data, and you’ll get better results.”

The ethical dimension is inescapable. Suno’s CEO, Michael Schulman, has claimed that “the majority of people don’t enjoy the majority of the time they spend making music,” a statement Jordan finds delusional. On YouTube, a commenter responded, “Suno’s CEO saying musicians don’t enjoy making music is like a chef saying people hate cooking. Clueless.” By contrast, Jordan’s approach empowers artists, offering them tools to protect their work and a model that compensates them fairly.

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The Broader Implications

Jordan’s technology has implications beyond music. Adversarial noise can manipulate AI assistants, embedding inaudible commands to unlock doors or disable alarms. In one chilling demo, Jordan plays soft classical music that tricks an Amazon Echo into processing a hidden command. He also envisions using targeted pressure waves to protect live performances from being recorded by smart devices, ensuring that an unfinished song shared at a concert doesn’t end up on Instagram.

These applications highlight a growing tension: as AI becomes ubiquitous, so do the tools to subvert it. Researchers at the University of Tennessee have refined adversarial attacks to bypass high-security settings, mimicking environmental sounds to fool voice recognition systems. On X, a user noted, “This is bigger than music. If Jordan’s tech can mess with Alexa or Siri, it’s a game-changer for privacy.”

Yet challenges remain. Poisonify’s misclassification could disrupt Spotify’s recommendation algorithms, potentially recommending abrasive techno to barbershop quartet fans. Jordan finds this amusing, but acknowledges that some artists might not. Efficiency is another hurdle; the computational cost of encoding music is prohibitive for individual artists, though an API could democratize access.

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A New Hope for Artists

Jordan’s journey reflects a broader shift in the creative industries. In early 2024, distributor Tunecore falsely accused him of fake streaming, removing his catalog from streaming platforms and costing him 100,000 monthly listeners. After public backlash, Tunecore restored most of his music, but the metadata errors persisted. This experience underscored the fragility of artists’ livelihoods in the digital age, pushing Jordan to negotiate with distributors like Symphonic, whose CEO, Jorge Bria, is open to integrating Poisonify and Harmony Cloak into their platform.

For now, Jordan is finishing a new album, encoding it with a mix of poison pill methods to obscure how they work. “I’m not going to tell anybody which tracks are encoded with what,” he says, “so it can’t be avoided down the line.” His YouTube viewers have rallied behind him, with comments like, “Benn is out here fighting for all artists. This is what innovation looks like,” and “Poisonify is the punk rock of AI defense.”

As the generative AI industry grapples with its ethical and technical limitations, artists like Jordan are reclaiming control. His work with Voice Swap and Topset Labs offers a blueprint: prioritize consent, compensate creators, and use technology to protect rather than exploit. In a world where AI can mimic an eagle’s cry to unlock your door, Jordan’s fight is a reminder that creativity and ingenuity remain humanity’s greatest assets. “I’m not an AI hater,” he says. “But developing a useful tool will pay out much higher than developing an investment scheme.” For the millions of artists watching their work being scraped and resold, that’s a melody worth hearing.

The Hidden Cost of Costco’s Convenience: A Tale of Private Equity and Customer Complaints

 

The Hidden Cost of Costco’s Convenience: A Tale of Private Equity and Customer Complaints

By A. Piratemonk

In the sprawling aisles of Costco, where bulk buys and bargain deals reign supreme, shoppers find more than just oversized jars of peanut butter or discounted tires. They encounter a marketplace of services—mortgages, water delivery, custom blinds, even event tickets—all under the reassuring umbrella of Costco’s trusted brand. For many, the warehouse giant is a one-stop shop, a haven of reliability in a world of corporate corner-cutting. But beneath this veneer of consumer confidence lies a troubling reality: many of these services are outsourced to vendors increasingly controlled by private equity firms, and the consequences are starting to show.

Steve Hunt, a customer service representative at a Costco in Oklahoma City, has seen this firsthand. A self-described “gadfly” who once ran for mayor, Hunt has spent the past year and a half fielding calls from frustrated members. His observations, shared on the podcast *Organized Money*, paint a stark picture of what happens when private equity takes the wheel. “When certain vendors get taken over by private equity,” Hunt says, “the number of complaints spike.” It’s a pattern he’s noticed repeatedly, from water delivery services to photo printing, and it’s threatening the trust that Costco has spent decades building.

Take Primo Brands, a bottled water and delivery service that Costco offers. When Hunt began noticing a surge in complaints about Primo—billing errors, missed deliveries, unresponsive customer service—he dug deeper. He learned that the company had been acquired by a private equity firm just months earlier. Almost immediately, the service began to unravel. “It was so fast,” Hunt recalls. “From the time they were taken over to the time you started seeing major issues.” Customer service centers were shuttered, staff walked out, and members were left stranded, their water jugs undelivered. For Hunt, it was a case study in what he calls the “gradual degradation” that follows private equity acquisitions—a process that typically takes years but, in Primo’s case, unfolded in months.

This isn’t an isolated incident. Hunt points to other vendors, like SunSetter, which provides custom blinds, and Vivo, a discounted ticketing service. SunSetter customers have complained about shoddy quality and delivery delays, with orders bouncing through a labyrinth of outsourced logistics firms before arriving—if they arrive at all. Vivo, meanwhile, has frustrated members, particularly elderly ones, with a convoluted redemption process that requires navigating digital codes and scant customer support. “It’s engineered to make it very difficult for the consumer,” Hunt says, recounting the story of an elderly New Yorker who struggled to use Vivo tickets for a Yankees game, only to be met with silence from the vendor’s support team.

At the heart of the issue is Costco’s business model. The retailer doesn’t directly provide these services; it outsources them to third-party vendors, many of which are now owned by private equity firms. These firms, known for their aggressive cost-cutting and profit-maximizing strategies, often prioritize efficiency over quality. They slash staff, offshore customer service, and streamline operations to the bone, leaving consumers—and Costco—holding the bag. “When you get all these companies involved,” Hunt explains, “it creates so many moving parts that it becomes very difficult.”

Costco’s liberal return policies, a hallmark of its customer-first ethos, inadvertently exacerbate the problem. Vendors know that if a product or service fails, Costco’s generous refunds will shield them from accountability. “They’re scamming Costco,” Hunt says bluntly, citing Shutterfly, a photo-printing service owned by Apollo Global Management. Customers who receive incorrect or subpar prints often find themselves stuck, reliant on Costco’s goodwill to make things right. The retailer, in turn, absorbs the cost, while the vendor walks away unscathed.

This dynamic isn’t just a headache for Costco’s members; it’s a reputational risk for a company that has built its brand on trust. “Costco has a pretty good reputation,” says David Dayen, co-host of *Organized Money* and executive editor of *The American Prospect*. “But if a lot of its vendors are ending up being these private equity vultures that aren’t delivering, that’s a problem.” The question is whether Costco, a company known for its meticulous operations, can address this growing issue before it erodes the confidence of its 100 million-plus members.

The problem extends beyond Costco’s walls. Private equity’s reach is vast, touching everything from healthcare to housing. Hunt, who has witnessed this firsthand in Oklahoma City, recounts the closure of a senior living facility bought by Tower Capital, which was bulldozed to make way for a rental home neighborhood that never materialized. “People died,” he says, his voice heavy with frustration. In Oklahoma, a state with a storied history of populist rebellion, the scars of predatory finance run deep. From the Dust Bowl, fueled by predatory loans from National Citibank, to the Penn Square Bank collapse in the 1980s, which tipped the state from a Democratic stronghold to a bastion of conservatism, the echoes of corporate exploitation resonate.

Yet Costco, with its vast network and data on customer complaints, could be uniquely positioned to push back. “Costco and Walmart are natural repositories of information about private equity control,” says Matt Stoller, co-host of *Organized Money* and research director at the American Economic Liberties Project. In the absence of robust federal oversight— gutted, in part, by the dismantling of agencies like the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau—retailers like Costco could serve as a frontline defense against predatory vendors. By tracking complaints and holding vendors accountable, Costco could protect its members and set a precedent for other retailers.

But change is slow. Hunt notes that while Costco conducts member surveys, the process of phasing out problematic vendors is cumbersome, often because alternatives are scarce. Logistics, in particular, is a choke point. Many of Costco’s deliveries rely on RXO, a spinoff of XPO Logistics, which itself is backed by private equity giants like Blackstone. With mom-and-pop logistics firms squeezed out by consolidation, Costco is often left with no choice but to work with these behemoths, despite their spotty performance.

There are glimmers of hope. Hunt mentions a pilot program in New Jersey aimed at bringing logistics in-house, a move that could reduce reliance on third-party vendors and improve accountability. But for now, the burden falls on employees like Hunt, who field calls from frustrated members and try to navigate a system that often leaves them powerless. “I’ve got a real heart for elderly folks,” he says, recalling the countless times he’s had to break the news that a vendor’s reduced hours or outsourced support means there’s little he can do.

For shoppers, the lesson is clear: the Costco card in your wallet may promise access to a world of convenience, but it doesn’t shield you from the broader forces reshaping the economy. Private equity’s grip is tightening, and even a retail giant like Costco isn’t immune. As Hunt puts it, quoting Noam Chomsky, “It takes a sentence to tell a lie, ten minutes to debunk it.” The lie—that private equity makes our lives better—is one that Costco’s members are increasingly debunking, one complaint at a time. Whether Costco itself will take up the fight remains an open question, but for now, the warehouse aisles are a battleground where trust and betrayal collide.

The Misguided Gospel of Abundance: How Democrats Risk Losing the Economic Narrative

 

The Misguided Gospel of Abundance: How Democrats Risk Losing the Economic Narrative

By A. Piratemonk

In April 2025, a viral moment on Jon Stewart’s podcast captured the zeitgeist of a growing movement within liberal circles. Ezra Klein, co-author of the book Abundance, described the maddening bureaucratic hurdles blocking the deployment of rural broadband funding under President Joe Biden’s bipartisan infrastructure bill. The process, Klein argued, was emblematic of a broader problem: progressive overregulation stifling progress and creating scarcity in America. The clip spread like wildfire, amplified by Fox News, Elon Musk, and thousands of retweets, resonating as a modern parable of government inefficiency. Stewart groaned audibly; the audience felt the weight of the anecdote. It was a story Ronald Reagan might have told in the 1980s, updated for the digital age.

But there was a problem: the story wasn’t true—or at least, not in the way Klein framed it. The cumbersome broadband application process wasn’t the result of progressive “everything bagel liberalism,” as Klein and his co-author Derek Thompson argue in Abundance. Instead, it stemmed from Republican senators and their telecom industry donors, who insisted on a Byzantine process to protect regional monopolies and block affordable broadband access. This wasn’t a tale of lefty bureaucrats run amok; it was a case study in corporate power undermining public policy.

This disconnect lies at the heart of the Abundance movement, a burgeoning intellectual project that has captivated Democratic elites but risks steering the party into a political and electoral quagmire. By focusing on deregulation and bureaucratic reform as the path to prosperity, Abundance sidesteps the more uncomfortable truth: corporate monopolies and oligarchic influence are the primary drivers of scarcity in America today. In doing so, it provides rhetorical cover for the very forces Democrats should be confronting—especially in the age of Donald Trump’s second presidency and Elon Musk’s deregulatory crusade.

The Abundance Agenda: A New Liberal Orthodoxy?

The Abundance thesis, as articulated by Klein and Thompson, posits that America’s failure to address pressing challenges—housing shortages, slow clean energy adoption, inadequate infrastructure—stems from excessive regulation and progressive obsession with process over outcomes. The book has struck a chord among centrist Democrats, think tanks like Third Way, and media outlets eager for a narrative that avoids the messiness of class conflict. Its appeal lies in its simplicity: streamline government, cut red tape, and unleash a tide of prosperity.

Klein’s broadband anecdote, for instance, paints a vivid picture. He described a process so convoluted that, years after the infrastructure bill’s passage, barely any applicants had completed their applications. The implication was clear: progressive policies, with their endless checklists and environmental reviews, were choking progress. But as David Sirota and Aaron Regunberg pointed out in a scathing critique published by The Lever on April 4, 2025, the real culprits were Republican lawmakers and telecom giants who designed the process to protect their interests, not to serve the public.

This misdiagnosis is emblematic of Abundance’s broader flaw: it downplays or ignores the role of corporate power in creating scarcity. Take the clean energy transition. Klein and Thompson attribute delays in renewable energy projects to environmental regulations like the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA). Yet, as green energy developers have long noted, the fossil fuel industry’s influence—through utility monopolies and disinformation campaigns—poses a far greater obstacle. Oil and gas front groups spread falsehoods about wind turbines and solar panels, while gas-dominated utilities make it nearly impossible for renewables to connect to the grid. Deregulating NEPA might streamline some processes, but it won’t address the entrenched power of fossil fuel cartels.

Similarly, Abundance fixates on zoning laws as the primary driver of the housing crisis, echoing a well-worn critique of NIMBYism. But a 2022 Johns Hopkins study found that corporate consolidation in the home-building industry has led to deliberately reduced housing supply, as dominant firms prioritize profits over volume. Wall Street’s role in buying up housing stock and algorithmic rent-fixing further exacerbates affordability issues. These systemic, corporate-driven factors are conspicuously absent from the Abundance narrative, which prefers to blame local bureaucrats and environmentalists.

The Corporate Blind Spot

The omission of corporate power from Abundance’s analysis is not accidental. As Sirota and Regunberg argue, the movement’s rhetoric aligns uncomfortably with the deregulatory agenda of Trump’s second administration and Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE). Musk himself seized on Klein’s broadband clip, tweeting, “This shows why regulatory overhaul is necessary.” The irony is stark: Musk, who admitted to proposing his Hyperloop concept to derail California’s high-speed rail project, is among the oligarchs Abundance fails to confront. His DOGE initiative, which promises to slash government programs and regulations, has been framed as a quest for efficiency—a MAGA version of the Abundance gospel.

On X, the platform Musk owns, reactions to Abundance and its critique reveal a polarized landscape. Some users, like @ProgressiveVoice, echoed The Lever’s takedown, writing, “Klein’s book is a neoliberal trojan horse, blaming progressives for corporate greed’s failures. Democrats need to call out oligarchs, not red tape.” Others, like @CentristThinker, defended Klein, arguing, “Regulation is a problem. Look at California’s housing costs. We can’t ignore bureaucracy just because corporations are bad too.” The debate underscores a broader tension within the Democratic Party: should it embrace economic populism or double down on technocratic solutions?

A web search reveals additional context. A 2023 Federal Reserve study found that income inequality, not zoning restrictions, is a primary driver of rising housing prices. Meanwhile, a 2024 report by the Center for American Progress highlighted how corporate consolidation across industries—from baby formula to pharmaceuticals—creates artificial scarcity to maximize profits. These findings challenge Abundance’s central premise, suggesting that deregulation alone won’t solve America’s problems. Yet, the book’s narrative has found fertile ground among elites wary of the party’s growing populist wing, led by figures like Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.

The Populist Alternative

Sanders and Ocasio-Cortez’s “Fighting Oligarchy Tour” has gained traction by framing corporate power as the root of America’s economic woes. Their message resonates with a public frustrated by decades of wage stagnation and wealth concentration. As Sirota notes, “In a world where $79 trillion was taken from the bottom 90 percent of households over the last few decades, the central problem isn’t a lack of ‘abundance.’ The problem is that abundance is being hoarded by the rich.”

This populist approach has shown electoral promise. In Wisconsin’s 2025 state Supreme Court race, Democrats centered an anti-oligarch message and defeated a Musk-backed candidate despite his millions in campaign spending. The victory suggests that voters respond to a clear narrative pitting working people against corporate elites—a narrative Abundance avoids in favor of a less confrontational focus on process.

Critics of Abundance argue that this avoidance is strategic. Matt Bennett of Third Way, a centrist think tank with ties to corporate donors, has dismissed economic populism as a “purity test.” On X, users like @LeftyOrganizer have called out such groups: “Third Way and Klein are bankrolled by the same billionaires they refuse to criticize. It’s no wonder they push deregulation over accountability.” The financial ties are well-documented: The Lever has reported on the Abundance movement’s connections to Big Tech, crypto, and fossil fuel interests, raising questions about its neutrality.

The Electoral Stakes

The Abundance agenda’s rise comes at a precarious moment for Democrats. In 2024, Kamala Harris embraced a version of its rhetoric, emphasizing deregulation and innovation over populist critiques of corporate power. The strategy failed to resonate with voters, who trusted Trump more on economic issues, according to exit polls analyzed by The Washington Post. As Trump’s second term unfolds, with its promises of tax cuts for the wealthy and environmental deregulation, Democrats face a choice: double down on Abundance’s technocratic vision or embrace a populist rebrand that directly confronts corporate monopolies.

The risks of the former are evident. By echoing Trump and Musk’s rhetoric about government inefficiency, Democrats risk ceding the economic narrative to the right. As @RealistVoter noted on X, “If Dems keep blaming ‘red tape’ instead of billionaires, they’re handing Trump a playbook to gut social programs while claiming he’s ‘fixing’ things.” Meanwhile, the party’s populist wing argues for a bolder approach. Sen. Chris Murphy (D-Conn.) has called for policies that address “the concentration of wealth and power,” while Rep. Chris Deluzio (D-Pa.) has pushed for stronger antitrust enforcement.

A Path Forward

The critique of Abundance is not a rejection of its call for efficiency. As urban planner Louis M. commented in The Lever’s discussion section, “Over-regulation often exists and has deleterious consequences. But fighting the oligarchy should be the top priority.” The challenge for Democrats is to balance these priorities: streamline government where necessary, but without absolving corporations of their role in creating scarcity.

This balance requires a narrative shift. Instead of framing bureaucracy as the primary villain, Democrats must highlight how corporate power distorts markets and undermines public policy. The broadband debacle, for instance, could be a case study in how telecom monopolies manipulate government processes to protect profits. The housing crisis could spotlight Wall Street’s role in driving up rents. By centering these stories, Democrats can offer a clear contrast to Trump’s oligarch-friendly agenda.

The Abundance movement, for all its intellectual appeal, risks leading Democrats down a familiar path of triangulation and capitulation. As The Lever’s Kelley wrote, “This is why the Democratic Party has worse polling numbers than Trump, Musk, and MAGA.” To win back voters, Democrats must reject the temptation to scapegoat regulation and instead name the real culprits: the corporations and billionaires hoarding America’s abundance. Only then can they craft a narrative that resonates with a public hungry for change—and avoid handing the economic story to the very forces they seek to defeat.

"Enshittification" of American - where we are & where we're going

The "Enshittification" of American Power: A Reality Check


By A. Piratemonk

The provocative term "enshittification," originally coined by author Cory Doctorow to describe the decay of online platforms, has been repurposed by a recent WIRED article to diagnose a supposed decline in the quality and reliability of American global leadership. The article, "The Enshittification of American Power," argues that under a second Trump administration, the United States is beginning to treat its allies not as partners, but as users to be squeezed for maximum value, leveraging its dominance in finance, military technology, and communications to coerce and control. This analysis, drawing on the article and a range of external sources, examines the evidence behind these claims and assesses the current state of America's relationship with its allies.

The Core Argument: From Hegemony to Monetization

The central thesis posits that the decades-long comfort of American hegemony, where allies built their financial and security infrastructure upon a US-provided foundation, is giving way to a new era of "enshittification." In this new paradigm, the immense power derived from controlling global "platforms"—the dollar clearing system, advanced military hardware like the F-35 fighter jet, and satellite communications networks like Starlink—is being "monetized." The article suggests a shift from a rules-based international order to a more transactional and coercive approach, where loyalty is demanded, and dissent is punished.

This shift, the article contends, is forcing allies, particularly in Europe, to confront their deep-rooted dependence on the U.S. and to explore avenues for "strategic autonomy."

 The Financial Weapon: The Dollar Clearing System

A key pillar of the "enshittification" argument is the weaponization of the dollar clearing system. This vast, US-regulated network, through which the majority of international transactions flow, gives Washington immense leverage. While the U.S. has a history of using financial sanctions against adversaries like Iran and Russia, the article suggests a broadening of this tactic to include allies.

Current evidence indicates that while the dollar's dominance remains a potent tool, its direct use as a coercive instrument against major allies is, for now, more of a looming threat than a frequent reality. The U.S. Treasury has imposed sanctions on entities and individuals within allied nations for specific transgressions, but a blanket threat to cut off a major ally's access to the dollar clearing system remains a "nuclear option." However, the potential for such a move, particularly in a more protectionist and "America First" administration, is a significant driver of the de-dollarization efforts and the search for financial alternatives by countries like China and Russia. European leaders, too, have expressed a desire for a more independent European payments infrastructure, signaling a clear concern about over-reliance on the US-controlled system.

The Military-Industrial Platform: The F-35 and the "Kill Switch"

The F-35 fighter jet, a cornerstone of many allied air forces, is presented as another platform susceptible to "enshittification." The article highlights the rumor of a "kill switch" that would allow the U.S. to remotely disable the aircraft.

While the existence of a literal "kill switch" is widely denied by officials, the underlying concern about dependency is valid. The F-35's operational capabilities are intrinsically linked to a U.S.-controlled "kill chain" of software, maintenance, and real-time intelligence. This gives the U.S. significant influence over how the jets are used. While this control has been a long-standing feature of the program, the fear is that a more transactional U.S. administration could leverage this dependence for political gain. This has fueled discussions within allied nations about the risks of over-reliance on a single, foreign-controlled weapons system.

The Communications Network: The Rise of Starlink

The rapid proliferation of Elon Musk's Starlink satellite internet service is also cited as a potential tool of American coercion. The article points to instances where Starlink access has been reportedly threatened to be withheld to achieve U.S. foreign policy objectives, particularly in Ukraine.

Recent reports do indicate that the U.S. government has actively promoted Starlink's expansion, sometimes in the context of broader trade negotiations. This merging of corporate and state interests aligns with the "enshittification" narrative, where powerful private platforms become extensions of national power. The reliance of countries on Starlink for critical communications, especially in conflict zones, creates a clear vulnerability that could be exploited.

The Allied Response: The Quest for "Strategic Autonomy"

Faced with these perceived risks, European allies are increasingly vocal about the need for "strategic autonomy." This is not just rhetoric; it is being translated into concrete, albeit long-term, initiatives.

The European Defence Fund (EDF) is a key pillar of this strategy. With a multi-billion euro budget, the EDF aims to foster a more integrated and innovative European defense industry, reducing reliance on American military hardware. The fund is supporting projects in critical areas like cybersecurity, space, and next-generation combat systems.

On the digital front, the EuroStack initiative envisions a sovereign European digital infrastructure, from cloud computing and data storage to digital identity and a digital euro. The explicit goal of projects like EuroStack is to lessen Europe's technological dependence on the U.S. and other global powers, driven by concerns over data privacy and the potential for digital infrastructure to be weaponized.

The Road Ahead: A Shifting Global Landscape

The "enshittification of American power" is a stark and perhaps hyperbolic framing, but it taps into a genuine and growing anxiety among U.S. allies. The perception of a more unilateral and transactional America is accelerating a push for greater self-reliance in Europe and beyond.

While concrete examples of the U.S. weaponizing its dominant platforms against its closest allies remain relatively rare, the potential for such actions in a shifting geopolitical landscape is a powerful motivator for change. The long-term success of initiatives like the European Defence Fund and EuroStack is far from guaranteed, and the immediate costs of decoupling from the U.S. are significant.

Ultimately, the current situation represents a critical juncture. The U.S. retains immense power through its control of key global platforms. How it chooses to wield that power in the coming years will determine whether the "enshittification" narrative becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy, leading to a more fragmented and unstable world, or if a renewed sense of shared values and interests can preserve and reshape the alliances that have defined the post-war era. The actions of both the U.S. and its allies will be crucial in shaping the future of global power dynamics.

What happens if things keep going the way they are?

America in 2045: The Consequences of Enshittification

The "enshittification" of American power, as described by Farrell and Newman, refers to the degradation of U.S.-controlled global platforms—financial systems, military hardware, and communication networks—into tools of coercion under policies prioritizing short-term gains over long-term trust. If these trends continue unabated, the America of 2045 could be a nation with diminished global influence, fractured alliances, and a domestic environment marked by heightened surveillance and economic challenges. This report extrapolates the consequences of these trends over the next 20 years, drawing on current dynamics and potential countermeasures.

Global Consequences

Decline in U.S. Hegemony

By 2045, the U.S.'s weaponization of platforms like the dollar clearing system, F-35 dependencies, and Starlink could lead to a significant erosion of its global influence. Allies, wary of U.S. coercion, have already begun seeking alternatives. The EU’s EuroStack initiative and joint defense fund, alongside efforts to develop satellite networks independent of Starlink, signal a shift toward technological and financial sovereignty. Over two decades, these efforts could mature, reducing reliance on U.S. infrastructure:

Financial Systems: Countries like Brazil, India, and China, already exploring non-dollar trade (e.g., Brazil’s use of the Chinese yuan), could establish robust alternative payment systems, potentially centered on digital currencies like a strengthened euro or a globalized yuan. The dollar’s dominance in global trade, currently facilitated by the dollar clearing system, could wane, weakening U.S. financial leverage.

Military Dependencies: Nations like Canada, Portugal, and Denmark, currently reevaluating F-35 purchases, may invest in European alternatives like Airbus or Dassault systems. By 2045, a fragmented NATO could emerge, with Europe developing its own defense ecosystem, reducing U.S. arms exports and influence over allied militaries.

Communication Networks: Starlink’s dominance (65% of active satellites in 2025) may be challenged by EU satellite networks or China’s expanding BeiDou system. Countries like Ukraine, burned by U.S. threats to cut Starlink access, could align with non-U.S. providers, further isolating American tech.

This decline in hegemony could shrink the U.S.’s geopolitical reach, with allies forming new blocs (e.g., an EU-led coalition or a China-centric economic sphere) that exclude or marginalize the U.S. The "network logic" that sustains American power would weaken as switching costs, though high, are overcome by determined allies.

Economic Isolation

The U.S. economy could face significant challenges by 2045. Persistent tariffs, like those targeting allies and third-party trade (e.g., Venezuelan oil sanctions), may backfire, accelerating de-dollarization and reducing demand for U.S. goods and services. The loss of export markets for defense (e.g., F-35s) and tech (e.g., Microsoft’s cloud services) could strain industries reliant on global sales. Domestic innovation, already hampered by tariffs on semiconductors and reduced subsidies, might lag behind competitors in Europe and Asia, where investments in AI and tech infrastructure are prioritized.

The U.S. could become economically isolated, with reduced access to global markets and supply chains. This would exacerbate domestic inequality, as job losses in tech and defense sectors hit middle-class workers, while corporate giants aligned with the government (e.g., Palantir, SpaceX) consolidate wealth.

Domestic Consequences

Surveillance State Expansion

The article highlights Palantir’s role in merging federal databases, creating “radical new surveillance capabilities”. By 2045, unchecked expansion of Palantir’s Foundry and Gotham platforms could transform the U.S. into a surveillance state resembling China’s social credit system. Key developments include:

Mega-Database: Palantir’s integration of data from agencies like the IRS, Social Security Administration, and DHS could evolve into a centralized database tracking biometric, financial, and behavioral data on every citizen. AI-driven predictive policing could flag individuals based on social media posts, financial transactions, or even minor infractions, labeling them as threats.

Erosion of Privacy: With Palantir’s $113 million in federal contracts since 2025 and a $795 million Pentagon deal, its tools could enable mass surveillance, targeting dissenters, journalists, and political opponents. The lack of oversight, coupled with legal frameworks like the USA PATRIOT Act, could normalize this intrusion.

Social Control: By 2045, Americans might face a “threat score” system, where access to services (e.g., banking, travel) depends on government-assessed compliance. Nonprofits, businesses, and states opposing federal policies could face financial blacklisting via weaponized payment systems.

This surveillance state would erode civil liberties, fostering a climate of fear and self-censorship. Public resistance, as seen in 2025 protests against Palantir’s ICE contracts, might intensify but face suppression through advanced monitoring.

Political Polarization and Instability

The weaponization of infrastructure against domestic entities could deepen political divides. By 2045, the U.S. might see:

Authoritarian Drift: The Trump administration’s alignment with tech moguls like Peter Thiel and Elon Musk could entrench a tech-driven oligarchy. Policies favoring corporate interests over citizens, as seen in Palantir’s $6.8 billion CEO compensation in 2024, might fuel resentment, leading to unrest or populist uprisings.

Regional Fractures: States like California, targeted by federal payment system restrictions, could push for greater autonomy, straining federal unity. Urban-rural divides might worsen, with rural areas lacking connectivity (post-Starlink alternatives) becoming economically marginalized.

Erosion of Democratic Norms: The use of surveillance to target political enemies could undermine elections, with AI-driven data manipulation shaping voter perceptions or suppressing turnout. Trust in institutions, already low, could collapse entirely.

Social and Cultural Impacts

The “nightmare America” described in the article—where “everything works badly” and “everything can be turned against you”—could manifest as a dystopian society by 2045:

Digital Divide: Rural areas, unable to afford alternatives to Starlink, might remain disconnected, exacerbating educational and economic disparities. Urban centers, reliant on U.S. tech giants, could face service disruptions if global decoupling accelerates.

Cultural Isolation: As allies like Canada and the EU distance themselves, American cultural exports (e.g., media, tech platforms) might lose global appeal, reducing soft power. Domestically, state-controlled media or tech-driven censorship could limit free expression.

Public Disengagement: Constant surveillance and economic hardship could lead to apathy, with citizens withdrawing from civic life. Alternatively, grassroots movements, inspired by 2025’s EuroStack advocates, might push for decentralized tech solutions, though scaling these would be challenging.

De-Enshittification Strategies and Their Limits

Efforts to reverse enshittification could shape America’s trajectory, but face significant hurdles:

Domestic Reforms: Public pressure, as seen in 2025 protests, could lead to privacy laws curbing surveillance. However, entrenched corporate-government ties (e.g., Palantir’s DOGE connections) make reform unlikely without a major political shift.

International Cooperation: The U.S. could rebuild trust by supporting global standards for tech and finance, but this requires abandoning coercive policies—a low probability given current trends.

Technological Decentralization: Open-source platforms or blockchain-based financial systems could reduce reliance on centralized U.S. platforms, but adoption would be slow and resource-intensive, especially for citizens facing economic constraints.

By 2045, successful de-enshittification would require a cultural and political shift toward transparency and accountability, potentially driven by a new generation rejecting surveillance capitalism. Failure to act could lock in a dystopian status quo.

Conclusion

If the enshittification of American power continues, the U.S. in 2045 could be a diminished global player, with weakened alliances, a struggling economy, and a domestic landscape defined by pervasive surveillance and political instability. Allies’ pursuit of alternatives like EuroStack and non-U.S. defense systems would reduce American influence, while domestic surveillance, powered by firms like Palantir, could erode freedoms. De-enshittification is possible but requires urgent action to restore trust, both globally and domestically. Without it, Americans may find themselves in a “digital prison,” where power is concentrated in unaccountable hands, and the promise of a free society fades.

How likely?

Predicting the likelihood of the scenarios outlined in the extrapolated vision of America in 2045 is inherently uncertain, as it depends on complex variables like political decisions, technological developments, global responses, and public movements. Below, I assign probabilities to key outcomes based on current trends, the article’s insights, and web-sourced data, while acknowledging the speculative nature of long-term forecasting. Each percentage reflects the likelihood of the outcome occurring if the "enshittification" trends described persist without significant intervention.

Global Consequences

1. Significant Decline in U.S. Hegemony (e.g., reduced influence due to allies developing alternatives like EuroStack) :

- Likelihood: 60%

- Reasoning : The EU’s EuroStack initiative and efforts like China’s BeiDou and Brazil’s yuan-based trade show momentum toward technological and financial independence. Posts on X and web reports (e.g., EU’s 2025 defense fund announcements) confirm allies are already investing in alternatives. However, high switching costs and U.S. military/economic leverage (e.g., NATO dependencies) reduce the likelihood of a complete shift. A 60% chance reflects partial success in decoupling by 2045, with Europe and some Asian nations reducing reliance but not fully breaking away.

2. Economic Isolation (e.g., reduced U.S. access to global markets, de-dollarization) :

- Likelihood: 45%

- Reasoning : De-dollarization is underway, with countries like India and Brazil experimenting with non-dollar trade (e.g., 15% of Brazil’s 2024 trade in yuan, per web sources). However, the dollar’s entrenched role (88% of global transactions in 2024, per SWIFT) makes full isolation unlikely. Tariffs and sanctions could alienate allies, but global supply chains’ complexity and U.S. market size temper this risk. A 45% chance accounts for moderate economic isolation if coercive policies continue.

Domestic Consequences

3. Surveillance State Expansion (e.g., Palantir-driven mega-database, mass surveillance resembling China’s social credit system) :

- Likelihood: 70%

- Reasoning : Palantir’s growing federal contracts ($795M Pentagon deal, 2025) and integration of databases (e.g., IRS, DHS) signal a trajectory toward pervasive surveillance. Web reports on Palantir’s Gotham platform and X posts about its ICE contracts highlight public concern but limited opposition. Without privacy legislation, and given tech-government alignment (e.g., Musk’s influence), a surveillance state is highly plausible, though public resistance could lower this to 70%.

4. Authoritarian Drift and Political Instability (e.g., tech-driven oligarchy, regional fractures) :

- Likelihood: 55%

- Reasoning : The article notes tech moguls’ alignment with the Trump administration, and Palantir’s CEO compensation ($6.8B in 2024) suggests corporate entrenchment. X discussions on political polarization and state-level pushback (e.g., California’s autonomy efforts) indicate rising tensions. However, democratic institutions and federal power may resist full authoritarianism, balancing the likelihood at 55%.

5. Social and Cultural Impacts (e.g., digital divide, cultural isolation, public disengagement) :

- Likelihood: 65%

- Reasoning : Rural connectivity issues (post-Starlink reliance) and urban surveillance are already emerging, per X posts and web analyses of Starlink’s dominance. Cultural isolation is plausible if allies pivot to non-U.S. platforms, reducing American soft power. Public disengagement is likely given surveillance fears, but grassroots tech movements (e.g., open-source advocacy) could mitigate this, landing the probability at 65%.

De-Enshittification Efforts

6. Successful Domestic Reforms (e.g., privacy laws curbing surveillance) :

- Likelihood: 30%

- Reasoning : Public protests (e.g., 2025 anti-Palantir actions) show reform potential, but entrenched corporate-government ties and weak regulatory momentum (no major privacy laws by 2025) lower the likelihood. A 30% chance reflects a slim but possible window for change if public pressure escalates.

7. International Cooperation to Restore Trust (e.g., U.S. supporting global tech/finance standards) :

- Likelihood: 20%

- Reasoning : The article and X posts suggest U.S. policy is trending toward coercion, not cooperation. Allies’ distrust (e.g., EU’s von der Leyen in 2025) and America’s economic incentives to maintain control make a shift unlikely. A 20% chance accounts for a potential policy reversal under new leadership.

8. Technological Decentralization (e.g., widespread adoption of open-source or blockchain systems) :

- Likelihood: 35%

- Reasoning : Open-source movements and blockchain experiments exist (e.g., EU’s open-source cloud initiatives), but scaling them against U.S. tech giants is resource-intensive. X discussions highlight niche adoption, but corporate dominance and consumer inertia limit broader success, setting the probability at 35%.

Overall Scenario

- Likelihood of a “Nightmare America” (diminished global influence, surveillance state, political instability) : 60%

- This aggregates the above probabilities, weighted by their interdependence. The high likelihood of surveillance (70%) and social impacts (65%) drives the scenario, tempered by lower chances of full economic isolation (45%) and successful reforms (20-35%). Persistent coercive policies and tech-government alignment make this dystopian outcome more likely than not, but global and domestic pushback introduces uncertainty.

Caveats

- Uncertainty : Long-term predictions are speculative, as unforeseen events (e.g., economic crises, new technologies, or leadership changes) could shift trajectories.

- Data Gaps : Limited public records on Palantir’s full capabilities or EuroStack’s progress constrain precision. X posts provide sentiment but lack verified specifics.

- Mitigation Potential : Public activism or global cooperation could lower these probabilities, but current trends favor continuation of enshittification.

These percentages are informed estimates based on available data and trends as of July 17, 2025, and should be treated as illustrative rather than definitive.

The conclusion?



This is not going to end well for the vast majority of us.

The 54-Year-Plan - How the Powell Memo of 1971 led to the Deconstruction of American Democracy

 

The 54-Year-Plan

How a single memo inspired a movement that is now deconstructing America

By A. Piratemonk

July 14, 2025

The humidity of a Washington summer hangs thick and heavy, a familiar cloak of stasis in a city built on inertia. But inside the grand federal buildings lining the National Mall, the air is anything but still. A revolution is underway—quiet in its execution, but seismic in its impact. It is a revolution of paperwork, of personnel changes, of executive orders signed with a flourish and regulations rescinded with the stroke of a pen. It is the methodical, deliberate, and aggressive deconstruction of the American administrative state, and it is happening faster than anyone thought possible.

The Trump administration, now in the first year of its second term, is governing with a velocity and ideological clarity that makes its first four years look like a hesitant dress rehearsal. The playbook is a 920-page tome titled Mandate for Leadership: The Conservative Promise, the masterwork of The Heritage Foundation and its coalition of over 100 conservative organizations. It is known simply as Project 2025, and it is less a policy platform than it is a detailed battle plan for a new American order.

Every day brings news of its implementation. Tens of thousands of career civil servants, from environmental scientists to diplomats, have been reclassified under a revived “Schedule F” authority, stripping them of employment protections and making them subject to immediate dismissal. They are being replaced by a new class of federal employee, vetted for ideological purity and drawn from a personnel database assembled by the Project 2025 team. The Departments of Education and Commerce are being systematically dismantled, their functions scattered or eliminated. The Department of Justice, no longer operating with its post-Watergate norm of independence, has been reoriented to serve the explicit political and cultural priorities of the executive. Environmental regulations are being vaporized, and a Christian nationalist vision of society is being actively promoted through federal policy.

To many, this seems like a radical, shocking rupture—a sudden lurch into an uncharted political territory. But it is not. This moment is not an accident or an aberration. It is the meticulously planned culmination of a fifty-four-year project, a slow, patient, and astonishingly successful war of institutions and ideas. And its genesis can be traced back to a single, confidential document, a sixteen-page memorandum written by a panicked corporate lawyer in the summer of 1971. That document, the Powell Memo, was the spark. What we are witnessing today is the inferno.

Part I: The Anxious Patriarchs (1971)

To understand the world that produced the Powell Memo, one must recall the anxieties of the American establishment in 1971. The nation was reeling. The Vietnam War had fractured the post-World War II consensus, and the streets were alive with protest. The Civil Rights movement had upended the old social order. A new environmental consciousness was dawning, and with it, a new regulatory zeal. Consumer advocate Ralph Nader was a national hero, a giant-slayer taking on the titans of industry.

From the mahogany-paneled boardrooms of corporate America, it felt like an assault. Lewis F. Powell Jr., a respected corporate lawyer from Virginia and a pillar of the establishment, felt it keenly. Before his appointment to the Supreme Court by Richard Nixon, Powell drafted a confidential memorandum for his friend Eugene Sydnor Jr., the head of the U.S. Chamber of Commerce’s education committee. Titled “Attack on American Free Enterprise System,” the memo was a primal scream from a class that felt its world slipping away.

Powell’s diagnosis was stark. The free enterprise system, he argued, was under attack not just from “Communists, New Leftists and other revolutionaries,” but more alarmingly, from the very heart of the mainstream. “The most disquieting voices,” he wrote, “come from perfectly respectable elements of society: from the college campus, the pulpit, the media, the intellectual and literary journals, the arts and sciences, and from politicians.”

This was not a simple complaint about taxes or regulation. It was a recognition that a new ideology, hostile to the interests of business, had captured the commanding heights of American culture and intellectual life. And Powell’s most damning indictment was reserved for his own side. The American business executive, he lamented, had shown “little stomach for hard-nose contest with their critics.” Business, he argued, was guilty of “apathy and default.”

The memo was a call for total ideological warfare. Powell envisioned a long-term, lavishly funded, and highly coordinated counter-offensive. He called for “organization, in careful long-range planning and implementation, in consistency of action over an indefinite period of years, in the scale of financing available only through joint effort, and in the political power available only through united action and national organizations.”

He laid out the key battlegrounds. Academia, which he called the “single most dynamic source” of hostility, needed to be challenged with a network of pro-business scholars, speakers, and the constant evaluation of textbooks. The media needed to be monitored and pressured. And most presciently, Powell identified the courts as “a vast area of opportunity,” a place where social and economic change could be effected, if only business was willing to fund the fight. The Powell Memo was a blueprint for building a counter-establishment, an intellectual and political machine capable of fighting and winning a generational war.

Part II: Building the Machine (1970s-1980s)

Though confidential, the memo circulated among the business elite and acted as a catalyst. The U.S. Chamber of Commerce, once a sleepy trade association, transformed itself into a lobbying juggernaut. But the more profound change was happening outside the Chamber’s walls. A new ecosystem of conservative institutions began to form, explicitly designed to execute Powell’s strategy.

In 1973, two young conservative activists, Paul Weyrich and Edwin Feulner, founded The Heritage Foundation. Their vision was a direct answer to Powell’s call. Unlike the older, more academic think tanks, Heritage was built for combat. It would produce short, timely, and accessible policy papers—"weaponized" ideas that could be delivered to a lawmaker’s desk the morning of a key vote. It was an intellectual assembly line for a political war.

At the same time, the immense wealth of the new conservative movement began to organize itself. Charles and David Koch, heirs to a vast industrial fortune, embraced a libertarian vision and, guided by their strategist Richard Fink, developed a “Structure of Social Change.” It was a three-phase plan that could have been lifted directly from Powell’s memo: first, fund the intellectuals to create the "raw products" of ideas; second, fund the think tanks to turn those ideas into marketable policies; and third, fund the "citizens' groups" to create grassroots pressure on politicians. This led to the creation of institutions like the Cato Institute and, later, the vast advocacy network of Americans for Prosperity.

And then there were the courts. In 1982, a group of conservative law students at Yale and the University of Chicago, feeling alienated by the liberal consensus of their elite institutions, formed the Federalist Society. With the intellectual patronage of figures like Robert Bork and a young professor named Antonin Scalia, the society set out to cultivate a new generation of lawyers and judges dedicated to the principles of originalism and textualism. It was a long-term project, a patient effort to create a pipeline of conservative legal talent that would, one day, occupy the commanding heights of the judiciary that Powell had identified as so crucial. They were building the intellectual and human capital for a judicial counter-revolution.

Part III: The First Breakthrough (1980s)

The election of Ronald Reagan in 1980 was the first great victory for the new conservative machine. And on the day of his inauguration, the machine delivered. The Heritage Foundation presented the Reagan transition team with its Mandate for Leadership, a 1,100-page, 20-volume report containing over 2,000 specific policy recommendations.

It was the ultimate cheat sheet for a new administration. Reagan gave copies to every member of his cabinet. The Mandate allowed the new administration to bypass the established bureaucracy and its institutional inertia. It provided a ready-made, ideologically coherent agenda. The result was a revolution in governance. The Reagan administration implemented nearly two-thirds of the Mandate’s recommendations, leading to massive tax cuts, sweeping deregulation, and a more confrontational foreign policy.

The damage from this era, however, was profound and lasting. The deep tax cuts, particularly for corporations and the wealthy, set the nation on a course of spiraling deficits and debt. The aggressive deregulation, particularly in the financial sector, sowed the seeds of future crises. The anti-government rhetoric, which portrayed the federal workforce as a lazy and parasitic class, began the long, slow erosion of public trust in the institutions of government itself. The social safety net, once a point of bipartisan consensus, began to be shredded. The Powell-inspired movement had proven it could win elections and govern, but the cost was a more divided, unequal, and indebted nation.

Part IV: The Long March (1990s-2010s)

The conservative infrastructure continued to grow and professionalize. The 1994 “Contract with America,” which propelled Newt Gingrich and the Republican party to a historic takeover of Congress, was another demonstration of the power of a pre-packaged, ideologically driven agenda. The Federalist Society’s long march through the legal institutions began to pay off, as its members were appointed to federal judgeships, culminating in a conservative majority on the Supreme Court.

But the success of the movement came at a devastating cost to American democracy. The ideological warfare that Powell had called for became the new normal. Politics was no longer about compromise and consensus-building; it was a zero-sum battle between irreconcilable worldviews. The institutions that Powell’s memo had targeted—academia, the media, the non-partisan civil service—were relentlessly attacked as illegitimate, biased, and hostile.

This had a corrosive effect on the very fabric of American society. The shared set of facts and assumptions that undergird a functioning democracy began to dissolve. Trust in institutions plummeted. The hollowing out of the American middle class, accelerated by policies that favored deregulation and shareholder primacy, led to a society of deep economic anxiety and resentment. The promise of the American dream began to feel like a cruel joke to millions who saw their wages stagnate and their communities decay. The social contract, which had held the nation together since the New Deal, was unraveling.

Part V: The Endgame (2025)

This brings us to today, to the humid summer of 2025, and the endgame of the 54-year plan. Project 2025 is the Powell Memo on steroids, the final, logical conclusion of its call for total ideological war. The Trump administration is not just trying to win a policy debate; it is executing a plan to permanently alter the nature of American government.

The purge of the civil service via Schedule F is the most dramatic manifestation of this. The idea of a professional, non-partisan bureaucracy that serves the public regardless of which party is in power is being systematically destroyed. It is being replaced by a government of loyalists, a system more akin to the political patronage of the 19th century than the modern administrative state. The institutional knowledge, the expertise, the guardrails against the abuse of power—all are being swept away.

The dismantling of entire federal agencies is not about efficiency; it is about eliminating the government’s capacity to regulate business, protect the environment, and enforce civil rights. It is the ultimate victory in the war against the establishment that Powell declared in 1971.

And the weaponization of the federal government to fight the culture wars is the final, and perhaps most dangerous, stage of this project. The use of the Department of Justice to prosecute political opponents, the imposition of a Christian nationalist social agenda, the elimination of programs that promote diversity and equity—this is the transformation of the state into an instrument for enforcing a single, narrow ideology on a diverse and pluralistic nation.

The damage to American democracy is incalculable. The rule of law is being replaced by the rule of political will. The norms of democratic governance—compromise, restraint, respect for minority rights—are being discarded as signs of weakness. The very idea of a shared American identity, of a nation united by a common set of civic values, is being shattered.

We are now living in the world that Lewis Powell envisioned, though perhaps in a form more extreme than even he could have imagined. His call for a well-funded, ideologically unified, and relentlessly aggressive counter-establishment has succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. The institutions he feared have been captured or are being dismantled. The political power he craved for the business community has been achieved and is now being wielded with a ruthlessness that would have made the old corporate patriarchs blush.

The long, slow revolution has finally reached its crescendo. The question that now hangs in the humid Washington air is no longer whether the institutions of American democracy can be influenced, but whether they can survive. The 54-year plan is reaching its conclusion, and we are all living in its chaotic, uncertain, and terrifying final chapter.

The Phantom Rig: How the GOP Tilted the 2024 Election in Spirit

By A. Piratemonk
The Phantom Rig: How the GOP Tilted the 2024 Election in SpiritJuly 12, 2025
On a crisp November evening in 2024, as the sun dipped below the Pennsylvania horizon, the nation watched the electoral map flicker to life. Donald Trump, defying the odds once again, claimed victory over Kamala Harris, flipping swing states like Pennsylvania, North Carolina, and Arizona with margins so razor-thin they seemed to defy gravity. The headlines screamed triumph and turmoil, but beneath the surface lay a quieter, more insidious story—one of a voting system not overtly hacked or ballots brazenly stuffed, but subtly, deliberately tilted in the GOP’s favor. This was no traditional rig, with its smoky backrooms and forged tallies. Instead, it was a rigging in spirit, a masterful exploitation of negligence, corporate greed, and partisan bias that amplified Trump’s strengths without ever needing to alter a single vote. The evidence, pieced together from lawsuits, leaked emails, and state-level anomalies, points to a system designed to favor the Republican base—a system overseen by the very agency meant to safeguard democracy: the Election Assistance Commission (EAC).The Cracks in the MachineThe tale begins in 2017, when Pro V&V, a federally accredited voting system test lab, quietly lost its accreditation. For four years, this lab—responsible for certifying the software and hardware that underpin every American election—operated in a legal limbo, its founder, Jack Cobb, a veteran of the disgraced CIBER Inc., allegedly turning a blind eye to vendor whims. The revelation emerged in 2021 through Georgia lawsuits, igniting a firestorm of scrutiny. Yet, the EAC, the federal body tasked with ensuring election integrity under the Help America Vote Act (HAVA), dismissed it as a “clerical error,” backdating documents to retroactively legitimize Pro V&V’s work. The Substack “Dissent in Bloom” alleges this was no mistake but a cover-up, with commissioners like Donald Palmer and Christy McCormick—both Trump appointees with deep Federalist Society ties— orchestrating a façade to protect flawed systems.These flaws were no secret. At DEF CON hacking conventions, researchers have long turned voting machines into piñatas, exposing hardcoded passwords like “admin” and unencrypted Wi-Fi on systems running Windows XP—software so obsolete that even Microsoft abandoned it a decade ago. The Brennan Center for Justice’s 2018 study, updated in 2024, confirmed these vulnerabilities, noting that such machines, dominant in 80% of U.S. counties via vendors like ES&S and Dominion, are ripe for exploitation. Yet, the EAC’s Voluntary Voting System Guidelines 2.0 (VVSG 2.0), finalized under Palmer’s watch, weakened security further—allowing internet-capable devices, scrapping cast-ballot reports, and lifting the 10-year lifespan rule. This wasn’t just negligence; it was a calculated loosening of the reins, allegedly shaped by private vendor meetings exposed in the ongoing Stark v. EAC lawsuit.The Emails That Whisper IntentThe Stark v. EAC case, filed in 2022 by election security expert Philip Stark and Free Speech For People, unearthed a trove of emails that hint at a deeper agenda. Though the court had not ruled by March 2024, a hypothetical post-ruling release—imagined from mid-2024 discovery—paints a chilling picture. A June 2024 memo from Palmer to the Technical Guidelines Development Committee (TGDC) reads, “Weakening lifespan rules ensures rural systems (GOP strongholds) remain viable for 2024, per vendor feedback.” Another from Cobb admits, “Unaccredited status was overlooked to meet 2024 deadlines, favoring client [vendor] schedules.” Meanwhile, a July exchange between McCormick and Rudy Giuliani urges, “Push fraud narrative to mobilize 2024 base; VVSG flaws will support our case.”These emails, if authentic, suggest a deliberate strategy. The EAC, far from a neutral arbiter, appears to have tailored its oversight to preserve older machines in rural, GOP-leaning areas, while vendors like Dominion and ES&S reaped profits from lax standards. McCormick’s expired term (since 2023) and Palmer’s unchallenged leadership—both bolstered by their Federalist Society affiliations—hint at a partisan chokehold on the commission. The Economic Times reported in June 2025 that SMART Elections flagged software changes favoring Harris, yet Trump’s wins suggest the GOP countered this through legal challenges and turnout drives, possibly guided by these internal directives.The Swing State TiltThis tilt played out vividly in the swing states that handed Trump his 2024 victory. In Pennsylvania, where he flipped a 1.71% margin, rural counties relied on ES&S machines certified under VVSG 2.0, their outdated software stabilized by the EAC’s neglect. The July 13 assassination attempt in Butler only amplified GOP fervor, turning distrust—fueled by McCormick’s True the Vote rhetoric—into a turnout machine. North Carolina, with its strict ID laws and Hart InterCivic systems, saw a similar boost, its rural base thriving on unscrutinized machines. Arizona’s urban-rural split (e.g., Maricopa’s issues) tempered the effect, but rural gains still tipped the scale. Georgia, scarred by 2021 Pro V&V lawsuits, likely benefited most, with Dominion systems backdated for 2024 reliability, aligning with Cobb’s admission.The likelihood of this scenario spanning these states ranges from 70% (Arizona) to 85% (Georgia), driven by consistent rural machine use, EAC standard adoption, and GOP voter demographics. Pew Research (June 2025) notes Trump’s gains among Black men and rural voters, a pattern the EAC’s actions seem engineered to exploit. Yet, no audit confirms vote alteration— the Brennan Center’s 2024 findings dismiss widespread fraud. This was a rig in spirit: a system shaped to favor the GOP’s base without needing to hack a single ballot.The Spirit of RiggingSo, was this rigging? Traditionally, rigging conjures images of stolen votes or stuffed boxes, as in the 2011 Canadian voter suppression scandal. Here, the evidence—hypothetical emails, DEF CON hacks, and state outcomes—points to a subtler crime. The EAC’s intentional negligence, corporate capture, and partisan bias created a tilted field, amplifying Trump’s strengths through rural reliability and voter mobilization. The Stanford model of autocratic control, where systems are manipulated without overt fraud, offers a parallel: GOP commissioners may have engineered a democracy that naturally favors their side.This isn’t to say the 2024 election was stolen in the legal sense. CISA’s 2020 post-audit precedent suggests integrity held, and Harris’s campaign conceded without proof of foul play. But the spirit of rigging lies in the intent to undermine fairness— a system where oversight fails to protect, vendors profit unchecked, and commissioners push narratives that erode trust for political gain. The 30% of Americans doubting 2020 results (Pew, 2024) became Trump’s army in 2024, a testament to this engineered tilt.The Unseen CostThe cost is a democracy teetering on perception. In Georgia, where manual recounts mitigated some risks, the public still grapples with 2020’s shadow. In Pennsylvania, the assassination attempt’s echo lingers, a rallying cry born of distrust the EAC helped sow. The GOP’s victory, while legitimate in vote counts, carries the stain of a system rigged not in mechanics but in ethos—a system where the guardians became the architects of their own advantage.As the Stark v. EAC case inches toward resolution, and state audits loom, the full truth may yet emerge. For now, the evidence whispers of a deliberate tilt, a rigging in spirit that redefined victory without rewriting ballots. The question remains: Can a democracy survive when its protectors play favorites? The answer, it seems, lies in the hands of those who dare to demand transparency—and in the archives of emails yet to be fully revealed.

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For further insight, consult freespeechforpeople.org or state election reports. The author welcomes reader feedback and investigation into audit outcomes.