Trump admin 'destroying' US democracy with 'autocratic, terrorist version of Christian nationalism'
Elon Musk has contributed more than $276 million since July to Republican political causes ahead of the United States midterm elections on 3 November. Meanwhile, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio has said decisions over Ukraine’s access to SpaceX satellite communications rest with the company rather than the White House. Both developments demonstrate how private technological and financial resources can influence decisions traditionally associated with government.
For journalist Gil Durán, author of The Nerd Reich: Silicon Valley Fascism and the War on Democracy, published by Avid Reader Press in August 2026, the issue extends beyond campaign donations. In a recent interview, he argued that a group of Silicon Valley investors is using its financial influence and control of technology to challenge the authority of elected governments.
“We’re at a decisive stage of that race,” Durán said when asked about the contest between technology and democracy described by venture capitalist Peter Thiel. His argument is that wealth alone no longer satisfies some of the industry’s most influential figures; they also want a direct role in determining how societies are governed.
Durán places Thiel at the centre of this movement. In a 2009 essay, The Education of a Libertarian, the PayPal co-founder wrote that he no longer believed freedom and democracy were compatible. He argued that technological innovation could allow individuals to escape the constraints of conventional politics.
Thiel subsequently clarified that he was not advocating disenfranchisement. His stated position was that majority rule often frustrated individual liberty. Durán, however, interprets the essay and Thiel’s subsequent political investments as evidence of a sustained interest in diminishing democratic constraints on private power.
The book also examines The Sovereign Individual, a 1997 work by James Dale Davidson and William Rees-Mogg that anticipated how digital currencies and technological change might weaken the power of nation states. Durán sees its influence in later arguments for privately organised alternatives to traditional government.
One example is The Network State, developed by entrepreneur Balaji Srinivasan. It proposes that online communities could acquire territory and eventually obtain diplomatic recognition. Advocates describe a voluntary model of political organisation; Durán regards the prospect of corporate-financed jurisdictions as a challenge to public accountability.
The relationship between Thiel and Vice-President JD Vance illustrates how venture capital can translate into political influence. Thiel supported Vance’s early investment career and contributed $15 million to a super PAC backing his successful 2022 Senate bid. Durán attributes much of Vance’s political ascent to that support, although voters, party endorsements and Vance’s own campaigning also shaped the result.
Musk’s latest contributions offer a more immediate example. His donations since July include $158 million to the Senate Leadership Fund and more than $76 million to America PAC. Such spending is lawful under the rules governing independent political committees, which cannot coordinate their expenditure with candidates.
Durán contends that similar pressures affect Democrats, arguing that wealthy donors can exercise influence across party lines. His criticism therefore concerns the political system’s dependence on private funding as much as any particular administration.
The consequences extend beyond elections. Ukraine’s dependence on satellite communications has exposed how a privately owned service can become essential to military operations. Restrictions affecting Starlink-related services have prompted competing accounts from US officials and SpaceX over responsibility for the decision. Rubio’s latest remarks point towards commercial control, while earlier reporting attributed the decision to Washington.
Artificial intelligence raises comparable questions of ownership and oversight. Durán argues that investors promoting transformative AI may also seek regulatory conditions that protect their substantial financial commitments. His prediction of a possible investment bubble remains a judgement, not an established outcome.
In Europe, the debate has immediate regulatory consequences. The EU’s Digital Services Act requires major online platforms to assess risks to elections and civic debate, while enforcement of important provisions of the AI Act began in August 2026. These measures address the influence of companies whose platforms and systems operate across borders.
Durán’s interpretation of Silicon Valley as a coherent anti-democratic movement remains contested. The entrepreneurs he discusses have differing interests, and their political influence does not itself establish a common plan to dismantle democratic government.
Their influence is nevertheless measurable in campaign finances, government contracts and control over infrastructure essential to national security. None of these forms of power requires holding elected office.
Russia and the United States have intensified their campaigns against the International Criminal Court (ICC) almost simultaneously, exposing an increasingly consequential convergence between the policies of Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump.
On 8 October, Moscow demanded the extradition of ICC President Tomoko Akane and eight other current and former officials. The following day, Washington announced sanctions against the court as an institution, extending earlier measures against individual judges and prosecutors.
The timing raises an obvious question: are these independent campaigns arising from different disputes with international justice, or do they reflect a broader political understanding between Washington and Moscow?
There is no publicly established evidence of a coordinated operation or an agreement between Trump and Putin to undermine the ICC. Nevertheless, the strategic consequences of their respective actions are remarkably similar. Both weaken an institution pursuing criminal proceedings against political leaders whom the two governments seek to protect.
Russia’s hostility towards the ICC is directly connected to the arrest warrant issued against Putin in March 2023 over the alleged unlawful deportation and transfer of Ukrainian children from occupied territories.
The court subsequently issued warrants against senior Russian military commanders, including Sergei Shoigu and Valery Gerasimov, over alleged crimes involving attacks on Ukrainian civilian infrastructure.
Moscow’s response has been to pursue ICC personnel through its own criminal justice system. The latest extradition demands follow convictions handed down in absentia by a Russian court in December 2025.
Washington’s confrontation with the ICC has a different immediate origin. The Trump administration objects to the court’s jurisdiction over American nationals and Israeli officials, particularly following the arrest warrants issued against Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and former defence minister Yoav Gallant.
Secretary of State Marco Rubio has presented the American campaign as a defence of US sovereignty. Yet the sanctions announced on 9 October are not confined to the Israeli proceedings or any investigation involving American personnel.
They target the institution itself, potentially disrupting financial transactions and commercial relationships essential to its operation. This distinction matters because a court-wide restriction necessarily affects investigations beyond those cited by Washington. That includes Ukraine.
The political context cannot be separated from the relationship between Trump and Putin, including their meeting in Anchorage, Alaska, in August 2025.
The summit formed part of Trump’s efforts to negotiate directly with Moscow over the war in Ukraine. The American president has repeatedly treated relations with Putin as a question of diplomatic bargaining, seeking arrangements that might produce an agreement where conventional Western pressure has failed.
Against this background, suggestions that pressure on the ICC might form part of a wider accommodation with Moscow warrant scrutiny. However, the proposition that Trump specifically offered Putin assistance in neutralising the court during their Anchorage discussions remains unsubstantiated. There is no verified public account establishing such a commitment.
A more defensible conclusion is that Washington’s independently declared campaign against the ICC also advances an important Russian interest. For Putin, the benefit is clear. Measures designed to restrict the court’s financial and administrative capacity could complicate investigations into Russian conduct, irrespective of the American administration’s stated intentions.
The relationship therefore need not involve explicit coordination to produce politically significant results.
The escalation from targeting individual prosecutors to sanctioning the entire ICC represents a substantial change. Previous American measures imposed personal and financial restrictions on selected officials. The latest approach threatens the broader infrastructure upon which international criminal proceedings depend.
The court requires banking facilities, secure communications, technology services and commercial suppliers. American sanctions can reach beyond US territory because of the international financial system’s dependence on dollar transactions and American service providers.
The ICC had already anticipated this vulnerability. According to details disclosed in September, the institution has pursued alternatives to American software and financial services to reduce its exposure.
Nevertheless, operational continuity and investigative effectiveness are not necessarily the same thing. The court may remain formally functional while facing additional costs, delays and restrictions affecting prosecutors, investigators and international cooperation.
For Ukraine, this is particularly significant. The ICC holds and evaluates evidence connected to alleged Russian war crimes, including the deportation of children and attacks on civilian infrastructure. Its proceedings preserve a judicial process independent of whatever diplomatic settlement Washington and Moscow might eventually negotiate.
Weakening that capacity would not invalidate existing warrants or automatically destroy evidence, but it could make the pursuit of accountability more difficult.
The European Union now faces a dispute with Washington over an institution that European governments have spent decades supporting.
On 9 October, eight governments issued a joint statement, reaffirming their support for the ICC and rejecting the American sanctions. The signatories included Germany, France, Italy, the Netherlands, Britain, Japan and Canada.
The European Commission also indicated that the EU was prepared to take measures necessary to preserve the court’s operations. Such assurances are politically important, but they do not automatically resolve the practical consequences of American restrictions.
European financial institutions and technology suppliers must consider their own exposure to US sanctions. Sustaining the court may require alternative payment arrangements, commercial protections and potentially further European regulatory intervention.
The EU has discussed extending its blocking statute to shield European operators from the effects of American sanctions. Whether that mechanism can provide sufficient protection remains uncertain.
The dispute also extends beyond the ICC’s current investigations. Ukraine and the Council of Europe are developing a separate Special Tribunal for the Crime of Aggression, designed to address jurisdictional limitations preventing the ICC from prosecuting Russia’s leadership for the decision to launch the invasion.
The two institutions have distinct legal mandates, although cooperation between them is envisaged. Undermining the ICC would not automatically prevent the special tribunal from operating, but it would weaken an important part of the wider international accountability framework.
Washington and Moscow have not adopted identical positions towards the ICC. Russia seeks to discredit and punish the officials responsible for pursuing Putin. The Trump administration is attempting to restrict the court’s authority and operational capacity, principally in response to proceedings involving Americans and Israelis.
Yet their actions converge at precisely the point where the ICC’s independence becomes politically inconvenient. The distinction between motive and consequence is essential. It would be premature to describe the American sanctions as evidence of a secret bargain struck in Anchorage. It would be equally mistaken to overlook the assistance these measures could provide to Moscow.
The broader concern is that the United States, traditionally central to Western efforts to hold Russia accountable for its invasion of Ukraine, is now applying pressure to one of the principal institutions carrying out that work.
For European governments, the immediate question is no longer simply whether they support the International Criminal Court. It is whether they are prepared to protect its practical independence when the political and financial pressure comes not only from Russia, but also from Washington.