DARK MONEY: The Hidden History of the Billionaires Behind the Rise of the Radical Right JANE MAYER

DARK MONEY: The Hidden History of the Billionaires Behind the Rise of the Radical Right

JANE MAYER

Doubleday, 2016, 449 pages

Review by Phil Shannon

Like ‘dark matter’ (the vast amount of invisible mass which holds the cosmos together), “dark money” is the astronomical quantity of hidden corporate money which holds the conservative US political universe together.  This is the conclusion to be drawn from the meticulously documented book by Jane Mayer, investigative journalist at The New Yorker, on how America’s richest capitalists buy Republican Party politicians and shape their policies.

 

At the core of this corporate political power are two billionaire industrialist brothers, Charles and David Koch, whose combined personal fortune of around $90 billion is the largest on the planet.  The Kochs’ wealth exerts a strong gravitational force on some four hundred other ferociously-rich Americans, pooling their wealth in a Koch-run network that seeks to radically remake US politics in the cause of ultra-free-market extremism.

 

The Koch brothers’ wealth owed everything (namely, a $300 million inheritance each) to their father, Fred Koch, who made his fortune in the 1930s in the Soviet Union (powering Stalin’s brutal ‘rapid industrialisation’) and in Nazi Germany (fuelling Hitler’s war machine) with oil refineries that used his invention of an improved process for refining crude oil.

 

As his choice of international business clients would suggest, dictatorial control also defined Fred Koch’s domestic child-raising regime.  His sons claim that their authoritarian upbringing accounted for their embrace of the political philosophy of ‘libertarianism’, the absolutist rejection of state intervention, particularly taxation and government regulation, in private life.

 

That their libertarianism was merely an intellectual mask for corporate self-interest became obvious when David Koch, winning just 1% of the popular vote as the Libertarian Party’s Vice-Presidential candidate in 1980, and his elder brother decided that the 1% that really mattered politically was to be found elsewhere, amongst their capitalist peers.

 

As the fossil-fuel-based Koch Industries grew to what is now the second largest (and biggest polluting) private, family-owned company in the US, the Kochs waged war against ‘big government’ through slashing corporate taxes, extinguishing environmental protections and tearing up the welfare safety net.

 

Their particular innovation was to maximise the political purchasing power of their fellow billionaires, who gather at the Kochs’ six-monthly, invitation-only ‘donor summits’ held under intense secrecy and tight security.  These are the “invisible rich”, says Mayer, subject to miniscule public disclosure obligations, whose much-prized anonymity allows them to launder their political bribes through the Koch organisation which exerts an “outsize influence over American politics”.

 

Their combined financial clout is dedicated to pushing American conservative political culture, and its centrist neighbour, ever more rightwards, through donations to (overwhelmingly Republican) politicians, the hiring of lobbyists, and the ‘philanthropic’ funding of ostensibly independent but tightly-controlled ‘educational’ foundations, think-tanks and university institutes. 

 

The Koch-driven expansion and masking of dark money has been aided by Koch-initiated court cases in 2010 which abolished all caps on political funding and restricted public accountability.  The American political system is more than ever “awash in unlimited, untraceable cash”, says Mayer.  The Koch political funding model is the cash-stuffed ‘brown envelope’ on steroids.

 

The Koch network’s national political apparatus is as big as the Republican Party’s, and its aggregated $889 million pledged for the 2016 election cycle rivals the $1 billion election budget of both the Republicans and Democrats.  The tentacles of the ‘Kochtopus’ reach far and deep, ensnaring Republican politicians at Presidential, Senate, House and state levels.

 

Donald Trump, the billionaire 2016 Republican presidential nominee, appears, however, to have eluded the Koch grasp.  Mayer notes that Trump’s wealth means he “can afford to ignore the Koch billions”.  Mayer, however, does not further explore the Trump-Koch relationship and what it tells us about the disconnect between the Republican Party’s Koch-aligned elite and its rank-and-file (and their populist mascot, Trump), a deepening political rift between the rich and the rest that also plays out in the Democratic Party and in wider society.

 

Trump was the only Republican Presidential hopeful the Kochs did not invite to their summit auditions because he is too moderate for the Kochs’ liking, especially on taxation, free trade agreements, cheap immigrant and overseas labour, government welfare for the needy, and foreign policy.  Trump appeals to blue-collar workers whose jobs are threatened by the neo-liberal, globalisation agenda that the Kochs promote.  Part of Trump’s success with his white working class supporters is due to the perception that he is not in the pocket of what he calls the ‘donor class’ - Trump had dismissed his Republican nominee-contenders as Koch ‘puppets’.

 

Has Trump trumped the Kochs?  Not quite.  Some of Trump’s senior campaign personnel are veterans of the Koch machine, and, whilst Trump may have been able to largely finance his own donor-free race in the primaries, a Trump-led Republican Party will covet the resources of the Koch network for the much more expensive and sophisticated full election.  There are also significant policy overlaps between Trump and the Kochs, including global warming denialism and opposition to raising the minimum wage, where Trump does not need to be bribed.

 

Conventional politicians in bourgeois parliamentary democracies are in hock to their moneyed  masters.  Corporate wealth - whether Trump’s self-financed billions, or Hillary Clinton’s $275,000 Wall Street speeches, or routine corporate political donations, or the Kochs’ subterranean ‘dark money’ - corrupts democracy by buying political influence and control on behalf of the super-rich few.

SPAIN IN OUR HEARTS: Americans in the Spanish Civil War 1936-1939

ADAM HOCHSCHILD

Macmillan, 2016, 438 pages

Review by Phil Shannon

The Spanish people were too darn democratic for their own good in 1936.  For not only did they elect a centrist-leftwing national government, they also experimented with revolutionary democracy, taking control of farms, factories and offices as well.

 

General, Francisco Franco, who launched a military counter-revolution, was not the only one to spot the danger of the daring Spanish flirtation with socialism.  Franco’s backers, Mussolini and Hitler, were also alert, the fascists providing weapons, submarines, planes, pilots.

 

As Adam Hochschild recounts in his history of American involvement in the Spanish Civil War, the outcome, and the innumerable horrors of the world war that were to follow, could all have been so different, if more leaders of the bourgeois democracies had shown the same spirit of the 2,800 Americans who volunteered to cross an ocean and fight for the Spanish Republic.

 

Like the forty thousand other volunteers from fifty countries who comprised the International Brigades, the Americans in the ‘Abraham Lincoln battalion’ were under-armed, under-resourced, under-trained and under-fed.  They were over-exposed as shock troops of the resistance, suffering an exceptionally high mortality rate of one in four.  Two hundred died just getting to Spain from France, crossing the frigid Pyrenees at night.

 

The prototypical American volunteer was a New Yorker, worker, trade unionist, and communist.  The Communist Party link brought the benefits of discipline, coordination and centralisation to disjointed militias.  The communist brigaders put winning the war ahead of making revolution – even the leftwing but anti-communist British writer and volunteer, George Orwell, who initially believed that to counterpose war and revolution was a false choice, was later critical of the ‘revolutionary purism’ of some militias when ‘the one thing that mattered was to win the war’ in a backs-to-the-wall struggle for survival of the Republic.

 

The communist dimension, however, came at a cost.  In return for military aid from the Soviet Union, Stalin’s agents, paranoid about Trotskyists and other anti-Stalinist leftists, took control of the Spanish government’s internal security apparatus.  Socialist dissenters were killed by Stalinist heresy-hunters in street fighting and in prisons.  Hochschild concludes, however, that although the Stalinist-instigated civil war within the Civil War was humanly wasteful, politically damaging and militarily unhelpful, it was not the fatal factor in the defeat of the Republic.

 

This was provided by the politicians and corporate executives in Washington.  Because Franco couldn’t pay up-front cash for the oil necessary to wage his fascist-backed war (Spain’s gold reserves were held by the Republican government), and because Germany and Italy had to import most of their oil, the fuel for the fascist armed forces came courtesy of Texas, sold to Franco on credit, by American corporate oil giants, including Texaco, Shell and Standard Oil.  Also joining in the profitable overseas business opportunity were General Motors, Studebaker and Ford (trucks), and Firestone (tyres), which they sold to Berlin and Rome. 

 

Texaco’s global network of ports also supplied maritime intelligence services to Franco.  The information they provided on oil shipments to Republican Spain allowed the identification of potential naval targets for fascist pilots and submarine captains (29 oil tankers bound for Republican Spain were sunk).

 

Roosevelt’s Democratic federal government in the US facilitated the Francoist-fascist war against Republican Spain by letting this corporate aid proceed unhindered, whilst both the Democrat and Republican  parties, fearful about Spain’s socialist revolution becoming contagious, supported a crippling ‘non-intervention’ policy – a 1937 resolution in both houses of parliament prohibiting military assistance to Spain steamed through by 491 votes to 1, dooming the Republic.

 

Hochschild is quietly outraged by Spain’s bourgeois deserters and capitalist aides in America, and is highly sympathetic to the Republic’s international volunteers.  He is, however, sceptical of their socialist ambitions.  Albeit courageous and idealistic, the communist volunteers’ political aims were “illusory”, he says.  The socialist flowering of cooperatives, land worked in common and worker-controlled factories was always an “impractical and romantic dream”, even in peacetime, he adds.

 

Hochschild’s specialty is not socialist advocacy but narrative historical journalism, focusing on stories of the personal (romance amongst the bullets) and the military (heroic stands, chaotic retreats, the everyday drudgeries of soldiering).  Within these limits, his book excels in providing a vivid account of the lived experience of the Spanish Civil War.

 

The last surviving American volunteer, Delmer Berg, died in February, 2016, aged one hundred.  Before signing up, he was a dishwasher.  What the world still needs is more dishwashers and fewer oil executives.