American courts are not supposed to be venues for performance art. If counter-parties in a lawsuit do not have adverse interests—say, because they answer to the same person—judges balk. So when Donald Trump sued his own administration seeking $10bn in damages, the judge had questions. Rather than address them, on May 18th the president dropped his suit altogether. In exchange he secured a commitment by his own administration to compensate victims of government “lawfare”, to the tune of $1.8bn. In maga-speak, that means political allies prosecuted by Democrats: think January 6th rioters, pro-life activists and the like. The scheme is of a piece with the self-dealing and the shakedowns that have defined this presidency. Rather than line his own pockets with taxpayer money—Mr Trump is not taking a cut himself—this one will line his supporters’.
The lawsuit originated with a genuine wrong to the president. Between 2018 and 2020 a contractor at the Internal Revenue Service (irs) named Charles Littlejohn illegally leaked Mr Trump’s tax returns to the New York Times and ProPublica, an investigative outlet. Mr Littlejohn was prosecuted and sentenced to five years in prison. Other billionaires also had their information exposed, including Ken Griffin, a hedge-fund tycoon. Both Mr Griffin and Mr Trump sued the irs. But whereas Mr Griffin only sought an apology, which he got, Mr Trump demanded $10bn. Never before had a president sued his own administration. “Essentially the lawsuit’s been won,” he said back in February, a seeming acknowledgment of the stitch-up.
A standard payout for people with breach-of-confidentiality claims is $1,000 per violation. Anything above that requires the plaintiff to show “extraordinary” damage, which should in theory match losses incurred as a result of the leak. Mr Trump never had to justify anything to anyone. Todd Blanche, the acting attorney-general and the man defending the government, once worked as his private defence lawyer. “I love you, sir,” he told his boss last month. The melding of law enforcement with the personal agenda of the president is another hallmark of this administration. The IRS also agreed to drop any pending audits of Mr Trump, his family or his firms as part of the deal.
Nothing about the fund’s structure is normal. The Department of Justice (doj) says anyone who “suffered weaponisation and lawfare” for their politics can file a claim and that payouts can be kept secret. Really, it is a taxpayer-funded “slush fund for people with no legally cognisable injuries that was never authorised by Congress or the courts”, says Maria Glover of Georgetown University. That it was set up through a private deal makes it a handy way to circumvent Congress, which controls spending under the constitution. Barack Obama’s DoJ did something similar when it sued banks and diverted the proceeds to left-wing groups without congressional approval. Republicans in Congress criticised those deals, but even they didn’t involve taxpayer money.
There are no “partisan requirements” to seek a payout, according to the doj. In reality, the eligibility criteria are clear enough: only maga need apply. Already this year the Trump administration has paid over $1m each to settle claims by Michael Flynn and Carter Page, two allies. Expect the Capitol rioters to be first in line. Mr Trump pardoned nearly all 1,600 of them on his first day back in office. Cynthia Hughes, a maga activist, has called those pardons a “start, not the finish”, and indeed some defendants were seeking civil damages before the announcement of the fund. They contend they were merely engaging in political protest that day, much like the freedom riders of the 1960s or the crowd at the Women’s March. They skip over the fact that pussy-hat-wearing moms did not ransack the Capitol for all to see on tv, in the biggest act of American political violence this century.
Anti-abortion activists who obstruct or attack clinics have in essence been invited to seek payouts, too. Last year Mr Trump pardoned two dozen. In April the doj awarded $1.1m to another who was acquitted at trial three years ago. Yet another cohort of claimants may well be violent cops. Through pardons, downgraded charges and reduced sentences, Mr Trump has undercut at least four cases against those prosecuted by the Biden administration for their excessive use of force.
Mr Trump’s crusade against “weaponisation” stems from his own experience. While campaigning in 2024 he was indicted twice by Joe Biden’s doj and twice by Democratic district attorneys. He was also sued in civil court. Some of those prosecutors ran on the promise to go after him. That was ill-judged. But Mr Trump has outdone them all with his baseless revenge-prosecutions targeting his critics.
Anyone who thought Democratic prosecutors were overzealous towards Mr Trump then should be boiling now. The president claims to want to end the weaponisation of the law. Of course the way to end it is to end it, not turbocharge it, notes Gregg Nunziata, a conservative lawyer. Conveniently, the anti-weaponisation fund expires before the next election, meaning no redress for his targets. ■