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This is how oligarchy works.
The Washington Post has, over the past few months, run at least five editorials or opinion pieces railing against federal or state tax increases.
Here’s what the folks at the Post are not telling you: If you’re an average American taxpayer, you’re paying federal income tax at a rate that dwarfs the rate the Post’s ultra-billionaire owner, Jeff Bezos, is paying.
A typical single American taxpayer with an income of $75,000 will pay about 9.16 percent of that income in federal income tax. That taxpayer will pay another 7.65 percent in Social Security and Medicare tax. The taxpayer’s employer will pay that same 7.65 percent, but that employer contribution actually amounts to part of the taxpayer’s pay package. So do the math: Including the employer’s payment of tax on our taxpayer’s behalf, about 22.7 percent of that taxpayer’s total pay is going for federal tax.
To be clear, we’re talking about tax on income here. Yes, we conventionally label some of these payments as Social Security or Medicare tax, but these payments all amount to taxes on the income average Americans make.
Let’s shift now to a distinctly unaverage American, the billionaire Jeff Bezos, and consider his personal tax liability on income from the sale of his Amazon shares.
Bezos has sold a good bit of his Amazon stock over the years, but he ended 2025 still holding some 880 million shares worth about $203 billion, shares he paid about $200,000 for back in 1994. If Bezos had sold these shares on the last day of 2025, he would have registered about $203 billion of gain. He would have faced standard federal income tax on that gain plus another tax known as the net investment income tax, a Medicare tax substitute for rich investors. Those taxes combined would have totaled about 23.8 percent of his gain, roughly $49.3 billion, leaving him with a tidy personal profit of about $154.8 billion.
Investments, of course, rarely perform as well as the Bezos investment in Amazon. Over 32 years, the value of the Bezos Amazon investment increased one million-fold, with an average annual increase in value of 54 percent.
Let’s place this Bezos tax story in a more enlightening perspective. Let’s imagine another investor — we’ll call her MacKenzie — who has been every bit the investor Bezos has been, with just one difference. MacKenzie has been changing her investment portfolio each and every year. To make the math easier, let’s assume her annual buying and selling has generated the same 54 percent gain each year. MacKenzie would have to pay a tax each year on that annual gain. That tax, in turn, would reduce the total amount she has available each year to invest.
How much would that reduction total? Let’s assume MacKenzie faced a mere 2.5 percent annual tax — more below on the rationale for that figure — on her gains. In her first investing year, MacKenzie’s 54 percent gain on her $200,000 investment would leave her with taxable income of $108,000. A 2.5 percent tax on that income would amount to $2,700, leaving her $305,300 — her original $200,000 plus her investment gain minus her tax on that gain — available for her next home-run investment.
If this annual investment-gain-tax three-step continued for 31 more years, MacKenzie would find herself with a total nest-egg of $153.3 billion, a whisker less than the $154.8 billion the Bezos Amazon investment generated.
There’s one huge difference between our two scenarios: MacKenzie will only have paid about $3.9 billion in tax over her 32 investing years, not even ten percent of the tax Bezos would have to pay after his big sell off.
Why the huge difference? Unlike Bezos, MacKenzie would have been paying tax annually on her income. In other words, she would have paid tax on her investment gains on the same annual schedule that average Americans pay tax on their wages. Bezos, by contrast, has not had to pay taxes annually. Our current federal tax system lets him wait until he sells his Amazon shares before he faces any legal obligation to pay tax. That delay has allowed his gains to compound, tax-free, for 32 years.
Which means that a big part of Bezos’ eventual $49.3 billion tax payment doesn’t really rate at all as a tax in a true economic sense. That payment economically rates as what Bezos has paid for the privilege of not having to pay an annual tax of his annual gains. We have a word for the price of delaying payment: interest.
How much of the $49.3 million Bezos payment amounts, in effect, to interest? All but $3.9 billion or so. We get that figure when we do the math necessary to translate the one-time tax Bezos would pay on the sale of his Amazon shares to an annual tax paid on his gains each year.
If we treat only $3.9 billion of the Bezos $49.3 billion ostensible tax payment as actual tax, the remaining $45.4 billion would be interest. If we subtract that interest from his nominal gain of $203 billion on his Amazon shares, he would be left with an economic gain, net of interest expense, of $157.6 billion. If that $157.6 billion economic gain then faced a 2.5 percent tax — the same rate MacKenzie has paid — Bezos would have paid just under $3.9 billion in tax, about the same tax that MacKenzie has paid!
The bottom line: If we translate the one-time tax Bezos would pay on the sale of his Amazon shares to an annual tax paid on his gains each year, his effective annual tax rate would be 2.5 percent, the same rate his short-term investor counterpart, MacKenzie, paid.
The other bottom line: Remember our typical single American taxpayer with an income of $75,000. The 22.7 percent annual income tax rate that taxpayer faces runs over nine times the effective tax rate that an insanely wealthy character like Jeff Bezos faces.
And that nine-times difference only holds if Bezos had sold his Amazon shares at the end of last year. If he holds those shares another ten years and they continue to grow in value, the Bezos effective annual tax rate would decrease further. And what if Bezos ended up holding those Amazon shares until he died? Then neither the Bezos estate or those who inherit the Bezos fortune would face any income tax on his investment gains at all.
Yes, you read that right. The Bezos clan would pocket hundreds of billions of dollars in gains fully free of income tax.
This is where the Post’s shilling for its billionaire owner gets really rich. “Taxing work is not ideal,” the Washington Post editorial board has cautioned us, “but an income tax is easier for a government to maintain than claiming unrealized gains that are part of someone’s estate.”
Yes, the Post editorial writers are actually arguing that taxing workers on their wages would be better for all concerned than the Bezos family paying tax on any Amazon gains remaining when their boss dies. The ghost of Leona Helmsley — ”taxes are for little people” — must have been whispering in their ears.
So where would the Bezos Amazon wealth pile be sitting today if he had been paying income tax annually at a 22.7 percent rate and had to sell Amazon shares to make the payments? A little under $34 billion. Which means that nearly 80 percent of the value — net of income tax — of the primary Bezos source of wealth comes from the obscenely low tax rate he faces on his investment gains.
This is how oligarchy works. Enormous wealth allows our oligarchs to seize media outlets. They use these media outlets to influence public opinion. That influencing makes it a whole lot easier for the politicians our oligarchs finance to cast votes that protect — and grow — the wealth of our wealthiest. That additional wealth helps our oligarchs control more politicians and media outlets.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
What we’re witnessing isn’t a singular breakdown, but discrete and cascading layers of “media capture” by capitalists, oligarchs, and authoritarians that produce censorship, exclusion, and democratic failure.
From the recent gutting of the Washington Post to the rightward lurch of CBS, the sheer proliferation and variation of media failures and attacks on the press during Trump 2.0 are difficult to grasp. Regulatory bodies have become political weapons. Major news organizations have complied and retreated. Media ownership has consolidated in the hands of a few feckless billionaires. Taken together, these developments endanger our information and communication systems, our First Amendment freedoms, and our democracy. Yet they resist easy synthesis.
This essay offers a schematic for making sense of the chaos. I argue that what we’re witnessing isn’t a singular breakdown, but discrete and cascading layers of “media capture” that produce censorship, exclusion, and democratic failure. This analysis is a necessary first step towards structurally reforming—and, ultimately transforming—our media institutions and infrastructures to privilege democratic needs over profit and power.
The polycrisis afflicting our media necessitates a political economic analysis that focuses on ownership, control, and market structure. It also calls for critical analyses of how law and policy determine such power relationships—both how they’re weaponized against democracy and how they could be deployed to create a more democratic media system.
To understand contemporary media failures, we must tease apart overlapping but distinct forms of capture. There’s often a tendency to focus on state capture of media, especially in countries experiencing democratic backsliding, where both public and private media systems fall under government influence and control. US media failures, however, require a broader lens. Here, authoritarian encroachment is dependent upon preexisting forms of media capture—capitalistic and oligarchic. Below, I analyze how these layers build on each other but require different interventions.
Extreme commercialization has long defined the US media system. The US newspaper industry became highly commercialized in the late 1800s with its increased reliance on advertising revenues. US broadcast media followed a similar hyper-commercialized path when policymakers in the early 1930s essentially privatized the public airwaves instead of building a public media system. As a result, several corporate media networks came to dominate radio and flooded it with advertising-supported programming.
Television replicated radio’s hyper-commercialized model, with the very same corporations dominating another lightly regulated medium. Although the US eventually established a public broadcasting system in the late 1960s, it remained chronically underfunded—literally almost off the chart compared to other democracies in federal funding per capita. And Congress entirely rescinded even that paltry support last year.
Jeff Bezos purchased the Washington Post for less than half of what he paid for his superyacht, and now he’s dismantling the paper while currying favor with President Donald Trump.
Meanwhile, the few public interest protections that were installed to protect media diversity from unfettered capitalism—like the long-dead Fairness Doctrine—were gradually weakened or jettisoned altogether. The “Postwar Settlement,” a social compact which allowed commercial media to remain lightly regulated if they practiced social responsibility, has come undone over the ensuing decades as commercial logics overwhelmed public interest protections and professional norms.
The commercialization of US digital media began in earnest in the 1990s when the internet’s infrastructure, originally funded by the National Science Foundation, was privatized with little public debate. Today, capitalist logics permeate the entire digital stack, from the wires that deliver internet services to our homes (if we can afford the exorbitant rates from the “broadband cartel”), to the targeted advertising that operates as the internet’s core business model. Artificial intelligence is now following this same well-worn path.
In the extremely inegalitarian US, where billionaires command disproportionate power, treating our media as private commodities instead of public services all but guarantees concentration in the hands of oligarchs. To give one glaring example, Jeff Bezos purchased the Washington Post for less than half of what he paid for his superyacht, and now he’s dismantling the paper while currying favor with President Donald Trump. With primary media organizations reduced to the playthings of plutocrats, media oligarchy becomes the dominant paradigm.
As ownership concentration accelerates, US information markets tend toward monopolies and oligopolies. This trend, endemic to lightly regulated capitalist systems, has only increased with the erosion of media ownership restrictions, from the Telecommunications Act of 1996 to more recent “deregulatory” moves during two Trump administrations.
Extreme corporate consolidation creates a wide range of social hazards and harms. It has allowed Trump-aligned right-wing oligarchs to take control of vast media empires, from the Murdochs to the Ellisons. This kind of capture also manifests in algorithmic gatekeeping, such as Elon Musk’s X selectively amplifying and suppressing political speech. In Canada, Meta is blocking news media on its platform to avoid paying for content. More recently, concerns have risen that TikTok, following its acquisition by Trump-friendly owners, has begun to censor political expression.
Such oligarchic capture is the predictable culmination of what’s essentially a pay-to-play system where the highest bidder takes all. Under this regime, what Americans hear, see, and read is increasingly dictated by a handful of billionaires with their own agendas. These private tyrannies have the luxury of treating their media assets as a kind of “loss leader” for broader political and economic goals. Our hyper-commercialized media system was ready-made for this kind of weaponization, making authoritarian capture easy.
Highly concentrated media systems are structurally vulnerable to authoritarian capture. This is essentially the Viktor Orban model: Autocrats needn’t take over newsrooms at gunpoint; instead, they can count on friendly oligarchs to police the media for them. As a result, screens and airwaves are flooded with uninterrogated official narratives that flatter the administration in power.
In addition to arresting individual journalists, the Trump administration has engaged in various forms of regulatory intimidation. The Federal Communications Commission (FCC) Chairman, Brendan Carr, who’s been known to sport a gold lapel pin featuring Trump’s profile, recently informed Congress that the FCC is not an independent agency. As if to prove the point, Carr has shamelessly used the FCC to carry out Trump’s agenda, often by punishing—or threatening to punish—perceived enemies. He has used mergers as leverage to extort major news companies and influence media coverage favorable to Trump.
If capitalist capture is the foundational condition that turns our media against democracy and enables other types of capture, then the most transformative remedy must confront that root problem.
In other cases, the administration has threatened regulatory intervention against recalcitrant media companies and individual commentators, such as the comedian Jimmy Kimmel. Recently, the FCC has threatened to apply the “equal time” rule—requiring that broadcast media organizations give equal airtime to competing political candidates—against late-night and daytime television shows, which previously had been exempt from this rule. As the Trump administration bullies the media, many organizations have capitulated.
While shifts in media ownership and conglomeration are often narrated as natural developments—often featuring dramatic twists and turns of individual protagonists and business interests—it’s important to remember that our media institutions are human-made, structured, and maintained through law and policy. They’re subject to change if we as a society so wish. We must resist any sense of inevitability and dare to imagine democratic alternatives.
One line of defense against authoritarian media capture is public interest regulation. But decades of regulatory capture—where government agencies internalize the logics and imperatives of the industries they purportedly regulate—have hollowed out such normative foundations, rendering them vulnerable to co-option and “discursive capture.” With anti-democratic tendencies already entrenched, new federal policies are nonstarters for the near term, though targeted state and local initiatives may still be viable.
A frequently invoked—though rarely realized—solution to media conglomerates is to simply break them up. Moreover, antitrust arguments have gained prominence amidst a growing anti-monopoly movement, exemplified by Lina Khan’s admirable work chairing the Federal Trade Commission. Such anti-corporate and anti-oligarchic politics clearly resonate with broad swaths of the public and should be encouraged. But this strategy can be overly reliant on competition policy, presupposing that trust-busting a few corporate giants will return social responsibility to the marketplace.
No doubt, preventing or dismantling media conglomeration is critical. We’ve seen the dangers of these vertically and horizontally integrated firms, with tentacles across advertising, content production, distribution, and data extraction. If nothing else, shrinking them and diluting their political and economic power would be real progress.
But dealing with systemic media market failures requires a more fundamental intervention. Competition alone won’t bring local journalism back to news deserts, eliminate surveillance advertising, or guarantee affordable broadband. Furthermore, smaller, profit-driven media entities are likely to exact some of the same social harms as larger ones. Many of these problems are capitalism problems, not just monopoly problems.
Fortunately, the anti-monopoly toolbox contains instruments that do more than tame capitalist excesses through market discipline. For example, the public utility regulatory tradition offers a diverse set of policy tools, ranging from robust public oversight to institutional arrangements approaching municipal and public ownership. These models can directly challenge corrosive capitalist logics at the level of media governance, reflecting a more democratic vision of ownership and control.
If capitalist capture is the foundational condition that turns our media against democracy and enables other types of capture, then the most transformative remedy must confront that root problem. We should endeavor to create non-capitalist information and communication infrastructures. The clearest antidote to hyper-capitalistic media—an argument I’ve made in these pages before—is to remove media from the market altogether and create public alternatives. A “democratic capture” of our media would ensure these institutions serve us all, not just the wealthiest few.
Such a policy program is decidedly ambitious and long-term. It requires not just a Project 2029 but a Project 2050 for structural media reform. Despite such distant projections, we must begin to clearly articulate these plans now. It’s precisely during dark political times that we must assert bold policy visions for a democratic future.
This piece was originally published on the LPE Blog.
The special primary election in New Jersey's 11th Congressional District was the first real chance Democrats have had to express their disapproval of the party leadership; it will certainly not be the last.
For months now, Democrats have expressed frustration with their party’s inability to oppose Trump 2.0 and the failure to construct an alternative. In October 2025, the Pew Research Foundation found that
The Pew research builds on earlier research from the AP-NORC. In an open-ended question (meaning that respondents are free to volunteer anything), roughly 15% of Democrats described their party using words like "weak," or "apathetic," while an additional 10% believe it is broadly "ineffective" or "disorganized." Only 2 in 10 (20%) Democrats use positive words to describe their party. The most popular positive adjectives are “empathetic” and “inclusive.”
There are certainly Democrats on Capitol Hill who express frustration with their party for not doing enough to oppose President Donald Trump and put forth an alternative. Though he is not technically a Democrat (he is an Independent who caucuses with the Democrats), Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders is a regular critic of the Democratic Party. Over the last few months, Sanders has been joined by others. The Washington Post reported back in September 2025 that Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.) has come to join those dissatisfied with the Democratic response to Trump:
During more than two decades in Congress, Sen. Chris Van Hollen of Maryland has earned a reputation as a mainstream policy wonk and loyal lieutenant to Democratic leaders. So, it came as something of a shock this month when Van Hollen derided top Democrats for failing to endorse New York mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani, a 33-year-old democratic socialist. “Many Democratic members of the Senate and the House representing New York have stayed on the sidelines” in the race, even as Mamdani has captured the public’s imagination by focusing on “ensuring that people can afford to live in the place where they work,” Van Hollen told a cheering crowd of party activists in Des Moines. “That kind of spineless politics is what people are sick of.”
Democrat rank and file were frustrated by their party’s breaking ranks in the Senate on the government shutdown in November. To many Democrats, including a number of Democrats on Capitol Hill, their party ended the shutdown without winning anything. MS described the situation as:
By breaking ranks, the eight Democrats effectively stripped their caucus of leverage to force an extension of the healthcare tax credits—and decided on their own, how the party’s shutdown strategy would end. It came as a shock to most Democrats.
Disgruntled Democrats have not had many opportunities to express their frustration with their party. There have not been any real Democratic primaries. All of this changed in dramatic form with the Democratic primary February 5 for New Jersey’s vacant 11th District (the former incumbent Mikie Sherrill was elected New Jersey governor). It is certainly fair to say that the 11th District is a Democratic one, but it is not one where you would expect a progressive to do well. It is mostly affluent suburbs where many commute to work in New York City.
In a result that shocked the Democratic establishment in both New Jersey and Washington, DC, Analilia Mejia, director of the New Jersey Working Families Alliance, and the political director for Bernie Sanders 2020 campaign, won a tightly contested multi-candidate field including former Congressman Tom Malinowski who had the backing of New Jersey Sen. Andy Kim. Also in the race was Lt. Gov. Tahesha Way and Essex County Commissioner Brendan Gill.
In her campaign, Mejia spent far less than her opponents and lacked endorsement by county Democratic officials. She compensated for this by building an impressive get-out-the-vote operation and by emphasizing her opposition to the Trump administration’s immigration policies.
Mejia’s campaign was also helped by the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC), which spent over $2 million in negative advertising attacking Malinowski. Many of the ads attacked him for a vote connected to US Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) funding; the group had made it clear they felt Malinowski’s openness to conditioning aid to Israel was not sufficiently supportive of Israel. AIPAC’s involvement in the race certainly hurt Malinowski, but I doubt whether it was decisive. Mejia’s win was the result of her longtime organizing in New Jersey and fact that her campaign’s message fit the mood of the electorate.
New York Times columnist Michele Goldberg recounts her conversation with a longtime New Jersey pollster:
But the longtime New Jersey pollster Patrick Murray told me he wasn’t surprised, because “this is an incredibly angry Democratic electorate.” New Jersey suburbanites, he argues, didn’t suddenly turn into democratic socialists. But they think the Democratic establishment has been feckless, and they want representatives who won’t consult a focus group before battling the president. “The underlying message,” he said, is that Democratic voters believe their party “should be on a war footing with Donald Trump.”
Mejia still must win a special general election in April before she can take her seat in Congress. However, given the district’s partisan tilt, it seems like a pretty safe bet.
The special primary election in New Jersey's 11th Congressional District was the first real chance Democrats have had to express their disapproval of the party leadership. It will certainly not be the last opportunity for restive Democrats to express their frustrations with their party. Based on what happened in New Jersey’s 11th Congressional District, status-quo Democrats have much to be worried about. On February 11, Axios reported on a conversation with Sen. Sanders:
Asked in a phone interview where else he thinks the left can win upset victories, Sanders pointed to a "Fighting Oligarchy" rally he is doing on Friday with Nida Allam, who is challenging Rep. Valerie Foushee (D-NC). "That might be another area where progressives can win a strong victory," he said. Brad Lander, the former New York City comptroller challenging Rep. Dan Goldman (D-NY), also has "a strong chance to win," Sanders said.
Mejia’s win in New Jersey may well be the harbinger of more wins for the left wing of the Democratic Party as Democrats look to send a message to their leadership on Capitol Hill. The Democratic leadership in Washington, DC has yet to come to terms with how frustrated and angry ordinary Democrats are not only with Trump but with their leadership as well.