Dark Money

What happens when private fortunes are transformed into a permanent political engine? In Jane Mayer’s Dark Money, you witness how a handful of ultra-wealthy families—including the Kochs, Scaifes, Olins, and DeVoses—quietly reshaped American politics through a strategy that fuses philanthropy, ideology, and secrecy. Mayer argues that the United States now lives within an invisible architecture of influence built by these donors: a system that has redefined what political participation, persuasion, and democracy mean.

This book traces a fifty-year campaign to re-engineer American governance from the top down—and the bottom up—by altering ideas, laws, and public opinion. The story connects the libertarian roots of the Koch brothers to their corporate empire, their support for academic programs and think tanks, the creation of "dark money" political groups, and the eventual coordination of state and federal campaigns that altered national policy. Mayer’s central claim is that this transformation of wealth into power has eroded transparency and accountability while making plutocratic influence appear permanent and legitimate.

From Ideology to Infrastructure

The story begins with ideas. After studying libertarian icons like Hayek and Mises, Charles Koch concluded that American society could only be restructured by first changing the intellectual climate. His early funding of the Freedom School, the Institute for Humane Studies, and the Cato Institute laid the groundwork for a market-centric worldview. When direct politics failed (as in David Koch’s 1980 Libertarian Party run), the brothers shifted to long-term institution building—an effort that would later be dubbed the “Kochtopus.”

By the 1980s, foundation money systematically flowed into think tanks, university programs, and legal training institutes that would populate future administrations and the judiciary. This, combined with corporate-style donor coordination, transformed isolated intellectual support into a vertically integrated propaganda and policy machine.

The Philanthropy Paradox

Mayer exposes how U.S. tax policy turned charitable giving into a tool of political engineering. Foundations such as Olin, Bradley, and Scaife portrayed themselves as educational or philanthropic, but they acted more as private banks for ideology. Because the wealthy could deduct or shield assets by creating foundations and donor-advised funds (like DonorsTrust), political influence became not only legal but tax-subsidized. Fred Koch’s estate structure, which forced his heirs to direct charitable payments for tax reasons, ironically launched his sons into political activism. Philanthropy became a socially accepted disguise for political control.

Secrecy, Language, and Organization

Mayer’s reporting uncovers how donor summits, private retreats, and secret nonprofits evolved into an “operating system” for power. At exclusive Koch meetings—such as Indian Wells or Palm Springs—phones were seized, sound-masking devices ran continuously, and participants pledged anonymity. The rhetoric of “investors” and “return on investment” signaled that politics had become a private marketplace for billionaires pooling funds to “take back” America from regulation and redistribution. With budgets approaching $900 million, the network rivaled the national political parties themselves.

From Climate Denial to Electoral Domination

The same machinery that produced think tanks also financed campaigns of disinformation. In the climate arena, donors funded contrarian scientists and institutes such as the George C. Marshall Institute, Cato, and Heartland to manufacture scientific doubt. The motive was clear: if regulation endangered their core businesses—oil, gas, and coal—then buying influence was rational behavior. By 2010, these networks had become political juggernauts, deploying funds in the wake of the Supreme Court’s Citizens United ruling to sway elections without disclosure.

The 2010 midterm elections revealed dark money’s power: a web of nonprofits and “social welfare” groups funneled millions through intermediaries like the Center to Protect Patient Rights. These mechanisms helped flip Congress and win state legislatures. REDMAP, a data-driven redistricting project, used small targeted investments to secure durable Republican control—a textbook demonstration of how ideological capital could become governing power.

Rebranding Wealth as Virtue

After the 2012 backlash, the Koch network shifted again. Realizing they appeared self-interested, strategists like Richard Fink and Arthur Brooks pushed a “well-being” narrative: free markets improve human flourishing, and deregulation is moral generosity. Foundations poured money into “well‑being centers,” campus programs, and minority outreach. The result was a new moral vocabulary masking class interest under the language of care. Yet beneath this compassionate marketing, the machinery of wealth-driven politics continued intact—more sophisticated, more opaque, and more enduring.

“Dark money,” Mayer insists, “is not just money without names—it’s power without accountability.”

This book shows you how that power operates through universities, courts, legislatures, and media, shaping what citizens believe to be reasonable or inevitable. To understand modern politics, you must recognize the system of hidden giving that has turned private wealth into a privatized democracy.

At the center of Mayer’s story lies an ideological evolution. You begin with a sincere belief in liberty and end with a corporate blueprint for political control. The Koch brothers’ path from 1960s libertarian circles to billion-dollar activism illustrates how a small group found ways to translate abstract philosophy into power.

The Early Creed

Charles Koch’s intellectual conversion began at Robert LeFevre’s Freedom School and deepened through the economic writings of F. A. Hayek and Ludwig von Mises. Believing that centralized government inevitably endangered freedom, Koch funded libertarian institutions designed to broadcast these ideas: Rampart College, the Institute for Humane Studies, and especially the Cato Institute. By the 1970s, he was convinced that ideas alone wouldn't suffice. In his view, durable change required professional organization, donor discipline, and stealth.

The Lessons of Failure

David Koch’s 1980 vice-presidential campaign revealed how limited purist libertarianism was in electoral politics. The brothers learned that voters would not embrace a platform calling for abolishing the FBI, Social Security, and income tax. The failure prompted a shift: build institutions that could influence policy indirectly instead of seeking office directly. Charles began studying how movements like the John Birch Society built member lists and fundraising structures, adapting the organizational efficiency while discarding their conspiratorial tone.

Architects of Control

By the late 1970s, the Koch-funded Cato Institute and later the Mercatus Center became laboratories for turning theory into applied policy. Richard Fink’s paper, “The Structure of Social Change,” provided operational logic: think of influence as a production chain. Universities generate ideas; think tanks refine them into proposals; advocacy groups and citizen campaigns sell them to the public. It’s intellectual capitalism: ideological goods move from research to market just like consumer products. The goal was to turn libertarian theory into a scalable governing philosophy.

The ‘Sales Force’ Model

This model culminated in the “sales force” phase—organizations like Americans for Prosperity, FreedomWorks, and Tea Party groups that could distribute the product to voters. After years of quietly funding colleges and courts, the network now built field armies. Citizens for a Sound Economy, an earlier Koch-backed group, had already pioneered “Astroturf” activism—prepackaged protests with corporate donors hidden behind populist slogans. When political anger surged after the 2008 financial crisis, the network’s infrastructure was ready to channel it.

The philosophical journey from voluntaryism to political engineering thus became complete. Every layer—from academic seminars to TV ads—served a unified system aimed at embedding market fundamentalism into the very wiring of government. (Note: Mayer’s account parallels historian Nancy MacLean’s depiction of similar long-game planning in Democracy in Chains.) What began as idealism ended as immersive managerial politics.

If you follow the money, you find that the intellectual revolution was anything but spontaneous. Mayer details how elite foundations weaponized philanthropy to generate academic authority and convert it into political weight. In this world, giving isn’t altruism—it’s strategy.

Powell’s Blueprint and the Academic Beachhead

The chain begins with Lewis Powell’s 1971 memo to the U.S. Chamber of Commerce warning that capitalism was under siege in classrooms and courts. Business leaders took his call to arms literally. Richard Mellon Scaife, John M. Olin, and the Bradley Foundation began constructing what they called a “counter-intelligentsia.” They didn’t fund politicians—they funded professors. Law and Economics programs at Harvard, Yale, and Chicago (underwritten by Olin money) trained a generation of scholars whose work favored deregulation and reduced corporate liability. William Simon, Olin’s foundation head, said it plainly: “Ideas are weapons.”

Invisible Curriculum

By placing endowments and named chairs in elite schools, donors naturalized their own ideology. The same professors trained clerks who later reached the Supreme Court, prosecutors influenced by “Law and Economics,” and staffers who wrote deregulatory laws. Foundations also backed think tanks like Heritage and AEI, which translated academic research into legislative playbooks (Heritage’s “Mandate for Leadership” guided the Reagan transition). Every book grant, seminar, or campus center multiplied influence exponentially.

Tax Advantages as Political Fuel

Why was this possible? The U.S. tax system encouraged it. Private foundations pay little tax if they donate roughly five percent of their assets annually. Donor-advised funds such as DonorsTrust offered even greater secrecy—legal anonymity wrapped in philanthropy. Mayer calls this “a socially useful tax shelter,” borrowing Scaife’s phrase. The law built to promote charity had become the financier of ideological capture. (Note: Political theorist Rob Reich similarly critiques this in Just Giving.)

Outcome: Private Governance in Public Form

The result by the 1990s was a private network that rivaled public policy bodies in reach. Foundations underwrote judicial education (through the Federalist Society), legislative research, and media training. Because the funding appeared charitable, it drew little scrutiny. By the time climate denial and anti-regulatory lobbying accelerated, the intellectual scaffolding already existed to justify it. When you hear politicians or judges couch policy in the language of “efficiency,” you are often hearing the echo of this privately financed intellectual project.

Mayer connects the Kochs’ political ambitions directly to their corporate behavior. Koch Industries—the private conglomerate spanning oil, paper, and chemicals—provided not only the funding but also the motive to dismantle regulation. The environmental and safety violations that dot its history read like a motivational script for deregulation disguised as philosophy.

Pattern of Violations

Cases like those of refinery worker Donald “Bull” Carlson and technician Sally Barnes‑Soliz expose hazardous practices and attempts at cover-up. Whistle-blowers who discovered falsified emissions data or health threats were marginalized or silenced. Koch Industries paid record fines under the Clean Water and Clean Air Acts—$30 million in 2000 alone—and pled guilty to pollution concealment in Corpus Christi. Lawsuits for wrongful death, such as the pipeline explosion killing two Texas teenagers, showed how cost calculation often trumped safety.

Lawfare and Secrecy

When investigated for oil theft from Native lands, the company deployed private investigators, countersurveillance, and intimidation—tactics likened by Senate staffers to organized crime investigations. Even family feuds (notably Bill Koch’s whistle‑blower case) revealed billions worth of internal deceit and settlements. The lesson? Transparency is enemy number one. These experiences convinced Charles Koch that government oversight must be weakened structurally, not fought case by case.

Turning Defense into Political Offense

Each regulatory penalty reinforced the Kochs’ ideological conviction that “freedom” meant freedom from accountability. Their business battles paid for the ideological arsenal you’ve already seen: think tanks to debate regulation, politicians to defund watchdogs, and candidates pledged to defang the EPA. In essence, corporate malpractice explains political militancy. The brothers’ wealth financed campaigns that ensured fewer future obstacles like those they once confronted in court—a cycle of self-protection elevated to political theology.

A turning point arrives in 2010, when the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision legalizes unlimited independent political spending by corporations and unions. Mayer calls this the legal green light for the empire already built by the Kochs and their peers. What had been gray-area advocacy was now constitutionally protected as “speech.”

The Legal Cascade

Following Citizens United, the D.C. Circuit’s SpeechNow ruling removed limits on contributions to independent groups, formalizing the “super PAC.” Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion assumed disclosure would allow voters to track influence. Instead, donors simply shifted to 501(c)(4) “social welfare” groups and (c)(6) trade organizations that keep funders secret. The phrase “dark money” captures this non-transparent funding stream. Mayer identifies key orchestrators—lawyer James Bopp Jr., ex‑FEC commissioner Bradley Smith, and the DeVos legal apparatus—who turned the courtroom into a deregulated frontier of election finance.

The 2010 Midterm Proof

Within months, the Koch network demonstrated the model’s potency. During Scott Brown’s Senate campaign in Massachusetts and the national midterms, operatives like Sean Noble used entities such as the Center to Protect Patient Rights to route millions into local-sounding front groups (American Future Fund, Americans for Job Security). These groups saturated airwaves with ads that appeared grassroots but were financed through complex donor laundries. The results were sweeping: Republicans captured the House and hundreds of state legislature seats, paving the way for redistricting under the “REDMAP” strategy.

The Invisible Treasury

Post‑2010, the Kochs’ operation functioned as a shadow party: donor summits pledged hundreds of millions, Freedom Partners acted as a central bank, and i360 data analytics weaponized micro‑targeting. Because funds often passed through multiple nonprofits, no voter could trace their source. In effect, Citizens United didn’t invent dark money; it legitimized and turbocharged an underground system already waiting to explode.

Mayer argues that the true genius of the donor class lay not in presidential races but in local invisibility. Through projects like REDMAP (Redistricting Majority Project), wealthy benefactors realized that modest state-level spending could secure national dominance for a decade or more. The returns were exponential.

Blueprint for a Decade

REDMAP, initiated by strategist Ed Gillespie and fueled by Koch allies and the Republican State Leadership Committee, coordinated data analytics, poll‑tested ads, and donor money to capture statehouses before the 2010 census. The goal: control redistricting. With gerrymandered maps, congressional majorities could be locked in despite national vote losses. North Carolina became the test site.

North Carolina as a Case Study

Philanthropist and operative Art Pope financed think tanks (John Locke Foundation, Civitas Institute) and campaign activities that propelled conservatives to state power. Once majorities were secured, new maps condensed minority voters into fewer districts while reshaping policy: tax cuts for the wealthy, cuts to education, weakened labor rights, and senior‑friendly but poor‑hostile budgets. Courts later described some redistricting plans as “surgical.”

Why It Mattered

REDMAP demonstrated how relatively small investments—from single donors—could yield long‑term structural dominance. It was system design, not episodic victory. Once legislative maps hardened, donor-backed interests controlled appropriations, environmental law, and voting rights. This was democracy by architecture—power redrawn to ensure that popular will would always lag behind structural control.

After 2012, criticism left the Koch brand politically toxic. Yet rather than retreat, they adapted. Mayer shows how rebranding the network through moral language and socially palatable partnerships helped preserve influence while broadening reach. The new pitch wasn’t "cut taxes for the rich"—it was "promote well‑being."

A New Vocabulary

Strategists like Arthur Brooks and Richard Fink urged telling a more empathetic story: markets help the poor, regulation hurts opportunity, and personal liberty equals dignity. Koch-funded projects began collaborating with the United Negro College Fund, criminal‑justice reformers, and education groups to signal bipartisanship. Grants created “Well‑Being Institutes” at universities and scholarships through the Charles Koch Foundation. The aesthetic of compassion masked the machinery of deregulation.

Cultural Capture

Donations to museums, medical research, and civic organizations polished reputations. Meanwhile, the same network poured hidden money into campaigns curbing climate rules and labor protections. The contrast—ballet sponsorships by day, anonymous ads by night—illustrated modern plutocracy’s dual face. By financing culture, donors bought legitimacy and access to new audiences, softening opposition.

The Continuing Machine

Internally, the infrastructure remained intact: Americans for Prosperity persisted as the grassroots arm; Freedom Partners continued as the financial hub; i360 data guided fieldwork. Only the language changed. Mayer concludes that this rebrand finalized the project’s long arc—from libertarian purity to polished permanence. The ideology of market supremacy now wore the mask of benevolence, completing the cycle of influence from money to moral authority.