The fields of cryptocurrency and technology are showcasing impressive political maneuvers.
Written by: Charles Duhigg
Translated by: Block unicorn
From cryptocurrency to artificial intelligence, the tech industry is injecting millions into Super Political Action Committees (Super PACs) to intimidate politicians into supporting its agenda.
One morning in February, Katie Porter was lying in bed, casually browsing on her computer, when she suddenly learned that she had become the target of a massive tech political conspiracy. For the past five years, Porter has served in the House of Representatives, representing Orange County, California. She is known for her sharp questioning of corporate giants during congressional hearings—at least gaining some fame on C-SPAN and MSNBC (both networks can influence political leanings). She often uses a whiteboard to create visual, easily understandable demonstrations of corporate greed for television audiences. Now, she is involved in a competitive campaign for the seat left vacant by the late California Senator Dianne Feinstein, with the primary election just three weeks away.
Block unicorn note: C-SPAN (Cable-Satellite Public Affairs Network): This is a television network focused on the U.S. government, politics, and public affairs, primarily broadcasting congressional hearings, speeches, press conferences, and other official events.
MSNBC: This is a U.S. cable news network that provides 24-hour news coverage and is known for its relatively liberal viewpoint, focusing more on political, social, and government policy news and analysis.
Porter saw a text from a campaign staffer who had just learned that an organization called Fairshake was buying ad time to launch a last-minute attack against her campaign. In fact, the organization planned to spend about ten million dollars.
Porter was confused; she had raised thirty million dollars for her entire campaign, which took years of effort. She told me that the idea of an unknown organization suddenly appearing and spending huge sums to attack her felt absurd: "I thought, what exactly is Fairshake?"
Porter quickly searched on Google and found that Fairshake is a Super Political Action Committee (Super PAC) primarily funded by three tech companies involved in the cryptocurrency industry. In the House, Porter has a close relationship with Senator Elizabeth Warren, a vocal advocate for financial regulation, and Porter aligns with the progressive wing of the Democratic Party. However, Porter had not expressed particularly radical views on cryptocurrency; she had neither supported nor opposed the industry. As she continued to investigate Fairshake, she discovered that her neutral stance did not matter. A website aligned with Fairshake's political stance labeled her as "extremely anti-cryptocurrency," despite the fact that the evidence provided by the site was actually incorrect. The site claimed she voted against a cryptocurrency-supporting bill in a House committee: but in reality, she was not on that committee and did not participate in the vote.
Soon after, Fairshake began airing attack ads on television. These ads did not mention cryptocurrency or any tech-related content but labeled Porter as a "bully" and a "fraud," falsely implying that she had recently accepted campaign donations from large pharmaceutical and oil companies. The ads did not disclose Fairshake's ties to Silicon Valley, nor did they mention its support for cryptocurrency or its broader political goals. The negative campaigning had a noticeable effect: Porter initially performed well in the polls, but she suffered a crushing defeat in the primary, finishing third with only 15% of the vote. However, according to a person familiar with Fairshake, the Super PAC's intent was not merely to take down Porter. The organization's supporters were not particularly concerned about Porter. This insider said the real goal of the attack campaign was to intimidate other politicians—"If you support cryptocurrency, we will help you; if you oppose it, the entire industry will come after you."
Before long, this Super PAC and its two affiliated organizations disclosed in federal filings that they had raised over $170 million, funds that could be used for political campaigns across the country in 2024, with potentially more donations to come. This amount surpasses nearly all other Super PACs, including "Preserve America," which supports Donald Trump, and those aimed at helping the Democrats regain control of the Senate (Super PACs focused on helping the Democratic Party win more seats and power in the U.S. Senate, leaning towards cryptocurrency and tech for more policy assistance). Pro-cryptocurrency donors accounted for nearly half of all corporate donations in the 2024 election cycle, and the tech industry has become one of the largest corporate donors in the nation. The purpose of all this funding, just like the attack on Porter, is to draw attention to Silicon Valley's financial power—and to demonstrate that its leaders can take extreme political measures to protect their interests. This insider said, "The message is simple: if you support cryptocurrency, we will help you; if you oppose it, we will destroy you."
Porter's defeat is, in fact, the culmination of a strategy that began over a decade ago, aimed at transforming Silicon Valley into the most powerful political operation center in the nation. As the tech industry has become a dominant economic force globally, a group of experts—partly led by political operatives who coined the term "vast right-wing conspiracy"—has taught Silicon Valley how to engage in the political game. Their goal is to help tech leaders gain influence in Washington, D.C., and state legislatures that rivals Wall Street. In the coming decades, these efforts are likely to impact everything from presidential campaigns to which party controls Congress, as well as antitrust laws and the regulation of artificial intelligence. Now, the tech industry has quietly become one of the most powerful lobbying forces in American politics, using this power to intimidate, entice, and reshape the nation, just like past corporate special interests.
Chris Lehane coined the term "vast right-wing conspiracy" before he was thirty to explain the Republican efforts to undermine Bill and Hillary Clinton. This inspired propaganda strategy even led Hillary Clinton to adopt it as one of her signature phrases. At the time, Lehane was a lawyer in the Clinton White House, tasked with defending the government against scandal allegations, but he excelled at controlling the political narrative, finding colorful ways to put Republicans on the defensive. Strategies like claiming the U.S. president was a victim of a mysterious conservative conspiracy group proved so effective that The New York Times later dubbed Lehane the master of modern "political dark arts."
In the coming decades, these efforts are likely to influence everything from presidential campaigns to congressional control, antitrust legislation, and AI regulation. Today, the tech industry has quietly become one of the most powerful lobbying forces in American politics, using this power to intimidate, entice, and reshape the nation to achieve its goals, just like past corporate special interest groups.
After serving in the White House, Chris Lehane joined Al Gore's presidential campaign team as a press secretary. After Gore's defeat, he established his own company in San Francisco. Despite California's size and electoral importance, many campaign operatives still viewed the state as a political backwater due to its distance from Washington. However, Lehane, who had been involved in the Telecommunications Act of 1996, believed in Silicon Valley's future and quickly established a company providing political services to wealthy Californians.
When trial lawyers sought to raise the cap on jury awards for medical malpractice in the state, they turned to Lehane. He helped create flyers that looked like body tags and launched ads suggesting that doctors might perform surgeries while intoxicated. Years later, when a well-known environmentalist hired Lehane to oppose the Keystone XL pipeline, he had activists bring samples of sludge from oil spills to a press conference; the toxic sludge caused reporters to flee. He then hired a Navy SEAL who participated in the killing of Osama bin Laden to speak with reporters, explaining that if the pipeline were approved, a terrorist attack could lead to one of the largest oil spills in U.S. history in Nebraska.
Lehane explained his theory of citizen discourse to reporters: "Everyone has a game plan until you punch them in the face, so we punch them in the face." This tough political tactic reflects his determination and ability to build political power in Silicon Valley.
But Lehane's efforts generally did not leave a deep impression on the tech industry. For decades, Silicon Valley companies have considered themselves largely disconnected from electoral politics. As one senior tech executive explained to me, until the mid-2010s, "If you were a venture capitalist or CEO, you might hire lobbyists to talk or chat with politicians, but beyond that, most people in Silicon Valley thought politics was stupid." However, within a decade of Lehane moving to the West Coast, a new type of tech company began to rise: the so-called sharing economy companies, such as Uber, Airbnb, and TaskRabbit. These companies were "disrupting" long-established industries, including transportation, hospitality, and contract labor. Politicians had long believed they had the authority to regulate these industries, and as some startups reached valuations in the billions, politicians began to make demands of these companies. They were outraged by companies like Uber's refusal to comply with even modest regulations. Other companies took a more compromising approach but soon found themselves mired in local political struggles and municipal bureaucracies. Regardless, another senior tech executive stated, "Not understanding politics became a survival risk, and people generally realized that whether we like it or not, we have to engage in politics."
In 2015, San Francisco became the focal point of a major regulatory battle, which appeared in the form of Proposition F, a ballot measure aimed at limiting short-term home rentals, which both sides acknowledged was an attack on Airbnb. The proposal stemmed from a backlog of frustration: some San Franciscans complained that many buildings had effectively become unlicensed hotels, hosting rowdy tourists who never turned off the music, did not clean up the trash, and—most concerning to city leaders—did not pay the taxes the city could have collected from their stays at Marriott hotels. Other residents felt that Airbnb's presence made finding affordable housing more difficult, as renting homes to short-term visitors was more profitable than renting to long-term tenants. Proposition F would essentially reduce Airbnb's opportunities to collaborate with many homeowners to just a few weeks a year, and early polling showed the proposal was popular. Many other cities were also considering similar legislation, eagerly watching whether San Francisco's lawmakers—home to Airbnb's headquarters—could teach them how to limit this internet giant, which was then valued at about $25 billion.
Airbnb executives were in a panic and immediately called Chris Lehane, asking him to come to headquarters; he arrived within minutes of receiving the call, wearing the sweatpants and baseball shirt he had on during his son's Little League game. Lehane has a tall, lean physique accustomed to high-intensity workouts—he runs every day, usually fifteen miles at a time, while sending out emails with strange punctuation and smooth voicemail messages. His front teeth are slightly crooked, which makes his receding hairline less noticeable. To Airbnb's leaders, he didn't look much like a political expert. But once Lehane caught his breath, he began delivering an impassioned speech. He said they were looking at the situation all wrong. Proposition F was not a crisis—it was an opportunity to change the political landscape in San Francisco and disrupt the narrative. He told the executives that the key was to build a campaign against Proposition F as complex as Barack Obama's recent presidential campaign and to invest heavily to warn politicians that "Airbnb voters" existed—and should not be ignored. He proposed a three-pronged strategy and explained to the executives that what politicians cared about most was re-election. If the company could show that opposing Airbnb would make it harder for them to stay in office, they would comply; Lehane was soon appointed as Airbnb's global head of policy and public affairs.
His first step was to mobilize Airbnb's natural advocates: those homeowners profiting from renting out properties and those tourists who avoided expensive hotel rooms by using the service. By the end of 2015, over 130,000 people were renting or offering rooms in San Francisco. Lehane recruited several former Obama campaign staffers to lead a team that made tens of thousands of phone calls, warning Airbnb hosts and guests about Proposition F. Team members also urged hosts to attend town hall meetings, talk to neighbors, and contact local officials. During this time, the company (reportedly by accident) sent an email to everyone who had ever stayed at an Airbnb in California, urging them to contact the California legislature. The legislature received a flood of messages from around the world. The Senate pro tem called Lehane to tell him the messages had been received and requested that he stop the assault. "If I had known Airbnb had this much influence, I would have done it directly," one person involved in the campaign told me (this statement implied a threat to candidates, urging them to reject Proposition F, or else Airbnb beneficiaries would be called upon not to vote for them, as the measure would affect Airbnb and landlords' income, increasing operational costs for both landlords and Airbnb, which also meant higher accommodation costs for guests).
Lehane's second part of the strategy was to apply pressure on San Francisco politicians through significant funding. The company hired hundreds of canvassers to knock on the doors of 285,000 people—about a third of the city's population—urging them to contact local elected officials to express that opposing Airbnb was tantamount to attacking innovation, economic independence, and the American ideal. This relentless campaign posed a clear threat to the municipal oversight committee: if any official supported Proposition F, Airbnb might encourage others to launch campaigns against them. "We made the hidden parts public," a campaign staffer said. "The goal was intimidation, to let everyone know that if they went against us, they would regret it." Overall, Airbnb spent $8 million on this campaign, about ten times the total amount spent by all supporters of Proposition F. "This is the most ridiculous campaign I've ever been involved in," the staffer told me. "It was all so exaggerated, so extreme. You shouldn't spend this much money on a municipal election." Nevertheless, the staffer enjoyed working at Airbnb: "This is the most money I've ever made in political work."
The third aspect of Lehane's strategy was to disrupt the debate over Proposition F by proposing alternative solutions. Otherwise, Lehane and Airbnb CEO Brian Chesky believed the company would face similar proposals in other cities. Lehane told the Airbnb board, "You can't just oppose everything; you have to support something." As a compromise, Airbnb voluntarily began paying taxes on short-term rentals within the city. It also provided some internal company data, such as the number of guests visiting the city each month, to help local officials monitor the service's impact on the community. Additionally, Airbnb ultimately offered to build a web interface for San Francisco officials to register landlords and track rental patterns. This solution was somewhat self-serving, as it made the city reliant on Airbnb for monitoring its activities. But these proposals addressed many of the complaints that led to Proposition F. More importantly, they secured tens of millions of dollars in tax revenue for San Francisco each year. When Proposition F finally went to a vote, it was overwhelmingly defeated.
Airbnb's strategy in the political conflict stood in stark contrast to Uber's. Uber had just become the world's most valuable startup and was immediately attacked by multiple cities and countries for resisting various taxi regulations. Airbnb's tactics aimed to appeal to politicians' lofty ideals. After the Proposition F campaign, Lehane began collaborating with one of the largest unions in the U.S.—the Service Employees International Union (SEIU)—to plan unionization for the workers cleaning Airbnb rentals. Although this plan ultimately did not materialize, pro-union politicians in San Francisco and New York began to see Airbnb as a potential ally.
To other political operatives, Lehane's tactics might not seem novel. But in Silicon Valley, this approach was revelatory. One tech executive told me, "Getting huge returns on relatively small investments—political ROI is far beyond what people expected."
Block unicorn note: The success of this strategy demonstrates the increasing involvement of tech companies in political activities, especially in areas facing regulatory challenges. Airbnb effectively transformed its relationship with politics into a powerful political force by building partnerships, enhancing its public image, and leveraging the power of funding.
After Proposition F was defeated, San Francisco's oversight committee ultimately agreed to many of Airbnb's proposals. By this time, Lehane had moved on to other places, conducting similar Airbnb campaigns in dozens of cities, including Barcelona, Berlin, New York, and Mexico City. When the U.S. Conference of Mayors convened in Washington, D.C., in 2016, Lehane was invited to speak after Michelle Obama. He told the attendees, "Listen to me, we want to pay taxes." Airbnb quickly reached agreements with over a hundred cities, and when local politicians were stubborn—such as the leaders in Austin, who seemed unresponsive to Airbnb's proposals—the company went directly over their heads. In Texas, it persuaded the state legislature to make it difficult for any municipal authority to ban short-term rentals. Today, Airbnb has agreements with thousands of cities.
A few years after Lehane joined Airbnb, a venture capitalist pulled him aside at a party and said, "In the past, hiring the right CFO was the most important thing to ensure a company went public. But you’ve proven that political figures are equally important." However, Lehane had a larger insight. These activities revealed that tech companies—especially platforms like Airbnb that can connect people who might face difficulties—are now potentially the most powerful group politically. "Once upon a time, organizations like unions or political parties could organize and truly mobilize large numbers of voters," Lehane told me. "Now, the influence of internet platforms is greater; tech companies can communicate with hundreds of millions of people with the push of a button." Lehane stated, "If Airbnb can attract 15,000 hosts in a city, that could influence the outcome of a city council election or a mayoral election. In congressional or senate elections, 50,000 votes could have a decisive impact." Of course, simply having a large user base does not guarantee that Airbnb can get everything it wants. Voters will only respond to incentives they find compelling. However, Lehane realized that companies like Airbnb could make arguments faster and more effectively than almost any political party or other interest group, which is a significant source of power. "Now, platforms are essentially the only entities that can talk to everyone," Lehane said.
During Trump's presidency, the tech industry experienced a tumultuous period. President Trump attacked tech platforms for their bias against conservatives, while the left criticized Silicon Valley's social media companies for helping Trump into the White House. Tech executives publicly supported immigrants in the industry to counter Trump's Muslim ban and border separation policies; at the same time, they faced protests and strikes from employees over issues like racial injustice, sexual harassment, and gender-neutral bathrooms—issues that were not covered in their training in engineering or business school.
In 2020, Joe Biden won the presidential election, and Silicon Valley leaders breathed a sigh of relief. The Biden administration seemed to signal a return to the "Pax Obama" era, when tech was in vogue, and politicians proudly claimed close relationships with Mark Zuckerberg. Biden's victory also meant that Chris Lehane, with deep ties to the Democratic Party, undoubtedly became Silicon Valley's top political advisor. Many companies sought his help, and employees appreciated his generous recognition, making politics fun; former colleagues often spoke proudly of the nicknames he gave them. Most importantly, he made those who worked with him feel they were engaged in a righteous cause.
However, Silicon Valley's enthusiasm for Biden quickly waned. Biden swiftly appointed three prominent tech skeptics—Gary Gensler, Lina Khan, and Jonathan Kanter—to lead the Securities and Exchange Commission, the Federal Trade Commission, and the Justice Department's antitrust division, respectively. The government soon filed lawsuits or launched investigations against companies like Google, Apple, Amazon, Meta, and Tesla. While some lawsuits and investigations had already begun during Trump's presidency, Biden's SEC particularly focused on the cryptocurrency industry. Gensler, who has close ties to Elizabeth Warren, proposed over 80 legal actions against crypto companies or promoters for violating laws, often by selling unregistered securities.
Among the executives sued by the SEC were many who had generously supported the Democratic Party. Brad Garlinghouse, CEO of the cryptocurrency company Ripple, had raised funds for Obama and felt persecuted. He told Bloomberg that the federal government's actions felt like "bullying," and tweeted, "The Democrats continue to support Gensler's illegal war on cryptocurrency—destroying America's ability to innovate. No wonder the Republicans have declared their support for cryptocurrency… Voters are paying attention."
All of this highlights Silicon Valley's importance and influence in political struggles. As tech companies gain more weight on the political stage, the role of political advisors becomes increasingly significant.
To some, the government's actions seemed unusually aggressive. A cryptocurrency executive told me that she discovered her bank account had been frozen without explanation while trying to withdraw funds to fix a severe septic tank issue at home. Meanwhile, various regulatory agencies were warning banks about the risks posed by the cryptocurrency industry. When this executive's account was later unfrozen, there was still no clear explanation, and she began to suspect that the government's goal was to intimidate the industry (the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency, which regulates national banks, stated that it does not instruct banks to freeze individual accounts).
However, the Biden administration's confrontational stance seemed justified in 2022 when FTX, a massive cryptocurrency exchange and hedge fund led by Sam Bankman-Fried, collapsed after it was revealed that over $8 billion in funds had been misallocated or lost. Bankman-Fried was an active political donor, and violating campaign finance laws was one of the charges against him. Another cryptocurrency executive stated that after the FTX scandal, many in the industry "just wanted to lay low," adding, "The less people notice us, the better."
But for Silicon Valley's wealthiest elite, retreat was not an option. The powerful venture capital firm Andreessen Horowitz had raised over $7 billion for cryptocurrency and blockchain investments. "Super angel" investor Ron Conway injected millions into crypto companies through his venture capital fund. Lehane urged some of the largest crypto investors and companies, many of whom were arguing on Twitter, to instead form an alliance to change the public narrative. He began hosting private meetings every two weeks called the "Ad-Hoc Group" to discuss various collaborations. Eventually, a former partner at Andreessen Horowitz, Katie Haun, suggested bringing Lehane on as an advisor to the board of major crypto company Coinbase.
Lehane met with Coinbase co-founder Brian Armstrong and told him that, just like at Airbnb, the crisis was actually an opportunity. Lehane told him, "Now is not the time to be silent; this is an opportunity to define your company and the entire industry, to prove that you are different from FTX." In 2023, Lehane joined Coinbase's global advisory council. Twenty-five days later, the Securities and Exchange Commission filed a lawsuit against the company.
Lehane established a strategic group with the primary goal of convincing politicians that the political consequences of opposing cryptocurrency would be extremely painful. A source from Fairshake (then a Coinbase employee) stated, "This is not really about explaining how cryptocurrency works or anything like that. It's about applying pressure in the most sensitive area for politicians—re-election." Armstrong further clarified this goal at a crypto conference in 2023. He said the aim was to ask candidates, "Are you with us or against us? Will we advertise for you or against you?"
Although Lehane's basic strategy was similar to what he used at Airbnb, that campaign focused on local issues and local elections. In contrast, the cryptocurrency efforts were nationwide, targeting Senate and House elections—and possibly even the presidential campaign—and required more funding. Lehane suggested that Armstrong allocate $50 million for outreach efforts. Armstrong responded, "Why not allocate $100 million?" Coinbase, Ripple, and Andreessen Horowitz (A16z founders) contributed over $140 million to the crypto super PAC Fairshake, with executives from other companies also contributing millions.
Lehane worked closely with Fairshake to begin building a pro-cryptocurrency messaging campaign and helped establish a "grassroots" army. He told the Coinbase team, "We need to prove that there are cryptocurrency voters; there are millions of people in America who own these things, and we need to show that they will vote to protect it."
The Federal Reserve stated that in 2023, fewer than 20 million Americans owned cryptocurrency. Polls indicated that this issue was not a priority for many voters. A Coinbase employee pointed out this discrepancy to Lehane, saying, "I don't know if there are cryptocurrency voters."
Lehane replied, "Then we need to create one."
Coinbase began heavily promoting survey results claiming that 52 million Americans owned cryptocurrency and that many intended to vote to protect their digital wallets. These surveys showed that 60% of cryptocurrency owners were millennials or Gen Z, and 41% were people of color—groups that both parties were trying to court. Lehane also quietly helped launch an advocacy organization called "Stand with Crypto," which promoted itself every time Coinbase's millions of American customers logged in, encouraging cryptocurrency owners to contact their legislators and sign petitions. The organization claimed to have over a million members. A Coinbase employee told me that "Stand with Crypto" would identify cities with large numbers of cryptocurrency enthusiasts, like Columbus, Ohio, and then send them numerous push notifications aimed at organizing town hall meetings and rallies. The employee explained, "If we can get fifty to sixty people to show up, using good camera angles can make it look like hundreds. In small states or close elections, that’s enough to make candidates panic."
This so-called cryptocurrency voter army was directly connected to the next phase of the attack: intimidating politicians. "Stand with Crypto" established an online dashboard that scored U.S. senators and representatives, as well as many challengers, on their support for cryptocurrency. The scores seemed to always be "A (strongly supportive of cryptocurrency)" or "F (strongly opposed to cryptocurrency)," although the data behind these scores was sometimes inaccurate. "Most people don't actually take a clear stance," another Coinbase employee told me. "So we look at their speeches or who their friends are and then make some guesses. If you're friends with Elizabeth Warren, you're more likely to get an F score."
Despite this, Lehane insisted that Fairshake maintain a nonpartisan stance. The super PAC carefully supported an equal number of Democratic and Republican candidates and, at Lehane's suggestion, planned to stay completely out of the 2024 presidential campaign. A venture capitalist who had advised the crypto industry told me that the organization's nonpartisan stance was crucial because "if we want to craft the right regulations, we have to go through Congress, which means we need bipartisan votes." Additionally, Fairshake's goal was to "create nonpartisan costs for those who hold negative views on crypto and tech," the venture capitalist added. "People need to know that there are consequences for doing this."
To emphasize this point, Lehane and Fairshake sought to find a campaign where the organization's spending would definitely attract national attention. Fairshake listed a high-profile campaign slate, with the California replacement for Dianne Feinstein's seat at the top. The obvious target was Katie Porter, whose strongest opponent in the Democratic primary was Congressman Adam Schiff. California is a reliably blue state, so if Fairshake helped defeat Porter, the organization would not be accused of handing a seat to the Republicans. Moreover, California's primary was on March 5—early in the campaign season, meaning Porter's campaign would attract a lot of attention, and Fairshake would have time to promote its involvement and make candidates in other states feel fearful. Since Porter had friendly relations with Elizabeth Warren, she could be portrayed as anti-crypto, although whether this was fair remained in question. More importantly, many polls indicated that Porter was unlikely to win the primary, so if the super PAC "poured in huge amounts of money and created a stir, and she lost, Fairshake could celebrate a victory regardless," a Coinbase employee said. This calculation proved prescient: Fairshake's spending helped Porter lose in the primary, while the general election looked like Schiff would win (Schiff received an A rating from "Stand with Crypto"), and another political operative stated, "If you even slightly criticize us, we won't just kill you—we'll kill your family, we'll end your career. From a political standpoint, this is a perfect masterpiece; Porter will leave government by the end of this year."
After Katie Porter was defeated, many politicians who had previously held contemptuous or hostile views toward cryptocurrency suddenly became supporters. In May 2023, two months after Porter was eliminated, a pro-cryptocurrency bill was voted on in the House. Similar bills had stalled in the past due to lukewarm Republican support and Democratic opposition. This new bill—the "21st Century Financial Innovation and Technology Act"—was openly opposed by President Biden but passed easily in the House, almost unanimously supported by Republicans, with 71 votes in favor from Democrats as well. Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer recently attended a virtual town hall for Crypto4Harris, promising that passing legislation this year was "absolutely possible," adding, "Cryptocurrency is here to stay." Longtime cryptocurrency critic Democratic Senator Sherrod Brown was running for re-election in Ohio, and Fairshake had spent $40 million on ads against his opponent; Brown had recently softened his public criticism of the industry. Earlier this year, cryptocurrency donors indicated they might intervene in the Senate race in Montana, where incumbent Democrat Jon Tester had been a skeptic of cryptocurrency and was now facing a fierce campaign challenge. Shortly thereafter, Tester voted to weaken the SEC's regulation of cryptocurrency, earning a "C (neutral on cryptocurrency)" rating. As long as Tester continued to vote correctly, Fairshake seemed unlikely to intervene in the Montana race. A similar situation occurred in Maryland: after the super PAC threatened to take a stance in the state's Democratic Senate primary, both leading candidates declared their support for cryptocurrency.
Overall, Fairshake and its associated super PAC had already spent over $100 million in the 2024 political campaign, including $43 million in Senate races in Ohio and West Virginia, and $7 million in four congressional races in North Carolina, Colorado, Alaska, and Iowa. $3.5 million was used to defeat two leftist representatives, the so-called "Squad" members: Jamaal Bowman from New York and Cori Bush from Missouri. In the 42 primaries in which Fairshake participated, the supported candidates won 85% of the time. Recent documents show that the super PAC has over $70 million in funds available for the remainder of the election cycle. Its donations to political candidates are comparable to those from the oil and gas industry, the pharmaceutical industry, and labor unions.
Just as Airbnb attempted to change the discussion around Proposal F by offering various concessions (such as paying taxes and sharing data), the cryptocurrency industry has also become a seemingly solution-oriented advocate: proposing new regulations for cryptocurrency and blockchain. However, critics argue that these proposals are self-serving. A major point of contention between the cryptocurrency industry and regulators is whether cryptocurrencies should be classified as securities—similar to shares of Apple, which are sold under strict investor protection laws—or as commodities, like a whole ear of corn, which can be sold with little government intervention. Most fiat currencies—i.e., government-issued money—are primarily used to purchase food and clothing, rather than to gamble on the fluctuations of exchange rates. In contrast, cryptocurrencies are often difficult—if not impossible—to use for purchasing physical goods and are frequently held by speculators merely as a bet that their value will rise. Currently, there are thousands of cryptocurrencies, some of which—especially Bitcoin and Ether—are considered commodities, while the status of the vast majority remains debatable.
Within the cryptocurrency industry, many hope that Congress will pass legislation classifying mainstream cryptocurrencies as commodities regulated by the Commodity Futures Trading Commission (C.F.T.C.). The C.F.T.C. is a relatively low-profile agency that most people are not familiar with and generally has a more lenient attitude than the Securities and Exchange Commission (S.E.C.). If the C.F.T.C. becomes the primary regulator of cryptocurrencies, lawsuits and fines against large crypto companies may decrease or cease altogether. More importantly, selling Dogecoin (a cryptocurrency associated with Shiba Inu), Dentist Coin (the "only cryptocurrency created by dentists for dentists"), or CumRocket (a cryptocurrency aimed at adult enthusiasts) would become significantly less risky and more profitable.
However, some in the government believe this would be disastrous. An official familiar with S.E.C. thinking stated, "Frankly, many of these tokens have no real utility, no practical use; they are just for gambling or deceiving others. We have established regulations that have been protecting investors for decades in such cases. The cryptocurrency industry just wants to avoid these regulations. If your entire business plan is asking us if we can get Kim Kardashian to tweet for us? Then take people's money, the government needs to step in."
In fact, it is very difficult to prove to ordinary Americans that the cryptocurrency industry is a healthy and customer-centric place: polls show that most people do not consider the crypto industry safe. As a result, Lehane and his industry colleagues slightly adjusted their strategy. Pushing Congress to pass friendly legislation remains a priority, but this push is now presented as serving a higher purpose: protecting innovation, entrepreneurship, and America's future.
In July 2023, Marc Andreessen and Ben Horowitz of Andreessen Horowitz released a 91-minute video accusing President Biden of undermining America. Andreessen told Horowitz, "The attack on an emerging industry is so brutal; I have never experienced anything like it. I am completely shocked that this is happening." Horowitz responded, "They are basically subverting the rule of law to attack the crypto industry." They stated that these government actions threaten America's economic, technological, and military power. And Biden's refusal to accept various tech industry proposals gives China the opportunity to catch up. "The future of technology and America's future are at stake," Horowitz declared. The two men expressed that they were so concerned that in 2024, they had no choice but to support Donald Trump. They also mentioned that under Biden, billionaires like them might have to pay more taxes, but this issue received less attention.
Within the cryptocurrency industry, the video garnered significant attention, attracting support from Elon Musk and other industry giants, many of whom viewed it as a brilliant strategy. As one Coinbase employee put it, "Now you have Andreessen and Musk and other wealthy and powerful people saying that cryptocurrency is part of a larger debate. This is an attack on American innovation, progress, and the future! It shifts the focus of the discussion from whether cryptocurrency is a scam to whether Biden really cares about middle-class entrepreneurs!"
Although Lehane opposed Trump's campaign and was not involved with the video, the actions of Andreessen and Horowitz were clearly part of Lehane's strategy. Lehane's ability to teach people in Silicon Valley how to engage in politics has enabled others to mimic his strategies. In July of this year, Lehane joined the board of Coinbase. A Coinbase employee praised, "Lehane is a genius; I don't know how he comes up with these things, but he can change reality; he makes magic happen."
The annual conference for Bitcoin enthusiasts is typically not a venue for politicians, often attracting over 25,000 attendees, many of whom are skeptical of the government. While wandering between booths, you could enjoy free vodka at 10 a.m. or discuss "tax avoidance strategies" that straddle the line between fraud and fantasy. People sell T-shirts featuring Edward Snowden and cryptocurrency-themed board games. It is a safe haven for "Bitcoin underwear" enthusiasts. However, when the event took place in Nashville in July, it was star-studded. Political luminaries, including eight senators, nearly ten representatives, and countless state and national candidates, were present, some of whom gave impromptu speeches during pauses in the electronic music. The most eye-catching was Donald Trump.
Trump's appearance at the event and his willingness to spend campaign days in a state he could easily win confirmed that the cryptocurrency movement initiated by Lehane was making an impact. As Trump spoke before a packed audience, attendees donned orange wigs and "Make Bitcoin Great Again" hats. He promised, "On day one, I will fire Gary Gensler," which elicited a standing ovation and cheers from the crowd. One man even had his wife watch the speech via FaceTime, despite her being in the delivery room at the time.
Trump's attitude toward cryptocurrency underwent a 180-degree turn. During his presidency, he had tweeted that he "didn't like" cryptocurrency, calling it "not money" and suggesting it "could facilitate illegal activities like drug trafficking and other illegal acts." He also added, "We only have one real currency in the U.S., and that is the dollar!" Later, Trump stated that Bitcoin "looks like a scam."
However, after leaving office, Trump began seeking new sources of income, such as selling non-fungible tokens (NFTs)—a form of blockchain-based digital content, which brought him $7.2 million in 2023. With this success, Trump began to believe in the potential of cryptocurrency. His campaign team became one of the first presidential campaigns to accept cryptocurrency donations and announced that he would become the "chief cryptocurrency advocate" for World Liberty Financial.
At the Bitcoin conference in Nashville, Trump promised that if elected, he would have the federal government hold billions of dollars in cryptocurrency reserves and declared that America would become the "global crypto capital" and "the world's Bitcoin superpower!" Trump even began to echo the views of cryptocurrency advocates, stating that if the U.S. does not act, "China will!"
While it might seem that Trump's shift would please Chris Lehane, the reality is more complex, indicating that Lehane's strategy may be progressing too smoothly. Like Airbnb, Lehane does not want the cryptocurrency industry to be closely tied to either party, as this would make relevant legislation more difficult. Almost any policy advocated by Trump would automatically become a partisan issue.
President Biden's announcement in July that he would not run for re-election seemed to provide an opportunity for the cryptocurrency industry to rekindle its relationship with the Democratic Party. The rise of Vice President Kamala Harris, a tech-friendly Californian, increased the possibility of balancing party power. In a September speech, Harris committed to ensuring that "America will maintain its dominance in artificial intelligence, quantum computing, blockchain, and other emerging technologies." This thawing appeared to be effective: on October 4, venture capitalist Ben Horowitz, who appeared in the video attacking Biden, told his employees that he and his wife would make personal donations to "entities supporting Harris Walz's campaign"—partly because some private conversations he had with Harris and her team left him "very hopeful" that she would abandon Biden's "destructive" cryptocurrency policies. As for Chris Lehane, he had donated $35,000 to Harris's campaign (without donating to Trump).
Meanwhile, the cryptocurrency coalition that Chris Lehane helped establish began to fracture, becoming a casualty of partisan divisions. In August 2024, California power broker Ron Conway sent an email to other donors of the super PAC Fairshake, including Andreessen and Armstrong. Complaining that the movement was alienating Democratic lawmakers, he wrote, "How shortsighted and foolish can you be?" Conway pointed out that Fairshake's donations to Senator Brown in Ohio had left Schumer feeling "insulted." He continued, "Not a single person informed me in advance about what you were doing, which shows that billionaires can't even manage basic communication. We have two factions: one moderate and one Donald Trump faction (Coinbase founders and A16z founders)… I can't work with those who don't share common values for too long; it's unacceptable. Because of your selfish and opaque handling, it's time for us to part ways… I will no longer compromise myself through association or assistance."
Republican leaders expressed similar complaints. In the summer of 2024, Andreessen and other cryptocurrency executives attended a Republican retreat in Jackson Hole, where participants expressed anger at Fairshake's ad spending supporting Democratic candidates in the Senate races in Arizona and Michigan.
Regardless of whether Lehane's coalition can hold together, one thing is clear: Silicon Valley has learned how to navigate the political landscape, and tech giants are gradually mastering political maneuvers, combining their funding and political acumen to sustain their support for interests like cryptocurrency, the sharing economy, and social media over the long term. However, the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (S.E.C.) is filled with fear, as once cryptocurrency wins, other financial institutions may follow suit, shifting their products to the blockchain and circumventing existing regulatory frameworks, which could lead to catastrophic consequences.
Even Lehane's colleagues are uncertain whether their actions are beneficial to the public. Coinbase employees admit that while Silicon Valley is now more politically savvy, this does not necessarily mean it is good for the public.
Silicon Valley's New Political Savvy Can Be Viewed from Two Perspectives:
The first perspective holds that this is a manifestation of modern democracy as it should be. Noted Democratic consultant Peter Ragone points out, "I would rather see people actively engaged, willing to openly discuss regulation and express opinions, rather than all the wealthy making deals in back rooms as in the past." Some of the proudest political struggles in American history, such as the fights for marriage equality, universal suffrage, and environmental protection, succeeded largely because they had economically powerful and determined supporters. The tech industry possesses these advantages as well. Moreover, money cannot determine elections unless voters agree with its agenda. Ragone states, "No matter how wealthy you are, if the majority of people do not agree with you, you cannot take office." From this perspective, advocates in the tech industry, like many Americans, have simply learned to advocate for a cause, build coalitions, and ensure their voices are heard.
The other perspective argues that Silicon Valley's political activity is a symptom of systemic corruption, proving that American governance and legislation have been distorted by money to the extent that almost no one other than billionaires can push their agendas. This dynamic is particularly dangerous because the American economy has funneled vast wealth into the hands of a small, discontented, and irresponsible tech elite. Many critics of Silicon Valley believe that today's entrepreneurs and venture capitalists, like early nouveau riche, use their wealth for selfish purposes. In the process, they behave like robber barons and industrial tyrants from a century ago—when income inequality was comparable to today's levels.
While Chris Lehane acknowledges the flaws in our political system, he firmly believes in his role in pushing for its improvement. He emphasizes that his success largely stems from collaborating with many talented colleagues dedicated to building a better and fairer world. Lehane states that his work has always aimed to help "the little guy" gain greater economic benefits. He cites Airbnb's challenge to large hotel chains, aiming to allow teachers and nurses to earn extra income by renting out spare rooms; while Coinbase provides people with a way to avoid the high fees of big banks.
However, Lehane's mission is not solely altruistic; his efforts have also made him very wealthy. Although he does not disclose specific figures regarding his wealth, he emphasizes that his motivation is not merely to make money but to fight for justice. In his social media profile, he presents himself as a boxer, symbolizing his commitment to these "battles."
In August of this year, AI giant OpenAI announced the hiring of Lehane as Vice President of Global Affairs. Unlike the clearer battles he fought at Airbnb and Coinbase, the political struggles in the AI field are more complex and just beginning. There are numerous conflicts of interest within the tech industry; for example, Marc Andreessen has called for minimal or no additional regulation on AI technology, arguing that hindering potentially beneficial technological advancements is akin to "murder."
Opposing OpenAI is a group of AI engineers who believe that the technology they create may soon become powerful enough to pose a threat to humanity. Therefore, strict regulations must be implemented to ensure that only the "most knowledgeable" experts can engage in this complex technological innovation. The tech personnel advocating these arguments inevitably see themselves as one of these "enlighteners," and their so-called "more responsible" vision for AI development often aligns with the business plans of their own startups.
Caught in the middle of this debate are Lehane and OpenAI. In July, the company's CEO Sam Altman, with Lehane's support, published an article in The Washington Post depicting the struggle over AI regulation as a confrontation between democratic nations and authoritarian regimes. Altman wrote, "Democratic AI has an advantage over authoritarian AI because our political system gives American companies, entrepreneurs, and scholars this edge." However, he went on to point out that this advantage is not guaranteed; only through legislation that encourages significant software advancements and prioritizes "road rules" and "norms for AI development and deployment" can this lead be protected. Altman indicated that OpenAI is willing to accept strict limitations on data security and transparency and supports the establishment of a government agency to regulate the development and use of AI.
While this rhetoric sounds very noble, Altman's position is not without self-interest. For instance, smaller competitors may find compliance with these rules and norms costly and cumbersome, making it harder for them to compete against OpenAI. Altman's article is also a typical example of "Lehane-style reframing": rather than discussing the competition between large AI companies and small startups, or the tension between rapid technological advancement and safer but slower progress, he reframes the AI struggle as a battle between good and evil, in which Silicon Valley is portrayed as a realm of righteous superheroes.
Some observers of the AI industry are skeptical of this viewpoint. Suresh Venkatasubramanian, a computer science professor at Brown University and a co-author of the "White House AI Bill of Rights Blueprint," advocates for regulation in data privacy, transparency, and preventing algorithmic discrimination. He points out that OpenAI is unwilling to discuss its alleged copyright infringements, which is clearly "anti-democratic" and, if true, absolutely "un-American." (ChatGPT was developed by aggregating vast amounts of text from the internet, and in most cases, without paying or crediting the original authors; OpenAI claims this falls under fair use.)
Furthermore, Altman's reframing overlooks potential key differences that may exist between democratic nations, such as who should bear the environmental costs of AI data centers or what privacy regulations should govern AI. Venkatasubramanian believes that OpenAI's strategy is to ensure they have a seat at the table in future political decisions, as he puts it, "The goal is to gain a voice so you can influence the outcome."
This influence has already begun to manifest in various states. For example, Workday is lobbying in several states to insert a subtle loophole into legislation regarding "automated decision-making tools" in the workplace, allowing companies selling AI-enabled recruitment software to avoid lawsuits arising from racial discrimination or other biases.
Lehane also acknowledges that the political movement surrounding AI is still in its early stages, with specific pressure points unclear and alliances and hostilities constantly shifting. However, it is certain that Silicon Valley will continue to leverage money and a large user base to attract and threaten politicians.
Even so, history shows that tech giants may ultimately face challenges, just as the powerful corporations of the Gilded Age were eventually defeated and the industrial tyrants of the 20th century were gradually suppressed by public opinion.
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