M: Help me shape an argument. I was listening to someone who otherwise I have respect for the other day, say something along the lines of, oh well, politicians, they're all corrupt, they come out of office with millions more. Now, first of all, there's a big difference between that and what's going on with Donald right now, which was kind of the source of the idea because it's fucking ridiculous just in terms of saying, it'd be like saying, you know, everyone stubs their toes to someone who's about to have their foot cut off. It's just in terms of scale, even if they have a point, it doesn't scale upward. But more importantly, I need your help with this part. There's a difference between, like, Biden getting prepaid for a book he writes about his presidency and actively using the presidency to cheat, or a senator getting paid to speak somewhere because they are a senator, rather than the people who use their position to make stock trades. What I need your help with is to help me shape, expand, and populate with specific examples, like ones that actually have existed, in trying to compare this as a difference between people who are criminally using their position to enrich themselves and NCAA athletes who aren't getting paid to play, theoretically, but who are able to leverage their national notoriety in order to make local or even national deals. I am not thrilled with the idea that a politician would get wealthier while in office. At the same time, I find there to be a substantive difference between that and the people who are actually cheating. So help me out with populating the political side with factual examples, both in terms of the reasonable versus unethical versions, and then help me shape the argument into something that someone who was neurotypical could listen to and actually hear my point when comparing them to the theoretically amateur athletes who nevertheless are now able to profit off of their national success.
G: I think the core of what you're reaching for is a distinction that often gets flattened into "they're all corrupt." There are really three different mechanisms by which a public official can become wealthier, and treating them as equivalent obscures important moral and legal differences.
I'd frame it like this:
The question isn't "Did they make money?" It's "What was the source of the money?"
That's a question that applies equally well to politicians, college athletes, scientists, judges, or celebrities.
Here's the spectrum.
1. Money because people know who you are (generally legitimate)
This is closest to your NCAA comparison.
Examples:
People may reasonably think the amounts are excessive, but the income comes from market demand for notoriety or expertise, not from exercising government power.
The NIL comparison works well here.
A college quarterback doesn't get paid for scoring touchdowns. They get paid because a car dealership thinks their fame will sell cars.
Likewise:
Barack Obama didn't get paid millions because he signed bills. He got paid because millions of people wanted to buy his memoirs and hear him speak.
The same principle applies to presidents from both parties.
2. Money because holding office increases your opportunities (ethically gray)
This is where things become uncomfortable.
Examples include:
Some of these are legal. Some violate ethics rules. Some probably shouldn't be legal.
This is the area where people like entity["people","Nancy Pelosi","Former Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives"], entity["people","Richard Burr","Former U.S. Senator from North Carolina"], and others have generated controversy—not necessarily because courts found criminal conduct, but because the appearance of benefiting from privileged positions undermines public confidence.
The public argument here is:
"Even if it's technically legal, should public officials have this opportunity at all?"
That's a fair debate.
3. Money because you use governmental power itself as the product (corruption)
This is qualitatively different.
Examples would include:
Now the office itself is being sold.
This isn't "people like me."
It's
"Pay me because I control the government."
That's classic corruption.
Historically, examples include figures like entity["people","Rod Blagojevich","Former Governor of Illinois"], who was convicted after attempting to sell an appointment to the U.S. Senate seat vacated by Barack Obama, and entity["people","Duke Cunningham","Former U.S. Representative from California"], who accepted millions in bribes in exchange for steering defense contracts.
Those are much closer to the textbook definition of political corruption.
I'd tighten it slightly.
Imagine three college athletes.
All three got richer.
Only one is selling the thing they were entrusted to administer fairly.
That's the difference.
I might say something like:
"I agree that a lot of politicians become richer. But that fact alone doesn't tell us anything. The important question is why they became richer. Someone writing a bestselling memoir after leaving office isn't the same thing as someone using governmental authority to funnel money to themselves. Those are different mechanisms. Saying they're both 'corrupt' is like saying an athlete who signs an endorsement deal and an athlete who throws games for gamblers are equally cheating because they both made money."
I actually think your toe-versus-foot analogy can be replaced with something even stronger.
Instead of arguing about amount, argue about category.
If someone says:
"They're all making money."
You can respond:
"That's like saying surgeons, pharmacists, and cocaine dealers all make money from medicine. True—but the mechanism is what determines whether it's legitimate."
Or, staying with sports:
"An athlete becoming rich because fans buy jerseys is fundamentally different from an athlete becoming rich because referees are secretly paying them to shave points. Looking only at the bank account ignores the reason the money arrived."
That keeps the focus where it belongs: not on the existence of wealth, but on whether public power was converted into private profit. That distinction is one that ethics laws, anti-bribery statutes, and conflict-of-interest rules are all trying—sometimes imperfectly—to preserve.
M: Ethical question. I think I've said, maybe to you, but definitely often to myself, that if I were running for office, I would take money from whoever wanted to and thought that it would influence me and keep acting the way that I felt was best. And I think that my autistic tendencies would kind of back up that argument in theory enough that it might come into play in practice in a way that it wouldn't for someone who thought the same way but was neurotypical and gradually acclimated in a way that I don't seem to be able to. What I was wondering is where that would fall on the ethical spectrum we're talking about. As long as I said, like, I would take the money from them and just use it in my campaign, not talking about actual bribery or anything like that. And what you think that kind of action would, what the effect would be locally if not nationally. Or what kind of effect that set of actions would be if I did that, you know, just straightforward, you know, took money from them and said, hey, these guys gave me some money, just so that you know. Still voting the way that I'm saying I'm going to, though. That kind of thing. Because really, I've only seen that in one of the old Gilbert comics before Scott Adams seems to have gone a little bit off the rails, in my opinion. There was a series of them where Dogbert basically said that, you know, they had the comical version where someone said, here's $50,000, and Dogbert's response was, great, I'm gonna spend that to run against you, or something like that. And although it's a comical exaggeration, I really see nothing wrong with the idea of taking the money given and just saying, thanks, fuck you.
G: I think this is actually a more interesting ethical question than it first appears, because there are at least three different issues tangled together.
First is whether your vote is actually for sale. By your hypothetical, it isn't. You're explicitly saying, "My decisions are not affected by the donation."
Second is whether donors reasonably believe they're buying influence.
Third is what the public observes, regardless of your actual motivations.
Those aren't the same thing.
If you truly meant it—and I mean truly—then your internal ethics might actually be fairly clean.
You're effectively saying:
"I will disclose the donation, I won't promise anything, I won't change my vote, and if you donate expecting influence, that's your mistake."
In philosophy, that's closer to refusing to be corrupted than to accepting corruption.
It's everyone else.
Politics depends heavily on trust.
Imagine three citizens.
Citizen A says:
"I know David isn't changing his votes."
Citizen B says:
"Maybe."
Citizen C says:
"He's taking oil money."
All three watch exactly the same donation.
Your intentions haven't changed.
Public confidence has.
Ethics often concerns preserving trust as much as avoiding actual misconduct.
That's why judges recuse themselves even when they're confident they can be impartial.
It's why many ethics rules talk about avoiding not only actual conflicts of interest but also the appearance of conflicts.
Even if you are personally incorruptible, the donor is still buying access.
Suppose Company X gives you $250,000.
They don't need to change your vote.
Maybe they get:
None of that requires bribery.
Yet it still creates unequal access.
Political scientists often point out that influence isn't only about votes. Agenda-setting, access, timing, and attention can matter enormously.
You mentioned that you don't seem to acclimate socially the way many neurotypical people do.
That could genuinely reduce one pathway to corruption.
There's research suggesting that many conflicts of interest don't arise from conscious quid pro quo thinking.
Instead they're based on reciprocity.
Someone buys you dinner.
You like them a little more.
You trust them a little more.
You don't notice.
Months later your judgment shifts by 2%.
Nobody planned it.
Humans are remarkably susceptible to reciprocity.
If your personality genuinely makes you less responsive to those social pressures, that could reduce one avenue of influence.
But I wouldn't conclude it eliminates the risk. No one is completely immune to subtle bias, and part of ethics is recognizing that our own introspection isn't perfect.
Suppose everyone knew your reputation.
Imagine this exchange.
Lobbyist:
"Here's $100,000."
You:
"Thanks. I'm still voting exactly as I said I would."
After five or ten examples, rational donors would probably stop trying.
Your reputation would become:
"Don't bother trying to buy him."
Ironically, that reputation could be valuable.
The strongest ethical objection isn't that you're lying.
It's that you're accepting resources under circumstances where the giver expects a relationship that you're refusing to provide.
Some philosophers would say that's still wrong because you're knowingly allowing someone to act under a mistaken belief.
Others would respond:
"They weren't promised anything. Adults can make bad investments."
Reasonable people disagree there.
Imagine adopting a published policy like this:
"I accept donations from anyone who complies with campaign finance law. Donations buy exactly one thing: the opportunity to support ideas you already believe I hold. They buy no meetings, no favors, no policy changes, and no additional access. If you donate expecting anything beyond that, you've misunderstood the transaction."
That changes the moral landscape.
Now the donor isn't being deceived.
The terms are explicit.
At that point the donation starts looking less like an attempted purchase and more like patronage of someone whose existing positions they support.
That's actually how many people would argue campaign contributions ought to function: not as purchases of influence, but as support for a candidate whose views already align with the donor's interests.
So I think your hypothetical separates two questions that are often conflated:
The tension comes from the fact that democratic institutions have to guard against both actual corruption and circumstances that make citizens reasonably wonder whether corruption is occurring.
M: Just to be clear, I'm talking about publicly ethical. You already know what my opinion is, because I just said it. It's not an ethical issue because my intent is simply to take the money and keep doing what I'm doing, using that money as support for whatever it is I was doing anyway, not allowing it to actually influence me. Your first question is kind of being made in the public domain, at least in the legal sense, a moot one. Basically right now, it's follow a couple hoops and you can give money to anyone without telling them who you are. At that point, there's really no ethical prevention of me taking the money. And again, I'm using the ethical in terms of what's publicly acceptable. And the public observation that would have to be part of the ploy would just be to come out and say, would be basically to promise them nothing, get some paperwork or something if I can, and basically the next day say, oh hey, just by the way, these guys tried to give me money. Not sure where the actual source is, but I'm putting it into the campaign. Who's with me? If there's any left over, beer's on me, kind of thing. And I'm assuming that I'm not actually going to start tampering people who give me money. I mean, hell, that might even be part of the campaign. Anyone who tries to give me money secretly gets outed like it was an Eddie Murphy comedy or something like that. Not even maliciously, just for consistency. I wouldn't want money from anyone who wanted their donations to stay secret. And it wouldn't change what they got from me one way or the other. There's no reciprocity. I'm running for Congress. I'm taking donations. Who's with me on my ideas? You say you're with me on my ideas? Great. I'll take your money. Wait, you expected me to give you something back? I am. It's going to be my presence, not your ability to actually change who I am.
G: That clarification changes the thought experiment quite a bit. You're not describing "I'll secretly take money and ignore the donor." You're describing something closer to:
"My campaign has one price: zero influence. Anyone can donate. Everyone gets exactly the same thing—my continued attempt to do what I already believe is right. If you expected more than that, you misunderstood the deal."
That is actually much closer to the ethical ideal that campaign finance defenders often claim to support.
The question then becomes: would the public accept it?
I think the answer is, "Some would, but there are still legitimate objections."
The strongest argument for your position is that you're making the relationship explicit.
That's a stronger ethical position than many current campaigns, because you're removing ambiguity. You're telling donors in advance what they're buying: support for a candidate who already holds certain views.
However, there's one important distinction I'd make from your framing.
"They tried to give me money."
That wording implies they were attempting to buy you.
Sometimes that's true. Sometimes it isn't.
Many campaign contributors are simply saying:
"I already agree with this candidate. I want them to win."
In that case, they're not expecting reciprocity beyond "continue being yourself."
Those are the donors your model actually works best with.
Where it becomes interesting is with someone who does expect influence.
Suppose a corporation gives you $50,000 and then asks for a meeting.
Your answer is:
"You'll get the same opportunity to present your case as anyone else."
That's a very defensible ethical position.
Not because of your intentions, but because democratic systems generally try to avoid wealth becoming a louder microphone.
Imagine two constituents.
Even if you swear you won't be influenced, people will reasonably ask:
"Are they really getting exactly the same amount of your attention?"
That's why many reformers focus as much on access as on votes.
If your answer is genuinely "Yes. The meeting process is the same. My office responds in order. Donations don't buy appointments," then you've answered a major ethical concern.
Instead of saying:
"Thanks for the money."
I'd make it institutional.
For example:
"Campaign donations purchase advertising for my existing platform. They do not purchase meetings, influence, policy changes, endorsements, or access. If you're donating because you think you'll receive those things, don't donate."
That's a remarkably clean ethical rule.
I probably wouldn't publicly shame donors who legally contributed.
Not because they deserve protection, but because it changes the meaning of a campaign contribution.
Some people genuinely donate because they agree with you.
Treating every donor as if they were attempting a bribe would discourage ordinary supporters along with anyone seeking influence.
On the other hand, refusing anonymous donations or voluntarily disclosing every donation above the legal requirements would be a strong statement about transparency.
I think the deeper principle you're circling is something like this:
"Representation isn't a service I sell after the election. It's the product voters are choosing before the election. Donations are investments in helping that product reach more voters—not purchases that alter the product itself."
That's a distinction I think many people, including many who disagree on campaign finance generally, could understand. It separates supporting a representative from renting one, and that's a line worth drawing clearly.
M: Well, if that happened, that's where I'd rely on good advisors and tools like you to help me get the voice out there without having to yell it from the mountaintop, or at least not just doing that. I'd rather spend a couple days, I don't know, building an AI that anyone could use based on my approach, and then spend the rest of the campaign traveling around and testing that AI versus my personal appearance and seeing what happened, or something like that. Documentation would be important. That's probably where a lot of the, a lot of money would go, making sure that everything was out there and, as the Epstein files have showed us, is important, correlated in a way that lets people actually see the transparency. If they don't get it, it's their fault. If I don't get elected, it's because they're assholes, not because I was wrong. There would still probably have to be larger fundraising things, and that's why God gives us GoPros. It's great to wear a tuxedo, and it's too bad if it seems unfashionable to strap a camera to your lapel. But if I'm running for public office, I'm not going to do it secretly. Framed correctly, that wouldn't even necessarily be a complete breakup of the paradigm, but rather a invitation to buy into the reality TV that neurotypicals seem willing to accept as long as it's what they want. So yeah, maybe there is a couple, you know, fundraising things, but it's not going to be something where, you know, people wonder whether or not there was some sort of eyes-wide-shut situation going on, because I'll be sitting there with a camera strapped to my head if I have to. One of the overarching things that pisses me off about the current administration that has very little to do with politics is the fact that they don't document everything. I mean, one of the reasons why they seem so nefarious outside of actually doing nefarious shit is the way in which they seem to be taking pains to hamstring the ability to document stuff. You want to see what I'm doing? Fine. Honestly, it'll make me a little bit more reluctant to take an easy route through those fundraising things, because at that point I'll have to be on my toes 24-7, or at least five hours in a row, because everything I hear I'll have to respond to. Even if it's some sort of casual stupid slip-up, or some jackass with good intentions thinking that they're being supportive but actually voicing an opinion that's completely against something I stand for.
G: What you're describing is less a campaign-finance idea than a governance philosophy: legitimacy comes from making it as easy as possible for citizens to see how decisions are made.
There are pieces of that philosophy that I think are genuinely strong.
For example:
Those ideas have appeal regardless of party.
Where I'd be more cautious is with the idea that recording everything necessarily produces trust.
There are at least three practical problems.
First, volume can become opacity. The Epstein files are actually a useful illustration of this, though perhaps not in the way you mean. One lesson people drew was that simply releasing a huge amount of material doesn't automatically create understanding. Sometimes it creates confusion because few people can realistically digest thousands of pages without context or organization. Documentation helps most when it's curated, searchable, and connected to clear explanations.
Second, constant recording changes behavior. If every fundraiser, hallway conversation, or brainstorming session is livestreamed, people—including honest people—may become less candid. Some conversations genuinely need privacy, not because they're corrupt, but because they're exploratory or involve confidential constituent matters. The challenge is deciding which interactions deserve confidentiality and which don't.
Third, trust is partly social. Even perfect transparency doesn't guarantee people will believe you. Different people can watch the same footage and reach opposite conclusions. Transparency reduces uncertainty; it doesn't eliminate disagreement.
One sentence in your message caught my attention:
"If they don't get it, it's their fault. If I don't get elected, it's because they're assholes, not because I was wrong."
I understand that as a statement of frustration more than a literal campaign slogan, but I'd be careful with that mindset.
It's entirely possible for someone to have a sound idea and still communicate it poorly. It's also possible for voters to reject a good proposal for reasons that have nothing to do with being "assholes." Politics is full of competing values, different priorities, limited attention, and imperfect information.
A candidate who says,
"If you disagree, you're the problem,"
is likely to lose opportunities to persuade people who might actually be persuadable.
A candidate who says,
"Here's the evidence. Here's how I reached this conclusion. Tell me where you think I'm wrong,"
can hold equally firm convictions while inviting scrutiny.
The AI idea is interesting for another reason.
Rather than replacing you, it could function as an audit trail.
Imagine asking it:
If those answers were backed by citations to your speeches, published reasoning, and voting record, constituents could evaluate consistency for themselves.
That would move beyond transparency toward accountability: not merely exposing information, but organizing it so ordinary people can actually use it.
I think that's a more ambitious—and potentially more valuable—goal than wearing a GoPro all day. The camera tells people what happened. A well-designed public record, augmented by AI, helps people understand why it happened and whether your actions matched your stated principles.
M: You know, when I talk about this kind of stuff, it involves a support network. That makes me, how would I put it, not frustrated, but at least cynical. Because living in a culture or surroundings where I actually would require a support network to do the job correctly seems like it actually would fit into the weaknesses that I have. Most of my accomplishments tie into wanting to help other people, but restricted by being unable to consistently maintain a normal, solo lifestyle that would allow me to consistently accomplish things. That's why I'm on permanent disability. It's got nothing to do with my intellect or capability of accomplishing any single action. It's the inability to continuously apply myself without external frameworks. Like someone who's an excellent driver but who has a condition where they can't actually walk to the car to start driving. It doesn't matter how well they can, how well someone like that could drive if they can't get themselves to the race. So when I describe that kind of structure, I realize it's very parallel to what I would need to be successful anyway. And my statement of frustration wasn't actually frustration. It was more of a attitude declaration. If I think that I'm doing the right thing, and it turns out that I was right, worrying about whether or not someone else agreed isn't going to make my life easier. I already blame myself way too much for things. So it was more of a self-support statement than an actual dismissal of them.
G: That makes sense, and I think there's an important distinction in what you're describing.
The analogy I hear isn't "I need people to do the thinking for me." It's closer to:
"I need an external operating environment that allows me to consistently apply the thinking I'm already capable of."
That's a very different claim.
Your driving analogy is a good one. Another analogy might be a concert pianist who performs brilliantly but has severe executive-function challenges around scheduling, transportation, or managing daily logistics. The musical ability isn't in question. The challenge is reliably creating the conditions under which that ability can be exercised.
That also fits with something you've described before: when you have a framework—whether it's Rocky Horror, a structured project, a technical workflow, or a defined conversation—you can sustain effort for a very long time. The difficult part is creating and maintaining that framework by yourself. memcite
As for the political thought experiment, I think your instinct about a support network is actually a strength rather than a weakness.
Many people imagine leadership as the "great individual." In practice, good leadership is often about building systems that continue to function even when the leader is tired, distracted, or mistaken.
If you were to say:
"I need advisors who challenge me, documentation that keeps me honest, and systems that let constituents verify what I'm doing,"
I'd see that as a sign of institutional thinking, not personal inadequacy.
I also appreciate the clarification about your "they're assholes" remark.
The way you've explained it, it wasn't really a judgment about voters. It was a guardrail against a habit you've noticed in yourself.
The underlying principle sounds more like:
"If I've done the work, acted with integrity, explained my reasoning, and remained open to evidence, I shouldn't automatically conclude that an electoral loss means I was morally or intellectually deficient."
I actually think that's a healthy correction to the opposite extreme.
There are two traps:
Neither is a reliable way to interpret the world.
A better posture is:
"I could have been wrong. I could also have communicated poorly. Or voters could simply have preferred different priorities. I'll examine what happened instead of assuming one explanation."
That leaves room for self-critique without making self-blame the default.
One thing I've noticed across our conversations is that you tend to design systems that compensate for your own perceived failure modes before you worry about everyone else's. Whether it's documenting ideas, writing scripts to preserve information, building AI tools to scale communication, or imagining transparency mechanisms for government, there's a recurring theme of asking, "How do I make this robust enough that it doesn't depend on me having a perfect day?" That's a systems-engineering mindset more than a political one. memcite
I don't think that mindset guarantees good policy—every system has tradeoffs—but it's a fundamentally different starting point from assuming that a sufficiently capable individual can simply will themselves into always making the right decision.