The American electoral process has long been heralded as the cornerstone of modern democracy—a shining example for the world to follow. However, beneath the veneer of patriotic pomp and circumstance lies a system that, from its inception, was designed to serve the interests of the powerful. Despite efforts to expand voting rights and include more voices, the true power structures have remained remarkably consistent: those with the money are in charge. From the Founding Fathers, who restricted voting to wealthy, White men, to today’s campaigns funded by corporate interests, the story of American democracy is less about freedom and more about influence—who wields it and who gets left out.
Historically, the voting system was crafted to keep power in the hands of an elite few. The Founding Fathers, despite their lofty ideals, ensured that the electorate was composed of property-owning men, effectively excluding vast swathes of the population—women, the poor, enslaved individuals, and people of colour. Over the centuries, voting rights expanded, but the underlying mechanism remained unchanged: influence and power were reserved for those with money. This elitism set the stage for a pattern that has persisted through every era of American politics, shaping the electoral process into a spectacle where voters cast ballots, but corporations and their political allies pull the strings.
The expansion of American influence during “World War I” reinforced this pattern. Woodrow Wilson’s crusade to make the world “safe for democracy” was presented as a noble mission, but the democratic ideals promoted abroad masked the realities at home. The war effort boosted industrial and corporate power, further entrenching the influence of wealthy elites in politics. While American soldiers fought for freedom overseas, the voting system back home remained structured to maintain elite control, highlighting the gap between the nation’s rhetoric and its realities.
This disconnects only deepened after “World War II”. The post-war boom transformed the United States into a global superpower, with its industries thriving like never before. As America exported its brand of democracy, the partnership between the government and corporate interests grew stronger, laying the foundations for the military-industrial complex that Eisenhower later warned against. Elections became increasingly intertwined with this new economic order, as defence contractors and multinational corporations wielded major influence over policy. American democracy was now not just about voting; it was about securing corporate profits. The interests of voters were often drowned out by the sound of booming factories and military contracts, emphasizing that power remained in the hands of the elite.
The “Cold War” further entrenched these dynamics. Framed as a battle between freedom and communism, this era saw the United States vigorously promoting democracy on the global stage. But domestically, elections became less about expanding democratic participation and more about reinforcing the status quo. Politicians, whether Republican or Democrat, relied increasingly on the support of defence contractors, who profited from the arms race, and multinational corporations that sought global markets. The result was an electoral system that served corporate interests while giving the public the illusion of choice. Leaders like Bill Clinton embraced neoliberal policies, pushing for global trade agreements like NAFTA, which benefitted corporate America at the expense of ordinary workers. The voting process thus became an exercise in convincing Americans to back policies that catered to corporate interests, often under the guise of economic progress and freedom.
Clinton’s successors continued this trend. The bipartisan allegiance to corporate interests was evident as Republicans and Democrats alike scrambled for the support of big donors. Campaigns became races not just for votes but for dollars, with each election cycle costing more than the last. The public, meanwhile, was caught up in the drama of electoral contests, unaware that both sides were fundamentally aligned on one key issue: keeping corporate America happy. Whether it was tax cuts for the wealthy or deregulation for big banks, the promises made to voters were increasingly detached from the realities of governance, which prioritized profit over people.
Then came the seismic shift following the attacks of 9/11. In this period, the electoral process became less about debating policy and more about rallying the public under the banners of patriotism and security. The Bush administration’s War on Terror transformed elections into referendums on fear, with candidates promising safety and security in exchange for civil liberties and increased defence spending. It was a time when defence contractors—already well-connected to the political elite—found their influence expanding even further. The Pentagon’s budget ballooned, and candidates from both parties lined up to promise continued military intervention abroad, all while ignoring the domestic consequences of their policies. Voters, manipulated by an atmosphere of constant fear, were persuaded to support these interventions despite the mounting costs at home. It is no coincidence that this era also saw the rise of what Eisenhower once warned against: the military-industrial complex. Défense became an industry unto itself, and elections became a way for politicians to outdo each other in their commitment to endless war—a profitable enterprise for contractors but disastrous for taxpayers.
Barack Obama’s campaign of “hope and change” offered a brief moment of optimism for those disillusioned with the corporate grip on politics. Yet even Obama—charismatic and progressive as he seemed—was not immune to the influence of big business. The 2008 financial crisis provided a clear test, and the response spoke volumes. Wall Street was bailed out to the tune of hundreds of billions of dollars, while millions of homeowners were left to face foreclosures. Obama’s rhetoric of accountability and reform resonated with voters, but the actions of his administration showed that Wall Street remained the primary beneficiary of government action. Even his signature achievement, the Affordable Care Act, while expanding healthcare access, was crafted with considerable input from the insurance industry. The notion that progress was being made was true only as far as it did not threaten corporate profits. Obama’s re-election campaign, awash in corporate donations, underscored that even candidates with the most inspiring slogans were ultimately beholden to the same financial forces that controlled Washington.
And now we find ourselves in 2024, in an electoral landscape as polarized as ever. According to the Pew Research Centre’s latest survey, the race between Kamala Harris and Donald Trump is practically tied, with Harris garnering 48% of voter support and Trump at 47%. The demographic divide is stark: Harris attracts younger voters, women, and minorities, while Trump secures the support of older, White voters, many of whom believe in his brand of populism and anti-establishment rhetoric. It is a clash of identities as much as it is of policies, and the public is caught in the middle, voting not so much for their preferred candidate but against the candidate they fear.
Despite the high stakes, voter enthusiasm has waned since 2020. While 60% of voters remain extremely motivated, this figure has dropped from 69%, suggesting that even in a time of deep polarization, the public’s faith in the process is eroding. And it is no wonder—72% of voters expect Harris to concede if she loses, while only 24% believe Trump will do the same. The fact that a sizeable portion of the electorate does not trust one of the candidates to accept the results of the election points to a systemic breakdown in the legitimacy of American democracy. Meanwhile, concerns about political violence loom large, with 66% of voters seeing it as a major issue. It is a grim reflection of how deeply the seeds of distrust and division have been sown.
What is clear is that American voters are trapped in a cycle of manipulation. From the Cold War’s promise of economic prosperity through deregulation to the post-9/11 era’s constant state of war and fear, elections have become less about genuine choice and more about controlling the narrative. Pro-business politicians, regardless of their party, have convinced voters that their policies—whether in the name of security, progress, or prosperity—serve the public good. These policies consistently serve corporate interests, widening the wealth gap and leaving voters disillusioned.
In 2024, as the electorate faces yet another contentious race, it is evident that the corporate influence has not waned. Voters are still being asked to pick between candidates who, despite their stark differences in style and rhetoric, are fundamentally bound by the same commercial interests. Each election promises change, but the results are depressingly familiar. The corporate backers and lobbyists, who fund both sides, remain the true winners. The public, meanwhile, continues to cast its ballots in a system designed to keep them voting but never really delivering the results they hope for. The Pew survey underscores this reality: America’s electoral process is not just at a crossroads; it is caught in a cycle that leaves voters disillusioned and democracy increasingly compromised.
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Rajeev Ahmed
The Editor of Geopolits.com and the Author of the book titled Bengal Nexus
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