By John Q. Hosedrinker 
JPMorgan Chase has now admitted, in a court filing, to closing former President Donald Trump’s and his businesses’ accounts in February 2021. This acknowledgment comes in response to Trump’s $5 billion lawsuit alleging political motivations behind the “debanking” following the Jan. 6th Capitol attack. The bank’s filing states that it informed the plaintiffs of account closures by its private and commercial banks, a detail previously unconfirmed in writing by JPMorgan, which had cited privacy laws for its reticence. This admission is a significant development in the legal battle, with Trump’s legal team calling it a “devastating concession” that validates his claims of unlawful debanking and financial harm.
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JPMorgan has reportedly conceded that it closed former President Donald Trump’s accounts following the January 6th attack on the U.S. Capitol. This admission, though perhaps belated, sheds light on a significant decision made by a major financial institution in the wake of an unprecedented event in American history. The implication here is that the bank deemed Trump’s actions, or at least the events of that day and its aftermath, to be grounds for severing their business relationship.
It seems that for some, this action by JPMorgan is being viewed as a more decisive stance than what was taken by the government. The sentiment is that if a large bank, often perceived as prioritizing profit above all else, decided to cut ties with an individual involved in what is described as an attempt to overthrow the government, then perhaps that bank acted more responsibly than the established legal and political systems. The idea of January 6th being classified as domestic terrorism naturally leads to the expectation that individuals involved, especially a former president, would face severe consequences.
The debate then touches upon the rights of private businesses. In this context, the argument is made that a private entity, like a bank, has the prerogative to set its own standards for clientele. There’s a question raised about whether there’s a legal mandate, akin to a “28th amendment,” that compels banks to provide services to everyone, regardless of their alleged actions. If no such mandate exists, then JPMorgan’s decision is presented as a private business decision, albeit one with considerable public interest given the individual involved.
There’s a palpable frustration expressed that a private corporation might be perceived as taking more decisive action against Trump than the government itself. The narrative suggests that if Trump had faced more significant repercussions from the government, perhaps even removal from office at an earlier stage, the need for a bank to take such a drastic step might not have been as prominent, or the subsequent fallout might have been different. The implication is that the government’s perceived inaction or leniency has left a void that private entities are now seen as filling, albeit with their own financial interests in mind.
The idea that a bank, one that is involved in various financial dealings, would disassociate itself from a figure seen as a criminal after an attempt to undermine democracy is a point of emphasis. It suggests a certain level of perceived illegitimacy or risk associated with Trump’s actions, even from the perspective of a major financial institution. The observation that banks were potentially expecting the government to act, and when it didn’t, they stepped in, highlights a perceived moral failing in the government’s response.
The notion that banks are now being seen as more morally aligned than the government is a stark and critical observation. It paints a picture of a society where fundamental moral compasses may have shifted, leading to an ironic situation where corporate entities are lauded for actions that the state has, in the eyes of some, failed to take. This perspective implies a deep-seated disappointment with the governmental response to the events surrounding January 6th and its aftermath.
For some, the situation is so unusual that they find themselves “rooting for the bank.” This sentiment underscores the perceived disarray or inadequacy of the political and legal responses. The expectation is that in any “remotely functioning society,” such an action by a bank would not be the primary or most significant consequence. The underlying assumption is that if the government had acted appropriately, the need for this corporate intervention would have been obviated.
The discussion also delves into the possibility of JPMorgan using evidence from the government’s investigations to potentially support a legal defense for their actions, particularly if Trump were to sue them. The idea is that if Trump is pursuing legal action against the bank for closing his accounts, the bank might leverage existing evidence of his alleged involvement in attempts to overthrow the government. This adds another layer to the complex legal and public relations battle that could ensue.
The condemnation of Trump by various entities, including impeachment and the withdrawal of business relationships, is mentioned as a historical context. The feeling that these condemnations were later “memory-holed” adds to the current frustration. The current situation, where a bank’s actions are being scrutinized, is seen as a consequence of a collective forgetting or downplaying of past events and their significance.
There’s a clear sense of validation for JPMorgan’s decision from many perspectives. The question “Was this supposed to be a bad thing?” directly challenges any notion that the bank acted improperly. The argument is that Trump committed insurrection, and cutting off his financial resources is presented as the least he should have faced. The idea that his assets should have been seized further amplifies the desire for more stringent consequences.
The admission by JPMorgan is met with a degree of respect, with some hoping for further transparency, such as the disclosure of Trump’s financial records prior to the account closures. The desire to understand the financial underpinnings of his actions, including potential payments to individuals involved in events leading up to January 6th, is a significant undercurrent. The bank’s “excellent admission” is seen as a positive step, even if the ultimate goal is deeper financial scrutiny.
The call for JPMorgan to “brag about it” and put their actions in advertising is a testament to the perceived correctness of their decision. It reflects a desire for a strong, public stance against what is seen as anti-democratic behavior. The idea that banks can “debank” individuals for various reasons is acknowledged, and in this instance, the specific reason—actions related to an alleged attempt to overthrow the government—is considered highly justifiable.
The comparison between JPMorgan’s treatment of Trump and their past actions towards other individuals, like single mothers whose accounts were allegedly closed for less severe reasons, raises questions about fairness and consistency. The observation that Trump was able to transfer his funds, while others allegedly had their finances locked up, points to a potential disparity in how different individuals are treated by financial institutions.
The implosion of the Trump Plaza Hotel and Casino in Atlantic City is juxtaposed with the account closures, offering a visual metaphor for the perceived downfall or consequences faced by Trump. The sentiment is that these consequences are “well deserved” and that the bank’s decision was “smarter than the US electorate,” implying a criticism of the public’s decision-making in past elections.
The concession from JPMorgan is framed not as a confession of wrongdoing but as an acknowledgment of a decision made under specific circumstances. The statement “As they should have” is a recurring theme, reinforcing the belief that closing Trump’s accounts was the appropriate and necessary course of action. The assertion that it is “illegal to provide banking services to terrorists” is invoked to further legitimize the bank’s decision.
The possibility of JPMorgan’s legal team using discovery in a potential lawsuit to prove Trump’s alleged attempts to overthrow the government is seen as a compelling scenario. It suggests a desire for a legal process that definitively establishes Trump’s culpability. The bank’s potential motivation is speculated to be a belief that Trump’s political standing was diminishing, leading them to anticipate his decline. However, the fact that this is being discussed now suggests a miscalculation of the political landscape or the duration of Trump’s influence.
The notion of a “28th amendment” that would overturn decisions like Citizens United and limit political donations by entities like JPMorgan Chase is raised. This points to a broader concern about the influence of money in politics and the power of large financial institutions. The timing of JPMorgan’s admission is questioned, with speculation that it might be influenced by shifting public opinion regarding Trump.
A significant concern is raised about the precedent set by banks having the power to remove access to accounts without due process. The fear is that this power could be misused against whistleblowers or other individuals, raising questions about fundamental rights and the potential for overreach by private entities. The specific mention of an ICC judge experiencing this raises alarm bells about international implications.
The statement that Trump was “punished by being given the most powerful role in the land” is a sarcastic jab, suggesting that the perceived punishment was actually a reward. The desire to see Trump’s financial records before and after his presidency is reiterated, with the goal of quantifying his alleged corruption. The comparison with Credit Suisse’s demise and HSBC’s alleged outreach adds a wider context of financial institutions and their dealings with prominent figures.