By John Q. Hosedrinker 
Following the 2021 Capitol riot, several financial institutions severed ties with the Trump family and their businesses. Deutsche Bank and Signature Bank reportedly ceased their relationships, while Capital One and JPMorgan closed numerous personal and business accounts. Separately, a significant instance of alleged corruption involved a presidential reversal that permitted the United Arab Emirates to import advanced AI chips annually, occurring after World Liberty Financial received a substantial investment from an Emirati-affiliated firm.
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The Trump sons, Donald Jr. and Eric, have adopted a curious defense strategy when faced with accusations of corruption: it’s our fault. Instead of directly refuting the claims that wealthy and powerful individuals have been flocking to their family business to gain favor with their father, they’ve attempted to spin the narrative, suggesting that the circumstances, and by extension, the public, have forced their hand. Speaking from the opulent setting of Mar-a-Lago, they essentially argue that they are the victims here, pushed into questionable financial dealings by external forces beyond their control.
Eric Trump, in particular, paints a picture of being ostracized by the mainstream financial world. He claims that major banks, acting on some perceived bias related to their “Make America Great Again” hats, have effectively “canceled” them, leaving them with no other option but to turn to decentralized finance, like cryptocurrency. This narrative conveniently sidesteps the fact that the Trump family, including the former president, did face repercussions and the closure of some accounts and services following the January 6th Capitol riot. However, the implication is that these actions, rather than any actual wrongdoing, are the root cause of their financial strategies.
The sons’ deflection is particularly striking when examined against the backdrop of specific allegations. One of the most prominent examples involves a $2 billion investment from an investment firm linked to an Emirati family member into World Liberty Financial, a crypto firm in which the Trump family holds a significant stake. This investment occurred shortly before a significant policy reversal by the former president, allowing the UAE to import advanced AI chips. The Trump brothers dismiss any connection, asserting that their father has no involvement and that meetings in the Middle East are standard practice for fund managers. They frame these accusations as recycled “nonsense” from previous years, a testament to their ongoing struggle against what they perceive as unfair attacks.
However, this explanation feels like a deliberate misdirection, a classic case of victim blaming. The “law of unintended consequences” Eric mentions sounds more like a convenient excuse for a calculated move. The truth, as many observers point out, is likely far simpler: their father’s presidency created an environment where such lucrative deals became possible, and the sons were eager to capitalize. The timing of the Emirati investment and the subsequent chip policy change, coupled with the substantial sum involved, strongly suggests a quid pro quo, a blatant instance of alleged bribery and corruption, rather than an act of being “canceled.”
The irony of the Trump sons complaining about being “canceled” while simultaneously engaging in what appears to be open corruption is not lost on many. The very individuals who may have been denied services by certain banks after the Capitol riot now seem to be thriving in financial spaces that are less regulated and more susceptible to manipulation. Their argument that they were forced into these avenues because the system was against them conveniently ignores the possibility that the system, or at least parts of it, began to distance itself due to ethical concerns and past actions.
This defense strategy aligns with what is often described as the Narcissist’s Prayer: “That didn’t happen. And if it did, it wasn’t that bad. And if it was, that’s not a big deal. And if it is, that’s not my fault.” The Trump sons appear to be firmly entrenched in the “not my fault” stage, shifting blame onto the public, the banks, and the political climate rather than accepting personal responsibility for their alleged actions.
The assertion that the public is to blame for electing their father and thus enabling “open corruption” is a particularly galling twist. While it’s true that political choices can create environments where certain behaviors are tolerated or even rewarded, it doesn’t absolve individuals of their own accountability. Blaming the voters for their predicament is a tactic to deflect from the core accusations of impropriety and financial dealings that raise serious ethical questions.
Ultimately, the Trump sons’ claims that their “open corruption is our fault” represent a sophisticated, albeit transparent, attempt to reframe their actions as a response to external pressures rather than a deliberate pursuit of illicit gain. Their narrative of victimhood, of being forced into financial schemes by a hostile financial world and a politically charged climate, rings hollow when viewed against the magnitude of the financial transactions and the potential conflicts of interest involved. It’s a narrative that, for many, sounds less like a genuine plea of innocence and more like an admission of guilt, cloaked in an elaborate excuse.