The Rich And Powerful Must Be Held To The Highest Standards
Señor T’s lawyers are arguing to a 5-judge New York appeals court that they should throw out the $454 million verdict— now $478 million and soaring daily by about $100,000— handed down in February, arguing that the massive penalty violates constitutional guarantees against excessive punishments. “If Trump loses his appeal and fails to pay the full judgment,” reported Aysha Bagchi, “[Letitia] James could start moving in on his bank accounts and real estate quickly. The judgment automatically becomes a lien on Trump's real estate in Manhattan because Manhattan is in the same county that the judgment came from. But James could also go after property elsewhere. Different jurisdictions have different laws about foreclosing on properties. James would also have the ability in New York to get rental payments from tenants in Trump Organization properties redirected to pay his judgment, and she could get bank accounts in New York frozen quickly.”
Seem overly harsh? Is it fair to the poor crooked billionaire? Believe it or not, there's a growing recognition that fines or financial penalties should be proportional to a person’s wealth, especially when applied to billionaires. In some countries, like Finland and Switzerland, they've implemented what's called “day fines” or income-based fines. These fines are calculated based on a person’s daily income, ensuring that the financial burden is more equitable across income levels. For instance, a billionaire would pay a far more significant sum than someone earning a modest wage for the same offense. The argument for this approach is straightforward: If the purpose of fines is to act as a deterrent, then they must be meaningful. A $500 fine might crush a working-class person, but it’s barely a drop in the ocean for someone like Trump or any billionaire. The philosopher John Rawls, in his theory of justice, spoke about the “difference principle,” where inequalities are only acceptable if they benefit the least advantaged members of society. In this context, excessively lenient financial penalties for the wealthy violate the principle of fairness.
One stark and very well-known example of income-based fines occurred in Finland last year when a multimillionaire businessman, Anders Wiklöf, was <> fined €121,000 (around $135,000) for speeding— because his income was high enough to warrant that amount under the system, where tickets are calculated as a percentage of the offender’s income.
In the U.S., this concept hasn't been widely adopted yet, but as income inequality continues to come to the fore in political discusion, hopefully reforms along these lines will gain traction. The debate really gets to the heart of what justice means in an unequal society. After all, as Anatole France once wrote, “The law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich and the poor alike to sleep under bridges, beg in the streets, and steal loaves of bread.” The law might be “equal” on paper, but when it comes to wealth and power, it rarely functions that way in practice.
The super-rich shouldn’t face trivial penalties for the same offenses that would seriously impact lower-income people. And it isn’t just in the Scandinavian countries where this kind of justice is now working. Germany uses a similar approach, particularly in criminal cases similar to Trump’s, with day-fines that take both the severity of the crime and the offender's financial situation into account.
It comes down to this: a fixed fine can disproportionately affect the poor, while barely impacting the rich, leading to questions of fairness. A proportional system seeks to make penalties more equitable across income levels. Simple. The deterrent effect of a fine depends on its financial impact. A fine needs to be significant enough to prevent repeat offenses. For billionaires, even large fines might be insignificant, undermining the deterrent effect. How about a large fine and a finger? No that would be cruel. How about a large fine and an estate or mega-yacht or plane? The ability for the wealthy to simply pay their way out of legal trouble— with a shrug or a smirk— completely undermines the concept of equal justice under law.
In Trump's case, the issue isn’t just about fines but also penalties for fraud, which are meant to be both compensatory and punitive. Making penalties proportionate to wealth in such cases might deter financial crimes more effectively, as the wealthy tend to see large-scale fraud penalties as a “cost of doing business.”
Let me go a little further down this road, perhaps in a slightly different direction. I’ve always thought that when anyone privileged— and ESPECIALLY an elected official— commits a crime, they should be held to even higher standards for their violations. This concept has deep philosophical roots and has been discussed in different ways by thinkers throughout history. Plato addressed the question of leadership and moral responsibility in several of his works, especially in The Republic. In his ideal society, the philosopher-kings, those tasked with governing, are held to the highest moral standards. Plato believed that rulers should be wise, virtuous, and selfless, since they have a duty to act in the interest of the common good. For Plato, those in power must not only avoid corruption but also live more rigorously ethical lives, since their decisions affect the entire community. In The Laws, he emphasized that laws should apply more strictly to rulers, because they have greater influence and responsibility. He viewed justice as both an internal virtue of the soul and an external, societal order. For rulers or officials to act unjustly was a direct threat to the harmony and justice of the whole society. His reasoning implies that those with greater power bear greater moral responsibility. It’s probably where I got my ideas on the matter. Aristotle, his student, kept going with the idea in his Nicomachean Ethics and Politics, arguing that political leaders should embody virtues like courage, temperance and justice. He believed that leaders are models for citizens, and when they fail, it has more serious consequences for society. Moral accountability should be stricter for those in leadership, because they set the tone for the community.
Down the historical road a piece, John Stuart Mill wrote that when the privileged abuse their power, they undermine social trust, creating harm on a far wider scale than when ordinary individuals commit crimes. This could justify holding them to higher standards and enforcing harsher penalties for their misdeeds. You know the old adage, “with privilege comes responsibility,” and since the wealthy and powerful always have the means to evade or minimize punishment, imposing harsher penalties for their misconduct can serve as a stronger deterrent. If penalties remain insignificant relative to their status, they might perceive illegal behavior as a manageable risk.
Have you watched the Netflix film about Eric and Lyle Menendez’s murder of their parents, Monsters? They were rich, spoiled kids, not elected officials, but the viewers got a sense of satisfaction when they were sent to prison for life. I’d rather see criminals like Trump, Clarence Thomas, Eric Adams and George Norcross suffer worse fates than even P Diddy, although he deserves all the worst as well. Just keep in mind that equal treatment in law isn’t the same as equal impact. If a low penalty means nothing to the powerful, then true equality demands making consequences proportional not just to the crime but to the power and resources of the individual.
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