Government for Sale
The Gilded Age’s Spoils System is Back—And Worse Than Ever
One month into his presidency, Donald Trump has wasted no time smashing the foundation of America’s non-partisan civil service. Working hand-in-hand with Elon Musk and other loyalists, Trump is dismantling the professional expertise that once defined federal agencies.
His goal? A return to political patronage—a 21st-century spoils system where loyalty trumps competence and government serves the few rather than the many.
This isn’t new. History has already shown us what happens when governance is reduced to personal favors and political rewards. The last time political patronage ruled American government, it ended in corruption, chaos, and a desperate fight for reform.
Welcome to the spoils system, reborn in our own time with an all-too-familiar face.
Jackson’s America: Power to the People, Spoils for the Few
Andrew Jackson’s presidency marked a turning point in American democracy. By the 1820s, states were dropping property qualifications for voting, giving white men without land a say in politics for the first time.
Jackson capitalized on their anger toward elites, positioning himself as a champion of the common man. (Sound familiar?)
His victory in 1828 was a resounding rejection of the political aristocracy—but it came at a price.
Jackson wielded this populist energy to usher in the spoils system, replacing experienced civil servants with loyal supporters. He justified it as a democratic measure, arguing that government positions shouldn’t be monopolized by the elite.
“To the victors belong the spoils,” Jackson proclaimed, and competence quickly gave way to cronyism. The result was a federal workforce staffed by loyalists rather than professionals, with disastrous consequences for governance.
The system Jackson championed didn’t just undermine the efficiency of government—it entrenched a culture of patronage that would haunt the nation for decades.
The Gilded Age: Corruption Now a Way of Life
The late 19th century saw an explosion of political graft. Big city machines, like New York City’s Tammany Hall, perfected the art of trading favors for votes.
Government contracts went to the highest bidder—or the best briber. Public money disappeared into private pockets. Graft was epidemic.
Every level of government—from local offices to the Senate—was up for sale. Political bosses controlled who got jobs, and those jobs often required kickbacks to stay employed.
Taxpayer money was siphoned off into personal fortunes, while the public suffered from inefficiency and neglect. The police, customs offices, and even the postal service became vehicles for personal gain.
These cartoons don’t just depict the greed and arrogance of the era; they illustrate the very structures that allowed corruption to thrive. Political machines, corporate monopolies, and complicit officials created a system where reform seemed impossible and justice was a distant dream.
Wealth could put you above the law. Sound familiar?
Buying Power: The Senate for Sale
During the Gilded Age, state legislatures, not voters, chose U.S. Senators. This created a system ripe for manipulation, where industrialists and political bosses essentially auctioned off Senate seats to the highest bidder.
Corporations ensured their interests were protected by installing loyal allies in positions of power. These senators served their benefactors, not the public.
The result was a legislative body heavily skewed toward the rich and powerful. Laws regulating railroads, banking, and monopolies were watered down or blocked entirely, while policies favorable to corporate expansion sailed through Congress.
The consequences were devastating. Railroad tycoons set exorbitant freight rates that crushed small farmers, while unregulated banks triggered financial panics that wiped out ordinary people’s savings.
Factory owners cut corners on worker safety, leading to deadly disasters like the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire. Contaminated food and medicine flooded the market, unchecked by regulations, leading to widespread illness and death.
Ordinary Americans were left voiceless in a government that seemed to exist solely to enrich the elite, as legislation protecting workers and consumers was routinely blocked.
Trickle-Down Corruption: When Graft Becomes a National Norm
The Gilded Age was not just a time of political corruption—it was an era when greed became cultural orthodoxy. The excesses of the elite set the tone for a society where fraud, bribery, and exploitation were no longer shocking but expected.
Those in power, both politically and economically, legitimized self-interest at all costs.
Corruption seeped into everyday life. Employers underpaid workers, monopolists squeezed consumers, and local officials pocketed public funds.
The general public saw these practices but, in many cases, felt powerless to change them. Instead, the growing inequality was dismissed or justified as the natural order of things.
The Gilded Age’s trickle-down corruption created a nation where ethical compromise was seen as a means of survival, and the ideal of fairness was little more than a hollow promise.
Fast-forward to today, and the echoes of this era are all too apparent. With a former president who has faced multiple felony indictments, two impeachments, and countless ethical scandals, Donald Trump’s rise serves as a stark reminder that corruption is alive and well at the highest levels.
When leaders treat rules as optional and accountability as a joke, they normalize the very behaviors that undermine democracy itself.
The First Clean-Ups: Reform at the State Level
Before national reform took hold, the battle against political corruption started in the states. Nowhere was the fight fiercer than in New York, where Tammany Hall turned government into a patronage empire.
Theodore Roosevelt emerged as one of the strongest challengers to this system, first in law enforcement and later as governor, where he restructured state agencies to curb machine influence.
His efforts laid the groundwork for the broader national fight against patronage.
At the national level, President James Garfield, who would become the tragic face of civil service reform, embodied the promise of meritocracy in a system that still rewarded loyalty over ability. Born in poverty, Garfield was the last U.S. president raised in a log cabin.
A brilliant mind, he taught himself classical languages, worked as a janitor to pay tuition, and rose to become a university president by age 26. While serving in Congress, he even devised an original proof of the Pythagorean theorem.
But for all his intellect, he still had to navigate a system where jobs were handed out as political favors.
The Breaking Point: Assassination and Reform
At the time, it was routine for office-seekers to meet directly with the president to request jobs. Garfield, like his predecessors, spent hours every day hearing out would-be appointees.
Among them was Charles Guiteau, a delusional drifter who believed his minor role in Garfield’s election entitled him to a prestigious post.
When his requests were ignored, Guiteau grew enraged, stalking the president for weeks. Without modern Secret Service protections, Garfield was fully exposed to such threats.
On July 2, 1881, just months into his presidency, Garfield walked into the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station. He was preparing to depart on a trip when Guiteau, convinced he was carrying out divine justice, shot him twice in the back.
Garfield lingered for weeks as his doctor, who opposed new antiseptic techniques, worsened his condition. (Using his unsantized fingers and tools to probe Garfield’s wounds for the bullet.)
Racked with infections, Garfield died after months of suffering. His assassination would shock the nation into action.
The American public, horrified that political patronage had led to a president’s murder, finally pushed Congress to act.
The result was the Pendleton Civil Service Reform Act of 1883, which established competitive exams for government jobs and made it illegal to fire federal employees for political reasons. It marked the first serious attempt to break the spoils system and laid the foundation for our professionalized civil service.
For the first time, government jobs were awarded based on expertise rather than party loyalty, ensuring continuity and stability across administrations.
Over time, agencies like the FBI, EPA, and FAA would harness expertise to develop institutional knowledge, free from the constant turnover of political appointees.
Echoes of the Past, Warnings for the Future
The spoils system was never just about jobs—it was about control. It allowed politicians to pack government offices with loyalists who answered to them, not to the public.
The Gilded Age gave us a vivid blueprint of what happens when political loyalty outweighs competence and when corruption is seen as business as usual. Reform came only when the damage was undeniable.
Today, Trump and Musk are working to reverse that hard-won reform, stripping away civil service protections to build a patronage system that serves their interests.
Their goal is clear: dismantle the expertise and independence that make government functional, replacing it with personal loyalty and unchecked power.
Government workers serve the nation, not a political party. Civil service protections ensure stability, expertise, and continuity—qualities that have kept federal agencies effective for over a century.
Stripping these safeguards risks turning agencies into personal fiefdoms, where career professionals are ousted and replaced by unqualified loyalists, eroding public trust and effectiveness.
Trump’s aggressive purge of government expertise might seem like strength, but history suggests it is something else entirely: overreach. The civil service exists for a reason.
And when the next airline disaster, viral outbreak, or national security failure occurs, the paper trail will lead straight back to Trump’s incompetent and reckless gutting of the professionals who keep the country running.
The question isn’t if that moment will come—it’s how soon.
Thank you for this. The lessons are in our history for all to see. But who pays attention. Seems that our MSM is on chump’s payroll. The oligarchs of today make the corruption of yesterday seem like small potatoes. Time to stop yawning and see the iceberg straight ahead. The political cartoons are powerful as are the satirists of today…
Peter, excellent post. Thanks for this.