Ryan Salame, who pleaded guilty to two charges last week, was known as a "budding Republican mega-donor."
Sam Bankman-Fried won people over through his reputation as a civically minded progressive. Last week, an FTX executive who cut a different figure -- that of a "budding Republican mega-donor" -- pleaded guilty to two charges ahead of his former boss's trial.
Last May, Sam Bankman-Fried said that he could spend up to a billion dollars supporting candidates and causes through the 2024 presidential election. He later walked back the claim, calling it "a dumb quote," but the suggestion, and the flurry of press around it, captured a key part of the image that Bankman-Fried had cultivated. SBF made himself known as a political heavyweight -- he was a known donor on the political left -- and as an avatar of the effective-altruism philanthropic movement, to which he also donated millions. Central to FTX's growth, and Bankman-Fried's popularity, was his public face, and the ideals he said he stood for.
But last week's guilty plea from Ryan Salame, a lesser-known FTX executive, is a reminder of one of the many truths that have since come out about Bankman-Fried: His donations were likely not based solely on the best interests of humanity but also on the best interests of crypto. In addition to his publicized donations to Democrats, he also marshaled millions of dollars to boost Republican candidates who seemed sympathetic to crypto-related causes. He has admitted, since the collapse of FTX, that most of his Republican donations were not linked to him, for cynical reputational reasons: "Reporters freak the fuck out if you donate to Republicans," he told the crypto content creator Tiffany Fong in November. Bankman-Fried's fingerprints weren't always apparent on Republican donations, but his lieutenant Salame's often were. Salame, whose name is pronounced "Salem," last week became the fourth top FTX executive to plead guilty, including to a charge of violating campaign-finance law. Prosecutors alleged that he made millions of dollars of political donations -- many of which were to Republicans -- under the direction of Bankman-Fried.
Salame was public about his Republican affiliations. While Bankman-Fried hobnobbed on the left, Salame leaned into his identity as a "budding Republican mega-donor," as the Washington Examiner called him last September. He donated millions of dollars under his own name, and even helped his girlfriend run as a Republican for a congressional seat on Long Island (she lost in the primary).
It's not totally clear whether Salame is truly passionate about Republican political causes or if he was simply emerging as a Republican donor out of loyalty to his boss (and his girlfriend). He has reportedly said that he was not especially interested in politics, and that he was getting more involved at the encouragement of others at FTX. In a charging document, prosecutors surfaced messages that Salame wrote, saying that the purpose of donations was to "weed out anti crypto dems for pro crypto dems and anti crypto repubs for pro crypto repubs" In other words, it seems that he and his involved colleagues hoped to use donations to elevate politicians sympathetic to the crypto business, regardless of party. (Jason Linder, a lawyer for Salame, did not immediately respond to my request for comment, though he said in a statement last week that "Ryan looks forward to putting this chapter behind him and moving forward with his life.")
In contrast to his compatriots, who claimed to be getting rich in order to give back and who were involved with effective altruism, Salame reportedly spoke about working in crypto simply to get rich. Salame clearly enjoyed the trappings that the wealth he gained in his 20s (he is now 30) afforded him. He has a reputation for enjoying fancy cars and private planes. His taste is apparent in his accessories: I noticed that in a widely circulated portrait, he is wearing what looks like a Cartier Juste un Clou nail bracelet in white gold. These status-symbol bracelets start around $8,500. Last week, Salame arrived in court to plead guilty wearing orange-and-blue socks emblazoned with bitcoin logos. Those may not have been pricey, but they certainly showed confidence.
In what feels like a poignant -- or maybe self-aggrandizing -- touch, Salame invested some of his wealth in the restaurants of his home region, the Berkshires. (He grew up in Western Massachusetts and attended the University of Massachusetts at Amherst.) Salame swooped in with millions during the early days of the pandemic, and by the time he was 28, he owned nearly half of the full-service restaurants in the small town of Lenox, according to The Berkshire Eagle. He was a local boy done good -- until FTX cratered. Now Salame must forfeit his interest in one of his key restaurant holdings (along with assets including millions of dollars and a 2021 Porsche) as part of a plea deal.
Whether Salame's heart is truly in Republican politics or in restaurants or just in socks and personal advancement, he cuts a contrasting figure to those of his fellow former FTX executives, and he may continue on that path. The others who have pleaded guilty -- Caroline Ellison, Nishad Singh, and Gary Wang -- have all also agreed to cooperate with the government and to testify against their former boss. Salame has not. (Bankman-Fried has pleaded not guilty to all of the charges brought against him so far.) This time last year, those executives -- Bankman-Fried most of all -- were widely seen as responsible adults in a cowboy industry. That the walls have closed in this fast, and that their noble public personas have fully crumbled, remains stunning. Maybe Salame was frankest about his motives all along.
More than 2,600 people were killed and thousands of others were injured by a powerful earthquake in Morocco this past weekend. Rescue workers are reacting to find survivors. Our photo editor Alan Taylor compiled images of the earthquake's aftermath.
"To enter here is to enter / magnitude, to feel an ecstatic somethingness, / a nothingness of your own name."
I'll leave you with a completely unrelated recommendation: I read the most fascinating article in T magazine yesterday about vanilla. Ligaya Mishan explores how the flavor, produced by beans that are actually incredibly rich and pungent, became synonymous with blandness. This story of vanilla spans continents, biosynthesis, and taste buds -- and it's beautifully written. Describing a stalk of the plant, Mishan writes, "It lies on my desk, skinny as a twig, with a little curling hook at one end, like a fossilized crochet needle, rough yet pliant to the touch. I am trying to write but the room is possessed by that scent, a summons of honeysuckle, sun-fat figs and red wine, of the dank sweetness of soil when the rain has soaked through it."
Comments
Post a Comment