The Epstein Files and the Question of Republican Government

What the Network Reveals About American Institutions

By Publius (of the 21st Century)

The release of millions of pages from the Jeffrey Epstein files presents Americans with an uncomfortable question that transcends the crimes at their center. While the sexual abuse of minors rightfully commands moral outrage, the documents reveal something perhaps more threatening to the Republic: a cross-ideological, cross-sectoral elite network that operated with remarkable impunity across our most trusted institutions. As we approach the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence in 2026, these files force us to confront how far we have drifted from the Republic's founding principles—and whether those principles can be restored.

The question is not whether Jeffrey Epstein was a criminal. He was convicted in 2008 and died facing additional charges in 2019. The question is how such a figure could maintain intimate connections spanning Goldman Sachs and the Obama White House, Harvard and JPMorgan Chase, leading Democrats and prominent Republicans, for years after his conviction—and what this reveals about power in contemporary America.

A Network Without Ideology

What emerges from the files is not a partisan scandal but evidence of what journalist Anand Giridharadas calls a “deeper solidarity” beneath surface political divisions. Steve Bannon coordinating with Epstein to secure Augusta National Golf Club access for establishment lawyers. Former White House Counsel Kathryn Ruemmler—tasked under President Obama with ensuring procedural fidelity and identifying legal risks—seeking Epstein's advice on whether to become Attorney General, after his conviction, while joking about his crimes. Larry Summers describing Epstein's world as “lucrative and louche” and seeking his counsel on personal matters.

The network crossed every conventional boundary: progressive academics and right-wing provocateurs, tech billionaires and traditional financiers, media figures and government officials. This diversity masked functional unity. As Giridharadas observes, “if you're sitting at home, watching cable at the end of the day and you're seeing these two talking heads fight, that's the spectacle for you at home, to keep you entertained. What they're actually doing is revealed in these files—which is hanging out, breaking bread, colluding, sharing information.”

The complicity extends to the highest levels of government across administrations. In recent congressional testimony, Attorney General Pam Bondi pointedly noted that the Biden administration's Justice Department, under Attorney General Merrick Garland, had failed to release the Epstein files despite having authority to do so. Whatever one makes of Bondi's combative performance before the Judiciary Committee, the substantive point stands: the previous administration, which positioned itself as restoring democratic norms and institutional integrity, chose not to expose a network that implicated figures across the political spectrum. The files were released only after a change in administration—and even then, as Representatives Ro Khanna and Thomas Massie have documented, with millions of pages still withheld and extensive redactions protecting “six wealthy, powerful men.” The pattern suggests that protecting elite networks transcends party loyalty.

The founders anticipated faction and designed a system of checks and balances to contain it. They did not anticipate—could not have anticipated—a transpartisan elite operating through informal networks that transcend and effectively neutralize formal institutional boundaries.

The Vulnerability of Networked Power

Traditional sources of power in America were local and rooted: land ownership, family name, standing in one's community, position in church or civic organizations. These created multiple, independent bases of authority. A newspaper publisher in 1850 derived power from property, community respect, perhaps family lineage—sources that could sustain dissent against other power centers.

Contemporary elite power operates differently. It consists primarily of position within networks and the density and quality of one's connections. The Epstein files illuminate this transformation with unusual clarity. His power derived almost entirely from his network position—his ability to broker connections between otherwise disconnected high-value nodes. JPMorgan banker Jes Staley stated this explicitly: “Epstein relied on his network for his legitimacy. And I, as running the largest investment bank in the world, was part of that network for him.”

The self-reinforcing nature of such power explains much that appears inexplicable. How could JPMorgan continue doing business with Epstein after flagging over $1 billion in suspicious transactions? How could Harvard and MIT maintain relationships after his conviction? The answer lies in what network theorists call preferential attachment: those already well-connected gain disproportionate benefit from each new connection. Cutting ties with someone deeply embedded in valuable networks becomes professionally costly even when morally warranted.

This creates a profound problem for republican government. Courage—the willingness to stand against power on principle—becomes structurally more difficult when power itself consists of network position. To be courageous is to sever ties. When ties constitute the essence of power, courage threatens complete exclusion. As Giridharadas notes, “in an age of network power, courage becomes harder... the more exponentially valuable more ties become, the more exponentially expensive it is to cut off that tie.”

The founders built a system assuming that ambition would counteract ambition, that competing power centers would check each other. But what happens when elite ambition aligns across traditional boundaries? When the common interest lies not in principle but in maintaining network access?

The Atrophy of Institutional Independence

The Epstein phenomenon exposes the degradation of institutional independence. Consider the trajectory: Dalton School employment, Bear Stearns position (despite fabricated credentials), managing Les Wexner's fortune, cultivating relationships across academia, finance, media, and government. At each stage, institutional gatekeepers failed.

More troubling than individual failures is institutional capture. These were not isolated decisions by rogue actors but systemic patterns. Harvard and MIT accepted donations and provided intellectual legitimacy. JPMorgan maintained banking relationships despite internal warnings. Law firms managed his affairs. The Justice Department reached an extraordinarily lenient plea agreement in 2008. Each institution's decision was arguably rational from its narrow perspective—but collectively catastrophic for institutional integrity.

The founders understood that republican government requires virtue—not perfect virtue, but sufficient civic virtue that citizens and officials place public good above private interest often enough to sustain the system. They debated whether such virtue could be reliably maintained or whether institutional design alone could substitute for it. The Epstein files suggest the answer: institutional design cannot fully compensate for systematic moral failure across elites.

The Question Before Us

As we approach 2026 and the Republic's 250th anniversary, we face a question the founders would recognize: Can republican government survive when those who control key institutions pursue private advantage through informal networks that transcend and effectively nullify formal checks and balances?

This is not a question with obvious partisan valence. The network exposed in the Epstein files included committed progressives and movement conservatives, Trump associates and Clinton associates, advocates of globalization and economic nationalism. The common denominator was not ideology but elite status and a transactional approach to relationships and institutions.

The files reveal what Giridharadas terms “concentric circles of enablement.” At the center, criminal conduct. Surrounding that, those who knew and facilitated it. Further out, those aware but indifferent. Then institutions that accepted money and provided legitimacy. Finally, a broader elite culture in which such connections were normal, even valued. Virginia Giuffre, one of Epstein's victims, died by suicide—the ultimate cost of speaking truth about power.

The Analytical Work Required

The path to republican renewal requires specific analytical work, not aspirational statements. Three concrete initiatives must begin immediately:

First, systematic network mapping. Academic institutions—particularly those with some independence from elite capture, such as state universities and historically Black colleges—should undertake comprehensive mapping of elite networks. This means identifying overlapping board memberships, advisory positions, philanthropic relationships, and social connections across finance, technology, media, academia, and government. The methodology exists: network analysis tools developed for understanding terrorist organizations and criminal enterprises can be applied to legal but problematic power structures. The work should be funded by foundations committed to democratic accountability and published in accessible formats, not merely academic journals. If state legislatures or Congress lack the will, state attorneys general investigating antitrust issues possess both the authority and tools to compel disclosure.

Second, forensic institutional analysis. Each institution that maintained relationships with Epstein after his 2008 conviction should face mandatory external review. Not criminal investigation—most behavior was legal—but systematic examination of decision-making processes. How did Harvard's administration justify continued association? What internal debates occurred at JPMorgan? Which Goldman Sachs partners objected to employing Ruemmler given her documented relationship with a convicted sex offender? These reviews should be conducted by independent panels with subpoena power, modeled on corporate special committees in litigation, and published in full. The goal is not punishment but understanding: what institutional mechanisms failed, and how?

Third, conflict-of-interest auditing. Federal agencies, beginning with those least captured by current networks, should develop comprehensive conflict-of-interest databases. Not just formal financial conflicts—those already require disclosure—but network conflicts. If a regulator's former law partner now represents the regulated entity, that's disclosed. If that regulator's spouse sits on a philanthropic board funded by the regulated entity's CEO, that should be disclosed. If they share memberships in the same invitation-only conferences, disclosed. Technology enables tracking these connections; political will determines whether we do so.

Who Initiates the Debate?

Credit belongs to journalists like Ezra Klein, whose decision to dedicate substantial airtime to Giridharadas's analysis demonstrates what institutional courage actually looks like in media. Klein operates within networks that include many figures discussed in the Epstein files. His willingness to platform systematic critique of elite power structures, rather than treating the story as mere scandal, exemplifies the editorial independence that makes democratic accountability possible. More such efforts are needed.

But journalism alone cannot drive institutional reform. The debate must be initiated by actors with specific institutional positions:

State attorneys general possess unique authority. They can investigate under state nonprofit laws (universities), banking regulations (financial institutions), and professional responsibility rules (law firms). They answer to state electorates, providing some insulation from national elite networks. A coalition of AGs from states with major universities or financial centers could initiate coordinated investigations that federal authorities might hesitate to pursue.

University faculties at institutions implicated should demand internal reviews. Faculty governance bodies—where they retain actual power—can compel administrations to answer questions about decision-making. The Harvard Faculty of Arts and Sciences forced President Larry Summers to resign in 2006. Similar faculty action regarding institutional relationships with Epstein remains possible, though it requires professors willing to confront colleagues and administrators.

Institutional investors managing pension funds for teachers, public employees, and union members should demand governance reforms at corporations where they hold shares. CalPERS, the California public employees' pension fund managing $440 billion, and similar public pension funds have both fiduciary duty and political accountability to beneficiaries. They can require that corporations like Goldman Sachs explain their employment decisions and conflict-of-interest policies regarding network relationships.

State legislatures can act where Congress will not. They can require disclosure of elite network connections for anyone doing business with state government, serving on state boards, or receiving state funding. They can condition state pension fund investments on corporate governance reforms. They can fund the network mapping research that federal agencies decline to support.

Checking Current Networks: Mechanisms That Might Work

Network power cannot be eliminated—human organization requires networks. But it can be checked through counter-networks and structural reforms:

Mandatory cooling-off periods between positions in different sectors must be extended and enforced. Not the current revolving-door rules (one or two years), but meaningful periods—five to seven years—between serving in government and joining industries one regulated, or between academic positions and corporate boards in related fields. This reduces the value of maintaining cross-sector network ties for immediate personal benefit.

Structural separation within institutions can disrupt problematic network effects. Universities should separate fundraising from academic decision-making through institutional walls, not just policies. Those who solicit donations should not influence faculty hiring, research funding, or honorary degree decisions—ever. Investment banks should separate asset management from investment banking through structural subsidiaries with distinct leadership, not merely “Chinese walls” that senior executives routinely cross.

Counter-elite development requires deliberate effort. Public institutions—state universities, military service academies, labor unions, religious institutions with genuine autonomy—must consciously develop alternative leadership pipelines. This means funding and prestige flowing to institutions whose leaders do not participate in the same networks as Harvard/Yale/Stanford graduates. It means state governors appointing federal judges from state schools, not just elite law schools. It means corporate boards actively recruiting directors without Ivy League credentials or elite conference attendance.

Transparency through technology can expose network relationships faster than institutions can adapt. Open-source databases tracking board memberships, event attendance, philanthropic relationships, and professional connections—built and maintained by civil society organizations—can make elite network structures visible to journalists, prosecutors, and citizens. The technology exists; it requires only coordination and modest funding.

What Institutional Courage Actually Means

Institutional courage is not individual heroism. It is structural: building institutions that reward truth-telling over network maintenance. Specifically:

Economics departments showing courage would hire faculty studying elite capture and network power, even when that means offending donors. They would grant tenure to scholars whose work implicates powerful actors. MIT's economics department has not, to my knowledge, conducted any systematic internal research on how Epstein gained influence at MIT—despite obvious research opportunity. That would be institutional courage: directing scholarly attention to one's own institutional failures.

Law firms showing courage would decline lucrative clients whose business model depends on regulatory capture or whose principals maintain relationships that compromise the firm's integrity. This means sacrificing revenue. Skadden Arps or Kirkland & Ellis turning away clients worth tens of millions in fees because partnership with them undermines institutional integrity—that would be institutional courage. It has not happened.

News organizations showing courage would decline to hire commentators whose network relationships compromise journalistic independence, even when those figures attract audiences. They would investigate elite institutions including those their own executives attended or where they serve on boards. They would continue coverage of stories like Epstein's network even after initial clicks decline. The New York Times and Ezra Klein's decision to sustain focus on this story's implications, rather than treating it as scandal that fades, demonstrates what this looks like in practice.

Universities showing courage would return donations from compromised sources and investigate how those donations influenced institutional decisions. They would deny honorary degrees to the wealthy connected rather than the accomplished accomplished. They would tenure faculty who alienate donors by telling uncomfortable truths. None of the major institutions involved with Epstein has done this.

The mechanism for developing such courage is adversarial: institutions develop it when external pressure—from faculty, from journalists, from prosecutors, from pension funds, from competing institutions—makes network maintenance more costly than principle. This requires building alternative power centers with resources and authority to impose costs.

Beginning the Work

The 250th anniversary of the Declaration provides temporal focus. Congress should establish a Commission on Republican Government for the 21st Century, modeled on major historical commissions (the 9/11 Commission, the Warren Commission), but with analytical rather than investigative mandate. Its task: assess whether current institutional arrangements can sustain republican self-government given the transformation in how elite power operates.

But commission findings mean nothing without implementation. State-level action offers the most promising path. A coalition of state attorneys general, working with independent scholars and funded by foundations insulated from the networks under examination, could initiate the mapping and auditing work described above. State legislatures could enact transparency and cooling-off requirements. Public pension funds could demand governance reforms.

The work will be opposed by those whose power depends on current arrangements—which is to say, most powerful actors. Success requires building coalitions across traditional divides: progressives concerned about economic inequality and conservatives concerned about cultural elite capture, labor unions and small business organizations, state institutions and religious communities, all united by recognition that the current system serves networks rather than citizens.

The Epstein files are not merely evidence of one man's crimes and enablement. They are a window into how power operates when formal institutions decay into networks of mutual advantage. As Giridharadas notes in his conversation with Klein, “this outrage could be harvested for clickbait” or “could actually lead to transformative places.” The difference lies not in anger but in analysis, not in denunciation but in deliberate construction of institutional checks on network power.

The founders built a Republic for their time. They gave us tools—amendment processes, federalism, separation of powers—to adapt it. Whether we possess sufficient civic commitment to undertake that work will determine whether the American experiment continues or becomes a cautionary tale about republics that could not adapt to new forms of oligarchy.