Mike Johnson has two money problems on his mind. The first is more immediate: On Tuesday, the House Speaker scraped together a four-vote majority to approve a $1.6 trillion budget bill. But on Wednesday, Chuck Schumer said Senate Democrats will refuse to pass the plan, increasing the chances of a government shutdown at midnight Friday.
Yet even as that far-reaching drama unfolded, Johnson and his Republican colleagues have kept one eye on another issue, for which there’s a purely political financial angle. Since last December, Johnson has been cheerleading a congressional investigation into ActBlue, the largest Democratic online fundraising platform. Last year, it took in $3.8 billion, more than double the amount raised by the equivalent Republican PAC, WinRed. Two of Johnson’s lieutenants, Wisconsin Republican congressman Bryan Steil and Kentucky Republican congressman James Comer, along with New York Republican representative Nick Langworthy, have issued a subpoena seeking suspicious activity reports from the Treasury Department related to ActBlue, hunting for evidence of what they claim is possible fraud. California Republican congressman Darrell Issa, always a voice of calm and reason, has called on the Treasury Department to probe whether ActBlue has knowingly supported terrorist groups. (The organization did not respond to a request for comment.)
The assault on ActBlue—just as seven of the group’s senior leaders have quit for unknown reasons—could do plenty of damage to Democrats all by itself. Yet it could also be merely the start of a broader Republican tactic: attempting to disrupt the flow of Democratic campaign money. Ted Cruz has been flirting with the same idea; in February, the Texas Republican threatened to issue his first subpoena as chairman of the Senate Commerce Committee to Bonterra, a private company that owns significant Democratic and progressive tech fundraising infrastructure. Cruz has backed off for now, saying that Bonterra has made a good-faith effort to turn over the requested documents.
Nevertheless, these early forays are rippling through the Democratic fundraising world, especially because the Trump administration has appeared eager to use the Department of Justice to go after its political adversaries. “People ask whether Democratic donors are intimidated because they don’t want to be investigated,” says Rufus Gifford, who was finance chair for Joe Biden’s, and then Kamala Harris’s, 2024 presidential campaign. “I haven’t seen that. But no one is going to raise their hand and say so.”
Indeed, a senior official at a prominent Democrat-adjacent group chooses his words very carefully on the subject. “Republicans are systematically trying to go after funding sources or things that enable key parts of the Democratic funding operation, boxing in their opponents and making it hard to operate,” the official says. “It’s part of them trying to chill dissent, including going after law firms, like Perkins Coie, that have worked for Democrats. Whether or not they have any actual legal success, they’ll make it hell in the process, eating up resources.”
Or perhaps keeping those resources in the pockets of donors and away from Democratic groups or candidates. Many PACs won’t file their first disclosure reports of 2025 until April 15, and electoral off-years are generally sleepier, so it’s difficult to assess whether there has already been a downturn in giving. Anecdotally, at least, there is considerable chatter about possible Democratic donor reluctance—though fear of Trump, coupled with frustration over November’s election results, may also be a convenient excuse to keep checkbooks closed.
“There is a sense of impending—I don’t want to call it ‘doom,’” says Adrianne Shropshire, the executive director of BlackPAC, which focuses on educating and mobilizing Black voters. “But impending trouble, because the Trump administration is doing essentially what they said they would do. So there’s concern among both political donors and philanthropic donors.”
Shropshire says she’s hopeful, though, that ultimately the impact of Republican attacks won’t be intimidation but inspiration. “I’ve had conversations with donors who are really clear on the role wealthy folks played in moments of transformative change—for instance, the Civil Rights Movement,” she says. “And some of them are feeling very much like we’re in another moment where change needs to happen, and they’re more committed.” But it won’t be until this fall, when some major state gubernatorial races heat up, that Shropshire says she will feel confident in judging donor enthusiasm.
John Morgan, a longtime Democratic contributor and fundraiser, isn’t waiting to do his handicapping. When I ask if he believes fellow big-money donors are wary of being investigated, Morgan’s answer is quick: “Well, we know Jeff Bezos is.” For his own part, though, the Florida trial lawyer says he isn’t spooked. “If I have to be Navalny, well, that’d be a good way to go,” Morgan says. Given Trump’s admiration for Vladimir Putin, the reference is equal parts apt and unnerving.
