Selective Justice: How FARA Became a Tool to Target Republicans

There is a cruel irony in how a statute born to counteract Nazi propaganda in the late 1930s has been exhumed from its bureaucratic tomb to serve as a weapon of political warfare nearly a century later. The Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA), originally a dusty relic collecting mothballs in the annals of American law, was suddenly thrust into the limelight at the dawn of Donald Trump’s presidency—not as an impartial instrument of justice but as a cudgel against his allies. Before Trump’s rise, FARA enforcement was so rare it could be likened to a curiosity better suited to a museum than a courtroom. Between 1966 and 2016, the Justice Department invoked FARA a mere seven times, yielding just three prison sentences. Then Trump happened, and with him came a political reckoning, as the DOJ turned a disused statute into a partisan sword.

FARA: A Law Designed for Sunlight, Not Punishment

To understand this cynical reanimation, one must return to the law’s origins. Passed in 1938, FARA (22 U.S.C. §§611-621) was intended to expose Nazi propaganda efforts by requiring agents of foreign interests to disclose their activities. It was never about outlawing foreign influence outright—transparency, not criminalization, was the aim. Like the sunlight exposing the grime in a neglected house, FARA presumed that openness alone would disinfect.

For decades, the law remained more of a warning sign than a hammer. Its definitions were notoriously ambiguous, its enforcement selective to the point of obsolescence. As long as lobbyists checked the right bureaucratic boxes—retroactively, if necessary—FARA became an administrative afterthought.

But when Trump stormed into Washington with his promise to drain the swamp, the Department of Justice suddenly rediscovered its appetite for enforcement—albeit with a particular taste for Republicans. Between 2017 and 2021, FARA prosecutions surged to over 20 cases, a sharp contrast to the mere seven between 1966 and 2016. Notable names included Paul Manafort (Republican), who received 7.5 years in prison for unregistered Ukrainian lobbying, and Samuel Patten (Republican), who pleaded guilty for failing to disclose his work with a Ukrainian political party. Bijan Rafiekian (Republican), Michael Flynn’s associate, was convicted for lobbying on behalf of Turkey, though his conviction was later vacated on appeal. In contrast, prominent Democratic figures like Gregory Craig escaped prosecution when an all-Democrat jury swiftly acquitted him.

These cases illustrate the selective application of FARA—a law ignored for decades until it became politically expedient to wield it against Trump’s allies.

Manafort: The Poster Child of Political Selectivity

The case of Paul Manafort, Trump’s former campaign chairman, is the most glaring indictment of this selective weaponization. In 2018, Manafort was prosecuted for failing to register under FARA for his lobbying work on behalf of Ukrainian interests—a charge born from Robert Mueller’s sprawling investigation into alleged Russian collusion. That the Mueller probe ultimately yielded no evidence of collusion was irrelevant; the damage was already done. Manafort became the sacrificial offering for a narrative that demanded blood.

Here lies the outrage: prior to Trump, FARA violations were routinely resolved administratively. Retroactive filings were the norm, not handcuffs and prison cells. Indeed, Manafort’s lawyers were actively working with the DOJ to resolve any filing discrepancies—until Mueller’s team appeared. Suddenly, the same grace afforded to countless others evaporated, replaced with the cold steel of aggressive prosecution. Manafort was sentenced to 7.5 years in prison, his life shattered as collateral damage in the Left’s desperate fishing expedition.

This selective enforcement becomes even more glaring when viewed in contrast to figures like Tony Podesta—whose Ukrainian lobbying work closely mirrored Manafort’s. While Manafort faced prosecution and prison, Podesta simply retroactively filed, as was customary, and the DOJ shrugged. Manafort was imprisoned; Podesta merely updated paperwork. The contrast is not merely striking but damning.

Justice or Theater?

Manafort’s ordeal reveals FARA’s true utility in the age of Trump: not as a safeguard of transparency but as leverage. Prosecutors wielded it like a rack, hoping to squeeze incriminating evidence from Manafort that might ensnare Trump himself. But despite the pressure, despite the draconian sentence, no such evidence materialized. Manafort’s prosecution became a grotesque spectacle—a reminder that when justice becomes political, fairness is the first casualty.

And what of the Democrats? Consider Gregory Craig, a former White House counsel under Barack Obama, who faced similar FARA-related charges. Unlike Manafort, Craig enjoyed the privilege of an all-Democrat jury and walked free after a swift acquittal. Samuel Patten, Elliott Broidy, and others within Trump’s orbit were not so lucky, their livelihoods sacrificed to the gods of political vengeance.

The Hypocrisy of Ignoring the Bidens

While Manafort languished, Hunter and James Biden operated with impunity. As former DOJ prosecutor Andrew McCarthy has observed, the selective enforcement of FARA undermines its stated purpose: “The law is meant to ensure transparency, not to serve as a bludgeon against political opponents.” Hunter Biden’s dealings with Burisma and Chinese firms met the same legal criteria as Manafort’s work, yet the DOJ chose to look the other way, exposing a glaring double standard in its application. Hunter’s dealings with Burisma, a Ukrainian energy firm, and BHR Partners, a Chinese-backed investment fund, practically screamed for FARA scrutiny. By any reasonable standard, these activities should have triggered registration requirements. Yet the DOJ remained conspicuously silent, shielding the Bidens from the legal entanglements so eagerly imposed on Trump’s allies.

Legal experts have pointed out the hypocrisy: if Paul Manafort’s Ukrainian ties constituted a crime, Hunter Biden’s ventures were open-and-shut FARA violations. The difference, of course, is not legal but political. Some surnames, it seems, are more equal than others.

A Pandora’s Box

The DOJ’s politicized enforcement of FARA has had unintended consequences. Republicans, long skeptical of the law’s ambiguity, now see it as an opportunity to turn the tables. Cases like Senator Robert Menendez’s 2024 conviction for acting as an unregistered agent of Egypt, or Linda Sun’s conviction for representing Chinese Communist Party interests, suggest the pendulum is swinging—but at what cost? FARA’s resurrection, once intended as a partisan tool, has begun to ensnare dissenting Democrats as well.

Even so, glaring omissions remain. Hunter Biden’s immunity from scrutiny remains the starkest example of DOJ inconsistency. The agency’s newfound enthusiasm for enforcement appears curiously targeted, like a spotlight that illuminates selectively while leaving politically favored actors in the shadows. This is not justice; it is theater.

The saga of FARA enforcement is a cautionary tale for any nation claiming to uphold equal justice under the law. It exposes how a law, when selectively applied, can morph into a tool of political vengeance—undermining public trust in institutions and corroding the very foundation of the republic. Justice weaponized is justice denied. Once a dormant statute born to combat Nazi influence, FARA has become a political cudgel in the hands of a system that is anything but blind. The persecution of Paul Manafort and the exoneration of figures like Tony Podesta and Hunter Biden reveal a chilling truth: the machinery of justice, when wielded selectively, ceases to be justice at all.

The harm done here is not merely to individuals like Manafort but to the very concept of justice itself. A republic cannot endure when the law becomes a weapon of partisan vengeance. If FARA remains a tool for political warfare rather than transparency, then we have not upheld the integrity of the republic—we have betrayed it.

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