In the old days, corruption had standards. It was shy. It wore dark glasses. It happened in poorly lit car parks with brown envelopes that smelled faintly of desperation and cheap aftershave. Today, corruption has gone digital, high-definition, and fully compliant with accounting standards.
Take Jeff Bezos. The man reportedly paid $45 million for a documentary on Melania Trump, President Trump’s wife. Forty-five million dollars. For a documentary. Not Lawrence of Arabia. Not The Godfather. A documentary that has since been politely described by critics as “not worthy”. Which is film-language for “we watched it so you don’t have to.”
But no matter. The money has left the building, the cheque cleared, and art—if we stretch the word like elastic—has been served.
Then we have CBS, which somehow managed to settle a lawsuit with Donald Trump for $25 million. This has left legal analysts staring at the U.S. Constitution like it suddenly started speaking Yoruba. Freedom of speech? Press protections? First Amendment? All very powerful documents; until the invoice arrives.
Apparently, CBS looked at the Constitution, looked at Trump, and said:
“Let us not test this thing.”
Encouraged by this success, Trump is now suing everyone. The BBC, the IRS, and presumably—by next week—his own shadow. Litigation has become a subscription service. New month, new lawsuit. Cancel anytime.
Yet, here is the twist worthy of Netflix: Trump is comfortably seated behind a U.S. Supreme Court that shields him from lawsuits like a presidential bulletproof vest. So, while he sues everyone else, he himself remains legally untouchable. It is the judicial equivalent of saying, “You can’t touch me, but I can touch you.”
This, ladies and gentlemen, is pay to play in broad daylight. No brown envelopes. No dingy car parks. No awkward handshakes. Everything is done via wire transfer, legal settlements, and “creative projects.”
Which brings us neatly to Eddie Murphy’s classic political satire, The Distinguished Gentleman. There is a scene where a businessman explains his version of pay to play: he hires the colour-blind wife of a congressman to decorate his office. The décor is terrible. The point is excellent.
Back then, we laughed. We said, “Ah, Hollywood exaggeration.”
Today, life has picked up the script, crossed out “comedy,” and written “documentary.”
We are now living in Trump world where influence is laundered through documentaries, lawsuits are settled as political donations, and corruption has been rebranded as premium content.
This is not bribery.
This is strategic collaboration.
This is not pay to play.
This is pay, play, stream, and sue.
Eddie Murphy called it years ago.
We just didn’t realise we’d be watching the sequel in real time.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 