The conservative community in the United States has long championed the principles of government transparency, the fight against corruption, and equality before the law. When Joe Biden issued mass pardons toward the end of his presidency—often without thorough personal review—right-leaning media and commentators rightly expressed sharp criticism, seeing in these actions an undermining of basic fairness. Yet similar questions raised by Donald Trump’s pardon practices frequently encounter a more restrained response in the same circles. This selectivity poses a serious problem, eroding the consistency of conservative values.
The presidential pardon power is one of the most absolute prerogatives in the American constitutional system: it is not subject to judicial review and requires no approval from other branches of government. Precisely for this reason, its exercise should be as transparent and justified as possible. In practice under Trump, however, a significant portion of pardon and commutation decisions bypassed the standard procedures of the Department of Justice, where detailed vetting takes place. Instead, informal channels predominated—personal connections, lobbying efforts, and direct appeals to the president’s inner circle.
Several specific cases illustrate this pattern. Particular attention was drawn to the pardon of former Honduran president Juan Orlando Hernández, who had been sentenced in the United States to 45 years in prison for facilitating large-scale drug trafficking. The decision came despite the Trump administration’s tough anti-drug rhetoric and raised questions due to active lobbying.
Similar concerns arose over the pardon of Changpeng Zhao, founder of the cryptocurrency exchange Binance. President Trump publicly stated that he was not personally acquainted with the recipient, prompting comparisons to the criticism leveled at Biden for an allegedly perfunctory approach to signing clemency acts. Potential conflicts of interest were also noted in connection with the Trump family’s business activities in cryptocurrency.
A substantial share of pardons flowed through networks tied to influential Jewish organizations such as the Aleph Institute, as well as figures like Jared Kushner and Alan Dershowitz. Among these cases were the pardons of Charles Kushner (the president’s son-in-law’s father), Philip Esformes (perpetrator of a major Medicare fraud scheme), Sholom Weiss, Eliyahu Weinstein, and Sholom Rubashkin. All of these decisions circumvented standard vetting procedures.
In 2025–2026, the list grew with new names: reality-TV stars Todd and Julie Chrisley (convicted of bank fraud), former Puerto Rico governor Wanda Vázquez Garced (corruption), several anti-abortion activists, and some participants in the January 6, 2021, Capitol events—including those who used violence. The latter drew unease even from some congressional Republicans.
The result is a system in which pardons more often go to individuals with financial resources, political connections, or strategic utility, while ordinary citizens convicted of non-violent offenses receive little attention.
For the conservative movement, this practice is especially dangerous: for decades it has criticized Democrats for creating “privileges for their own.” Ignoring analogous tendencies in a Republican administration undermines the moral legitimacy of conservative principles. True commitment to those values demands equal rigor toward representatives of both parties. Without internal criticism and public oversight, presidential clemency risks becoming an instrument of personal loyalty rather than a means of restoring justice.
Conservative media and analysts should apply to Trump the same standards they applied to Biden. Only consistency will preserve the movement’s credibility in the eyes of the public. Silence in this case amounts to complicity in the erosion of principles.
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