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2 hours ago8 min read

Sanders’ AI Bill Would Take Half of Major Firms’ Value for a Public Wealth Fund

Senator Bernie Sanders introduced the American AI Sovereign Wealth Fund Act, proposing a one-time 50% stock tax on AI companies earning over $200 million annually to create a $7 trillion fund that would pay Americans direct dividends and give the public governance control over the industry's biggest players.

The Tax That Isn’t a Tax

It’s not a tax.

At least, not the kind you’re thinking of.

Bernie Sanders doesn’t want your money. He doesn’t even want the companies’ cash. He wants their shares. Half of them. And he’s not asking.

The American AI Sovereign Wealth Fund Act, introduced June 18, 2026, doesn’t levy a dollar tax. It levies a structural tax: a one-time, mandatory issuance of new equity equal to 50% of a company’s outstanding shares. If you own 100 shares of a company with $200 million in AI revenue, the company must now mint 100 new shares and hand them over to the federal government. Your 100 shares? Now worth half as much. The company’s valuation? Still the same. But half of it belongs to the public now.

It’s brilliant. And terrifying.

No one’s paying a bill. No one’s writing a check. The government isn’t seizing assets. It’s just… redefining ownership. And in doing so, it’s turning every AI company with more than $200 million in annual AI-related revenue into a public-private hybrid. A company where the shareholders aren’t just investors—they’re citizens.

And that’s the point.

This isn’t about revenue. It’s about power.


How It Actually Works (And Why It’s So Disruptive)

Let’s be clear: this isn’t a capital gains tax. It’s a corporate reorganization.

The bill targets firms with over $200 million in annual gross receipts from AI data centers, computing infrastructure, AI services, or advanced robotics. That’s not just OpenAI or Anthropic. It’s NVIDIA. It’s xAI. It’s Microsoft’s Azure AI division. It’s Amazon Web Services’ generative AI stack. Even Meta’s Llama operations likely qualify.

Here’s how the mechanism works: a company can’t just hand over existing shares. That would be a sale. Instead, the law forces the company to issue new shares. So if a firm has 1 billion shares outstanding, it must create another 1 billion and give them to the Department of the Treasury. The total shares double. The government’s stake is locked at 50%. Existing shareholders aren’t diluted—they’re erased by volume.

The kicker? The company can’t use its bylaws to block this. No shareholder vote. No board approval. The law overrides corporate governance. It’s a federal override of private property rights under the guise of economic justice.

The shares go into the American AI Sovereign Wealth Fund, managed by a seven-member Independent Commission for Democratic AI. Nominees? Presidential appointment, Senate confirmation. The commission doesn’t just hold the shares. It exercises all voting rights. That means it votes on board seats, executive compensation, product direction, even mergers.

And here’s the real bomb: the commission’s representatives on company boards are legally required to advance the fund’s goals—"even where doing so conflicts with the financial interests of the company or its other equity holders." They’re immune from fiduciary duty lawsuits. They can vote to shut down a profitable product line if it’s deemed unsafe. They can block a merger if it concentrates power. They can demand layoffs if they think AI is displacing workers too fast.

This isn’t passive ownership. It’s active sabotage of shareholder primacy.


The Public Stake Argument: Who Built AI, Really?

Sanders doesn’t just want half the stock. He wants half the credit.

"The biggest risk taker of all has been the taxpayer," writes James Broughel in Forbes, echoing Sanders’ core argument. And he’s not wrong.

The perceptron? Funded by the Office of Naval Research. The backpropagation algorithm? Sustained by decades of NSF grants. The massive datasets that trained GPT-4? Mostly scraped from public web archives, academic papers, and user-generated content—none of it licensed, none of it compensated. The cloud infrastructure that runs these models? Built on DARPA-funded research into distributed computing. The open-source libraries? Developed by grad students paid by university grants.

The AI giants didn’t build this from scratch. They assembled it. Like a kid with a Legos box full of parts his dad bought. Then they sold the finished castle for $2 trillion.

Sanders’ position is simple: if the public paid for the bricks, the public deserves to own the house.

It’s a compelling moral claim. One that’s hard to refute.

But here’s the problem: the public didn’t just fund the research. The public created the data. Every Google search. Every Reddit thread. Every YouTube video watched. Every tweet. Every photo uploaded. Every blog post. That’s the real fuel.

And we gave it away for free.

So yes—the public built AI. But we didn’t do it with intent. We did it with convenience. And now, we’re being asked to claim ownership of something we didn’t even know we were helping to create.

It’s a paradox.


Industry Reaction: Altman, Musk, and the Quiet Panic

OpenAI’s Sam Altman met with Sanders. Sources say he was polite. But far apart.

"I think people like Sam Altman and Trump… are saying: ‘OK, look, we’re making zillions of dollars, so we’re going to be nice guys and maybe we’ll buy off the public. We will give 5 percent of our profits back into the government,’” Sanders said in the meeting. "That’s not what we’re talking about. What we’re talking about are two very different things."

Altman didn’t say it, but you can hear it: You’re not asking for a dividend. You’re asking for a coup.

Then there’s Elon Musk.

xAI, merged with X, merged with SpaceX. The bill forces a split. AI from non-AI. That means Musk would have to separate his AI division from his rocket company. He’s already rumored to be merging SpaceX and Tesla. Now he’s being told: no. You can’t have both. The government won’t let you.

David Sacks, Trump’s former AI czar, called the bill "straight up confiscation of property." He’s right. It’s not confiscation in the legal sense—it’s a forced transfer of control. But functionally? It’s the same.

The panic isn’t loud. It’s in the boardrooms. In the whispered conversations between VCs and founders. The message is clear: if this passes, no AI startup will ever be able to raise capital again. Why invest in a company where half the voting rights are held by a government commission that can override your CEO?


The Bipartisan Twist: Trump’s 10% vs. Sanders’ 50%

Here’s the thing nobody’s talking about: Trump agrees.

Not with Sanders. But with the premise.

The Trump administration has floated a 10% passive equity stake in AI firms—tied to federal research funding. No board seats. No governance. Just a financial interest. A dividend. A back-of-the-envelope royalty.

It’s a conservative version of the same idea.

Both sides agree: AI was built on public infrastructure. The public deserves a return.

The difference? Sanders wants control. Trump wants compensation.

Sanders wants to sit at the table. Trump wants to collect the check.

And that’s the fault line in American politics right now: not whether the public should own AI, but whether it should run it.


The Critics: Innovation, Competition, and the Clayton Act

The American Action Forum doesn’t mince words: "Injecting the federal government into the boardroom promises to create a perverse set of incentives."

They’re right.

If a government commissioner sits on the board of OpenAI, Anthropic, and Cohere, and is mandated to promote "fair competition," what happens when one company wants to acquire another? The commissioner has to vote against it—because it reduces competition. But if that acquisition would save jobs, or accelerate safety research? The commissioner’s mandate says: no.

It’s a nightmare for innovation.

And then there’s Section 8 of the Clayton Act.

It prohibits a single person from serving on the board of two competing firms. Why? To prevent collusion.

Now imagine one government agent on the board of every major AI company. All of them mandated to vote the same way: on safety, on employment, on data ethics.

That’s not collusion.

That’s coordinated governance.

The bill says the commission can’t coordinate competitive conduct. But if every commissioner’s mandate is identical, how is that different?

The law doesn’t just risk regulatory capture.

It institutionalizes it.


The Outlook: This Won’t Pass. But It Shouldn’t Have To.

Let’s be honest: this bill has zero chance of passing. The House is Republican. The Senate is split. Trump won’t sign it.

But that’s not the point.

Sanders isn’t trying to pass a law.

He’s trying to change the conversation.

He’s saying: "You can’t keep pretending AI is just another tech boom. This isn’t the internet. This isn’t the smartphone. This is the next economic foundation of society. And if you let a handful of billionaires own it, you’re not just letting them get rich—you’re letting them control the future."

And he’s right.

We don’t need a 50% tax.

But we do need a reckoning.

The public didn’t just fund AI.

We are AI.

Every search. Every click. Every voice command. Every photo tagged. Every word typed.

We built it.

And now we’re being asked to pay for it.

Maybe the answer isn’t half the shares.

Maybe it’s a 1% dividend.

Maybe it’s a public trust.

Maybe it’s just… recognition.

But we can’t keep pretending this was someone else’s invention.

It was ours.

And we’re just now waking up to that.


Final Note: The Real Victory

The real victory isn’t in the bill.

It’s in the fact that we’re finally talking about it.

For the first time, the question isn’t: "How do we regulate AI?"

It’s: "Who owns it?"

And that’s a conversation we’ve been avoiding for too long.

Bernie Sanders didn’t solve it.

But he made sure we couldn’t ignore it.

And maybe… that’s enough.

Sources: Ars Technica, Forbes, American Action Forum.

The Tax That Isn’t a Tax

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