In the wake of January 6, hundreds of American citizens, many either conservative, religious, or COVID-skeptics, found themselves targeted by financial technology (“fintech”) firms. These politically charged account restrictions have turned into a worrying, and underreported, trend where the victims have no recourse or insight into their exile from the U.S. financial system.
I’m sure that you can all remember examples that were at once said to be just “conspiracy theories.” But like most things during the Biden era, the examples are numerous and easy to verify. The Trump campaign, for instance, was deplatformed by Stripe shortly after the “Save America” rally. The payment processor had, up to that point, managed online donations to the campaign website. It later determined the campaign violated its terms of service, citing concerns about incitement of violence.
Shopify also removed Trump’s online stores around the same period. GoFundMe followed a similar path. It soon became clear that the campaign arm of a former president of the United States had been pushed into near financial isolation. And with that realization came another: if fintech companies could isolate Donald Trump, they could potentially do so to anyone. COVID dissenters were also in the crosshairs.
The issues were not just limited to the United States. In September of 2022, PayPal permanently limited a U.K. parents’ group (UsForThem) that opposed school closures during the pandemic. Toby Young, a Conservative life peer, also had multiple PayPal accounts closed. The company cited violations of its “Acceptable Use Policy.” Public pressure eventually led to the reinstatement of two of Young’s accounts, an outcome unlikely to have occurred without his public profile.
GoFundMe also drew scrutiny when it removed a fundraising campaign supporting Canadian truckers protesting COVID-19 mandates. More than $10 million had been raised before funds were frozen. Republican Whip Steve Scalise and House Oversight Ranking Member James Comer later launched investigations into how the platform managed reimbursements and account actions.
Of course, fintech companies are legally allowed to choose their customers and set terms of service. But in many of the most high-profile debanking cases, individuals and organizations received either vague explanations or no meaningful rationale at all.
Americans are often left with little insight into why these decisions are made. Occasionally, however, internal dynamics become known. In a Wall Street Journal interview, PayPal CEO Dan Schulman acknowledged that the Southern Poverty Law Center had provided input that influenced account enforcement decisions. At one point, PayPal was reportedly removing between 10 and 100 accounts per month. The SPLC itself has faced legal scrutiny, including federal allegations involving fraud and money laundering.
What is increasingly clear is that fintech companies have, at times, acted against politically controversial customers ranging from national political campaigns to small nonprofit organizations. And while the scope of these actions is still being debated, a parallel development is appearing, with growing pressure for transparency and accountability.
In March, Federal Trade Commission Chairman Andrew Ferguson sent warning letters to PayPal, Stripe, and major credit card companies over reports that customers had been denied financial services due to political or religious views. The FTC warned that companies could face investigation and enforcement if account restrictions conflict with their stated policies.
For years, customers were often left guessing about why their financial relationships suddenly disappeared. Now, increased regulatory scrutiny and public attention may begin to force more of these decisions to be made public. But long before these controversies became national headlines, another industry had already experienced similar patterns of financial exclusion: the firearms sector.
Gun manufacturers, dealers, and related businesses have faced years of uneven access to financial services, even while running entirely within the bounds of federal law. Payment processors such as PayPal explicitly prohibit transactions involving firearms, ammunition, and certain firearm components. This means that a federally licensed dealer can conduct a legal sale, follow all background check requirements, and still be barred from using major payment platforms to process the transaction.
The banking sector has shown similar patterns. Wells Fargo, once a major financial partner to the firearms industry, helped ease hundreds of millions of dollars in financing for gun manufacturers and ammunition companies after the Sandy Hook shooting. It also served as the National Rifle Association’s primary bank for years. But over time, that relationship deteriorated, with the bank eventually signaling it was winding down its ties to the organization.
More recently, individual gun dealers have reported account closures without clear explanations. In one case, Florida firearms retailer Wex Gunworks had both personal and business accounts closed by Wells Fargo after decades of banking with the institution. The bank cited internal risk assessments but did not publicly specify the reason for termination. The lack of clarity prompted concern from state attorneys general, who later requested explanations from the bank about its debanking practices.
Federal regulators have since acknowledged that such concerns are not isolated. A review by the Office of the Comptroller of the Currency found that major U.S. banks maintained policies that restricted or discouraged relationships with certain lawful industries, including firearms, energy, and digital assets. In some cases, banks explicitly cited reputational or political risk as justification for limiting services. This regulatory acknowledgment is significant because it confirms what many in the firearms industry have long argued: that lawful businesses can be excluded from financial services not because of illegality or fraud, but because of perceived political sensitivity. The issue is not limited to guns, nor is it limited to any single political moment. It reflects a broader shift in how financial infrastructure is governed. When access to banking and payment systems becomes contingent on reputational or ideological considerations, the consequences extend far beyond any one industry.
The firearms sector experienced this dynamic early. What began as pressure on gun manufacturers and advocacy groups has, in recent years, expanded into broader debates about political neutrality in financial services. The same infrastructure that once constrained gun businesses is now at the center of disputes involving political campaigns, protest movements, and ideological organizations. This raises a fundamental question: should access to the financial system depend on political acceptability?
Regulators are beginning to respond. The Federal Trade Commission and other agencies have signaled increased scrutiny of financial institutions that restrict services based on political or religious views. At the same time, new regulatory guidance has looked to limit the use of vague “reputation risk” standards in supervisory decisions.
Whether these efforts will meaningfully change industry behavior remains to be seen. But what is already clear is that the debate over financial access is no longer theoretical. It is about who gets to take part in the modern economy, and on what terms.Unfortunately, long before that debate reached the national stage, the firearms industry was already living its consequences.
Editor’s Note: The radical Left will stop at nothing to enact their radical gun control agenda and strip us of our Second Amendment rights.
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