How Greg and Anna Brockman Became MAGA Megadonors
The OpenAI co-founder and his wife had avoided the limelight until deciding to seize a presence for themselves in national politics.
In November, Greg Brockman, OpenAI’s president and co-founder, and his wife, Anna, enjoyed a glitzy night out in Washington: a White House state dinner for Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman.
The Brockmans were among a broad contingent of tech elite in attendance at the fete, hosted by President Donald Trump. Soon after the event, the Brockmans posted pictures of themselves posing with Elon Musk, Nvidia’s Jensen Huang and his wife, Lori, and David Sacks, the venture capitalist who’s become Trump’s AI and crypto czar.
It wasn’t the only time in the last few months that the Silicon Valley couple has made splashy appearances in Trump’s orbit. In the fall, they attended two other White House suppers and went to Trump’s revamped Kennedy Center Honors, dining later that evening with one of the honorees, actor Sylvester Stallone. But nothing has more loudly announced their arrival as Trump-friendly figures than their decision to become megadonors: giving $50 million to Leading the Future, a bipartisan super PAC focused on combating state-level AI regulation, and $25 million to MAGA Inc., a Trump super PAC.
On one level, the donations reflect a widely recognized political shift in Silicon Valley, where tech companies and their leaders are clamoring to get close to Trump, who has made it apparent he can be swayed by their praise and attention.
Nonetheless, the Brockmans’ political giving caught many people who know Greg off guard. The executive had never seemed particularly concerned with politics, according to four people who’ve worked with him. If Brockman’s political stance had to be defined, he’d “probably come down a little bit more on the libertarian side,” mainly because of his interest in minimal government regulation, said one person who knows Brockman well.
Still, some within Brockman’s circle say such a public-facing position is something that would appeal to his desire for broader recognition. “When I see him doing all these political things, I imagine it feels good to him to be hobnobbing with heads of state and going to fancy parties and getting photographed with Jensen,” said a person who has worked closely with him.
True enough, the spotlight has never fallen on Brockman as it has recently. In the 11 years since OpenAI’s start, he has worked largely in the shadow of CEO Sam Altman—even as Altman turned himself into a household name and nearly all of the other 11 co-founders of OpenAI departed. Praised as a workhorse and as OpenAI’s top engineer, Brockman has nonetheless struggled to define his role because of clashes with other staffers over his abrasive working style. Most recently, he’s helped lead OpenAI’s infrastructure buildout, which he has described as the company’s biggest challenge.
One constant in Brockman’s life has been his wife, Anna, whom he married six years ago. Even though she has never had a formal role at OpenAI, she is a familiar figure to OpenAI staff, in part because of her tendency to turn up unexpectedly at internal meetings and events. Throughout that time, she has avoided the kind of visibility she and her husband are poised to receive as outsize political donors, working hard to keep the personal details of her life private.
For Greg, his recent major donations seem to be an anomaly. Until 2025, he had made only three political donations in his entire life: $2,700 in 2018 to Rep. Patrick McHenry, a North Carolina Republican—and $5,400 to support Hillary Clinton’s 2016 presidential campaign. Meanwhile, no public records exist of Anna ever having given any money before, though it is possible she donated under her maiden name (which couldn’t be learned thanks to her efforts to safeguard her privacy).
While the Brockmans are emerging as the latest Silicon Valley power couple, a longstanding corporate drama involving OpenAI has pushed Greg further into the limelight just in the last couple of weeks: the high-profile lawsuit between Musk and OpenAI over the startup’s ownership structure.
The litigation has unearthed some of Brockman’s personal diary entries, which Musk seems intent on using as ammunition against OpenAI. Already, he has shared excerpts of them on X. Last week, the two men sparred over the context and meaning behind the text.
Musk’s co-opting of Brockman’s diary adds a new dimension to their relationship—and makes that photo session at the Saudi state dinner even more curious in retrospect. When they were posing together for the photo in November, Brockman and Musk were on relatively good terms, according to the person who knows Brockman well.
While Brockman’s status as a political megadonor is new, OpenAI has been placing him in front of government officials since 2016, when he spoke on behalf of the company during the first ever congressional hearing on AI.
During his Senate testimony, a fresh-faced, then-29-year-old Brockman offered an enthusiastic assessment of the then-nascent AI industry within the U.S., speaking about competition from countries like China and South Korea and arguing for increased government funding and AI competitions to better measure the field’s progress.
A year later, he testified again, telling the House of Representatives about recent AI advancements in image recognition and translation as well as the quest for humanlike AI—artificial general intelligence, OpenAI’s primary goal.
The person who knows Brockman well says his personal interest in politics has grown through a relationship with Trump’s secretary of the interior, Doug Burgum. Burgum is a former governor of North Dakota, Brockman’s home state. The two initially met at a tech event when Burgum came to visit Silicon Valley while he was governor, according to a person close to Brockman: The pair bonded over AI and their shared origins, and Burgum gave Brockman a North Dakota pin. (Before politics, Burgum had a lengthy career in tech that included years at Microsoft and serving as an Atlassian board member.)
In the run-up to the 2024 presidential election, Burgum set up a meeting between Trump, Brockman and OpenAI Chief Operating Officer Brad Lightcap in Las Vegas to give Trump a briefing on the current state of AI, according to the person who knows Brockman well. (Altman was originally supposed to attend but fell ill at the last minute and was replaced by Lightcap.) The OpenAI executives gave Trump a ChatGPT demo and also discussed with him its infrastructure needs and how AI technology was becoming a matter of national security, the person said.
Around the same time, OpenAI staffers had also reached out to the Biden campaign and ended up giving a similar AI-focused briefing to senior campaign staff, though Brockman didn’t attend that meeting, according to the person who knows him well.
When Trump was elected in November, Brockman congratulated Trump on X, praising the president’s “tech forwardness.”
Brockman’s newfound interest in politics may also reflect the influence of Chris Lehane, a Clinton White House veteran who joined OpenAI in 2024 as its president of global policy.
Two former OpenAI insiders see the fingerprints of Lehane, who previously helped a pro-crypto super PAC stack Congress with dozens of crypto-friendly candidates, on the Brockmans’ evolution as players in Washington. “This has Chris written all over it,” said a former OpenAI employee. Separately, the person who knows Brockman well said Lehane provides informal advice to staffers at Leading the Future, the PAC that received $50 million from the Brockmans.
(Neither Lehane nor Brockman would comment on the exact nature of their relationship. And in a statement, an OpenAI spokesperson said the Brockmans are making the donations in a personal capacity.)
It’s not uncommon, however, for a tech company to coordinate with its executives on their political donations as part of the business’s broader lobbying strategy, said Nu Wexler, a former policy communications executive at Google and Meta Platforms, who now runs Four Corners Public Affairs, a Washington-based communications firm. When a company wants to enlist one of its executives to woo a politician, it will consider that executive’s past party affiliations—and whether they have the personal wealth to make an impact.
As a vessel for courting Trump, Brockman, having only given a handful of tiny bipartisan donations, might have made more sense than Altman, who has a lengthy and well-publicized history of donating to Democrats. And as an OpenAI co-founder and former Stripe executive, Brockman is certainly rich enough to afford the donations.
Opportunistic political giving—rather than donating because of ideology—has become much more common during the second Trump administration, argued Wexler. “The transactional nature of the Trump administration has convinced a lot of tech executives that political giving is worthwhile,” he said.
Broadly, OpenAI has been ramping up its political efforts. It mounted a concerted opposition to California’s SB 1047 AI safety bill, which Gov. Gavin Newsom later vetoed, while supporting other AI-focused legislation supporting child safety and protection against deepfakes. In all, OpenAI’s lobbying expenditures grew sevenfold from $260,000 in 2023 to $2.1 million last year, part of a greater industrywide effort to sway America’s politicians. Anthropic, for instance, spent $2.3 million during the same period, a nearly identical increase.
Brockman’s ambitions have already propelled him far. Born in Thompson, N.D. (population roughly 1,100), he showed an early aptitude for math and science that helped earn him a place at Harvard University. He initially planned to spend his time in Cambridge studying math and computer science, but he quickly dropped out after deciding his classmates couldn’t challenge him and transferred to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He dropped out of MIT, too, after lining up a job as an early Stripe employee.
Brockman spent five years at Stripe, eventually becoming chief technology officer before leaving to start OpenAI in 2015.
Around 2018, he started dating Anna. Little is known about her past before she met Greg. Today, she serves on the board of the Schwarzman Animal Medical Center, a nonprofit in New York, alongside current OpenAI board member Nicole Seligman, a former Sony Entertainment president.
Anna has been diagnosed with autism, a condition that has given her “some true superpowers,” Greg wrote in an X post last year, as well as a deep connection with animals. Her affinity with the natural world seems to extend further, and one of Anna’s chief interests in seeing OpenAI create humanlike AI is for the technology to benefit people and animals alike, said the person close to Brockman.
In a Federal Election Commission filing tied to her MAGA Inc. donation, she listed her profession simply as “retired.”
Anna and Greg married in 2019 in a civil ceremony at OpenAI’s San Francisco office. Fellow co-founder Ilya Sutskever officiated the ceremony, and for a ringbearer, they relied on a robotic hand.
In recent years, she has become a mainstay at the office, attending meetings and company events with and at least one without him despite the fact that the company doesn’t employ her, said a person with knowledge of OpenAI. In summer 2022, for example, she was the only nonemployee present at a technical offsite near Yosemite National Park for OpenAI leaders around the launch of GPT-4, according to a former OpenAI employee who saw her there.
Tumult has marked the last couple of years for Brockman at OpenAI. When OpenAI’s board fired Altman in November 2023, Brockman quit in protest before returning with Altman five days later. The next summer, Brockman took a sabbatical from the company following complaints about his corrosive working style from researchers and engineers, who said he would make changes to projects without consulting others and redo other people’s work out of a belief that his approach was better.
Brockman has also been known to clash with other executives at OpenAI—including Mira Murati, the company’s former chief technology officer—over who would get credit for various products like the GPT-3 and GPT-4 application programming interfaces, according to a person with knowledge of the disagreements.
Brockman eventually returned from his sabbatical in November 2024 in the wake of Murati’s high-profile departure to begin a rival AI startup, Thinking Machines Lab.
When he came back from the break, some OpenAI executives wondered if he would still have a place at the company. Altman had since effectively taken over the company’s technical teams, with whom Brockman had historically spent the majority of his time, jumping between projects like rewriting code for model training and working on reasoning models. Altman had said he wanted to be closer to AI development. That’s when Brockman pivoted to focus on OpenAI’s infrastructure and managing the company’s massive clusters of Nvidia chips, along with the hundreds of staffers working on them.
As if he’s not busy enough, Brockman now has to contend with an escalating courtroom battle with the world’s richest man.
That contretemps is related to the 2024 lawsuit Musk filed against OpenAI, Altman and Brockman. The suit claims they deceived and defrauded him by shifting away from OpenAI’s original mission to be a nonprofit.
Musk, one of OpenAI’s co-founders, gave the company around $40 million to get it off the ground, the majority of its seed capital, he claimed in a recent court filing. He now claims he was stiffed out of up to $134 billion when it created a for-profit subsidiary in 2019.
A trial is set to begin this spring, and dozens of new documents were made public this month, a trove that included Brockman’s diary entries. In those pages, Brockman outlined his support for creating a for-profit arm of OpenAI and mulled the fortune he could make : “We truly have the chance to make this happen. Financially what will take me to $1B?” he wrote in one entry.
At the same time, he lamented that the moves he and other executives were discussing—turning OpenAI into a for-profit and booting out Musk—were “morally bankrupt.” “It’d be wrong to steal the nonprofit from him,” Brockman wrote in the same entry.
Musk seized upon these diary entries, declaring in an X post on January 16 that they revealed a “conspiracy” among OpenAI’s leaders “to commit fraud and steal the charity.” Brockman hit back by describing Musk’s excerpts from Brockman’s diary as “cherry-picking.” OpenAI published a blog post that included additional snippets of a conversation between Musk, Brockman and Sutskever that showed Musk was also involved in discussion around creating a for-profit OpenAI entity. Musk wanted to gain control of OpenAI, the blog post claimed, and expressed a desire to “accumulate $80B for a self-sustaining city on Mars.”
What Brockman’s diary does show explicitly is that he has been thinking about his potential legacy for a long time. In fact, he coined a term for himself and the group of people around him at work on OpenAI and the technology that overturned Silicon Valley: As Brockman put it, they are the “kings of AI.”