Megyn’s Moral Vertigo

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In the great demolition derby of American political commentary, Megyn Kelly is once again at full throttle, smashing through any remaining pretense of principle. Her recent comments on Jeff Bezos and Donald Trump offer a master class in cognitive dissonance, moral confusion, and the art of speaking from both sides of one's mouth while somehow managing to say nothing of value.

Kelly, with all the gravitas of a weathervane in a hurricane, attempts to critique Bezos for “bending the knee” to Trump while simultaneously endorsing this very genuflection as a necessary evil in the corridors of power. One is reminded of Orwell's doublethink, where the party member must forget that he ever thought differently. Kelly, it seems, has mastered this art, holding two contradictory thoughts in her mind with such ease that one wonders if there's any room left for actual reasoning.

Her assertion that Trump respects those who approach him with fawning adulation is less an insight and more a damning indictment of both Trump's character and Kelly's own moral compass. That she can utter this observation without a hint of revulsion speaks volumes about the degradation of our political discourse. We have moved from expecting statesmanship to accepting sycophancy as the price of doing business. One might have expected Kelly, of all people, to understand the dangers of Trump's approach to power. After all, it was she who faced his wrath during the 2016 Republican primary debates when she dared to question him about his treatment of women. Trump's subsequent attacks on her were vicious, personal, and sustained. Yet here she is, years later, not just accepting but seemingly endorsing the very behavior that once targeted her. It seems the lesson Kelly learned from her own victimization was not to stand against bullies, but to curry favor with them.

Kelly's ideological flexibility would be impressive if it weren't so pathetic. Once a target of Trump's contempt, she now preaches the gospel of political submission with the zeal of a convert. The only lesson she seems to have learned is that cowardice pays better than courage. It's a breathtaking display of Stockholm syndrome, a capitulation so complete that one wonders if Kelly remembers her own history, or if she's simply chosen to rewrite it. In her new role as apologist for autocracy, she seems to have confused submission for strength, mistaking her cage for a throne.

But it's Kelly's faux concern for “sincerity” that truly plumbs the depths of hypocrisy. She mocks Bezos's newfound appreciation for individual liberties while blithely accepting the necessity of insincere flattery in political dealings. Kelly's problem with Bezos isn't that he's suddenly talking about freedom—it's that he's late to the party she never bothered to attend. Her performative skepticism of Bezos' sincerity serves only to highlight her own willingness to abandon authenticity for expediency. One wonders if Kelly has ever encountered a principle she wasn't willing to sacrifice on the altar of realpolitik.

What Kelly offers is not analysis but a capitulation dressed up as insight. She presents the erosion of press freedom and the normalization of autocratic behavior not as dangers to be resisted, but as facts of life to be navigated by the savvy operator. In doing so, she becomes not just a commentator on the decay of democratic norms, but an active participant in their dissolution.

Kelly isn't just confused—she's complicit. This is how authoritarianism becomes palatable: when those tasked with holding power to account become its publicists. Kelly's stance is not just muddled; it's corrosive, eating away at the very foundations of the democratic values she claims to cherish.

The tragedy here is not just Kelly's individual failure of nerve and intellect. It's the broader phenomenon she represents: the transformation of political commentary into a form of entertainment where moral consistency and principled stands are sacrificed for the sake of maintaining relevance in a landscape dominated by soundbites and manufactured outrage.

In a time when the defense of democratic institutions requires clarity, courage, and conviction, Kelly offers us equivocation, cowardice, and cynicism. She is, in short, everything that is wrong with contemporary political commentary, wrapped up in a package of false equivalencies and moral relativism.

Kelly's intellectual contortions remind us of the urgent need for something she has long abandoned: a press willing to call out creeping authoritarianism without hedging, without sycophancy, and without fear of losing a seat at the table. Because if we trade truth for access, we will soon find that there is no table left at which to sit.

Kelly's descent from Fox News firebrand to NBC washout to podcast apologist is the trajectory of a pundit who mistook controversy for credibility—and found herself stranded when the grift moved on without her. It's not just a personal career trajectory—it's a microcosm of journalism's decline, a cautionary tale of principles traded for relevance until neither remains. She may be content to bend the knee, but the rest of us must stand tall, even if it means standing alone. For in the face of such moral bankruptcy, we must redouble our efforts to defend the values of a free press, honest discourse, and the courage to call out autocracy in all its forms.

History will not forgive those who saw the danger and chose, instead, to kneel. And when the autocrats she enables no longer need her, Kelly will discover that obsequiousness is no shield against irrelevance.