When Jeff Bezos bought The Washington Post almost 12 years ago, he went out of his way to assuage fears that he would turn the paper into his personal mouthpiece. “The values of The Post do not need changing,” he wrote at the time. “The paper’s duty will remain to its readers and not to the private interests of its owners.” For much of his tenure, Bezos kept that promise. On Wednesday, he betrayed it.
In a statement posted on X, Bezos announced an overhaul of the Post’s opinion section, expressly limiting the ideology of the department and its writers: “We are going to be writing every day in support and defense of two pillars: personal liberties and free markets. We’ll cover other topics too of course, but viewpoints opposing those pillars will be left to be published by others.” In response, the Post’s opinion editor, David Shipley, resigned.
This is the second time in the past six months that Bezos has meddled in the editorial processes of the paper—and specifically its opinion page. In October, Bezos intervened to shut down the Post’s presidential-endorsement process, suggesting that the ritual was meaningless and would only create the perception of bias. Many criticized his decision as a capitulation to Donald Trump, though Bezos denied those claims. Several editorial-board members resigned in protest, and more than 250,000 people canceled their subscription to the paper in the immediate aftermath. Some interpreted this week’s announcement similarly, saying that the Amazon founder is bending the knee to the current administration; the Post’s former editor in chief, Marty Baron, told The Daily Beast that “there is no doubt in my mind that he is doing this out of fear of the consequences for his other business interests.” Bezos did not immediately respond to a request for comment.
Whatever Bezos’s personal reasons are, equally important is the fact that he is emboldened to interfere so brazenly. And he’s not alone. A broader change has been under way among the tech and political elite over the past year or so. Whether it’s Bezos remaking a major national paper in his image or Elon Musk tearing out the guts of the federal government with DOGE, bosses of all stripes are publicly and unapologetically disposing of societal norms and seizing control of institutions to orient the world around themselves. Welcome to the Great Emboldening, where ideas and actions that might have been unthinkable, objectionable, or reputationally risky in the past are now on the table.
This dynamic has echoes of the first Trump administration. Trump’s political rise offered a salient lesson that shamelessness can be a superpower in a political era when attention is often the most precious resource. Trump demonstrated that distorting the truth and generating outrage results in a lot of attentional value: When caught in a lie, he doubled down, denied, and went on the offensive. As a result, he made the job of demanding accountability much harder. Scandals that might otherwise have been ruinous—the Access Hollywood tape, for example—were spun as baseless attacks from enemies. Trump commandeered the phrase fake news from the media and then turned it against journalists when they reported on his lies. These tactics were successful enough that they spawned a generation of copycats: Unscrupulous politicians and business leaders in places such as Silicon Valley now had a playbook to use against their critics and, following Trump’s election, a movement to back it. Wittingly or not, nobody embodied this behavior better than Musk, who has spent the past decade operating with a healthy contempt for institutions, any semblance of decorum, and the law.
Trump’s first term was chaotic and run like a reality-television show; as a policy maker, he was largely ineffectual, instead governing via late-night tweets, outlandish press conferences, and a revolving door of hirings, fallings-out, and firings. But it wasn’t until the 2020 election and the events leading up to January 6 that Trump truly attempted to subvert American democracy to retain power. Although he was briefly exiled from major social-media channels, Trump got away with it: The narrative around January 6 was warped by Republican lawmakers and Trump supporters, and he continued to lead the Republican Party. This, along with the success of Trump’s 2024 campaign—which was rooted in the promise of exercising extreme executive authority—was a signal to powerful individuals, including many technology executives and investors, that they could act however they pleased.
Trump winning the popular vote in November only amplified this dynamic. CEOs including Mark Zuckerberg pledged to roll back past content-moderation reforms and corporate-inclusivity initiatives, viewed now as excesses of the coronavirus-pandemic emergency and an outdated regime of overreach. Bosses in Silicon Valley, who saw the social-justice initiatives and worker solidarity of the COVID crisis as a kind of mutiny, felt emboldened and sought to regain control over their workforce, including by requiring people to return to the office. Tech executives professed that they were no longer afraid to speak their mind. On X, the Airbnb co-founder Joe Gebbia (who now works for Musk’s DOGE initiative) described the late 2010s and the Joe Biden era as “a time of silence, shaming, and fear.” That people like Gebbia—former liberals who used to fall in line with the politics of their peers—are now supporting Trump, the entrepreneur wrote, is part of a broader “woke-up call.”
The Great Emboldening has taken many forms. At the Los Angeles Times, the billionaire owner Patrick Soon-Shiong paved the way for Bezos, spiking a Kamala Harris endorsement and pledging to restore ideological balance to the paper by hiring right-wing columnists and experimenting with building a “bias meter” to measure opinions in the paper’s news stories. For some far-right influencers, this supposed MAGA cultural shift offers little more than the ability to offend with no consequences. “It’s okay to say retard again. And that’s great,” one right-wing X personality posted in December. Musk and others, including Steve Bannon, have taken this a step further, making what appear to be Nazi salutes while mocking anyone in the media who calls them out.
The DOGE incursion into the federal government is the single best example of the emboldening at work—a premeditated plan to remake the federal government by seizing control of its information and terrorizing its workforce with firings and bureaucratic confusion. It is a barely veiled show of strength that revolves largely around the threat of mass layoffs. Some of DOGE’s exploits, as with a few of Trump’s executive orders, may not be legal, and some have been stopped by federal judges. As my colleagues and I have reported, some DOGE staffers have entered offices and accessed sensitive government data without the proper clearances and background checks, and have bypassed security protocols without concern. But the second Trump administration operates as though it is unconcerned with abiding by the standards and practices of the federal government.
Bezos’s long-term plans for the Post beyond overhauling its opinion section aren’t yet known. But the timing of his decision to change the direction of its op-ed coverage tracks with the behavior of his peers, many of whom are adhering to the tenets of the Elon Musk school of management. When Bezos acquired The Washington Post for $250 million in 2013, its value to the tech baron was largely reputational. The purchase solidified Bezos as a mogul and, perhaps just as important, as a steward and benefactor of an important institution. Not meddling in the paper’s editorial affairs wasn’t just a strategy born out of the goodness of his heart; it was a way to exercise power through benevolence. Bezos could be seen as one of the good guys, shepherding an institution through the perils of an internet age that he profited handsomely from. Even if he stewed privately at the paper’s “Democracy dies in darkness” pivot in the first Trump administration, stepping in to influence coverage likely would have felt like too big a risk—an untenable mixing of Church and state.
But the DOGE era offers a permission structure. In a moment of deep institutional distrust, Trump 2.0 has tried to make the case that anything goes and that previously unthinkable uses of executive power—such as, say, dismantling USAID—may be possible, if executed with enough shamelessness and bravado. Bezos may or may not be turning the Post’s opinion section into a state-media apparatus for Trump and his oligarch class. Either way, the pivot is a direct product of the second Trump era and mirrors the president’s own trajectory with the United States government. Become the figurehead of an institution. Try to control it by the old rules. When that doesn’t work, take it by force, break it down, and rebuild it in your image.
The post The Great Emboldening appeared first on The Atlantic.
