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When live television cameras caught Rachel Maddow quietly slipping into a pew at Washington National Cathedral for the funeral of former Vice President Dick Cheney, a lot more than a social curiosity was on display. It was a snapshot of the Washington elite — journalists, bureaucrats and partisan insiders — gathering to mourn one of the most consequential figures in recent conservative history. Rather than a moment of simple respect, Maddow’s attendance felt like another performance from a media class that thrives on proximity to power.
Dick Cheney’s passing drew a bipartisan crowd of presidents, vice presidents and senior officials, a testament to his influence on national security and his refusal to bow to partisan theatrics. Yet the guest list also exposed the fractures in our politics: an invitation-only service that quietly excluded the sitting president and his allies. That choice spoke louder than any eulogy — it revealed a capitol culture that often rewards conformity to the establishment’s narratives.
Seeing Maddow seated beside Dr. Anthony Fauci and old-time Democratic operatives only reinforced the image of a comfortable Washington social circle. These aren’t just reporters covering events; they are insiders who move in the same closed circles as the policymakers they report on. The optics matter: when the press becomes indistinguishable from the political class, the trust of everyday Americans erodes further.
Maddow’s own words at the exit — a mix of disagreement with Cheney’s policies coupled with praise for his defense of his daughter’s anti-Trump stance — smelled of selective moralizing. Conservatives can admire Cheney’s service while also critiquing decisions like Iraq or enhanced surveillance, but the media’s selective outrage has a very different scent: it’s partisan theater disguised as principle. That hypocrisy is what fuels public cynicism about journalists who preach accountability only when it suits a political vendetta.
The decision not to invite Donald Trump was predictably cast by some outlets as a sign of decency and elevated taste, but the reality is cruder. Exclusion was a political statement, not a bipartisan gesture, and it reflected a ruling-class determination to police who is welcome in the corridors of power. If funerals are meant to be a place for dignity and reflection, turning them into political gatekeeping is a betrayal of the very respect being paid.
This episode is less about one journalist’s presence and more about a media-political ecosystem that has lost touch with ordinary Americans. The so-called guardians of democracy are increasingly indistinguishable from the politicians they cover, and their performative purity tests do nothing to heal the country. Conservatives should demand a press that reports, not social-climbs, and that respects the traditions of civility without weaponizing them.
Respect for a fallen public servant is both appropriate and necessary, but it mustn’t be allowed to paper over the deeper problem: an elite that surrounds itself with like-minded revenants and uses solemn occasions to score political points. The nation deserves candid debate about legacy and policy, not sanctimony. If anything, Cheney’s funeral should remind Americans to prize service over spectacle and to insist that national mourning not become another chapter in the media’s endless culture war.
In the end, the pictures of Rachel Maddow at the service will be remembered not for their sorrow but for what they revealed: a capital that still privileges insider theater over genuine patriotism. That should be a wake-up call for anyone who cares about the future of American governance — conservatives included — to push back against the cozy fusion of media and power and to demand accountability from all corners of public life.
