The Khashoggi Compromise

Earlier this week, Amazon announced a $5 billion “strategic partnership” with Humain, a Saudi artificial intelligence initiative backed by Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman. The deal, which includes the creation of a so-called “A.I. Zone” in the Kingdom, marks the latest phase in Saudi Arabia’s Vision 2030 campaign to pivot away from oil—and a stunning moral about-face for Jeff Bezos.

Just six years after his Washington Post columnist Jamal Khashoggi was murdered and dismembered, at MBS’s direction, Bezos is going into business—and, thus, helping to enrich—the man who orchestrated it.

Amazon hailed the partnership as a “first-of-its-kind” effort to transform Saudi Arabia into a global A.I. leader. But it reads more like a public relations coup for MBS—and a cynical bet by Bezos. For all the crown prince’s talk of tech innovation, his true legacy is one of repression, surveillance, and state-sanctioned murder. Chief among his victims: Khashoggi, a father of four who was lured to a consulate in Istanbul under false pretenses of obtaining a marriage license and never emerged alive.

The CIA concluded MBS ordered the killing. (He denied doing so, though later claimed “full responsibility.”) At the time, Bezos offered comfort to Khashoggi’s fiancée, telling her at a vigil, “No one should ever have to endure what you did.” But in the years since, he’s moved steadily away from the values he once claimed to defend—replacing moral clarity with ruthless business calculation.

At The Washington Post, he’s quietly intervened in editorial decisions, spiked an endorsement of Kamala Harris, and cozied up to Donald Trump. The result: a flood of resignations and more than 300,000 canceled subscriptions, as once-loyal readers abandon a paper that championed the motto “Democracy Dies in Darkness.”

Then came Prime Video’s eyebrow-raising $40 million deal for a Melania Trump documentary—an acquisition made at a wildly inflated price. And despite mounting concern about The Post’s leadership and direction, Bezos has refused to meet with staff, deepening a crisis of trust.

Now, with this Saudi deal, Bezos appears to be crossing a new line—not just partnering with an authoritarian regime, but aligning with the very man responsible for his own employee’s assassination. It’s not just another deal. It’s a betrayal—not just of Khashoggi’s memory, but of Bezos’ own employees, readers, and the democratic principles he once used his platform to defend.

Of course, it is far from the first time American tech giants have embraced authoritarian partners in pursuit of growth. But the symbolism here cuts deeper. It’s not just a business calculation; it is a choice to work hand-in-hand with a man responsible for the murder of one of Bezos’ own journalists.

For MBS, the payoff is clear: legitimacy, credibility, and a shiny distraction from his human rights abuses. For Bezos, it’s one more entry in a growing ledger of moral concessions. The richest man in the world is trading ideals for influence—and it’s difficult to see how the cost is not irreparable.