Conservative Civil War: Shapiro, Carlson, and Bannon Trade Fire at AmericaFest

Paul Riverbank, 12/21/2025Conservative big-names openly feud at AmericaFest, exposing deep rifts and uneasy alliances on the right.

Shapiro wasn’t passing through; he lingered on the point. There were “charlatans and grifters” within, he declared, and pointedly warned that there’s a price for choosing questionable guests or ducking hard questions. Under the bright house lights, the implication was hard to miss: the company one keeps can’t be shrugged off in the endless churn of cable news.

It didn’t take long for Carlson to raise the comic shield. Taking the stage later, he set down the bag Shapiro had packed for him—grinning, he feigned ignorance of the earlier fireworks, drawing laughs that broke some of the tension. No names, but everyone in the room heard the barb: “deplatforming and denouncing at a Charlie Kirk event,” he said, drawing out the irony. His pivot—denouncing antisemitism in plain terms—seemed tailored more for the record than his rival. As for a split in the pro-Trump right, Carlson cast it as a creation of “fake” hype, dismissing the notion of civil war with the offhand ease of a man who’s seen too many headlines chase phantoms.

But the real jagged edge emerged a day later. Megyn Kelly, never known to swallow an insult, fired back with candor and a hint of wounded pride. She reminded everyone: she’d helped introduce Shapiro to the big stage. If friendship is measured by solid introductions and tour invites, she’d paid in full—the payback, she lamented, was being branded a “despicable coward” for not toeing someone else’s prescribed line. “He wants to parent me and be my child,” she said, rolling her eyes at the self-appointed gatekeeping. The sense of betrayal wasn’t hidden; it hung in the air, personal grievances now woven tight with public disputes.

Then Steve Bannon crashed the proceedings with TNT in hand, setting aside any lingering pretense. Bannon’s rhetoric ran hot: Shapiro, he said, was “like a cancer,” accusing him not only of turning on MAGA and Trump but of serving foreign masters. The old wounds opened wider as Bannon dredged up Shapiro’s stint doing PR for Jeffrey Epstein—an attack less about argument than about staining a rival’s reputation. The spat, once academic, was now irretrievably personal.

In rare contrast, Erika Kirk—widowed and, by all accounts, weary of this brawl—offered a wistful call to remember the coalition-building her late husband Charlie had championed. “He was a peacemaker,” she said, looking out at a crowd that seemed hungry for both blood and some measure of reconciliation. The infighting and burnt bridges, she suggested, ill-served the movement’s future.

Vivek Ramaswamy, with fresh-eyed pragmatism (and a governorship in Ohio in his sights), argued for a broader sense of belonging: “There is no American who is more American than somebody else,” he countered, dismissing the purity tests making their rounds. Either you’re in, or you’re not.

As the dust settled, consensus—the old lodestar—looked battered but not broken. The debates onstage mirrored deeper, unresolved struggles for the movement’s soul, but also its resilience. Allies have become antagonists, motives questioned, friendships strained—yet the fevered search for a new direction continues, each argument a sign the next chapter is being written in real time. Sometimes, amid the clamor, the clearest signal is that everyone still wants their say before the curtain falls.

Dramas on the American right rarely lack for spectacle, but the scenes unfurled at Turning Point USA’s AmericaFest this year offered something closer to a family argument than a political debate. If Ben Shapiro aimed for clarity, he landed instead on a livewire—accusing conservative colleague Tucker Carlson of “moral imbecility” for handing a microphone to Nick Fuentes, a figure reviled by many on the mainstream right. Some listeners kept their gaze forward, stone-faced; others exchanged glances, unsure if this public airing of grievances was what they’d signed up for.Shapiro wasn’t passing through; he lingered on the point. There were “charlatans and grifters” within, he declared, and pointedly warned that there’s a price for choosing questionable guests or ducking hard questions. Under the bright house lights, the implication was hard to miss: the company one keeps can’t be shrugged off in the endless churn of cable news.It didn’t take long for Carlson to raise the comic shield. Taking the stage later, he set down the bag Shapiro had packed for him—grinning, he feigned ignorance of the earlier fireworks, drawing laughs that broke some of the tension. No names, but everyone in the room heard the barb: “deplatforming and denouncing at a Charlie Kirk event,” he said, drawing out the irony. His pivot—denouncing antisemitism in plain terms—seemed tailored more for the record than his rival. As for a split in the pro-Trump right, Carlson cast it as a creation of “fake” hype, dismissing the notion of civil war with the offhand ease of a man who’s seen too many headlines chase phantoms.But the real jagged edge emerged a day later. Megyn Kelly, never known to swallow an insult, fired back with candor and a hint of wounded pride. She reminded everyone: she’d helped introduce Shapiro to the big stage. If friendship is measured by solid introductions and tour invites, she’d paid in full—the payback, she lamented, was being branded a “despicable coward” for not toeing someone else’s prescribed line. “He wants to parent me and be my child,” she said, rolling her eyes at the self-appointed gatekeeping. The sense of betrayal wasn’t hidden; it hung in the air, personal grievances now woven tight with public disputes.Then Steve Bannon crashed the proceedings with TNT in hand, setting aside any lingering pretense. Bannon’s rhetoric ran hot: Shapiro, he said, was “like a cancer,” accusing him not only of turning on MAGA and Trump but of serving foreign masters. The old wounds opened wider as Bannon dredged up Shapiro’s stint doing PR for Jeffrey Epstein—an attack less about argument than about staining a rival’s reputation. The spat, once academic, was now irretrievably personal.In rare contrast, Erika Kirk—widowed and, by all accounts, weary of this brawl—offered a wistful call to remember the coalition-building her late husband Charlie had championed. “He was a peacemaker,” she said, looking out at a crowd that seemed hungry for both blood and some measure of reconciliation. The infighting and burnt bridges, she suggested, ill-served the movement’s future.Vivek Ramaswamy, with fresh-eyed pragmatism (and a governorship in Ohio in his sights), argued for a broader sense of belonging: “There is no American who is more American than somebody else,” he countered, dismissing the purity tests making their rounds. Either you’re in, or you’re not.As the dust settled, consensus—the old lodestar—looked battered but not broken. The debates onstage mirrored deeper, unresolved struggles for the movement’s soul, but also its resilience. Allies have become antagonists, motives questioned, friendships strained—yet the fevered search for a new direction continues, each argument a sign the next chapter is being written in real time. Sometimes, amid the clamor, the clearest signal is that everyone still wants their say before the curtain falls.