How America Got "Platform-Pilled"
The Internet’s Role in Recent Elections and the Aestheticization of Politics
I’m writing this introduction on the morning of November 6th, 2024, just hours after Donald J. Trump was elected President of the United States. If I had to capture the prevailing mood today in a single word, it would be recrudescence—the unsettling return of an unwelcome condition.
Let me first state the obvious: I’m not American. But you don’t need to be American to feel the weight of this election’s outcome and its implications. I want to set the stage with some words from Hunter S. Thompson, written promptly after 9/11:
We are At War now, according to President Bush, and I take him at his word. He also says this War might last for “a very long time.”
Generals and military scholars will tell you that 8 or 10 years is actually not such a long time in the span of human history—which is no doubt true—but history also tells us that 10 years of martial law and a wartime economy are going to feel like a Lifetime to people who are in their twenties today. The poor bastards of what will forever be known as Generation Z are doomed to be the first generation of Americans who will grow up with a lower standard of living than their parents enjoyed.
That is extremely heavy news, and it will take a while for it to sink in. The 22 babies born in New York City while the World Trade Center burned will never know what they missed. The last half of the 20th Century will seem like a wild party for rich kids, compared to what’s coming now. The party’s over, folks.1
His words capture the global sense of weariness that I, along with many others, felt upon waking this morning. The grief, sadness, anger, and disappointment doesn’t arise from the Democratic party’s loss alone, but from what Trump’s victory symbolizes: the values, morals, and principles that a significant portion of the United States have now chosen to endorse. I’m not here to preach my own beliefs—you likely don’t want them, and frankly, I doubt it would change much. Instead, I’ll focus on what I’m equipped to discuss: media—the role it played in this election, its implications, and where it leaves us now.
I’d like to start off by asking you a question that Jodi Dean aims to answer in her 2005 research article, “Communicative Capitalism: Circulation and the Foreclosure of Politics”, which is: Why has the expansion and intensification of communication networks, the proliferation of the very tools of democracy, coincided with the collapse of democratic deliberation and, indeed, struggle?
Let’s rewind to 2001—when you had to use a dial-in connection to access the internet and almost everyone had a Hotmail.com email address. Following 9/11, American media corporations uncritically amplified the Bush administration’s militaristic narrative, fostering a climate of war fever and nationalist sentiment, sidelining more nuanced debates and multilateral approaches to terrorism2. This anti-war censorship was initially driven by the government but eventually spiralled into a national feedback loop due to the high public approval for the war. Media, like any industry, is out to make a profit, and as Bush received some of the highest ratings of any president—coupled with the sense of terror and uncertainty that was sweeping across the nation—most media corporations began self-censoring their own content to appease their viewers and keep ratings up. These media spectacles became a central aspect of advancing the USA’s ideological goals, resulting in an oversimplification of Manichean discourses that obscured the complex geopolitical realities of the times. It also resulted in deep-rooted patriotism that quickly spread across the country.
On March 10, 2003, nine days before the invasion of Iraq, The Dixie Chicks (now known as The Chicks) performed at the Sheperd’s Bush Empire theatre in London, England, where singer Natalie Maines told the audience:
Just so you know, we’re on the good side with y’all. We do not want this war, this violence, and we’re ashamed that the President of the United States is from Texas.
Betty Clarke wrote a review of this concert in The Guardian, writing, “At a time when country stars are rushing to release pro-war anthems, this is practically punk rock.” And it was punk rock—many American country fans saw Maines’s remarks to be traitorous, and focus tests by Country Music Television found that audiences felt abandoned, upset she had criticized President Bush in a foreign country, calling it cowardly. After this, radio stations refused to play their music, fans renounced their adoration, the band lost sponsorships, and the members received death threats. The Chicks were perhaps one of the first mainstream victims of cancel culture3; publicly shamed for being too popular, too opinionated, and too loud for the country genre, which holds firm to its “traditional” values and patriotism4.
Maines’ comment appears mild—respectful even—when contrasted with today’s relentless stream of malice unleashed by anyone with access to social media. We’re acutely aware of the profound influence social media has exerted on recent elections, prolonged conflicts, and major social movements. Manlio De Domenico writes:
The potential of social media to influence human behavior can have a huge impact on our society, from public health to democracy…governments and companies are well aware of the (dark) power of social media for spreading misinformation and manipulation. In the era of automation, the algorithms used by social media platforms to engage users and the rise of social bots amplified the power of a few in shaping the opinions of many, leading to the emergence of polarization, infodemics, or personalized targeting to sustain conflicts, often by means of low-credibility content.5
Politics has, and always will be, a messaging war, one that is won only when your message is more compelling and reaches a wider audience than that of your opponent. I believe a major factor in Trump’s victory was his ability to tap into the suppressed ideologies of many reactionary Americans—ideologies driven by misinformation, animosity, and an intensified American individualism, which has left the nation paralyzed in a state of severe polarization.
People love to sit on their phones and spew hate, tweeting about rhetoric they don’t fully understand, and threatening those whose opinions differ from their own. The internet has morphed into a space where individuals can “express themselves” without censorship—a realm detached from the real world, where one can say and do as they please, shielded by the perception that the digital world exists on a separate plane from reality. However, the internet is no longer a fantasy land far away from the real world, the two have merged. We now find ourselves entrenched in a neoliberal digital era, where our virtual identities carry as much significance as our physical selves. As Paul Starr wrote in 2019 (crazy to think an analysis about the internet written 5 years ago now feels outdated), “In just two decades, digital technology and the internet have gone from exciting the dreams of a revolutionary new era to embodying fears about a world gone deeply wrong…The digital revolution began under the aegis of the state, moved to the market, and has now become an illustration of all that has gone wrong when the dominant players in markets are unrestrained by law.”6
The unfortunate truth of where social media has led us is troubling: the rise of “red pill” podcasts, a prominent shift toward trad wife/soft life content across platforms, and the widespread dismissal and distortion of scientific truths all signal a concerning shift away from intellectualism. Increasingly, people retreat into echo chambers that reinforce their own beliefs. To borrow a term from Nilay Patel, editor-in-chief of The Verge, we’ve all been “platform-pilled”—our understanding of truth is being actively shaped by the version that best aligns with the [social media] platform’s own objectives.
Slavoj Zizek sums this idea up quite concisely:
If there ever was an ideological choice, this is it: the message - the new cyber-democracy in which millions can direct communicate and organise themselves, by-passing centralised state control - covers up a series of distrubing gaps and tension.7
At the same time, there is the much more unsettling opposite idea of the domination of my screen persona over my "real" self. Our social identity, the person we assume to be in our social intercourse, is already a "mask" that involves the repression of our inadmissible impulses. But it is precisely in the conditions of "just playing" - when the rules regulating our "real life" exchanges are temporarily suspended - that we can permit ourselves to display these repressed attitudes. It is all too simple to say that this identity is just an imaginary escape from real-life impotence. The point is rather that, since he knows that the cyberspace interactive game is "just a game," he can "show his true self" and do things he would never have done in real-life interactions. In the guise of a fiction, the truth about himself is articulated. The fact that I perceive my virtual self-image as mere play thus allows me to suspend the usual hindrances which prevent me from realising my "dark half" in real life. My electronic id is given wing.
The other side of cyberspace direct democracy is this chaotic and impenetrable magnitude of messages which even the greatest effort of my imagination cannot grasp…these discrepancies between what "you" really are and what "you" appear to be in digital space can lead to murderous violence.
It’s safe to say that the majority of Trump supporters are highly reactionary people who cast their votes based on narratives fed to them by the MAGA base (through media) amidst widespread uncertainty, soaring inflation, and civil unrest. This is not to absolve these voters of responsibility but rather to shed light on the context behind their choices and their connection to the ongoing global culture war. People tend to react when they feel their needs are unmet or perceive that the system no longer serves them—a sentiment that speaks to America’s pervasive individualism. The data shows Trump voters are from rural areas, often without higher education8; many of these individuals lack the access to information or the perspective necessary to fully grasp the long-term implications of their decisions, which were largely driven by ressentiment. This is not a dig, it is simply reality.
As Albert Camus wrote almost a century ago:
Every time I hear a political speech or I read those of our leaders, I am horrified at having, for years, heard nothing which sounded human. It is always the same words telling the same lies. And the fact that men accept this, that the people’s anger has not destroyed these hollow clowns, strikes me as proof that men attribute no importance to the way they are governed; that they gamble—yes gamble—with a whole part of their life and their so-called “vital interests”.9
Americans’ blind support for Trump stems from something much deeper than stupidity or lack of education. Many Americans no longer feel they are benefiting from existing systems and see Trump as a leader who promises a new path forward—a future in which they can thrive. His ideologies have gained populist traction in an era defined by convenience, instant gratification, and same-day shipping; his followers crave swift, forceful action. They seek a figurehead who provides easy-to-digest answers, however divisive, and promises of radical change—albeit wrapped in rhetoric of racism and cruelty. To put it simply, they want a mascot to rally around, a leader who is unafraid to give voice to their most repressed sentiments.
By contrast, Kamala Harris’s campaign sparked little to no novelty, and unfortunately, appeared entangled in a system the public felt had already exhausted itself. Democrats offered the American people nothing new, and in a rapidly evolving world where trends shift weekly, it may, in hindsight, seem naive to think Trump’s appeal wouldn’t resonate powerfully.
A decade ago, the average person would have had no clue what dopamine is. Now, articles like “How Social Media Is Ruining Your Dopamine” or “Does Vaping Mess with Your Dopamine?” are everywhere. But why does this matter? Consider this carefully: as a society we’ve become conditioned to chase two things—escapism and a high. And when you can combine the two, the allure is even stronger. What fuels this high more intensely than rage? Than anger? Perhaps the most appealing aspect of Trump isn’t actually Donald J. Trump himself but the neurochemical thrill people experience by subscribing to his beliefs, by rallying behind his words.
In an attention-driven economy, identifying as a Trump supporter guarantees visibility, particularly among the “Chronically Online Leftists.” This attention, positive or negative, provides a feedback loop which reinforces their commitment. Neoliberalism, with its emphasis on individualism and market-driven success, has left us increasingly isolated from one another, subtly pushing us to adopt an “us versus them” mentality. This polarization forces people to choose sides, often leading them to commit fervently, even performatively, to causes they feel define them—we’re forced to pick a side to fight for, perform for, die for.
This leads to an acceleration of the cyclical aestheticization of politics10, where political identities become curated brands, easily consumed, and shared like trends. Figures like Trump are marketed not just as politicians but as cultural icons, embodying a set of values, aesthetics, and attitudes that feel accessible, even aspirational. His supporters aren’t just subscribing to a political ideology but adopting an entire aesthetic, a lifestyle that provides a sense of belonging and a visible, attention-grabbing identity. In this environment, ideologies transform into rallying points and spectacles, fueling an ongoing culture war where political affiliation becomes more about image and emotional response than policy or practical outcomes.
In a fragmented society driven by appearance and instant gratification, Trump serves as a lightning rod, a symbol that channels people’s frustrations and disillusionment into an aestheticized identity—one that offers a sense of belonging and purpose, even if it deepens divisions and sidelines nuanced understanding.
Do the majority of Americans genuinely resonate with Trump’s messaging, or is their loyalty to him a product of their own despair? I’ve previously explored the implications of social media and the strange paradox of connection, bound by collective solitude, that we’ve found ourselves in. At its core, the issue is that most people avoid self-reflection and struggle to truly see others. Humanity is inherently complex—no one is purely good or evil; we all inhabit shades of grey. What we fundamentally lack (as a global society) is true empathy. Social media, meanwhile, has excelled at fostering divisive ideologies and hypocritical politics, amplifying grievances and entrenching biases, edging us closer to a point of democratic breakdown.
Loyalty is often less about policy alignment and more about finding a surrogate for one’s own frustrations and disillusionment. Trump, in this sense, has become a vessel for collective anger and alienation, a figure who represents an escape from self-awareness and accountability. Social media only magnifies this effect, creating echo chambers that validate selective truths and one-dimensional identities, steering us further, and further away from the empathy needed to truly bridge our divides.
Hunter S. Thompson, The Kingdom of Fear: Loathsome Secrets of a Star-Crossed Child in the Final Days of the American Century (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2003).
Jennifer Daryl Slack, "The Power of Fear in Political Discourse," Critical Discourse Studies 1, no. 4 (2004): 329–344, https://doi.org/10.1080/17405900410001674515.
Nicole Marchesi, "The Chicks: Some of the First Celebrities Subjected to Cancel Culture," The Nash News, August 25, 2022, https://www.thenashnews.com/post/the-chicks-some-of-the-first-celebrities-subjected-to-cancel-culture.
Marissa R. Moss, Her Country: How the Women of Country Music Became the Success They Were Never Supposed to Be(New York: Penguin Random House, 2022).
Jan Dutkiewicz and Gabriel Winant, "How Neoliberal Policy Shaped Internet Surveillance Monopoly," The American Prospect, July 24, 2021, https://prospect.org/power/how-neoliberal-policy-shaped-internet-surveillance-monopoly/
Polly Toynbee, "Beware the Radicals Preaching Hatred and Fear," The Guardian, December 30, 2006, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2006/dec/30/comment.media.
Pew Research Center, "An Examination of the 2016 Electorate, Based on Validated Voters," August 9, 2018, https://www.pewresearch.org/politics/2018/08/09/an-examination-of-the-2016-electorate-based-on-validated-voters/.
Albert Camus, Notebooks 1935-1942, trans. Philip Thody (New York: Marlowe & Company, 1998).
Michael Turner, "Speed Trials," Fillip, Fall 2007, https://fillip.ca/content/speed-trials.