It’s the end of the (media) world as we know it. And I feel it’s finally time those on the left started thinking seriously about what that means.
Honestly, how much more can progressives be shocked by the blindingly obvious? Brexit and Trump in 2016, now Trump 2.0. (Not to mention Reform taking 14 per cent of the vote in July, which seems to have been quietly forgotten as they rev up to take as many as one-fifth of seats in the Welsh Senedd 18 months from now.)
The emotions that run through all this, like writing in a stick of rock, remain the same; anger at the cost of living and anxiety about immigration. Three-quarters of voters polled said inflation had caused them moderate or severe hardship. In another question, three-quarters thought the UK was “on the wrong track”.
In the soul-searching that followed the globally worrying recent Trump victory there has been endless analysis of the US mainstream media’s culpability. Did it sufficiently understand and report “real” people’s concerns? Did the media “sanewash” Trump, fail to interrogate his policies and minimise the risks of a second presidency? Or, conversely, did it overstate the case against “fascist Trump”, thereby antagonising his supporters? Is the influence of TV over? (Viewing figures for election night were down around 25 per cent on 2020 across the main three cable channels.) Are the American media and liberal political class stuck in an echo chamber where the oxygen is failing fast?
In discussing the media’s failings, it is worth remembering that 91 per cent of New York Times readers identify as Democrat and 93 per cent of those who use Fox News identify as Republican. The business model of subscriber-based news organisations such as these is to create an echo chamber where customers feel understood (and only occasionally challenged).
The “new media” podcasters and influencers deemed to be winners in this election are just the same, building communities (or echo chambers) around distinctive personalities their audience feels understood by and, crucially, trusts. Trump embraced the bro-cast zeitgeist in this election, appearing on shows with National Football League players, YouTube wrestler Logan Paul, pranksters the Nelk Boys, and many others. Each received millions of views.
He reached out to the “manosphere” and told those who felt undermined and threatened by successful, educated and economically independent women that they were seen. His three-hour chat (let’s not call it an interview) with Joe Rogan has been listened to, at time of writing, 49 million times on YouTube and 25 million more on Spotify and elsewhere. Meanwhile his new buddy Elon Musk turned his X algorithm to full throttle, endlessly spewing out anti-Harris bile. As a result, a significant 43 per cent young men aged 18-29 voted for Trump.
The US media has long been polarised, but what feels new is the increasing inability of news outlets to have any influence beyond their own audience. And, crucially, there has been a near total breakdown of trust. Sixty-nine per cent of the US public say they have either very little or no trust in the media.
When I was editor of the Mirror all the research showed readers trusted the news brands they engaged with regularly, but distrusted those they didn’t. It’s very possible a US voter may distrust the Washington Post but love Joe Rogan. Or vice versa. What is key to trust is who is telling us the information we want or need to hear.
The established media in the US still does almost all the heavy lifting on investigating wrongdoing and holding power to account, but if that work isn’t trusted, it will only get harder to cut through. The US journalist Gabe Fleisher identified this week that voters with the lowest trust in the media and other institutions “are the groups that swung the most towards Trump”. So how do media organisations that believe they are losing trust rebuild it?
They can focus energy on where their audiences are (even if it is hard to monetise platforms such as TikTok), show workings-out in the way BBC Verify and others are doing, apologise swiftly for mistakes, and make clear distinctions between news and comment. This is already common practice for “upmarket” operators. But it’s the mainstream where there is a need for something deeper and more emotional to rebuild trust. Here news creators need to be liked again – dare I say “loved”. In the way Rogan – who stole their clothes – is loved.
Let’s start by dropping the fake distinction between old and new media. Influencers and podcasters may not be journalists, but they are simply using new technologies to revitalise the oldest of formats: tabloid journalism. They tell stories in multicolour, they’re sensational, brash, irreverent, outrageous, angry, overly sentimental, funny, sports-obsessed, partisan… and a little paranoid. And they are using the same characters to create them – people who look and sound like their audience. Their shows, which talk about the mainstream concerns of mainstream people, should be the natural home of the left. But instead, as with the old tabloids, these voices of the masses are frequently funded by wealthy elites who understand the potency of their influence.
The new media world may not be that different from the dying old one. But the left ignores the new media’s power and reach at its peril.
[See also: The world according to Trump]
This article appears in the 13 Nov 2024 issue of the New Statesman, Trump World