Jake Paul for President? Charlie D'Amelio?
(I hadn't heard of most of the top ten influencers but beware the Influencer-Politician Leviathan.)
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Whether people vote is not the only issue. In Canada, the percentage of the population voting federally has declined over the last forty years, from 75% in 1984 to our most recent federal election, which pulled in just north of 60% of the eligible voters.
Sure, declining voter participation still draws most of the applause when democracy’s lamentations strut down damnation’s catwalk.
But before we cast our ballot, what criteria determine our decisions? If our criteria are poor and shallow, what hope is there for finding moral and competent leaders?
Why do we vote like we are choosing influencers?
According to CBS News, 86% of kids have this as their career aspiration: social media influencers.
Is voting for influencer politicians now just culture? Will culture, that rising Leviathan, sink our floundering ship of democracy?
Indeed, we lament a Prime Minister with little real-world experience or education. The opposition leader, too, has little experience outside of politics. Jagmeet Singh probably never missed a manicure, was raised wealthy, and has little real-world work experience. Perhaps there was never a callus between the three of them.
But is real-world work experience necessary? What do we need in leaders? Why do leaders go into politics? Has our culture already preordained our preferences?
If the answer is yes, we may be in trouble.
Except for the “rockstars” who come in and start at the top, what attractions exist for someone to become an MP? Who would want such a life?
Public service seems a concept lost to a pre-digital age; members of parliament are paid well enough, and indeed, many seem to have never made more than when immersed in public service.
The job itself? What appeal could the role have besides the chance to serve on committees and rise in the party hierarchy? What do we expect when you create form-fitted incentives for attention seekers looking to be clapping seals for a few press mentions and an excellent pension?
You don’t need to read or write to become an MP; it seems most do, but woe to us if some charismatic, attractive, illiterate who is fresh off winning the 2024 hot dog eating contest or a kayak race decides they want a political career. Someone will bring them in, and we will vote for them. They’d be so authentic.
Or perhaps we will find another journalist whose only business experience was bankrupting a division of Reuters. Bring her in; let’s make her Finance Minister. She’s so telegenetic.
Of course, the influencer politicians claim to be humble servants, broken and kneeling Mary Magdelene types. But Mary didn’t seem to be chasing the Jerusalem media or insisting on a six-thousand-shekel-a-night hotel.
Are our politicians just in it for the power and attention? Could our present set of incentives ever get us anything more than attention seekers? Is an election slate of influencer types preordained by voter preferences themselves? Do they have any other reason to run?
The Globe & Mail reports that MPs vote with their party 99.6% of the the time.
Parliament banter reminds me of my two Westies. Toby begins with a guttural rumble, and they are soon at the sliding glass patio door. Malibu is up on her hindquarters, smacking the glass door with her front paws. Both are full of sound and fury. They bark at a dog three doors down for 45 seconds and soon are back at the patio slider, desperate to get in, acting like they’ve been left out on a Winnipeg night.
And in seconds, back to sleep.
We wonder why Rona Ambrose didn’t run for the Conservative leadership. Why would she? The main incentive offered for candidates is attention, the love of being in the spotlight, and the love of being in the media. And social media is always a double-edged sword. Say the wrong thing, and you’ll get Selina “Robinsoned.”
However, despite its potential downside and financial gain, the desire for attention is smack dab in the centre of the influencer’s lane.
Let's be honest: influencers are media brands that maximise their revenue by monetizing attention. Their favourite rides are social media vehicles; they cruise the main streets, monitoring our attention and converting it into advertising revenue while blowing divisiveness and envy out their tailpipes.
What do consumers want in an influencer?
They want to appear authentic. “Authenticity has shot up the Google hot words list and is usually covered on the first day of influencer acting classes.
Influencers are supposed to be like close friends—friends you never meet, speak with, or know of your existence. This type of interaction is called a parasocial (one-way) interaction, at the heart of the influencer business.
Do we want people voting for politicians for the same reasons? Because they think or subconsciously posit that they are in a relationship with their MP?
Experts say this closeness gratifies consumers' desire for social interaction and community.
Is it a shock that Justin Trudeau seems unashamed of his $9K per night hotels and that he has adopted the mannerisms of a runway model? Is it a wonder that even the champion of the working class, Jagmeet Singh, wants us to know about his love for designer suits, BMWs, and Omega watches?
If people vote like they follow influencers, they do not look to such politicians for guidance; followers want to be just like them. Influencers are worse than garden-variety celebrities. They don’t just transfer their brand power to the products or services they endorse; they encourage people to become more like influencers. This is frightening, as influencers tend to be people of no particular talent, famous for being famous, empty vessels.
Social Media Influencers matter because they interact more with their fans than traditional celebs. Influencers thrive on envy; it’s not a side product; it comes off the main influencer production line. Jealousy and envy can be nouns and verbs, and envy implies that you want to be in the other person's position—to have what they have.
Jealousy is similar; Iago famously calls it the "green-eyed monster1" when he warns Othello of its power (though Iago had dropped hints to create the jealousy).
But do we want voters pushed by the same drivers facilitating influencer success?
How do influencer politicians survive?
Some arguments present well when they flash by in fifteen-second spots, with the truth, as Twain is famously said to have put it, slowly chasing them with its pants still around its ankles. Occasionally, he catches them, but when the voter disengages and refuses to read, ponder, discuss, and not turn or look around, too focused on the bright fluorescent path of social media, the truth can be passed. Usually, it is huddling in the narrow laneway in the rearview mirror.
In that case, we should not be surprised by influencers pretending to be leaders filling the media channels. We cannot allow ourselves to be consumed by cultural poisons and then complain that everyone is feeling ill.
Do voters vote on whims, feelings, and worthless criteria because that’s all they have or want? Do they vote as if they were picking influencers? Do they vote for charm, good packaging, and personality when they should be voting based on competency and on which candidate’s policies will help them personally and help society in a broad sense? It’s not the Bachelor or Bachelorette.
Voters vote based on criteria; the only question is the particulars. Perhaps criteria are based on tradition and family norms, but maybe votes are driven by the candidate’s likeability, charm and looks. And in the age of social media, of bursty, branded, shallow tribal communication, are voters exposing themselves to relevant criteria at a depth that will help them make the best decision?
Or are they voting based on branding? Do voters want to be like their voter politicians, look like them, and carry around the same branded designer bag full of fake self-confidence?
On the left, we saw many voting for Trudeau and stating reasons that had little to do with traditional merits: charm, optimism, vibe and looks. But right now, we have Reputins (Republicans who love Putin). Do they dig Putin’s vibe, boldness, confidence, and machismo, so are they influencer voting? Do they get close enough to see his hamster-faced, botoxed paralysis, his anger driven by steroids and vanity? And while it’s complicated, was a lot of Trump’s magic simply that he could capture and voice primal resentments? Or did he milk his notoriety gleaned from The Apprentice?
The largest generation is now Millenials, social media natives, which would bode well for influencers or influencer politicians but not so much for society.
Can culture, that trodding beast, that great ship, be turned? Or will it keep straight and keep our voting proclivities steadfast, tribal notions powered by confident influencer politicians, always glib, chin up and forward on the bow, never turning to see the damages created by the wake of their great ship?
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Shakespeare, Othello, Act III, Scene II.
Paul, interesting article. Those who blindly vote for a party label pimp (aka politician) seem to have a herd mentality and, most likely, an irrational fear of not belonging. Whereas the folks who haven’t developed their own personality through life experiences have become iconoclasts (aka influencer fodder). Both blindly follow without understanding what they’re following. Their takeaway is a sense of self fulfillment (which most certainly causes painful bloating and flatulence). Their intellectual overlords are demagogues having no allegiances other than to their own ego. Those who don’t fit into either category are a diminishing minority who read the heretical essays of Leviathan slayers like Finlayson (representing Canada) and Hammock (representing US), both available on Substack.