Every general election in the US and UK since 2010 has been dubbed by commentators loosely as “the social media election”. With the exception of 2016 – when we retroactively realised the power disinformation had on the US election result – this claim has largely simply meant that social media existed during these cycles. It has rarely translated into a meaningful shift in policy or grassroots campaigning. And though technology has enhanced strategies and information gathering, we have roughly seen the same approach to platforms for 15 years: posting glossy images, infographics, scripted videos and the occasional staid “how do you do, fellow kids?” type of meme.
But in this election cycle in the US, we’ve seen the first real shift in how candidates approach social media. How then, in 2024, do you construct a winning online campaign? The answer is clear: post like an influencer.
In the past three months, both Donald Trump and Kamala Harris have spent their time online turning away from slick press images and dull clips of stump speeches and towards day-in-the-life content, Gen-Z-friendly memes and snippets of lifestyle interviews. They are taking viewers behind the scenes of rallies and star-studded media appearances in up-close videos, shot on smartphones and made specifically to be viewed on TikTok and Instagram Reels. They post clips of themselves working shifts at McDonalds, visiting TV sets and green rooms and speaking in casual settings in moments that, like most influencer content, give the appearance of being intimate and un-staged.
This strategy goes further than their own personal feeds. We have seen social media profiles run directly by both campaigns acting as feverish, dedicated stan accounts, sharing gushing memes, lip-synced sketches and fan-cams of their candidate. The most successful has been @KamalaHQ, which posts multiple times a day pitching Harris as a beloved, iconic figure, largely steering away from treating her like a politician. @KamalaHQ mocks and criticises Trump with content written in internet-tinged language (“oof” beneath unflattering slideshows of Trump; “holy s**t she just cooked him” in clips of their debate; “lol you have to watch this” introducing attack ads). The account is run by a cohort of recent graduates, all 25 and under, internally described as her “digital rapid response” team. Trump’s own campaign runs a comparable, albeit less popular account, @teamtrump, which posts similarly Harris-critical, stan-like content, but which lacks the Gen-Z influencer branding Harris’s campaign has honed.
Harris may have had this strategy in place in her pre-candidacy days this summer, before she went viral organically. Memes about her infamous coconut tree-context speech and compilation videos of her famous laugh were already gaining millions of views before she formerly announced she was running instead of Joe Biden. Charli XCX then tweeted “kamala is brat”, which spawned a feverish start to Harris’ campaign (the buzz around which has noticeably dwindled since July).
The value of influencers, though, stretches beyond both candidates’ campaign accounts. Influencers themselves have been major features of this election cycle, as both candidates heavily rely on them to connect with young voters. Harris has utilised a team of 270 independent content creators to push her campaign messages and attack Trump; meanwhile, an unknown group of political organisers paid a network of influencers tens of thousands of dollars to spread sexual smears about Harris when speculation began about her candidacy. Both Trump and Harris have made big media splashes by appearing on podcaster-cum-influencer podcasts, trying to gain sway with audiences like Alex Cooper’s Call Her Daddy, This Past Weekend with Theo Von, The Joe Rogan Experience and Flagrant, which each get millions of listeners and viewers (the comments on these episodes point to a divisive response from their regular fans, generating replies such as “clearly you don’t care about your reputation, cause you’d have never have done this interview”, “how much did you get paid by the campaign for this?” and “you have lost a day one”).
It’s clear these campaigns believe an influencer-style approach will yield substantial results at the ballot box. But is the strategy resonating with the Gen-Z voters it targets? Polling shows a mixed picture: one survey following Trump and Harris’ podcast appearances found that only 30 per cent of respondents had even heard of Trump or Harris speaking on either show. In Trump’s case, of those who did tune in, nearly half said they were now more likely to vote for him (versus 28 per cent who said they were now less likely) while for Harris the stats were flipped, with 51 per cent saying what they heard made them less likely to vote compared to 34 per cent claiming the opposite. This contrasts with a recent Harvard Institute of Politics Youth Poll which found 53 per cent of adults aged 18 to 29 had seen a Harris meme online in the previous month, with 34 per cent stating it “positively influenced” their opinion of her.
This, however, is only a snapshot of what persuades young voters. While these influencer campaigns could sway some of Gen-Z, it seems more likely that they will be outshone by policies. Harris – who is statistically more likely to capture the youth vote than Trump – has spent her time on the ground courting conservative, hawkish voters, appearing with Republicans and investment bankers at in-person events rather than figures that would appeal to younger audiences. It may be that some young people will be moved to go out and vote by seeing a funny meme or listening to a gossipy podcast, but many more will be motivated by issues like climate change, a ceasefire in Gaza and housing – topics neither candidate has prioritised in the last three months in a way that will seriously resonate with this demographic.
The real effects of this influencer approach are likely to be similar to past social media campaigns: meaning it will be minimally impactful. But in this race at least, small impacts could make the difference to shift slim margins. It may be better than the online strategies we’ve seen before; it may even be enough to sway some votes. But it’s hard to see how, in such a contentious election, clever memes or fawning fan videos will be truly influential.
[See also: The spectre of American fascism]
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