There’s a certain kind of person you don’t want to be Too Online. I’d be uneasy, for instance, if my brain surgeon had a vast meme collection — put down the phone, pick up the scalpel.
Politicians, however, are in a more complicated position. In 2024, it’s impossible to run an effective campaign while ignoring the internet, especially since millions of Gen Zers will be eligible to vote for the first time in this election. But it’s easy for campaigns to cross the rubicon from effectively using the internet to being Too Online. There is the risk of confusing online noise for meaningful outreach, fringe concerns for real issues, and engagement as good press.
I’d argue that the pendulum has swung too far. Today’s presidential campaigns are Too Online, and it’s to the point where real-life issues might get lost in the noise of memes and digital posturing.
This isn’t to say both campaigns are the same; they’re not. However, both candidates have leaned heavily into online spaces, albeit very differently. Kamala Harris’ campaign has embraced popular internet trends like “Brat Summer” and viral TikTok sounds like Chappell Roan’s “Femininomenon” to court young voters. Donald Trump’s camp, on the other hand, has veered into race-baiting edgelord memes, such as baseless claims about Haitian immigrants eating pets, framing it as a crucial election issue for his base.
The difference remains stark: Harris risks coming across as cringe-worthy or overly focused on online voters, while Trump pushes dangerous, often fabricated ideas to rile up his fervent supporters.
Campaigning in the Meme Age
So, how are these campaigns “too online”? First, let’s acknowledge that it’s likely not actually the candidates themselves. Trump famously doesn’t use a computer — his phone is seemingly just a machine for posting tweets or updates on Truth Social — and I doubt Harris or her running mate Tim Walz are scrolling all that much. JD Vance might be knee-deep in forums, but who knows? Still, it’s clear that their campaigns are focused on online culture.
Walz, a 60-year-old Midwest football coach, verbally described the Abe Simpson “old man yells at cloud” meme when asked to review Trump’s debate performance. Over on the @KamalaHQ social media accounts, Harris’ campaign leaned into Brat and coconut tree memes; it even dunked on the Trump campaign with a popular Real Housewives of Salt Lake City audio on TikTok. (The @KamalaHQ TikTok account is run by five Gen Z staffers.) Some of this is necessary. The world is, after all, an online world.
“Candidates can really set the agenda [on social media] and make sure that people are talking about the things that they want people to pick up on,” said Dr. Caroline Leicht, a researcher at the University of Southampton who studies media and political communication with a focus on social media.
Leicht added: “With social media, there are these opinion leaders who then take over the conversation and spread the message further. So it’s really free advertising in a way.”
Harris’ campaign, in particular, has capitalized on this free advertising. A spokesperson told Semafor that their online strategy aims to “meet voters where they are.” After President Joe Biden dropped out of the race in July, Harris saw a spike in online interest. The memes worked — but maybe they learned the wrong lesson. The excitement mattered more than the memes. Voters welcomed a fresh face on the ticket, and memes followed naturally. You can’t force a meme. Over-prioritizing an online presence risks becoming a distraction, emphasizing engagement that doesn’t necessarily translate to votes. Focusing too much on crafting viral content or having the most polished online presence could be a damaging fool’s errand. Let’s not forget Hillary Clinton’s attempt to connect with young voters in 2020. Her use of the phrase “Pokémon Go to the polls” got a lot of attention online, but none of it was positive. The phrase was endlessly memed and mocked.
To be fair, the Harris campaign has said its hope is to capitalize on trends, not create them.
“We’re leveraging organic viral trends and online energy for V.P. Harris’s presidential bid to do two big, and election-winning things: bring the conversation about the stakes of this election to the places a lot of our voters are getting their news from and two, transfer the enthusiasm we’re seeing online to grow our grass-roots supporter network,” Seth Schuster, a spokesman for the Harris campaign, told the New York Times in August.
But spend enough time online, and it will poison your brain in some way. I say this as a professional Too Online person. It’s literally my job. But have you ever tried to explain a new meme to someone? You end up sounding fully detached from reality because, well, you are. It’s like the Jesse/Walt meme from Breaking Bad — yes, I’m using a meme to describe being Too Online, I see the irony — and someone really does need to ask you what the fuck are you talking about?
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The campaigns must realize that most people aren’t as online as they are. Do you know who works on campaigns? People who spend all day online. Spending all day online is an easy way to get fooled into thinking it matters more than it does.
Pew data showed that 44 percent of people between the ages of 18-49 say they go online “almost constantly,” but this could be anything from Googling to emailing to, yes, posting memes. That number drops steeply with older folks. Just 22 percent of those between the ages of 50-64 say they were that online. The number craters to 8 percent of those 65 and older. Do you know who votes? Older people. The type of folks who might actually care that Harris did three interviews with influencers before a mainstream TV sit-down. (Though, of course, she has courted older voters, too, with moves like her interview with Oprah, a Baby Boomer icon.) Fifty-five percent of the electorate was 50 or older in the last presidential election. Meanwhile, 67 percent of folks between the ages of 18-49 didn’t vote — and that is a much better turnout than in non-presidential elections.
In other words, the most online folks aren’t reliable voters. The people seeing your campaign’s memes might not cast a ballot. Or, worse, the memes could turn them off because they might not appear genuine.
That’s how you get the Harris campaign sending out a Dril tweet and then Dril — perhaps the most influential Twitter poster of our time — immediately hating it in a very public, very direct way that wasn’t a good look at all for the VP. He called out some of the worst alleged atrocities from Israeli soldiers. The war in Gaza is a major issue for young voters — who often are not aligned with the current administration’s support for Israel — and especially among those who are Very Online. If the campaign is going to engage with young voters who are super online, then you’re inviting criticism on what’s proven to be a third-rail issue for politicians.
Or, less seriously, being super online risks the Harris campaign looking cringe to younger voters or out-of-touch with others. It’s how you get a bungled, embarrassing CNN segment trying to explain the whole Brat thing, which is more on CNN but also a super awkward thing for a campaign courting CNN viewers. I’d rather Harris’ platform or speeches get that airtime instead of a chartreuse meme. Remember what I said about trying to explain a meme out loud? The Harris campaign and its need to win the meme wars is flirting with that reality.
Even some of the creators who support Harris want to see more emphasis on substantive policy talk. Elizabeth Booker Houston, a millennial TikTokker who attended the DNC in August, told TIME, “People want policy, and they do want to talk about the details of things, right? Not everything can be sugar — you’re going to get a tummy ache.”
“They’re eating the dogs!”
Trump and Vance, well, that’s entirely different. They’ve immersed themselves in the anger-fueled, rightwing online ecosystem. If the Harris campaign relies too heavily on memes, then the Trump campaign is being dragged down by them.
They’re seemingly following the path of Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’ campaign, which mistook the rightwing’s online grievance culture for a sizable voting bloc. Most notably, Trump’s baseless, race-baiting claims about Haitian immigrants eating dogs and cats in Springfield, Ohio, have been an utter disaster. As BBC reported, the rumor was started by a self-described social media influencer at a city meeting, took off on Facebook, and then spiraled into a national talking point — without a shred of evidence or truth.
It makes sense that the Trump campaign might lean on Facebook memes, even as Meta itself shifts away from current events and politics. Republican voters tend to be older, as do Facebook users. Sprout Social data found that 51 percent of Facebook users were at least 40 years old. More than 60 percent of TikTok users, meanwhile, were under 40. Pew data showed, meanwhile, that Facebook is the only social media platform used more by Republicans than Democrats. (It’s also the world’s largest social media network.) The divide is clear.
Trump, however, ran with the Facebook rumor on the national debate stage, screaming, “They’re eating the dogs!” — something everyday voters would have to find ridiculous. What began as a meme soon became another meme, with some mocking Trump and Vance and others supporting them. The audio even started trending on TikTok. With time, everywhere you looked online, people were posting about eating dogs and cats. Is this really what’s going to win over the vanishingly few undecided voters? Vance seemed to think so, even asking folks to “keep the cat memes flowing.”
The kicker? Vance even admitted it’s probably made up. “If I have to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people, then that’s what I’m going to do,” he said in an interview with CNN. In other words, it’s just shitposting…but, you know, as an effort to get access to the nuclear codes.
But the Trump campaign really does seem to think shitposting is a winning strategy. They’ve rolled out what NPR dubbed a tour of “dude influencers.” Trump has talked with some of the pre-eminent right-leaning and rightwing online bros, like Logan Paul, Tucker Carlson, and Adin Ross. These are the sorts of folks that right-leaning young men might find controversially funny or interesting. In short, it’s a press tour for male shitposters.
A need for balance
Clearly, a digital presence matters — 2016 showed us that. What was 2016 if not a referendum on the internet’s power, with Trump seemingly tweeting his way into the White House? It makes some sense, then, that the Harris campaign recently spent $200 million on digital ad-buys, which was a record amount. But there’s a line between effective online engagement and over-reliance. Maybe we don’t need Tim Walz narrating memes aloud, and we definitely don’t need any more rightwing cat memes.
As Dr. Leicht notes, “There is a very difficult balance to find, and I don’t think there’s a one-size-fits-all solution.”
For most voters, a campaign’s memes won’t change their vote. Even young voters won’t likely cast a vote based on online presence. Polls show they care about economic issues — like most voters — and mostly don’t support sending military aid to Israel or the overturning of Roe v. Wade. Posting online matters for attention purposes, but from there, campaigns need to have something tangible to offer.
Focusing too much on memes also opens the door for errors — like becoming the next “Pokémon Go to the polls” moment. There’s a fine line between being savvy and losing sight of what’s really important to constituents. The Harris campaign risks falling into the latter category with its meme obsession, while the Trump campaign has gone too far down the rabbit hole of internet conspiracies.
Perhaps I’m biased, being so entrenched in the online world. I’m always logged on, and it makes me think they’re always logged on. But I’d argue it takes one to know one, and it’s safe to say these campaigns have become Too Online. They’ve started confusing the digital world with the real one.
It’s time to log off a little — touch grass, if you will — or, more importantly, go knock on more doors.
