A Bad Formula for Democracy: Voter Ignorance and Media Fragmentation

Three weeks before the election, Ipsos released polling data that was rather disturbing. The research and consulting firm presented a stark and unsurprising conclusion: “We live in two Americas.” It noted that the information ecosystem had much to do with this divide:

Partisanship has created a deep divide among Americans on politics and beyond. However, beneath partisanship, media source is also significantly correlated with Americans’ views.

Americans’ primary news source plays into what they believe to be true, their own daily personal economic situation, and ultimately, how they view former President Donald Trump and Vice President Kamala Harris.

This was an obvious observation. The two sides in the tribalistic face-off of American politics have vastly different sources of news and information. But the data Ipsos presented revealed a much sharper split: One side is more ignorant than the other. Fox News and conservative media consumers, it stated, are “less likely to answer questions about inflation, immigration and crime correctly.” Of the Fox and conservative media crowd, only about 12 percent said it was true that inflation had declined in the past year and was near the historic average. About two-thirds of respondents who primarily received their news from national newspapers and other cable news outlets got this right. Ditto on crime. Only 10 percent of the Fox folks knew that violent crimes rates were not at or near all-time highs in most major American cities, and most believed that crime rates were soaring. Sixty-five percent of newspaper readers and other cable news consumers held an accurate view. As for social media, the poll showed that Americans who mainly got their news in this cosmos were also quite misinformed.

All this, naturally, influenced the choice of candidates for voters. Ipsos reported that “Americans who have correct information on current political issues” were more likely to say Vice President Kamala Harris was “stronger on policy areas” than Donald Trump. Among those voters with accurate views on inflation, crime, immigration, and the stock market, Harris won overwhelming majorities. Trump was the favorite of the misinformed.

There’s been a tsunami of after-the-fact supposin’ about the election. But this poll showed that a major fault line in American politics is ignorance. Amidst the yapping about how the Democrats need to revive their connection to working-class voters (meaning, white working-class voters) and debate about whether the party has gone too far to the left or has been overly tethered to centrism and neoliberalism (whatever that may be), this data indicates that a fundamental challenge for the Democrats and others is how to operate within a media ecosystem that not only is fractured but that propagates and reinforces much false information. Can an ideological shift (in either direction) matter, if so many voters lack an accurate picture of reality?

When I attended a Trump rally in Reading, Pennsylvania, the day before the election, I spoke to diehard Trump supporters and found many of them echoing his talking points: Crime was at record levels; millions of immigrants were pouring over the border every month; the economy was in worse condition than ever before. And Democrats were deliberately destroying the nation. None of this was true. When I gently asked these Trumpers if they were concerned that retired generals who had worked with Trump during his first presidency now described him as a “fascist” and a threat to democracy, at least a third said they were unaware of these statements. The others replied that these Trump detractors were being paid to say this, or they were envious of Trump, or they were his political enemies. No one accepted these remarks as good-faith criticisms of Trump. It didn’t matter what the New York Times or Washington Post reported.

Then it hit me. For these people, Trump was their media. Maybe they watched Fox or Newsmax. Or read Breitbart. Or scanned the social media posts of Elon Musk and other MAGA personalities. But they saw Trump as the paramount source of information. What he said was what was true—and certainly more accurate than the “fake news” of the New York Times, CNN, or NBC News. In Trump they trust. Not merely as a politician but as the supplier of news and information, as their guide to the world. If he said millions of criminal migrants were flooding across the border, you can believe it. If he said the economy was worse now than it ever had been, bank on that. Let’s call this what it is: a bubble. And there’s no way for mainstream news outlets to penetrate it.

How to reach voters has always been a fundamental question of politics. Not too long ago, the answer was simple: TV ads. A lot of people watched a lot of television, and there were only a few channels. You could reach people where they lived—in the living room in front of a television set. With the rise of social media and the fragmentation of media, it’s tougher for campaigns to target voters. This year, the Trump campaign, as many have noted, devoted much attention to the audience of aggrieved men—what has become known as “the manosphere”—through podcasters like Joe Rogan and social media.

As more voters obtain their information from sources outside the news media, they’re more likely to be recipients of inaccurate or skewed news. This is not to say that the traditional news outlets always are on target. But I’ll go out on the limb and say that generally journalists are going to be more mindful of facts than podcasters or social media influencers who primarily are talkers and posters (and sometimes shit-posters) frequently determined to build audiences through outrage, not verified and solid information. These new-media guys and gals are not edited or fact-checked. Certainly, some are responsible and intelligent commentators, analysts, and presenters of news. But the most popular often succeed because they strike emotional chords with viewers, listeners, and scrollers.

These far-from-reliable information sources have become increasingly impactful. This month, the Pew Research Center released a report noting that one in five Americans—or about 20 percent—received their news from influencers on social media. (An influencer, Pew decided, is a person who regularly posts about current events on social media and has at least 100,000 followers on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, X, or YouTube. Yes, that makes me an influencer.) The figure for Americans under 30 was almost double: 37 percent. Almost two-thirds of news influencers are men. Twenty-seven percent identify as pro-Trump, Republican, or conservative, as opposed to 21 percent who are liberal or Democratic.

The dominance of news influencers and non-traditional news sources will likely expand in the coming years. Will this lead to a better-informed electorate? Will their presence make it easier for political candidates to counter the spread of misinformation or disinformation? The more unchecked sources of information there are, the greater the likelihood that misinformed views will spread and distort the national discourse. “We are the media,” Elon Musk, the boy-king billionaire owner of X (formerly Twitter) and one of the most prominent promoters of disinformation, exclaims. If so, we’re in deep doo-doo. With the information ecosystem shifting more toward trolling than journalism, Democrats and the news media itself need to ponder how best to confront this dynamic.

It certainly sounds elitist to gripe about voter ignorance and perhaps naive to suggest that a better-informed electorate will lead to better outcomes. After all, politics often is not about facts. Voter feelings and attitudes—vibes—have always mattered in elections. But what’s noteworthy and perhaps (relatively) new these days is the interaction between media dissolution and voter misinformation. Within the fragmented media landscape, misinformation (and disinformation) can easily be reinforced. There’s always someone out there on the internet to confirm and bolster a false narrative. Meanwhile, in this environment, it’s more difficult to counter and correct false impressions, so whatever misinformation is out there sticks harder than ever.

The other night I was a guest on Ayman Mohyeldin’s MSNBC show. We were discussing how Trump’s appointments are a clear sign that he and his crew are racing ahead with the Project 2025 plan cooked up by right-wing groups to implement authoritarian measures to increase Trump’s power and undermine democratic norms and safeguards. “What can be done to prevent or slow this?” he asked. I was candid: With Congress in GOP hands and Republicans unlikely to or incapable of blocking Trump’s extremism, there will not be many impediments to slow Trump and his clown car of radicals, grifters, and Christian nationalists. Perhaps court challenges, but who knows? There may be enough Trump-appointed judges in the federal judiciary to ease his path toward autocracy. (Judges appointed by President Joe Biden and President Barack Obama might present speedbumps or barricades, but we all know court battles will lead to the Trumpified Supreme Court.) Mohyeldin and I agreed it will be crucial for in-the-minority Democrats and journalists to track and highlight Trump’s assorted assaults on democracy and decency. Maybe exposure will have some benefit and affect the midterm elections.

Yet I wonder how that will work. How will reports on Trump’s perfidy and transgressions reach large swaths of the public? Most of his devoted followers won’t see them or, if they do, won’t believe them. Will news influencers and social media disseminate these truths? As I’ve noted recently, I’m not sure that the mainstream media is capable of effectively covering Trump: The Sequel. There will be lots of crap flying in all directions: corruption, grift, abuses of power, attacks on checks and balances. Can all this be reported and conveyed to a majority of the public? The Ipsos poll tells us that a well-informed electorate is crucial for the survival of American democracy. I’m not sure how we achieve that. I only know that we must try.

Got anything to say about this item—or anything else? Email me at ourland.corn@gmail.com.

It’s been a tough slog for the many workers at Our Land World Headquarters. Some may even be too tired to make gravy-from-scratch for Thanksgiving. So, we’re shutting down for the rest of the week. I will be busy shucking oysters for oysters stuffing and peeling apples for apple pie—and hoping the always-crazy news cycle will slow for a few days. (Prediction: It won’t.) I hope you find your own delicious distractions. And I will once again submit my family to one of my favorite Thanksgiving traditions that I began as a kid: listening to Arlo Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant”—the classic song about littering on Thanksgiving and the Vietnam War draft. Just a few days ago—a week before Thanksgiving—Alice Brock died at the age of 83. She owned the diner in Western Massachusetts that was immortalized by Guthrie in this song, and she even helped write half the tune. Brock eventually gave up the restaurant business and moved to Cape Cod, where she became a painter. I’ll be playing this 18-minute-long shaggy-dog song—which always tickles my funny bone—in her honor. And I’ll give thanks for all the smiles and giggles she helped bring about over the decades.

But before we take our Turkey Day (or Tofurkey Day) break, we will be holding an Our Land Zoom get-together tonight. These are only for premium subscribers to this newsletter. If you’re part of that noble band, you should receive an invitation in a separate email with a link to click on at 8:00 p.m. ET this evening. Those of you who would like to sign up as premium subscribers so you can join us next time, you can do so here.

I hate to keep ragging on the New York Times. But I was perplexed by the story it ran after Donald Trump announced he would appoint Russell Vought to be director of the Office of Management and Budget, a highly important position with sweeping power over all federal agencies. Vought is one of the godfathers of Project 2025, the far-right blueprint for authoritarian and extremist governance from which Trump misleadingly distanced himself during the campaign. As my colleague Isabela Dias wrote in a profile of him, “For the 920-page Mandate for Leadership policy playbook from Project 2025, Vought wrote a chapter that exults in the ‘enormous power’ of the president and previews how a conservative administration would radically subjugate the federal government.” Now Trump is embracing Project 2025 and appointing several of its authors to senior-level positions. Reporting on Vought’s appointment, the New York Times focused on his connection to Project 2025 and his desire to “enhance presidential power.” But a key phrase went missing from the entire article: Christian nationalism.

Vought is an avowed Christian nationalist. He has written that Christian nationalism is merely a benign recognition that the United States is a “Christian nation.” But for many others it is an ideology that seeks to infuse government with a particular set of conservative Christian values and policy desires. And Vought has privately expressed a view of Christian nationalism that is hardly harmless. This summer, two reporters for a British nonprofit who had posed as possible funders secretly recorded a conversation with Vought. During this discussion, he suggested that only Christians should be allowed to immigrate to the United States: “If we’re going to have legal immigration, can we get people that actually believe in Christianity?” He added, “I want to make sure that we can say, ‘We’re a Christian nation.’ And my viewpoint is mostly that I would probably be Christian nation-ism. That’s pretty close to Christian nationalism.”

Proposing a religious test for immigration to the United States is an act of bigotry. Once upon a time, that would have been a scandal that would have torpedoed a senior government appointment. Now it doesn’t even warrant a sentence in the New York Times.

Disclaimer. Apple TV+’s recently released series, Disclaimer, has been hailed as a major dramatic accomplishment. It comes with all the markings of a Big TV Event. It was written and directed by Alfonso Cuarón, a certified filmmaking genius. (Children of Men, Roma, and Gravity.) And it features two powerhouse stars: Cate Blanchett and Kevin Kline, who act up a storm in this drama. Moreover, the seven-episode series is based on Renée Knight’s well-received novel of the same name. A recipe for a superb and delicious dish, right? It may have drawn raves, but I was not so taken with it.

The premise is strong. Blanchett is Catherine Ravenscroft, an award-winning documentary-maker (feted in the first episode by Christiane Amanpour!) who’s living mostly the good life. She and her husband, Robert Ravenscroft (Sacha Baron Cohen), reside in posh home, enjoying fine wine (he’s an oenophile) and a cat. There are a few problems, though. Robert is running a nonprofit that seems to be engaged in money laundering, and their underachieving 25-year-old son, Nicholas (Kodi Smit-McPhee), is not so happy to have been pushed to depart the family abode for a crummy apartment to achieve the independence Catherine has in mind for him. But these appear to be surmountable problems—especially for the talented and beautiful Catherine. Or perhaps they are signs of a crack-ridden foundation that is on the verge of collapse.

One day a book arrives for Catherine. It is a self-published novel titled The Perfect Stranger, and the author is Stephen Brigstocke, a gone-to-seed retired private school teacher. (That’s Kline.) It tells the story of a young mother vacationing with her five-year-old son at the Italian seaside 20 years earlier who coaxes a younger man named Jonathan into a sordid and (for her) extramarital sexual romp. Jonathan ends up tragically drowning at the beach. The book unnerves Catherine, for it bears a resemblance to the vacation she took two decades ago, and in this novel the young mother is an evil seductress who bears responsibility for Jonathan’s death. The Perfect Stranger is revenge fiction, for Brigstocke is Jonathan’s father. The appearance of the novel threatens Catherine’s life of comfort and accomplishment, as Brigstocke pursues a devious plan to destroy her.

As the series proceeds, the present is intercut with the story of that beach trip, as told in the novel, with the comely Leila George playing the younger Catherine. If you’re looking for socially acceptable soft porn, Episode 3 is for you. But the question hovers: Is this version of Catherine and Jonathan’s encounter what actually transpired? Meanwhile, the present-day drama centers on Brigstocke’s cat-and-mouse game with Catherine and the serious impact of these supposed revelations on her family.

Sounds like complex, sophisticated, and intelligent entertainment that examines the nature of narrative and probes the corrosive effect of long-held secrets. But there are problems. The pace is too slow, and an omniscient narrator intrudes too often, overshadowing the acting. It feels cheap to have a narrator tell us what the characters are thinking and feeling. Isn’t it the job of the actor to show us? Robert is a bit too annoying to care much about. Brigstocke, too vicious. As I saw it, Catherine did not react to the appearance of this threatening novel as would a smart person of achievement and standing who now faces losing it all. And her reaction is critical to the Big Surprise ending. Disclaimer is a well-made production, full of sharply directed scenes that showcase wonderful acting. That’s why I found its faults so off-putting. A piece of work about the nature of storytelling has a high bar to clear with its own storytelling.

Luck and Strange, David Gilmour. When I was recently doomscrolling, I came across a clip from the Tonight Show in which David Gilmour of Pink Floyd tells Jimmy Fallon that his new solo album Luck and Strange is his best work since the 1973 The Dark Side of the Moon. That piqued my interest. This meant it was better than the albums that followed Dark Side, such as Wish You Were Here, Animals, and The Wall. What a statement. So, I called up Luck and Strange on Spotify, and I’m here to report that Gilmour, a guitarist, singer, and songwriter for Pink Floyd, went a tad too far. The new album has some good songs and occasionally captures the haunting tone of those classic albums, but—and this is no insult—it doesn’t fully measure up to some of the best rock records in the history of the genre. Still, it’s a reminder of Gilmour’s immense skills and a demonstration he still retains the Floyd-ish knack.

The title track is a neat trick. It’s a tune built on a keyboard riff played by Pink Floyd keyboardist Richard Wright during a 2007 jam in Gilmour's barn. (Wright died the following year.) The song that Gilmour crafted from this old tape is a bit of mash-up of Steely Dan and Pink Floyd and is a fine tribute to his old mate. Two other stand-out songs are “Between Two Points” and “Yes, I Have Ghosts,” each featuring the entrancing vocals of Romany Gilmour, David’s daughter. (The album is a family affair, with his wife, the writer Polly Samson, penning most of the lyrics.) The first of these two duets was originally recorded in 1999 by the Montgolfier Brothers, a British indie pop band. The other is a lovely waltz. For those looking to mainline a classic Gilmour guitar-hero solo, turn to “Scattered,” a contemplation on aging. (“These days slowing down / A whole life in a glance / The clearest light shines in the darkness / Shining on me / And we're still doing this dance / One step at a time.”) This is the spot on the album where Gilmour comes closest to reviving that Dark Side feel in tone and attitude. Naturally, the words have less bite and a more graceful melancholy than those cynical lyrics of 51 years ago. But his melodic guitar licks still sear and soar, as he sings, “as smooth as glass, the moments pass.”