Why Are They So Good At Selling Hate?

Why are they so good at selling hate when we’re so bad at selling love?

Okay, okay, maybe that’s a little 1969 for my taste but seriously, what the hell is going on? Here we are again, like everybody likes to say, in 2024, staring down the same election barrel that we have been for the past eight years and against all odds, things have only gotten worse. What exactly is it about the right’s messaging/platform/strategy that is so inexplicably enduring? So, why are they so good at selling hate when we’re so bad at selling love?

I have argued previously that hateful rhetoric is antithetical to human nature, something I still maintain to be true. I find it hard to believe that in a controlled setting, anger, vitriol, and disdain are naturally attractive states. In fact, the Acali Raft “experiment,” conducted by Mexican anthropologist Santiago Genovés in 1973, serves as a prime example of how hatred and animosity can be deliberately manufactured and sold to people, even in a confined environment.

Genovés recruited ten volunteers from diverse backgrounds to sail across the Atlantic Ocean on a small raft named Acali for 101 days. He carefully selected participants based on their potential for conflict and manipulated the group dynamic by introducing various stressors and psychological tactics to provoke tension and aggression. Despite his efforts to manufacture hatred and discord, the group ultimately managed to maintain relative peace and cooperation, refusing to succumb to Genovés’ machinations.

The Acali Raft “experiment” demonstrates that even in the face of deliberate attempts to sow hatred and discord, human beings have an innate capacity for cooperation and understanding. It suggests that the right’s success in selling hate is not a reflection of human nature but rather a testament to their skill in manipulation and propaganda.

However, it would be naive to assume that the left is immune to the temptations of manipulation and control. The decision to ban TikTok, while seemingly a move to prioritize security and protect users, may have more insidious roots. Recent revelations suggest that the ban was heavily influenced by lobbying efforts from the Israeli lobby, seeking to limit the spread of information about the ongoing genocide in Gaza. This raises serious questions about the left’s supposed commitment to free speech and the free flow of information.

It seems that, like their counterparts on the right, the left is not immune to the corrupting influence of special interests and the allure of controlling the narrative. The TikTok ban is just one example of how the corrupting influence of money in politics has distorted our political discourse and undermined the integrity of our democratic processes.

This brings us back to the central question: why are they so good at selling hate when we’re so bad at selling love? The answer lies in the fact that our representatives on both sides of the aisle are beholden to the agendas of their wealthy backers, rather than the interests of the people they claim to represent.

If we are to have any hope of selling love in a world so consumed by hate, we must confront the rot at the heart of our political system. We must demand transparency, accountability, and a severing of the ties between special interests and our elected officials.

The battle between the selling of love and the selling of hate is a fundamental struggle for the soul of our democracy. If we allow the politics of division and fear to dominate our discourse, we risk not only the erosion of our democratic institutions but the rise of fascism.

History provides numerous examples of how fascist regimes have risen to power in societies facing economic turmoil, social unrest, and deep political divisions. These regimes often rely on spreading misinformation, stoking prejudice and fear, and silencing opposition to solidify their control.

In Italy, Benito Mussolini capitalized on the economic and political instability following World War I to establish the first fascist regime. He promised to restore Italy’s greatness and blamed the country’s problems on socialists, communists, and other marginalized groups (Paxton, 2004). Mussolini’s use of propaganda, violence, and the suppression of dissent allowed him to consolidate power and transform Italy into a totalitarian state (Bosworth, 2002).

Similarly, Adolf Hitler’s rise to power in Germany occurred amidst the economic devastation of the Great Depression and the political polarization of the Weimar Republic. Hitler and the Nazi Party used antisemitic propaganda and conspiracy theories to scapegoat Jewish people for Germany’s problems (Kershaw, 1998). They also exploited prejudice against other marginalized groups, such as Roma people and homosexuals, to gain support (Friedländer, 1997). Once in power, the Nazis swiftly suppressed opposition, banned other political parties, and established a brutal police state to maintain control (Evans, 2005).

More recently, the rise of far-right populist movements in Europe and the United States has shown similar patterns. These movements often exploit economic anxieties, anti-immigrant sentiment, and distrust in democratic institutions to gain support (Mudde, 2007). They rely heavily on social media to spread misinformation and conspiracy theories, such as the “Great Replacement” theory, which claims that white populations are being deliberately replaced by non-white immigrants (Davey & Ebner, 2019).

In many ways, the tactics employed by these regimes mirror those we see in our own political landscape today. The spread of conspiracy theories, the demonization of marginalized groups, the erosion of trust in democratic institutions – all of these are hallmarks of fascist propaganda, and all of them are increasingly prevalent in our public discourse.

The rise of social media and alternative news sources has created an environment where misinformation and propaganda can proliferate rapidly and reach vast audiences. The algorithms that power our online experiences are optimized to keep users engaged and emotionally charged, often by promoting content that reinforces our existing beliefs and amplifies our anxieties.

Social media platforms like Facebook and Twitter have become fertile ground for the spread of fake news, conspiracy theories, and extremist ideologies. A study by MIT found that false news stories spread six times faster than true ones on Twitter, thanks in part to the platform’s algorithmic amplification of content that generates high levels of engagement (Vosoughi et al., 2018). This has allowed fringe ideas, such as QAnon and Pizzagate, to gain mainstream traction and influence real-world behavior (Argentino, 2020).

Moreover, the business models of social media companies rely on keeping users engaged with the platform for as long as possible. To achieve this, algorithms are designed to show users content that aligns with their existing beliefs and interests, creating “filter bubbles” that insulate users from opposing viewpoints (Pariser, 2011). This can lead to the creation of echo chambers, where users are exposed only to information that confirms their biases, leading to increased polarization and a distorted view of reality (Sunstein, 2017).

Alternative news sources, such as Breitbart and InfoWars, have also played a significant role in the spread of misinformation and propaganda. These sites often present a highly partisan and sensationalized view of the news, designed to stoke outrage and fear among their audiences (Benkler et al., 2018). They have been instrumental in the spread of conspiracy theories like Pizzagate and the Seth Rich murder conspiracy, which have had real-world consequences (Robb, 2017).

The COVID-19 pandemic has highlighted the dangers of this information ecosystem. Misinformation about the virus, its origins, and potential treatments has spread like wildfire on social media and alternative news sites, leading to confusion, distrust in public health authorities, and even violence (Brennen et al., 2020). This has underscored the urgent need for better moderation and fact-checking on these platforms.

As we grapple with the challenges posed by this new information landscape, it is essential that we develop strategies to combat the spread of misinformation and propaganda. This may include stricter regulation of social media platforms, investment in media literacy education, and the promotion of responsible journalism. Only by taking a proactive approach can we hope to create a healthier, more informed public discourse.

In this context, the selling of hate becomes not just a political strategy but a powerful tool of social control. By keeping us divided and distrustful of one another, those who seek to undermine our democracy can more easily consolidate their own power and silence dissent.

We have already seen the consequences of this dynamic play out in disturbing ways, from the rise of white nationalist violence to the storming of the Capitol on January 6th. The politics of hate and fear have inspired acts of violence and insurrection that would have been unthinkable just a few short years ago.

If we are to preserve our democracy and build a politics of love and compassion, we must confront these challenges head-on. We must be willing to call out misinformation and propaganda wherever we see it, hold our leaders accountable, and resist retreating into echo chambers of confirmation bias.

This is not an easy task, but as history reminds us, even in the darkest of times, the human spirit has an incredible capacity for resilience, courage, and hope. By tapping into that spirit and working to build bridges across our differences, we can begin to create a politics that reflects our highest ideals and aspirations.

Ultimately, the choice between love and hate is a moral one. It is a choice between a society that values empathy, compassion, and justice, and one that succumbs to fear, division, and authoritarianism.

As we look to the future, let us remember the lessons of the past and the present. Let us remember the horrors of fascism and the power of propaganda. And let us use those lessons to guide us towards a better tomorrow – one in which love triumphs over hate, and in which the fabric of our democracy is stronger than ever before.