The Influencers And The Riots
Unpacking an economy in which people are turned into moral and political arbiters because they went on a TV show.
After the attempted insurrection and attack on the U.S. Capitol that occurred last week, many Bachelor fans -- ourselves included -- took notice of who chose to publicly air their disgust at the acts of violence that occurred, and who chose to stay silent. There was a frenzy to deduce whose politics were good and whose were bad; who cared only about ~influencing~ in some amorphous, capitalism-friendly way and who chose to use their platforms to encourage the protection of our democracy.
Emma began posting some of the good and rapid responses on our podcast’s Instagram account. It seemed like the obvious thing to do in the moment. But after a while, it became dizzying and somewhat empty-feeling to keep track. Rachel Lindsay and Becca Kufrin spoke up right away. Matt James posted a strong statement on Twitter and Instagram, but only after being criticized for not doing so. Some Bachelor alums, like Brendan Morais and Lauren Lane, found themselves in hot water after pre-scheduled content went up before they had seen the news. Tayshia Adams posted a day after the attacks, expressing frustration that she had been expected to respond to such a devastating event so quickly. Of course, many people said nothing at all. (We’re lookin’ at you, Peter Weber, Hannah Brown, Tyler Cameron.)
Over the weekend we got a DM from a “Here To Make Friends” listener, asking us to address “the responsibility of Bachelor(ette) contestants-turned-influencers.” It’s something we’ve also been thinking a lot about: How much social and political responsibility should we expect from those who become Insta-famous -- especially those who monetize their followings? How much time and grace should we give people to process traumatic news before expecting a polished statement? How do we distinguish a post for likes or engagement or performance from a post meant to have real impact? What’s the tangible difference? Does it even matter?
The influencer economy is built on exploiting the aesthetic of Instagram for profit. The job of The Influencer is to serve up content that is both aspirational and effortlessly relatable, thereby securing the ability to sell us, their followers, products. Thus the market incentivizes sweeping, general popularity. Appeal to the most people, secure the most followers, bring in the most money. This has meant that many influencers have largely stayed away from politics, instead leaning into beauty routines, travel, cooking, style, and in the case of Bachelor Nation influencers, relationships -- things that aren’t likely to cause division within their core audience.
But the Trump era changed things. In September 2020, BuzzFeed’s Stephanie MacNeal officially declared that “the era of influencers being apolitical online is over.” As the horrifying events at the Capitol last week demonstrated, people with little more than a high follower count on Twitter or Instagram and a dangerous belief system can destabilize our democracy, terrorize Black and brown people, and drag the country down the path toward fascism. (Witness “Bachelorette” alum James McCoy Taylor, a hardcore MAGA supporter who Instagrammed his journey to the Capitol insurrection last week.) Influencers have power; we aspire to be like them, and we feel trust in them akin to that we feel in the friends we also follow on those platforms. In such perilous times, having such a platform and choosing to sit on the fence -- or jump onto the dark side of it -- is a moral abdication.
But there’s still something vaguely embarrassing and absurd about logging on to see dutiful statements denouncing political violence from a 24-year-old whose job is to wear a crop top so well you’re inspired to buy one too. Why does it seem like we’re turning to these people for guidance which they’re mostly unqualified to provide? Right now, it seems right to ask them to use their social power to stigmatize harmful views and to promote good ones. In the long run, it’s worth questioning whether an economy in which people are turned into moral and political arbiters because they went on a TV show, or can sell a lot of hair gummies, is a healthy and sustainable one.
New Pod!
Our fearless HuffPost editor Erin Evans joined us on “Here To Make Friends” to chat about Victoria’s Big Karen Energy, Matt’s abs and the joys of a hot tub-filled season. Listen now!
And Another New Pod!
We joined The Dipp’s podcast “TV. Watch. Repeat.” to talk to Kate Ward and Allison Piwowarski about one of our favorite things: The pilot episode of “The Bachelor,” featuring a young, fabric-draped Chris Harrison and the first Bachelor, Alex Michel. Take a journey with us…. back in time.
Things We’ve Been Loving (And Loving To Hate)
E: I hate the low-grade online shopping addiction I have developed during Pandemic Times, but I love this Teddy Loungewear Set from Hill House Home. It’s so light and so soft and so flattering and also so warm. (I even got my boyfriend a matching set, which he was slightly mortified by but acquiesced because it’s so comfy.)
C: My husband was given a set of AirPods for the holidays, but when I became hopelessly envious of his adventures in wire-free listening, I balked at the price tag. Instead I tried the Skullcandy Sesh Evo wireless earbuds, which are a fraction of the price (and mint green) (and seem pretty functional to me! A non-expert!) Now I can listen to “evermore” while I’m making a half-hearted stir-fry for dinner, even if I’m wearing pockets-free leggings.