It is natural for us to place memes and politics in two different domains. Memes are for humour and to experience the joys of being silly and goofy. Politics decidedly carries more weight— a certain gravitas associated with shaping a nation. Yet, these two worlds have usually found ways to bleed into each other. Be it the “rice bunny” used by women in China to share their stories as part of the global #MeToo movement under a government that wishes to censor them, or the people who celebrated Prime Minister Modi’s birthday as National Unemployment Day to mark the rise in unemployment levels in India, memes have managed to carve a meaningful space for themselves in political discourse while simultaneously creating an alternative discussion. The collision and ultimate intersection of the worlds of politics and meme culture is probably more vividly visible in 2024 than ever before, and most interestingly, in my opinion, in the American and Indian election cycles.
It all began with Charli XCX declaring Kamala Harris “is brat”.
Brat, Charli XCX’s sixth studio album released on 7th June 2024, has earned the status of being not only a commercially and critically acclaimed album but also a way of living. Being brat is being messy, impulsive, cheeky, and volatile, but still raw, honest and authentic— it is discussing generational trauma and your fear that you will not have a family in a nightclub to an excessively loud hyperpop beat.
When people think of who truly is brat, the first person they think of is decidedly not Kamala Harris. Yet, her 2024 presidential campaign has embraced the brat branding in unexpected and unprecedented ways. And surprisingly, it seems to be working. Harris’s online campaign bases, particularly on X (formally Twitter) and Instagram, quickly embraced the brat aesthetic: brat green, slightly blurry text, and a certain palpable rebellious vibe. Fan-made edits of Kamala Harris on songs from Brat flooded every social media platform.
Although this may seem like an obvious social media branding tactic (to combine what needs visibility with what is trending), what is distinctive about this is that the brat branding was not a strategic, orchestrated product initiated by Harris’ original campaign. Rather, it was adopted by the campaign when it organically gained traction among young voters, creating momentum at the grassroots level for the campaign in a way that felt anything but manufactured. Harris’s branding not only embraced the superficiality and meme-ness of the brat aesthetic but also its disruptiveness, by the inherent virtue of being a woman’s political campaign. And that is exactly why it just works— the ethos of brat and of the campaign share the same core of defiance, authenticity, and nonconformity, which aligns powerfully with the subversion of traditional political engagement that is relevant to this article.
This is, by no means, a phenomenon unique to the United States. A similar trend unfolded in India during the 2024 election cycle. Most people, but especially the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), expected a decisive victory for itself. The results were anything but a landslide win. Despite proclaiming that they would win more than 400 seats, the BJP managed to secure a mere 293 of the 542 seats. Much to the surprise of many across the country, the Indian National Congress (INC) led I.N.D.I.A (Indian National Development Inclusive Alliance) won 234 seats. Although I would not argue that it was only the engagement of netizens with the INC’s online campaign that led to their revival, it would be wrong to say that such characteristically ‘online’ political engagement had no part to play in this revival.
Much like Harris’ bratification, Rahul Gandhi’s image underwent significant public transformation driven primarily by fan-made edits on social media. Netizens used platforms like X (formerly Twitter) and Instagram to spread memes and fan edits that not only humanied him but also made him appear relatable to a younger audience. Once mockingly nicknamed “Pappu” and considered by the masses as politically incompetent, Gandhi, much like Harris, became the younger, more authentic, more unconventional and more rebellious option, in stark contrast with the more formalised and serious image of his political competition.
For both Harris and Gandhi, it was the online engagement of netizens with their campaigns that shaped people’s perceptions about them and allowed them to connect with audiences in ways traditional means of political engagement could not. This is exactly the point I want to make: meme culture is a unique political capital that belongs to netizens, and that they can leverage to their advantage. The ability to communicate in ways that are deeply rooted in their online fluency creates a new power dynamic. In the online world, netizens gain the power to be both participants in and also creators of an alternative and radical form of political engagement, and the discourse that then emerges from such uniquely online engagement. They can then carve out their meaningful space and have the autonomy to reshape the political landscape on their own terms within that space. Such political engagement inevitably influences real-world political outcomes. Harris and Gandhi’s cases are both revealing testimonies. It is distinctly this onlineness that determines how much cultural ‘relevance’ which people and platforms get, and netizens’ digital fluency which allows them to mobilise more quickly than the non-online can. Online engagement, then, allows netizens to influence, significantly, the terms, tone, and trajectory of real-world political movements.
When we look at these cases in conjunction, it becomes clear that something novel, something almost revolutionary, is happening. With the rise of online political engagement, we begin to see a transformation in the expectations and standards placed on politicians, as well as the tangible real-world implications of this shift. Harris can say things that are considered funny for a politician to say (“You think you just fell out of a coconut tree?”), engage in a dorkiness and quirkiness that most politicians cannot. Her bratification allows her awkwardness and offbeatness to be met with adoration instead of criticism. The same goes for Gandhi: the reconstruction of his public image by netizens has afforded Gandhi many of the same protections and benefits that bratification afforded Harris. This is different from what has always been the case. We have always been conditioned to treat politics and, by extension, politicians seriously: to give them and their actions a certain weight, to see them as people with inherent decorum. With Harris and Gandhi, however, that distance has disappeared. A unique dynamic is at play here— we are in on the joke. The joke is between us and them, and it feels almost personal. The not-online don’t see the humour in an edit of Rahul Gandhi soundtracked to Lana Del Rey’s Brooklyn Baby, or in calling Kamala Harris laughing loudly at something random ‘so brat of her’. In many ways, netizens are managing to create spaces online that are impenetrable to traditional political formality by being uniquely ‘online’. Each meme, each tweet, and each post requires familiarity with some song, some pop culture reference, or some uniquely online occurrence that only we get.
Ultimately, the strategic use of meme culture for political engagement uniquely enables netizens to assert their influence and actively shape political discourse. Social media is the new battleground where political capital is won or lost, the new space in which politicians choose to most directly engage with their voters. And it is a space that those who are ‘online’ are uniquely positioned to dominate. The next time someone tells you that your friend is posting too much about the election, or you see a politician saying ‘homie’ and ‘slay’ way too many times, remember that you can change everything with one tweet, one post, and one viral video. Remember that all the people in power in the fancy suits with their fancy words need your support to win, and will do anything to get it. Remember that you as a netizen most intimately understand the space where politicians attempt to connect with the public and can thus significantly shape political future. And then, proudly hit that ‘tweet’ button.
(Edited by Madiha Tariq and Srijana Siri)
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