The Weaponization of Loneliness: How MAGA and Big Tech Feed the Divide
What Fuels Global Authoritarianism and Far-Right Populism, and How to Reclaim Democracy Beyond Voting
Before diving in, let’s take a moment to celebrate a milestone: it’s been one year since this newsletter began as part of Sharing Our Loneliness!💛 I’m so grateful to each of you—800+ subscribers and 10 generous supporters—for reading, sharing, and sustaining this journey. Your contribution means the world. If you’d like to connect further, check out upcoming events, follow along on Instagram, or explore more via my website. Thank you for being part of this growing community!
Two weeks after the U.S. election, shock, awe, and grief linger.
In the aftermath of the election, what is both striking and troubling is how MAGA has weaponized loneliness and societal disconnection as a deliberate strategy. By exploiting isolation and the human desire for belonging, such movements deepen divisions and reinforce narratives that erode democratic values.
This tactic is not unique to the U.S. In Germany, the AfD leverages anti-immigrant rhetoric; Austria’s Freedom Party draws on nationalism, and the Netherlands’ government reshapes policy to fuel exclusion. Across these contexts, loneliness—both individual and collective—becomes a potent political tool.
As I’ve pointed out before, this shared loneliness feeds a politics of othering and distrust, which drives authoritarian populism corresponding with a decline in global democracy.
In her 1951 book, The Origins of Totalitarianism, Hannah Arendt speaks to a sense of “uprootedness”—the experience of being disconnected not just from others, but from oneself. When you lose your connection to your deeper sense of self, to knowing what you truly think, believe, and feel, you are left feeling estranged and isolated.
This disconnection leaves you vulnerable to extremist movements that promise you a sense of belonging. It’s this very kind of loneliness that gets weaponized by current anti-democratic forces offering the promise of “escape from disintegration and disorientation”, as Arendt writes, fueled by simple narratives of scapegoating and blame, turning us against one another.
Silicon Valley and Dark MAGA
One of the stark differences between Arendt’s post-WWII observations and our current moment is the increasing role of tech platforms in exacerbating feelings of isolation and loneliness. These platforms thrive on misinformation, disinformation, and polarizing content, which further diminishes our attention spans and reinforces smaller, more dangerous echo chambers. In recent years, these dynamics have escalated with the rise of AI and deepfakes, which serve to entrench existing beliefs and reinforce distorted views.
With Elon Musk shaping politics—and self-proclaimed dark MAGA—not just indirectly, but directly is raising techno-authoritarianism to a whole new level. As Mark Carrigan, author of Social Media for Academics writes, “X has become effectively Truth Social premium,” revealing an even darker trajectory for the platform and explaining Bluesky’s most recent momentum.
The alliance between Silicon Valley and Washington D.C. is strengthening, led by figures like Peter Thiel—pro-Trump and a major donor—and Marc Andreessen, a venture capitalist who last year published The Techno-Optimist Manifesto, in which technologists are to become the “keepers of the social order”.
This convergence of tech moguls and political elites marks a dangerous crossroads, one where power is consolidated between an oligarchy of technologists and populist politicians. And, yes, it could get darker. The race toward artificial general intelligence (AGI) is a key factor. As AI researcher Gary Marcus has warned, “Generative AI comes with many risks, both short-term and long-term,” and the prospects for meaningful regulation under the Trump administration remain grim. Meanwhile, the EU has passed its AI Act, offering a glimmer of regulatory hope, but in the U.S., much less has been done.
While the language might appeal to Enlightenment values—reason, progress, freedom, the movement at its core represents a dangerous form of escapism. It externalizes human agency, treating technology as the new ideology, to be followed blindly, with no regard for maintaining democratic principles. This movement discourages critical thinking, turning technology from a tool for bettering society into an unquestionable force.
Figures like Musk, Thiel, and Trump (among too many others) exemplify a dangerous concentration of power that reinforces a hegemonic, white male vision of masculinity—one that privileges dominance, control, and unchallenged authority. In her analysis, historian Ruth Ben-Ghiat underscores how such “strongmen” cultivate a personality of bravado that diminishes vulnerability and emotion, reinforcing a culture where power is validated through dominance and suppression.
This vision of masculinity becomes a tool for authoritarian populism, where men, feeling disconnected, are drawn to ideologies that promise to restore their lost sense of power and influence. These figures—linked to both political and technological structures—reinforce this cycle, using male loneliness and disconnection to fuel division and sustain an authoritarian agenda.
Breaking the Strongman Code
The recent U.S. election also highlighted the globally studied gender gap in voting patterns, with men more likely to support far-right populist politics.
Ruth Whippman, author of Boymom: Reimagining Boyhood in the Age of Impossible Masculinity, explores the loneliness she encountered in conversations with various boys—jocks, incels, the popular, and the socially awkward. A 20-year-old she interviewed expressed frustration: “If a man voices any concern, it gets deflected by his so-called privileges. Women have suffered more, so you have no right to complain.”
This isn’t an erasure of the historical struggles faced by women or LGBTQI+ communities, nor is it an excuse for violent behavior. Rather, it’s a way to understand the connection between male loneliness and the rise of populism. What happens when men, taught to suppress their emotions, cannot voice their pain or seek support? This emotional disconnect may make them more vulnerable to far-right ideologies, which offer simple solutions to complex issues.
Research as part of the Global Boyhood Initiative revealed that nearly one-third of young men reported being told by their partners that a “real man” must use violence to defend his reputation. Dr. Michael Reichert, who founded an emotional literacy program at an all-boys school, observes that boys deeply crave emotional connection. The program, though voluntary, has become one of the school’s most popular offerings, providing an “oasis in a desert” where boys can express emotions with peers. As Dr. Reichert puts it, “They flock to it. It’s what they’re dying to do but can’t give permission to themselves.”
Addressing shared loneliness—including that of young men—is a democratic responsibility. It is part of countering the forces of authoritarianism and right-wing populism that threaten democratic progress.
Care as a Democratic, Civic Act
At this year’s PRIO Annual Peace Address, Harvard scholar Erica Chenoweth reminded us:
“Civil society is one of the few reliable ways, across all historical periods and in all countries, in which democracy has been developed, cultivated, protected, defended, and renewed.”
In these times, we cannot afford to lose sight of this truth. Care—deep, genuine care—is the backbone of democracy. It is not simply about providing for one another in times of need, but about building the emotional resilience to “have faith in each other again”, as Turkish journalist Ece Temelkuran urges us—and, to listen with open hearts, and to act with collective responsibility. In the face of a fractured world, care becomes an act of resistance against loneliness, fear, and cynicism.
Care can take many forms—raising our voices, making a donation, showing up in solidarity, volunteering, or challenging ourselves to confront perspectives outside our comfort zones. It can involve building emotional resilience, deepening body awareness, and nurturing our ability to feel and express emotions—practices that form the foundation for stronger connections with ourselves, others, and the world.
Another form of engagement is exploring civic technology, such as Taiwan’s GovZero initiative. GovZero focuses on open government platforms that invite citizens to directly engage with policy development and decision-making. Taiwan has become a leader in digital democracy, sharing this initiative with other countries to inspire greater governmental transparency and public participation.
As we seek more inclusive ways to participate in democratic life, there are already compelling examples of how citizens are engaging with governance—check out the network of People Powered, for example:
In Germany, there’s Forum Against Fakes, a citizens' assembly tackling disinformation by integrating extensive digital participation, achieving over 400,000 engagements to amplify diverse voices often overlooked in traditional formats. In the remote Amazonian community of Bujaru, the transformative impact of legislative theater connects residents’ emotions and lived experiences to policy-making, fostering a sense of ownership in solutions for environmental and economic pressures. In the U.S., individuals are quietly rebuilding social trust across the country, and despite divisions.
Even if broader civic participation feels daunting, practicing collective decision-making within your own family or close circles is a meaningful first step.
Ultimately, we must shift from individualistic practices to interconnected, communal ones. While elections are important, true democratic progress lies in expanding participation in public life—through reflection, conversation, and collective action. It is through this collective care that we renew our faith in one another and in democracy itself.
I’m interested in hearing your point of view, experiences, and thoughts. Feel free to share here or email me directly!
Thank you for reading and caring,
Monika