The Online Pundit Class

How Digital Commentary Replaced Political Organising

Hasan Piker in Vancouver, Canada, on 13 May 2026. Photo credit: Florencia Tan Jun

One of the more troubling and counterproductive phenomena taking place in today’s digital landscape is the rise of the online pundit. On the right, we have figures such as Tucker Carlson and Nick Fuentes. On the left, Hasan Piker and Jimmy Dore. And countless others. Yet none of these figures represent an organised segment of citizens, nor have they themselves engaged in political organising efforts.

For the most part, these individuals rant and rave about political issues, cultural topics, and national figures, but they also spend a significant amount of time talking about one another. An online commentator makes a statement, and other online pundits respond. And their followers do the same. It’s a never-ending cycle of banter, unproductive debate, and navel-gazing.

Of course, this isn’t a surprising development. Americans are alienated, disempowered, and angry. People spend an inordinate amount of time online, scrolling, liking, commenting, and sharing. They must believe that by doing so, they’re making a difference in the world. Indeed, this form of engagement is impotent as a form of political participation, yet online algorithms reinforce such behaviour.

However, it’s easy to critique. Everyone on social media expresses their hot takes. Organising people, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. And while it’s useful to draw attention to the ongoing and ever-increasing depravity of those in power, doing so isn’t particularly brave or difficult. But again, the algorithms make it attractive. Remember, these digital platforms are designed by people who studied casinos. And the apps are operating accordingly.

Both the people producing online commentary and those consuming it are addicted to the instant feedback, momentary satisfaction, and the overarching sense that someone, somewhere, agrees with them. In the absence of genuine social networks, communal bonds and rituals, and friendships, one can easily see why these developments have unfolded the way they have.

Plus, let’s not forget that most of these online personalities are monetising their content. In other words, the more time people spend online, watching, listening, and commenting, the more revenue the content creators (and Big Tech) generate. It’s a never-ending cycle of consumption and monetisation. And a never-ending cycle of digital schizophrenia.

The more provocative the content, the more likely people will tune in. The more people tune in, the more money. This incentivises online personalities to chase controversial headlines, sensationalise rather mundane developments, and highlight trending topics that other commentators are already covering. We saw this, for example, with the Epstein Files. Each day, a new story. That story, in turn, was covered by dozens of others, who then commented on how the others commented.

The real problem, in my view, is that this entire digital ecosystem sucks people in and doesn’t provide them with the knowledge or skills necessary to actually participate in political mobilising or organising efforts. I have friends, for example, who listen to such commentators and more often than not conclude that every political movement, organisation, candidate, and union is corrupt, irredeemable, and useless. No one is radical enough. Everyone is full of shit. And so on, and so on.

Talking about political organising, on the other hand, isn’t sexy. Sensationalising organising meetings, strategy sessions, and canvassing operations is quite difficult. Challenging people’s preconceived notions, ideologies, strongly held beliefs, and moral and intellectual prejudices is difficult to monetise. In the current context of digital culture, it’s easier and more profitable to tell your audience exactly what they want to hear, what they already expect.

Organising can be, under the best circumstances, motivating and exciting, but that’s not always the case. And even in very energetic campaigns and actions, there’s much more time spent doing grunt work than most people realise. Collecting names, addresses, phone numbers, and email addresses. Conducting one-on-one conversations. Developing meeting agendas. Navigating interpersonal conflicts. Not the most exciting work. A difficult lifestyle to commodify.

Turns out, political organising, much like sports, requires a tremendous amount of time, effort, discipline, and commitment. Trials and errors. Wins and losses. Hard lessons. All of this is the exact opposite of what digital culture provides and requires. Subscribing to a YouTube channel and watching hours upon hours of content, perhaps even donating, isn’t quite the same thing as spending countless hours knocking on doors and making phone calls, attending meetings, etc.

In the end, politics takes place in the real, material world, not the digital world. The people who are making a living from producing and disseminating online content have no incentive to encourage their followers to unplug and go outside. Doing so would take money out of their pockets. In this model, everyone is incentivised to spend as much time as possible online. And the amount of time Americans spend online is a direct impediment to organising efforts.

In a different context, one could see the utility of having a more decentralised, demonetised, and localised online commentariat. For example, one could imagine a series of organised communities developing and producing their own digital content, connected to and aiding existing social movements, electoral efforts, direct actions, rebellions, strikes, and so on. Perhaps some entities are highly localised, while others are regional and national.

The online commentators would be individuals who are active members of organisations; representatives of movements and collectives; coalitions; and so forth. Their ideas, critiques, and theories would emanate from their real-world political experiences. And those thoughts would be examined and debated by people who are actively engaged in political mobilising and organising efforts. In this context, commentators would be accountable to organisations and movements.

Right now, the opposite is true: online personalities make statements about politicians, movements, unions, and so on but have absolutely no experience with or connection to political organising projects. In short, they have little to no clue what they’re talking about. They don’t understand the profound nuances and difficulties involved in organising Americans, especially poor and working-class people, who have every reason to remain cynical and disengaged.

Here, a DIY approach is welcomed. A little punk rock culture would benefit the left. We should encourage people who are engaged with political mobilising and organising projects to create their own media networks. Some of those networks could be educational in nature. Others could focus on theory or pertinent news. And yet others could highlight ongoing campaigns and actions. Limitless opportunities exist for those interested in creating alternatives to our existing options.

It would be interesting to see what could develop from such an approach. Imagine dozens of media networks popping up throughout the country, in various geographical regions, each detailing their efforts, sharing ideas, debating approaches, strategies, and tactics, and finding ways to work together and share resources. An additional benefit is that such an approach is collective in nature as opposed to the hyper-individualism incentivised by the current model of online engagement.

That said, ecologically speaking, the current model and the alternative proposed above are simply unsustainable. The amount of energy, resources, and geopolitical and economic manoeuvring that is required to maintain the existing infrastructure of the World Wide Web—fibre-optic cables, data centres, electrical grids, hardware, chips, cellular towers, and satellites—is inherently ecologically destructive and also creates a series of international relationships that are exploitative and violent.

With this in mind, a return to analogue methods could also prove interesting and useful. Already, these methods are making a comeback with younger generations. Utilising (or creating) local TV stations, print media, and terrestrial radio broadcasts is intriguing for many reasons. Pirate radio stations, for example, are much more difficult for the state to disrupt or shut down than online platforms, where corporate entities and the state often work in tandem to dampen resistance and free speech.

Traditional communication methods, such as print media, are more difficult to control and disrupt than their digital counterparts. They also provide opportunities for people to engage. Artists can design magazines, newsletters, zines, and newspapers. Printing press operators can provide their skills. And these people can teach and share their skills with others, democratising skill sets, building solidarity, and empowering people to take new and innovative approaches to political activism.

For some, all of this may sound a bit quaint and outdated, but younger people have never had an opportunity to engage with such projects. For them, such approaches are novel and intriguing. Plus, relying on the current digital infrastructure, while perhaps necessary in the short term, is not ecologically sustainable or politically viable over the long term.

That said, regardless of the methods and approaches, digital, analogue, or otherwise, political commentary should be rooted in political organisations, social movements, institutions, and ongoing projects and actions. The individuals commenting on such dynamics should have experience with such efforts. And most importantly, they should have constituencies who hold them accountable and who are connected to actual, ongoing projects in the real world.

The current digital landscape of online personalities and digital platforms is socially and politically corrosive. It hinders, not bolsters, political engagement and existing efforts. Put differently, the existing digital structure and the culture it cultivates reinforce the capitalist system, destroy the planet, limit creativity, and have virtually nothing to do with actual political mobilising and organising. People are capable of developing alternatives. And we should.