The Manosphere Won | DETAILS

Donald Trump will once again be the president of the United States. It wasn’t particularly close. Which came as a shock, unless you watch or listen to Theo Von. Or Nelk’s Boys. Or Adin Ross. Or Andrew Schulz. Or Shawn Ryan. Or sure, yeah, Joe Rogan, but he’s really the one you’ve heard of.

You’ll hear a lot of people attribute Trump’s victory to all kinds of reasons: inflation fatigue, fear of immigration, President Biden’s determination to have one last rodeo. But he owes at least part of his victory to the manosphere, that amorphous collection of small bosses, mostly men, and increasingly the drivers of any monoculture that inhabits an internet community that has long been divided into hell.

It’s these podcasts and streams where Trump has spent most of his time in the final weeks of his campaign, and for good reason. That list above—along with Tucker Carlson—includes four of the biggest podcasters on Spotify. Trump sits with them all, often for hours, reaching millions of wealthy or apolitical people, cementing his status as one of them, a sigma, a loving young man, and the pinnacle of masculinity that prioritizes honor as virtue itself. For many young voters who didn’t pay attention in 2016 and 2020, a generation that gets its news more from social media than from brick-and-mortar outlets, this was also their first real exposure to Trump.

Trump used this podcast appearance to demonize and mythologize himself. He used them to discredit his extreme positions by using the whole site you can’t take a joke the filter that made the Tony Hinchcliffes of the world a star. Most importantly, he used them to get out the vote.

Much of this has taken place in corners of the internet that most people have never heard of, let alone visited. When you think of Trump in his role, you might think first of rallies, often rambling, hours-long speeches in front of camo-clad students. They served their purpose on both sides: Trump got the personal adoration he craved, and the “resistance” Democrats had to laugh at the empty stadiums and the obscure dances of the septuagenarian.

But in 2024, the shouting of a few thousand true believers has nothing to do with Elon Musk’s ordination to X and a group of right-wing activists with hundreds of millions of followers.