How We Turned Presidential Elections into Reality TV—and Why We Can’t Blame Anyone But Ourselves

As we near Election Day 2024, the U.S. finds itself in a familiar yet unsettling position: facing a showdown between two candidates whose campaigns feel, at times, like reality TV. Donald Trump, the consummate showman, made his name not in politics but on the screen, crafting an image that echoes the brash style of a Hollywood anti-hero. Kamala Harris, too, recently engaged in her own bit of show business, playing herself in a Saturday Night Live sketch — a move that, while charming to some, underscores how deeply we’ve merged political performance with entertainment. But can we really complain about this “spectacle” of American democracy? Or did we create it ourselves?

The uncomfortable truth is that we can’t entirely point fingers at the candidates. Yes, we may blame politicians for turning campaigns into spectacles, but a look in the mirror suggests that we, the voters, may be the ones to have set the stage.

Our Role as Performers in a Social Media World

In the age of social media, we’ve grown accustomed to playing starring roles in our own carefully curated narratives. Each of us is an actor, director, and editor of our online persona, presenting ourselves in a way that’s “more real than real”—an idea cultural theorist Jean Baudrillard once described as “hyperreality.” Our lives have increasingly become performances tailored for an audience, where likes, shares, and comments validate our existence and influence our self-worth.

The lines between private and public life have blurred, and in many ways, we expect the same from our leaders. A politician who fails to entertain or who “stays in the background” is dismissed as dull or uninspired. The candidates who captivate us the most are those who play to our collective demand for drama, for an engaging “show.” We expect them to emote, react, and charm us—perhaps even to scandalize us a little. And if they fall short, they’re easily replaced by those who will. In short, we’ve elevated showmanship over statesmanship, rewarding those who can perform rather than those who simply lead.

Goffman’s “Presentation of Self” and the Politics of Performance

Sociologist Erving Goffman argued that all of us perform different roles based on social expectations, managing how we’re perceived to shape our social identity. Social media amplified this to a level Goffman never could have imagined. Now, every interaction is a stage, and every stage has an audience. Candidates, too, perform for the camera, not just to share their policies but to create moments—moments that are instantly shareable and perfectly crafted for our feeds.

When Kamala Harris goes on Saturday Night Live, she’s not just connecting with voters; she’s engaging in the very same performance that millions of us participate in daily. It’s a way to say, “I’m relatable; I’m one of you.” And when Donald Trump dominates the news cycle with inflammatory statements or grandiose rallies, he’s merely feeding the demand for spectacle that our digital attention economy thrives on. This style may seem unorthodox, but it’s a natural outgrowth of a society that has become, as philosopher Byung-Chul Han describes, “a transparency society,” where everyone is always on display, always performing.

The Evolution of the Spectacle in Politics

The idea that politics has become a “spectacle” was laid out decades ago by theorists like Guy Debord, who argued that modern society replaces genuine experiences with images and representations. Debord warned that we’d eventually become passive consumers, lulled by the “spectacle” into accepting whatever imagery was fed to us. It’s not hard to see how Debord’s theory of spectacle applies to our current political climate, where genuine policy debate often takes a backseat to sound bites, memes, and viral moments.

When we reduce our engagement with politics to passive consumption, we relinquish our role as active participants. We become spectators rather than citizens, waiting to be entertained and only occasionally galvanized. Political campaigns, therefore, have adapted to meet us where we are—on platforms that prioritize immediacy over depth, spectacle over substance.

Fisher’s “Capitalist Realism” and the Commodification of Elections

Mark Fisher, in Capitalist Realism, argued that neoliberalism commodifies everything, even identity and emotions. Today, political candidates are brands, and elections are products we’re asked to consume. In 2024, it’s not unusual for us to see both Trump and Harris as competing “brands,” each with its own narrative, iconography, and carefully tailored social media presence. We consume these brands like any other, favoring the ones that resonate with us on an emotional level, often irrespective of policy or ideology.

Fisher’s point is that capitalism shapes not just our economy but our values, and we’re seeing that play out in the political sphere. As we increasingly commodify elections, we demand more entertainment from the candidates who seek to “sell” us their platform. This commodification has also affected our expectations: we want candidates who inspire, entertain, and engage, sometimes more than we want those who lead.

The Consequences of the “Show” We Created

So, as we watch this election cycle unfold, we might ask ourselves: is it really the candidates who are to blame? Or did we demand this very performance, a reality TV of governance? By privileging entertainment, sensationalism, and spectacle, we’ve set the rules, and they’ve simply adapted to play by them.

We may feel frustrated by a campaign season that sometimes feels shallow or even crass, but it’s worth acknowledging our complicity. We are both the audience and the enablers of this spectacle. To truly change it, we might need to rethink how we engage with politics, moving away from passive consumption toward active participation. We need to demand substance over style, depth over drama—not just from our candidates, but from ourselves.

It’s a tall order. After all, we live in a world where the line between actor and audience is increasingly blurred, and where performing our lives has become second nature. But if we want our elections to reflect the seriousness and depth of the issues at hand, we have to resist the urge to see them merely as shows. In the end, democracy demands more than spectators; it demands citizens willing to look beyond the performance and demand genuine leadership.

As we head to the polls, let’s take a moment to consider not just who we’re voting for, but how we’ve shaped the very system we’re participating in. Because as much as we may lament the state of political spectacle, the truth is, we’ve been part of the production all along.