Prof Karin-Wahl Jorgensen
University Dean of Research Environment and Culture at Cardiff University, Wales, and Professor in the School of Journalism, Media and Culture. She has authored or edited ten books, more than 80 journal articles and 45 book chapters on media and citizenship, including Emotions, Media and Politics (2019).
Email: Wahl-JorgensenK@cardiff.ac.uk
UK Election 2024
Section 6: The digital campaign
62. Local news and information on candidates was insufficient (Dr Martin Moore, Dr Gordon Neil Ramsay)
63. The Al election that wasn’t – yet (Prof Helen Margetts)
64. Al-generated images: how citizens depicted politicians and society (Niamh Cashell)
65. The threat to democracy that wasn’t? Four types of Al-generated synthetic media in the General Election (Dr Liam McLoughlin)
66. Shitposting meets Generative Artificial Intelligence and ‘deep fakes’ at the 2024 General Election (Dr Rosalynd Southern)
67. Shitposting the General Election: why this campaign felt like one long meme (SE Harman, Dr Matthew Wall)
68. Winning voters’ hearts and minds… through reels and memes?! How #GE24 unfolded on TikTok (Dr Aljosha Karim Schapals)
69. Debating the election in “Non-political” Third Spaces: the case of Gransnet (Prof Scott Wright et al)
70. Which social networks did political parties use most in 2024? (Dr Richard Fletcher)
71. Facebook’s role in the General Election: still relevant in a more fragmented information environment (Prof Andrea Carson, Dr Felix M. Simon)
72. Farage on TikTok: the perfect populist platform (Prof Karin Wahl-Jorgensen)
In an election campaign widely described as “boring,” the return of Nigel Farage provided a dramatic highlight. Farage ran a high-profile campaign, ultimately winning the seat in Clacton as one of five Reform MPs.
While mainstream media devoted significant attention to Farage, he also garnered a significant following on TikTok, with his account outperforming all other candidate and party accounts. This is important because the platform is seen as a vital means for reaching younger audiences.
I analysed all 52 videos posted by Nigel Farage’s TikTok account since the election was called 23rd May, until polls closed July 4, to understand how he crafted his appeal. While Farage initially campaigned for Reform more broadly, he announced his candidacy for Clacton on 3rd June.
So, what do we learn about Farage’s political agenda? In some ways, not much. As connoisseurs of the platform will know, TikToks are usually short and light on content. Most of Farage’s videos are less than a minute long, many last just a few seconds. As Table 1 shows, a majority of the TikToks – 57.7% – consists of brief campaign trail snapshots and contain very little policy substance.
Early on in the campaign, Farage seemed a bit of a lost soul. On D-Day, he appeared to be wandering endlessly around the Ranville War Cemetery (well, it felt that way, with a total of 4 videos filmed there) reading aloud from tombstones and quizzing elderly passersby to awaken their memories of World War II.
However, after D-Day, he found his groove. Over the course of the campaign, he used the platform to construct a political persona fit for the social media age and, specifically, for an appeal allegedly targeted at young men, looking for new role models in the vacuum left by the departure of Andrew Tate. This is consistent with what Darren Kelsey has described as Farage’s project of building a hero persona aligned to right-wing populism. So, who is Farage the populist hero?
First, Farage is a man of action, and specifically, one who is on the move. While he does not quite match up to the antics of Ed Davey, he does deploy a bewildering array of modes of transportation. He travelled by limo and train. But also: Helicopter! Armoured vehicle! Boat! Another boat! Oh, and a combine harvester! Occasionally, he is on foot, striding confidently through a shopping centre, exclaiming “lovely melons!” and getting drenched in rain on a Normandy pier.
Second, Farage is a fan of manly pursuits. Several videos see him drinking pints of beer in the pub, where he often (three times) watches England football games in the company of men. He goes to a boxing gym and a betting shop, he enjoys a sneaky trip to a shooting range, and shares that he has been voted “sexiest politician in Britain” – though he also has his nails done for good measure.
Third, Farage is down with the kids. He’s mobbed by Sunraze, an up-and-coming band, he sings along to Eminem (who, while popular with target audiences, could be their grandfather) and urges his viewers to “have fun” (which involves drinking and singing, apparently) while watching the Euros.
However, for anyone looking for Farage’s key message, it is not difficult to find. He has just one thing on his mind: Migration. As he notes in a TikTok posted on 30th May, reflecting on the latest immigration figures: “If you’re wondering why you can’t get a house, why your rent is up 20% over the last three years, if you’re wondering why your granny can’t get a GP appointment, it’s because we’ve had a population explosion… The most affected group by this are the young people of this country.” If there is a theme, then, it is pinning the blame for all the ills of the nation on immigrants – and the failure of the main political parties to address their arrival. Indeed, immigration is the only real policy issue addressed in his videos (just 4 videos, or 7.7%), dwarfed by videos about D-Day (8), and just above the number devoted to football (3).
Taking a leaf out of the right-wing populist playbook, Farage is centrally focused on creating “Us” and “Them” binary distinctions premised on xenophobia and nativism.
If anything, Farage’s success is enabled by the affordances of Tiktok, which work a treat for the simple messages of right-wing populists. If the future belongs to platforms like TikTok, political actors must adapt to their logic of simplicity. This, however, does not bode well for democracy, suggesting the erasure of substance in favour of style. Just as many observers will worry about the implications of Reform’s electoral success, we must not underestimate the consequences of social media affordances for the future of political deliberation.
