Hi, I’m desensitised, nice to meet you.

It’s no top secret that with visual consumption levels as high as they are today, we at least on some level become desensitised to world events. A lot of it isn’t our fault, having to scroll past updates on major discoveries, ongoing wars, or domestic policy, to reply to emails from bosses, or pay for groceries at the supermarket. The worst part is that politicians have also figured this out, that they can slip through the cracks of public perception. Because there are too many other stories and algorithms to penetrate before someone engages with theirs, some policies or actions can slip through without costing them the popular vote.

Leaders, even as recently as 12 years ago, faced greater consequences for more minor mistakes. In 2013, while campaigning for the passage of the Affordable Care Act in the United States (also known as ‘Obamacare’), which aimed to expand health insurance coverage, President Obama promised that you could maintain your current plan if you preferred it, “Period.” However, once it took effect, many insurers discontinued their plans, particularly those that Obamacare would practically replace. Many referred to as “Lie of the Year” and “the broken promise”. Back in 2008, following the global financial crisis, French President Sarkozy was relentlessly criticised for his luxury spending habits, and despite policy achievements, he saw a 2012 election loss.

Today, leaders of those same countries in arguably more tense conditions have made much more dramatic mistakes without losing their roles. In 2016, Trump promised universal healthcare at a lower cost, “everyone will be covered”. He also promised to “eliminate the national debt in 8 years”. During his time in office, Trump’s administration has both cut Medicaid coverage for 12 million people and added trillions of dollars to the national debt. From 2018, Macron’s government has paid private consultants 2.4 billion euros for advice, despite a Senate investigation finding McKinsey (one of the firms used) liable for unpaid corporate tax from 2011 to 2020.

Unbiased comparison is almost impossible in a morally layered subject such as politics, and impossible without equal contextual factors. However, our collective uproar in response to our respective state leaders' “morally bankrupt” or worrying policy fumbles is undeniably quiet these days. At least in terms of being heard by people or institutions that can hold leaders accountable. We seem to have been persuaded that we cannot change political or social outcomes, despite our being their employers in civil society. It’s almost like we all have a collective inferiority complex to the ever-elusive ‘greater’ system.

Maybe it’s the overproduction of news and headlines from unnamed journalists that makes politicians feel as though they won’t be held accountable to the same scrutiny as they once were. Or, more ideologically driven, maybe it’s that the openness of the liberal market and the “eat or be eaten” foundation of our global economic system has meant that, with time, across borders, we feel as though our financial safety is more important than upholding the integrity of our leaders. To be safe is a necessity, to be happy is a luxury, and to protest is a last resort. This is a mindset we seem to have absorbed with the normalisation of hourly media consumption.

It was presumptuously optimistic for us to assume that, with 2016, as Instagram hit 500 million users (up from 400 million in 2013), and the emergence of millions of marketing campaigns and opinions at our fingertips, we would have maintained the same perspective on relationships, politics, and everything in between. And most people did know that the frontier of opinion-making would completely transform. But I don’t know if it’s so dramatic as that we are collectively losing our morals to where we find it out of our bandwidth to hold institutions accountable (as many antagonists claim), so much as we are growing overwhelmed with a content machine that feels so much bigger than us, making us feel ever smaller.

Steve Bannon (former Breitbart News executive and chief strategist to the Trump administration) refers to this tactic as “flooding the zone”. Bannon is widely known for spreading misinformation, but he is so effective at it because of this tactic, which essentially guides the Trump administration today. It refers to the release of so many ‘news’ stories that it is impossible for the public to collectively attach itself to one and mobilise movements based on it. It is a model based on the news media system that has rightfully made the public feel overwhelmed for a decade now.

Importantly, many movements only become more extreme before they dissipate. With the entrance into a media landscape of overpopulation, we have subsequently held the subjects of those stories (most often politicians) to a softer critique, with little beyond negative language. As algorithms amplify content regardless of factual accuracy, individuals are becoming increasingly influenced by campaigns or stories that might not even be relevant to their livelihoods. The passive receiver is becoming the permission-granter behind the misbehaviour of politicians. In a form beyond identifying bias but locating manipulative language and the intended exploitation of psychological vulnerabilities in content, all while maintaining emotional regulation as a viewer. Because ultimately, this equates to individual autonomy in your democratic participation in this new opinion-making frontier. Consequently, media literacy is becoming an increasingly valuable asset.

In short, media literacy is becoming intertwined with critical thinking, which, as research has consistently proven, makes democracy more resilient. As we come to terms with often not knowing where to look and navigating misinformation, we will eventually, collectively, be able to hold leadership accountable again.

While media pundits continue to tell you that we are doomed and that your vote means little to nothing, remember that the system we are in is brand new; yet, we are already far enough along in its redesign that we are becoming aware of its flaws. In many ways, we hold more power than we have ever before. The danger of individuals capable of autonomous reasoning to powerful actors whose rise relied on them remaining exhausted by information is a testament to this. So continue to value reading, critical thinking, intelligence, and creativity, as these remain our most enduring paths to freedom.