Kamala memes won the reach game but did they say enough? Or anything?
The memeification of Kamala Harris looked like it might change the face of political campaigning forever. And then it failed. What went wrong? Beth Blance brings the answers.
The KHive. Brat Kamala. A Kamala-nomenon. For many, Harris’ ill-fated campaign was defined by its memes and viral moments.
Many saw KamalaHQ’s reactive approach, a social presence intentionally distinct from Kamala Harris, as political genius. Using a rapid approvals system (half an hour turnaround, I can only dream) and a team of ‘feral 25-year-olds,’ the Harris campaign mounted a ground-breaking social campaign.
Why?
Because in this close-run election, the youth vote looked critical. And, with over half of young voters using TikTok for political updates and news, the FYP became a battleground of its own.
Pre-results, Harris’ meme-first strategy looked like a resounding success. According to a national poll, 34% of individuals who came across Harris-related memes reported that their opinions were positively affected by them, with just 16% reporting negative responses. Meanwhile, Trump memes seemed to have the opposite effect, with just 13% saying it positively impacted their view and 26% reporting a negative effect.
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Beyond the sentiment, the reach delivered by KamalaHQ was undeniable. As of September, the Harris campaign had earned 100 million more views than Trump on TikTok, despite having just half the following. And, while the Harris machine was certainly pouring huge money into paid social media - reportedly ten times more than Trump - a lot of the magic came from its ultra contemporary reactive strategy.
But it didn’t work.
We don’t yet know exactly how many young voters (18-29-year-olds) took to the polls, but we do know how they voted.
Contrary to predictions putting Harris far ahead of Trump, Tuesday saw Democrats lose ground - with Trump gaining 10 percentage points among young voter groups. In fact, Trump grew voter share in the 18-24, 35-29 and 30-39-year-old brackets as opposed to 2019, in one of the worst youth results ever for Democrats.
Given that the Gen Z-led meme offensive was the most visible youth appeal of the Harris campaign, we have to question whether the memeification of Kamala not only failed to help but actively harmed the Democrats’ standing with younger people.
The first thing to acknowledge here is the broad international support for Kamala which likely muddied the waters of how successful her social campaign was with eligible voters. As anyone who works in social knows, going viral and going via viral publishers often delivers reach far beyond your target audience, and not every platform will give you a clear view of exactly where your engagement is coming from. While KamalaHQ’s use of generally trending memes delivered the numbers, Trump’s bonkers AI images of him in various ‘heroic’ circumstances likely appealed to his target voting audience only, giving a more realistic picture of voter support.
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The second thing - how the position of meme queen impacted the broader Kamala brand. It started with falling out of a coconut tree, a truly Kamala moment, part of a broader and more serious political context, and it ended with Call Her Daddy.
While Kamala tried to separate herself from KamalaHQ using separate social handles, inevitably, she ended up playing to the girl-boss image proliferating around her. So much so that a fortnight ago, SNL opened with a sketch in which the punchline was essentially ‘Kamala chases viral TikTok moments.’
Those viral moments doubtless endeared her to the converted—and on left-leaning platforms like TikTok, perhaps many viewers were already likely voters—and they validated the Trump campaign narrative that Kamala was lightweight and frivolous at a dance party with Beyonce, Beyonce, Beyonce.
The irony of all of this, of course, is that Trump himself is at the heart of meme culture. Check with the highest authority (KnowYourMeme) and you’ll find ten times as many memes about Trump than Kamala. The difference is, he doesn’t meme himself, he doesn’t try to be meme’d, it’s who he is, and his showmanship was part of his brand before social media, before politics.
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The third and final factor echoes the UK election. While Labour’s meme campaign was widely viewed as successful, the 2024 election saw low youth turnout. While we don’t have time for a full analysis of that, think pieces around that time captured a sense of frustration from young voters. ‘The use of memes infers that young people need a simplified version of politics—we are more intelligent than they give credit for,’ said one interviewee.
Under the dark shadow of Palestinian genocide and in the wake of the overturning of Roe v Wade, young American voters may too have felt that memes were an insult to their intelligence. Add to this Harris’ attempted wooing of Republican voters, her misstep on gun control and her unexpectedly stringent immigration policy, and her meme supremacy feels discordant. Ultimately, if you want to play to the youth crowd, use their memes, and enter their spaces, at some point, you need to address that cohort’s priority issues, or it all begins to feel hollow and opportunistic.
The memeification of Kamala failed - being brat couldn’t convert young people, and arguably damaged Harris’ credibility with a broader audience. While I, a long-time meme enjoyer and professional meme maker, would love to prove the efficacy of reactive content on this kind of scale, it’s likely for the best that we have not yet reached a place where political battles are lost and won in CapCut. Not yet.
Further reading.