America is in the grip of a crisis of truth and its political and electoral systems are under duress. Losing the connection between what is true and what is fiction could have enormous consequence in the middle of this US election campaign.
Academics refer to this as an epistemological crisis, a situation where different people believe different “truths” and it becomes difficult to get a shared understanding of key facts. This, they argue, can lead to polarisation and potentially, even, an ungovernable country, based on an inability to decide on what is factually correct.
Jonathan Rauch, the journalist and author of The Constitution of Knowledge: A Defense of Truth, says historically disagreement about what is true has, on some occasions, led to untold killing and suffering.
Right now in the US, it’s clear that there are massive differences in what people believe is true. Polls show, for instance, that around 69% of Republicans and Republican-leaning voters think the 2020 election result was not legitimate and that Joe Biden did not win.
This division is amplified by what is happening in and around the campaigns, and the use of new and developing techniques. The Trump campaign, for instance, continues to make claims that the 2020 election was stolen.
Sharing misinformation (that is, when inaccurate content is disseminated but not with the intent to mislead) has always been part of political life, but it is now quickly amplified by social media. Spreading disinformation takes this to the next level, when organisations or individuals deliberately spread lies. But the means to do so have grown more sophisticated, as demonstrated in the recent Moldovan election, where a massive Russian disinformation campaign was discovered.
History reminds us that fake news is at a premium during wartime and the world is currently experiencing two major conflicts. In both cases, the geopolitical consequences for the US are sky-high.
By spring 2024, US news media were reporting on Russia’s potential to interfere in the US election. The US administration’s position on the Ukraine war in particular matters greatly to the Kremlin, and it is no secret that a Donald Trump victory would suit Putin far better than a continuation of the Ukraine-funding Democrat alternative.
In September, US officials warned of election threats, not only from Russia but also Iran and China. Former director of the US Cyber-Security and Infrastructure Agency, Chris Krebs, stated that 2024 is “lining up to be a busy election interference season”. What makes these multi-faceted and constantly evolving threats even harder to manage is the fact that Maga influencers are embroiled in the proceedings. This makes a unified American response against an external threat all but impossible.
Read more: Why do millions of Americans believe the 2020 presidential election was 'stolen' from Donald Trump?
One recent such example involved a company in Tennessee which was used by members of the Russian state-owned broadcaster RT (formerly Russia Today) to spread Russia-friendly content. The content-creators were paid US$10 million (£7.7 million) by RT to publish pro-Russia videos in English on a range of social media platforms. The RT employees were charged with conspiracy to commit money laundering and violating the Foreign Agent Registration Act.
This is one of many developments by the foreign interference machine as the election on November 5 nears. Other incidents include dozens of internet domains used by the Kremlin to spread disinformation on websites designed to look like news sites and to undermine support for Ukraine. The US government response to these complex and boundary-blurring threats is complicated by the tension between maintaining discretion and informing the public.
Old challenges, new technology
Looking back, the 2016 presidential campaign and subsequent victory for Trump brought many firsts, some comical, others deadly serious in this post-truth arena. The lighter side included inaccurate claims made by White House press secretary Sean Spicer about the size of Trump’s 2017 inauguration crowd. When Trump advisor Kellyanne Conway declared on television to have “alternative facts” to those reported by the media on the crowd size, her phrase entered general use.
With hindsight, such falsehoods now seem a little quaint, as the images from the day told the truth better than any script. Far more disturbingly, Russia’s Project Lakhta involved a “hacking and disinformation campaign” described in Special Counsel Robert Mueller’s 2019 Report as vast and complex in scale. The scheme involved human and technological input and targeted politicians on the political left and right, with a view to causing maximum disruption. Just a year later, Russia interfered in the 2020 race, this time spreading falsehoods about Biden and working in Trump’s favour.
Fast forward to 2024 and we are awash with AI-created images and writing. Now any sort of lie is possible. Deep fakes, voice, image and video manipulation now mean that we literally can no longer believe our ears and eyes.
Meanwhile, back on the campaign trail in 2024, Team Trump demonstrates few qualms when dishing out alternative facts. A long-time proponent of “truthful hyperbole” the former real-estate dealer takes exaggeration to a point no longer on the scale. From sharing an AI-generated image of Taylor Swift endorsing him (she soon backed his opponent) to claims that helicopters were not getting through with hurricane relief, the news cycle is awash with baseless content.
An inevitable outcome of this crisis and conflict over truth is voters’ confusion and disengagement, and increasing public tension, with a new poll reporting that the majority of Americans are expecting violence after the election.
Voters deserve to know whether what they know is real, but in this campaign it is increasingly clear that they don’t and the consequences of this could be stark.
Clodagh Harrington does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
