Network Propaganda: Manipulation, Disinformation, and Radicalization in American Politics by Yochai Benkler, Robert Faris, and Hal Roberts

In Network Propaganda: Manipulation, Disinformation, and Radicalization in American Politics, the authors tackle one of the most urgent issues of our time: the fragmentation of the media landscape and its consequences for democracy. They argue that America’s media ecosystem has fractured into two distinct spheres, with a particularly asymmetrical and propagandistic right-wing media environment fueling polarization and disinformation.

This phenomenon is not entirely new. Walter Lippmann’s Public Opinion (1922), a foundational text on media influence, examined how propaganda shapes public perceptions, warning that democracy could falter when citizens rely on distorted or manipulated information. As Lippmann observed:

“Persuasion has become a self-conscious art and a regular organ of popular government... Under the impact of propaganda... it is no longer possible to believe in the original dogma of democracy.”

Building on this legacy, Network Propaganda traces how structural changes in media—from the rise of AM talk radio to today’s algorithm-driven social media—have entrenched partisan realities. The right-wing media sphere, in particular, has developed mechanisms that promote "cathartic outrage," creating a deeply asymmetric trust structure. Conservative audiences are not only disconnected from sources of disconfirmation but also encouraged to distrust traditionally conservative outlets like The Wall Street Journal when they don’t fully align with far-right narratives. This tendency to villainize dissenting voices even within the right deepens the divide and fosters ideological purity at the expense of journalistic integrity. Through case studies like the 2016 election and conspiracy theories such as Seth Rich and Uranium One, the authors reveal how this fractured ecosystem destabilizes democratic discourse. Yet the book also explores potential remedies, urging systemic reform in journalism, technology, and political institutions.

The evolution of America’s media landscape is central to understanding the asymmetric dynamics described in Network Propaganda. The authors trace a fascinating history, starting with the story of AM and FM radio. In the mid-20th century, AM radio faced competition from FM, which offered superior sound quality and stereo capabilities. However, entrenched corporate interests, led by legendary radio pioneer David Sarnoff of RCA, worked to delay FM’s widespread adoption through litigation and regulatory obstacles. This resistance not only stifled innovation but also delayed FM's dominance until the 1980s. Tragically, Edwin Armstrong, the inventor of FM radio, died by suicide in 1954 after years of battling Sarnoff and RCA.

By the 1980s, FM radio had surpassed AM in popularity for music, leaving AM to carve out a new niche: talk radio. This transformation was made possible by the repeal of the FCC’s Fairness Doctrine in 1987. Introduced in the post-World War II era, the Fairness Doctrine required broadcasters to cover controversial public issues in a balanced manner, providing airtime for opposing perspectives. Its purpose was to ensure that the limited public airwaves served the democratic need for diverse viewpoints, affecting all broadcast radio and television stations.

Once repealed, the Fairness Doctrine’s absence allowed talk radio hosts to present one-sided, partisan narratives without the obligation to provide opposing viewpoints. Conservative hosts like Rush Limbaugh seized this opportunity, building a loyal audience of older, white, Christian listeners. Limbaugh’s approach—blending outrage-driven commentary with catchy labels like “feminazi” and “Clinton News Network”—helped shape the conservative media ecosystem as a space for ideological affirmation. This pattern was later replicated across cable news networks, particularly Fox News, which by the early 2000s had surpassed CNN in viewership by feeding its audience a steady stream of partisan, worldview-affirming content.

A defining feature of the right-wing media ecosystem is its ability to create a “propaganda feedback loop.” Unlike liberal media, which tends to foster competition and accountability among outlets, conservative media prioritizes unity around partisan narratives. This unity comes at a cost: even traditionally conservative outlets like The Wall Street Journal, which adhere to professional journalistic norms, are criticized for being insufficiently loyal. As the authors note, this has fragmented the conservative media landscape, encouraging the proliferation of ideologically-driven outlets that prioritize identity-confirming narratives over truth.

Libertarian Cato Institute Senior Fellow Julian Sanchez describes this phenomenon as “epistemic closure.” He writes:

“One of the more striking features of the contemporary conservative movement is the extent to which it has been moving toward epistemic closure. Reality is defined by a multimedia array of interconnected and cross-promoting conservative blogs, radio programs, magazines, and of course, Fox News. Whatever conflicts with that reality can be dismissed out of hand because it comes from the liberal media, and is, therefore, ipso facto not to be trusted. (How do you know they’re liberal? Well, they disagree with the conservative media!)”

Sanchez highlights how this “epistemic closure” creates a self-reinforcing worldview that rejects external criticism and dissenting perspectives. While this dynamic fosters solidarity and energy within the conservative movement, it also renders the ecosystem fragile, as it becomes increasingly disconnected from outside realities.

These dynamics have profound implications for democracy. Right-wing audiences are systematically disconnected from potential sources of disconfirmation, making them more susceptible to misinformation and manipulation. As the authors explain, “This does not require any special psychological profile; it is merely a direct consequence of the architecture of the media system.” In other words, the structural design of the right-wing media sphere inherently fosters mistrust of external sources and intensifies polarization.

The evolution of campaign strategies over the past two decades offers a revealing glimpse into how media and technology have reshaped political communication. In 2008, Barack Obama’s campaign was heralded for its grassroots approach. MyBarackObama.com (MyBO), the campaign’s innovative social network platform, empowered supporters to organize meetups, launch fundraising efforts, and share campaign news. By the end of the campaign, MyBO had over two million active members, 70,000 of whom started their own fundraising campaigns. This decentralized strategy allowed the campaign to build a vast, engaged base, which was instrumental in Obama’s historic victory.

However, the spirit of grassroots democracy faded during Obama’s transition to the presidency. As Micah Sifry documented, Democratic Party insiders persuaded the administration to fold MyBO into the Democratic National Committee (DNC). The platform’s tools for self-organization were dismantled, reducing it to Organizing for America, a centralized entity that primarily used its email list for fundraising. Sifry lamented:

“Instead of calling on supporters to launch a voter registration drive or build a network of small donors... OFA deployed the campaign’s vast email list to hawk coffee mugs and generate thank-you notes.”

By 2010, this shift had significant consequences. The once-dedicated grassroots base that helped propel Obama into office was largely disengaged. When the fight over healthcare reform reached its peak, Organizing for America could muster only 300,000 phone calls to Congress—a far cry from the activism of 2008. This lack of mobilization was even more apparent in the 2010 midterm elections, when Democrats suffered their worst losses since the Great Depression, losing control of the House of Representatives.

In 2012, Obama’s campaign took a pioneering approach, leveraging social media data to an unprecedented degree. Platforms like Facebook allowed the campaign to create highly segmented voter profiles, delivering personalized messages designed to maximize engagement, turnout, and fundraising. For example, the campaign used Facebook’s data to encourage peer-to-peer interactions, amplifying its reach by targeting potential voters through friends and family. This innovative use of accessible digital data transformed the way campaigns operated, highlighting the power of algorithm-driven platforms to influence political outcomes.

The authors argue that Obama’s 2012 campaign set the stage for more problematic uses of social media data in later elections. Donald Trump’s 2016 campaign reflected many of the same principles but with a vastly different tone and purpose. Like Obama, Trump’s team exploited social media’s ability to target specific audiences, but instead of hope-driven narratives, they weaponized emotionally charged content and disinformation to mobilize supporters and suppress opposition. This was particularly evident in the campaign’s use of fear-based messaging and divisive rhetoric, which resonated with a segment of voters primed by the right-wing media ecosystem.

The parallels between the two campaigns are striking. Both relied on social media to bypass traditional gatekeepers, but while Obama’s use of these tools was largely celebrated as innovative, Trump’s campaign revealed how the same mechanisms could be used to polarize and manipulate. The authors emphasize that these shifts demand a rethinking of how political campaigns operate in an era where the line between persuasion and propaganda is increasingly blurred.

The authors of Network Propaganda use detailed case studies to illustrate how the fractured media ecosystem shapes public perception and amplifies misinformation. One of the most striking examples is the Clinton email controversy during the 2016 presidential election. Gallup polling revealed that voters most commonly associated the word “emails” with Hillary Clinton, overshadowing discussions about her policy positions. The authors note that while media coverage of both candidates was largely negative, the fixation on Clinton’s emails vastly outstripped other narratives. The authors argue that this imbalance wasn’t due to a violation of journalistic norms but rather a misapplication of objectivity as even-handedness:

“If professional journalistic objectivity means balance and impartiality... the solution was uniformly negative coverage and a heavy focus on detailed objective facts. The emails were catnip for professional journalists. They gave journalists something concrete to work with.”

This relentless focus on the emails created an “illusory anchor” that fed conspiracy theories, linking Clinton to everything from a paedophilia ring to collusion with Muslims. The right-wing media ecosystem played a key role in spreading these narratives, leveraging repetition and framing to turn the story into a symbol of corruption. Michael Cernovich, a right-wing social media personality, openly described this strategy:

“If there’s a story that can hurt Hillary, I want it in the news cycle. If I have to invent a story that can hurt Hillary, I want it in the news cycle.”

Similarly, the Seth Rich conspiracy theory exemplified the “propaganda feedback loop” that defines right-wing media. Fox News and other outlets amplified a baseless claim that Rich, a former DNC staffer, was murdered for leaking emails to WikiLeaks. This narrative persisted despite evidence from the intelligence community attributing the DNC hack to Russian actors. The authors highlight how conservative media not only ignored corrections but actively attacked external sources that debunked the story, deepening distrust in mainstream journalism.

This pattern extended to the Uranium One controversy, where right-wing outlets framed the involvement of key public figures as part of a “deep state” plot against Trump. Among those targeted were:

• Robert Mueller, a highly respected figure in American law enforcement, served as FBI Director from 2001 to 2013, appointed by Republican President George W. Bush. Mueller’s tenure spanned critical moments, including the September 11 attacks and the Iraq War. Known for his apolitical stance and integrity, Mueller was chosen as Special Counsel in 2017 to investigate Russian interference in the 2016 election. Despite his decades of service under both Republican and Democratic administrations, conservative media portrayed Mueller as a partisan actor conspiring against Trump.

• James Comey, also a Republican, built his reputation as a principled prosecutor, serving as Deputy Attorney General under George W. Bush. Comey famously opposed Bush administration officials over their attempts to renew a warrantless wiretapping program. Appointed FBI Director by Barack Obama in 2013, Comey became a polarizing figure due to his handling of the Clinton email investigation. His eventual dismissal by Trump in 2017, while he was investigating Russian interference, sparked allegations of obstruction of justice. Right-wing media accused Comey of bias, claiming he had been too lenient with Clinton and unfairly targeted Trump.

• Rod Rosenstein, another lifelong Republican, served as U.S. Attorney for Maryland under both the Bush and Obama administrations. Appointed Deputy Attorney General by Trump in 2017, Rosenstein oversaw the Mueller investigation after Attorney General Jeff Sessions recused himself. Despite his loyalty to Republican leadership and his role in recommending Comey’s dismissal, Rosenstein faced attacks from conservative media for his perceived defense of Mueller’s independence. His resignation in 2019 was framed as evidence of a “deep state” working against Trump.

  
  

The authors emphasize that all three men had long-standing Republican credentials and were respected for their professionalism and impartiality. Yet, right-wing media vilified them, portraying their actions as evidence of a conspiracy to undermine Trump. This framing not only deepened partisan divides but also eroded trust in law enforcement and public institutions.

By contrast, the authors observe that the mainstream media ecosystem, while not immune to flaws, operates with a higher degree of accountability. They point to the rapid removal of errors, corrections, and disciplinary actions taken by mainstream outlets when mistakes occur. This commitment to professional norms stands in stark contrast to the right-wing media’s low-cost, high-reward approach to spreading falsehoods.

The authors argue that this divergence stems from the structural incentives of each ecosystem. The mainstream media’s competition-driven model encourages accountability, whereas the right-wing media’s loyalty-driven model rewards identity-confirming narratives. As a result, right-wing audiences are more vulnerable to misinformation, while liberal audiences remain more connected to fact-based journalism.

One of the most critical legislative proposals discussed in Network Propaganda is the Honest Ads Act, introduced in 2017 by Senators Amy Klobuchar, Mark Warner, and John McCain. This bipartisan effort sought to address the growing influence of propaganda and disinformation in the digital age. The authors argue that the Honest Ads Act represents a vital step toward transparency and accountability in political advertising, proposing three significant changes:

1. Distinguishing Paid from Unpaid CommunicationsThe Act separated paid online communications from unpaid ones, ensuring that voluntary and organic content would remain unaffected. This distinction was intended to regulate political ads without stifling grassroots or unpaid speech, which plays an essential role in democratic discourse.

2. Mandatory Disclaimers on Online AdsPolitical ads online would require disclaimers, clearly identifying them as paid content and disclosing the sponsor. This provision aimed to prevent ads from masquerading as organic communications, enabling viewers to recognize them as targeted messaging.

3. A Public Database for Political AdsPerhaps the Act’s most innovative feature, this provision mandated the creation of a real-time, publicly accessible database of online political advertising. The database would include details such as copies of the ads, information about their sponsors, targeting parameters, and performance metrics (e.g., views and engagement). By requiring platforms to collect and share this data, the Act sought to enable watchdog organizations and independent researchers to hold campaigns accountable and expose manipulation.

   
   

The authors note that this level of transparency would have been a game-changer. It would have allowed journalists, regulators, and the public to scrutinize campaign tactics, shedding light on the sources of disinformation and the strategies used to target specific groups. As they explain, “Executed faithfully, it should allow public watchdog organizations to offer accountability for lies and manipulation in almost real time.”

However, the Honest Ads Act faced significant resistance and ultimately failed to pass. The authors argue that its rejection reflects broader systemic issues, particularly the outsized influence of major technology companies like Facebook and Google. Despite their technological sophistication—companies capable of building driverless cars and optimizing algorithms to target millions of users—they claimed that implementing the Act’s provisions was “impractical.” This argument, the authors assert, is “laughable” and highlights the reluctance of these platforms to prioritize democratic integrity over their commercial interests.

The failure to pass the Honest Ads Act also revealed deep political divisions. While it had bipartisan sponsorship, most of the Act’s support came from Democrats, who were keen to address the role of disinformation in the 2016 election and Russia’s influence in particular. Many Republicans, however, resisted the Act, viewing it as an unnecessary government intervention that could restrict political speech. This opposition reflected broader conservative leanings toward deregulation and skepticism about government oversight, as well as a reluctance to scrutinize tactics that had been instrumental in Trump’s 2016 victory.

The authors argue that this ideological divide—between those prioritizing transparency and those wary of regulation—mirrors the larger challenges facing the American media ecosystem. Without bipartisan commitment to reform, the digital information landscape remains vulnerable to manipulation. The rejection of the Honest Ads Act, they contend, underscores the need for a more unified approach to addressing disinformation while balancing concerns about free speech.

Ultimately, the Honest Ads Act was one of the first serious attempts to confront the challenges posed by network propaganda. Its failure represents a missed opportunity to establish a foundation for accountability in the digital age. The authors argue that future efforts must build on its principles, combining technological innovation with robust regulation to counteract the corrosive effects of disinformation.

As Network Propaganda highlights the role of media ecosystems in shaping political realities, it also invites readers to consider the deeper structural forces at play. These forces often transcend the partisan divides that dominate public discourse, revealing a more entrenched and bipartisan consensus that underpins much of American governance.

A particularly striking passage references Mike Lofgren’s essay “Anatomy of the Deep State”, where the retired 30-year Republican congressional staffer critiques what he describes as an entrenched power structure in Washington. This “deep state,” as Lofgren calls it, is anchored by institutions such as major security and intelligence agencies, military contractors, and dominant players in the financial and technology sectors. He argues that these entities, regardless of their public stances on social issues, share a common commitment to policies of financialization, outsourcing, deregulation, and commodifying labor. Lofgren writes:

“[D]eeply dyed in the hue of the official ideology of the governing class, an ideology that is neither specifically Democrat nor Republican... Internationally, they espouse 21st-century ‘American Exceptionalism’: the right and duty of the United States to meddle in every region of the world with coercive diplomacy and boots on the ground and to ignore painfully won international norms of civilized behavior.”

This critique challenges the conventional framing of American politics as a battle between two ideologically distinct parties. Instead, it suggests that on core issues of economic and foreign policy, both parties operate within a shared framework—the so-called “Washington Consensus.” This dynamic allows public attention to be diverted toward divisive social issues while deeper structural inequities remain unchallenged.

Libertarian Doug Casey offers a similarly damning assessment of the two-party system:

“I’ve said for years that the Demopublicans and the Republicats are just two wings of the same party. One says it’s for Social Freedom (which is a lie) but is actively antagonistic to economic freedom. The other says it’s for economic freedom (which is a lie) but is actively antagonistic to social freedom.”

Casey’s perspective underscores the limitations of a system where both parties claim ideological superiority but fail to deliver substantive change. His critique of the two-party paradox echoes the book’s argument that partisan polarization, amplified by media ecosystems, often serves as a distraction from systemic power imbalances.

These insights provide an important counterpoint to the book’s focus on media dynamics. They remind readers that while disinformation and propaganda are central to today’s challenges, they operate within a broader framework of entrenched institutional power. Addressing the crisis in American democracy will require not only media reform but also a willingness to confront the bipartisan structures that perpetuate inequality and erode trust in governance.

Late in Network Propaganda, the authors introduce the metaphor of "Mammon," a biblical term for greed or material wealth, to illustrate the ethical dilemma at the heart of the modern media ecosystem. They argue that algorithms, designed to prioritize engagement and profit, often amplify outrage and misinformation, sacrificing societal well-being in the process. This system creates a media environment that thrives on division and polarization, destabilizing democracy and eroding trust in public institutions.

The Mammon metaphor encapsulates the broader conflict between the public interest and the business models of dominant platforms. The authors show how these systems, built to optimize revenue, have reshaped the media landscape—from the repeal of the Fairness Doctrine to the unchecked power of social media algorithms. Efforts like the Honest Ads Act attempted to address this imbalance but faced resistance from powerful interests unwilling to compromise profitability for transparency and accountability.

By tying together historical context, systemic critiques, and contemporary case studies, Network Propaganda offers a sobering diagnosis of the challenges facing American democracy. The authors argue that tackling the forces of "Mammon"—and prioritizing public good over profit—is essential to preserving a shared reality and democratic discourse in the digital age.