One Nation and Social Media
One Nation has achieved something that most establishment parties still barely understand: politics in the social media age is no longer won simply through policy documents, press conferences, or carefully scripted talking points. Attention itself has become political currency, and humour is now one of the most powerful weapons in public life.
For years, mainstream parties treated social media as little more than a digital noticeboard. They uploaded stiff videos, polished slogans, and managerial messaging written by committees. The result was predictable. Almost nobody watched voluntarily. The content felt artificial because it was artificial.
One Nation, by contrast, increasingly understands the internet as culture rather than merely communication. Their short-form videos, memes, and especially the "Please Explain" style clips, work because they recognise an important truth: people engage emotionally before they engage intellectually. Humour lowers resistance. Satire spreads faster than policy papers.
The brilliance of many of these videos is that they avoid presenting Prime Minister Anthony Albanese as some grand historical villain. Instead, he is transformed into something more culturally potent: a kind of modern Mr Magoo figure, wandering absent-mindedly from one policy mishap to another while insisting everything is under control.
That distinction matters. Political propaganda traditionally demonises opponents as evil masterminds. But in democratic politics, ridicule is often more devastating than hatred. A leader portrayed as sinister may still appear strong. A leader portrayed as bumbling, confused, and permanently out of his depth becomes difficult to take seriously. Comedy quietly dissolves authority.
The old establishment media once monopolised this power. Television comedians, newspaper cartoonists, and satirical programs overwhelmingly shaped public perception from within elite institutions. Social media shattered that monopoly. Now political outsiders can create viral narratives independently of legacy media gatekeepers.
One Nation has adapted to this environment more effectively than many larger parties precisely because it operates with less institutional caution. The videos feel less focus-grouped and more organic. They often resemble the kind of humour ordinary Australians exchange privately: sarcastic, irreverent, and sceptical of authority. In a political culture increasingly distrusting polished elites, authenticity matters more than production values.
The "Please Explain" format itself cleverly taps into Australian political memory. Pauline Hanson's famous phrase, once used to mock her, has gradually been reappropriated into a populist symbol of ordinary Australians questioning elite narratives. What establishment figures intended as ridicule became, over time, a political brand.
Humour also allows difficult issues to be discussed indirectly. Australians are often reluctant to engage with overtly ideological or moralistic political messaging. But satire creates emotional distance. People may share a funny clip about housing, immigration, energy prices, or government incompetence even if they would avoid a direct political argument. Comedy becomes a delivery mechanism for dissent.
Importantly, this style works because many voters already feel exhausted by modern politics. Endless managerial language, bureaucratic jargon, and moral lecturing have drained public trust. Humour cuts through because it reflects a growing perception that the political class itself has become absurd. In such an atmosphere, the politician who appears capable of laughing at the system gains an advantage over the politician still speaking in consultant-approved talking points.
Of course, humour alone cannot govern a country. Memes are not economic policy. But politics has always depended partly upon narrative, symbolism, and emotional resonance. Social media merely accelerates this ancient reality. A thirty-second satirical clip can now shape public perception more effectively than an hour-long parliamentary speech.
There is also a deeper cultural shift underway. Ordinary people increasingly experience politics not as formal civic participation, but as an ongoing online spectacle. Parties able to navigate irony, humour, memes, and short-form communication gain disproportionate influence because they understand the grammar of internet culture.
Many establishment figures still underestimate this transformation. They assume social media is secondary to "serious politics." But increasingly social media is where political legitimacy itself is formed, contested, and destroyed. Public perception now moves at meme speed.
One Nation did not invent this phenomenon, but it has adapted to it with considerable skill. The party's use of humour, especially in portraying Albanese as a well-meaning but perpetually confused Mr Magoo-style figure drifting from crisis to crisis, captures something many voters already suspect intuitively: that modern political leadership often appears less malevolent than strangely incompetent.
And in politics, being laughed at can be far more dangerous than being hated.
