Memes, reels and viral posts are becoming tools for shaping Goa’s political choices
The political battle ahead of the 2027 Assembly elections in Goa is no longer confined to streets, meeting halls, public meetings and press conferences. An increasingly fierce battle is taking place silently inside the smartphone.
A voter can wake up to a meme attacking one politician, a short video praising another, an edited speech, a sarcastic post about a candidate’s family or a “news” post highlighting an opponent’s embarrassment. Within seconds, these reach thousands of people. The voter may not even realise that what he is consuming is part of a political campaign. A poster saying ‘Vote for X’ is obviously political. But a social media page calling itself ‘X News’, ‘X Youth’, ‘X Politics’ or ‘X Updates’ creates a different impression. Readers and viewers may assume, “This is what people are saying.”
The issue is not social media itself. Political parties using such platforms to explain their policies, communicate with voters or present their achievements is legitimate democratic communication. Concern arises when they create pages resembling those of media houses, presenting partisan messaging as independent news or spontaneous public opinion, outside their official party/individual accounts. Politics now seems to be moving from convincing people to provoking them. A 30-60-second video can create anger much faster than a 15-30-minute speech can create understanding. The digital political battle therefore rewards outrage, ridicule, fear, mockery and humiliation.
There is nothing wrong with criticising politicians. But there is a difference between saying, “This politician failed to deliver on his promise,” and saying, “Look at this politician. What a joke!” Political criticism is necessary. Personal harassment is something else. The challenge is to recognise where legitimate criticism ends and political cruelty begins. Behind this digital political battle is also an increasingly professional ecosystem.
There is another important question. When political communication is outsourced to agencies, who decides what a Goan voter should be angry about? Earlier, political rivalry was largely driven by politicians, political workers and supporters. Now, potentially, there are people whose professional job is to create content attacking the rival camp. There is a significant difference between saying, “I dislike that politician,” and saying, “My job is to make people dislike that politician.” That is the professionalisation of political hatred. A voter may follow several political pages. Each page can have its own heroes, villains, interpretation of events and version of what happened. Eventually, the voter may stop asking, “What happened?” Instead, the question becomes, “Whose version should I believe?” And this brings journalism into an uncomfortable position.
A newspaper reports an event. A political page can take that report and turn it into a graphic, reel or meme aimed at an opponent. Journalism can therefore become ammunition in a political battle without the journalist or newspaper being part of that battle. Media must continue to report, question and scrutinise. But voters must also be able to distinguish between journalism and political messaging that merely looks like journalism.
The question, ultimately, is not whether politicians should use social media. The question is whether voters deserve to know who is behind the message and whether what looks like public opinion is actually organised political persuasion. The real question is: What kind of election are we creating?
An election in which voters compare governance, policies, candidates, development, promises and performance? Or one in which political choices are increasingly shaped by memes, reels, insults, manipulated clips, viral jokes and manufactured outrage? Because the person who controls the screen may increasingly influence the person who controls the vote.
