by selina.pichler -

13*BRANDING POLITICS: Analogue authenticity and why handmade print feels political

There is something strangely emotional about badly aligned ink.

A slightly crooked screen print, uneven letterpress pressure or rough photocopy texture often feels more politically sincere than an expensive, perfectly polished campaign advertisement. Even when communicating identical messages, analogue print aesthetics carry entirely different emotional weight.

And that difference says a lot about how we understand authenticity in contemporary political culture.

Over the past decades, political communication has become increasingly professionalised. Campaigns are data-driven, strategically branded and visually optimised across platforms. Political actors operate similarly to corporations, carefully managing tone of voice, visual identity and public image. As political branding became more polished, audiences simultaneously became more sceptical.

Authenticity emerged as a response to this distrust.

In contemporary political branding, this dynamic is also visible in campaigns – such as Zohran Mamdani – where visual identity often leans into a deliberately analogue-inspired, community-made aesthetic. Rather than presenting overly polished corporate-style branding, these materials frequently emphasise warmth, locality and a handmade visual language that feels closer to neighbourhood organising than institutional campaigning. This analogue touch contributes to a perception of being more personal, more grounded, and therefore more trustworthy, as if the communication is emerging from lived community experience rather than distant political machinery.

Sociologist Alison Hearn argues that contemporary culture increasingly values performances of authenticity as a reaction against excessive commodification and strategic self-branding (Hearn, 2008). In political communication, this means that “imperfect” aesthetics often appear more trustworthy precisely because they seem less manufactured.

Analogue print aesthetics benefit heavily from this perception.

Unlike digital design, analogue printing processes leave visible traces of labour. Screen printing produces texture variations. Letterpress creates physical pressure marks. Risograph printing often misaligns colours slightly. Photocopies degrade image quality through repetition. These imperfections reveal process.

And process feels human.

Historically, analogue print has also been deeply connected to political resistance. Protest posters, underground newspapers, activist zines and labour pamphlets relied on accessible print methods long before digital media existed. Political movements used whatever reproduction technologies were available – often cheaply, quickly and collectively.

This historical relationship matters because aesthetics carry memory.

Contemporary analogue-inspired political design unconsciously references these earlier traditions. A rough screen print visually echoes anti-war posters, punk zines, feminist publishing and grassroots organising. Even when reproduced digitally, analogue aesthetics signal resistance culture.

Design historian Steven Heller notes that alternative print cultures historically prioritised urgency and accessibility over technical perfection (Heller, 2003). The goal was communication, mobilisation and visibility – not polished branding consistency. Ironically, these “imperfect” aesthetics later became highly recognisable visual identities in themselves.

Today, many contemporary political movements intentionally recreate analogue aesthetics, even within digital environments.

Instagram graphics imitate photocopies. Protest campaigns use hand-drawn typography. Digital posters simulate screen-print textures. This aestheticisation of analogue media reflects a broader desire for authenticity within increasingly corporate communication systems.

But authenticity itself is complicated.

Just because something looks handmade does not necessarily make it politically radical or sincere. Analogue aesthetics can be strategically manufactured like any other branding technique. Large corporations frequently adopt “DIY” visual language to appear approachable, ethical or community-oriented. Handmade aesthetics have become marketable.

This creates an interesting contradiction.

The visual signs of authenticity are now fully integrated into contemporary branding culture. What once signalled anti-establishment politics can now be reproduced intentionally by institutions themselves.

And yet, audiences still respond emotionally to material imperfection.

Part of this response may relate to physicality. Digital communication often feels temporary and endlessly replaceable. Analogue print, by contrast, exists materially. Ink occupies space. Paper deteriorates. Posters wrinkle, fade and tear over time. Political messages become objects rather than purely images.

Media theorist Walter Benjamin famously argued that mechanical reproduction transforms how audiences experience authenticity and presence within visual culture (Benjamin, 1935). In many ways, analogue political print reintroduces a sense of aura into contemporary communication. Its imperfections make each object feel slightly singular.

This singularity becomes politically meaningful.

Analogue aesthetics suggest effort. Time. Human involvement. Collective production.

Whether these assumptions are always accurate is almost secondary.

What matters is perception.

In a political environment dominated by hyper-polished digital branding, analogue print aesthetics create emotional distance from institutional communication. They feel slower. More personal. More grounded in physical reality.

Not because they are inherently more honest.

But because they still look like someone made them.

This perception becomes especially relevant in contemporary protest culture, where movements constantly negotiate visibility, credibility and emotional resonance. Handmade aesthetics visually communicate effort and participation. They imply that politics is not only produced by institutions, but also by ordinary people physically engaging with public space.

And perhaps this is why analogue print continues to survive despite the efficiency of digital communication.

Analogue political media is slower. More expensive. Less scalable. Often messier.

But it also feels tangible in ways digital media rarely can.

You can hold it.

You can damage it.

You can walk past it every day on the same street corner until the message embeds itself into memory.

In that sense, analogue political print does more than communicate ideology.

It materialises it.

And maybe, in a political landscape increasingly shaped by polished branding and disappearing content, material presence itself has become a form of resistance.

Sources:

  • Benjamin, W. (1935). The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.
  • Hearn, A. (2008). “Meat, Mask, Burden”: Probing the Contours of the Branded Self. Journal of Consumer Culture.
  • Heller, S. (2003). Merz to Emigre and Beyond: Avant-Garde Magazine Design of the Twentieth Century. Phaidon.
  • McQuiston, L. (1993). Graphic Agitation: Social and Political Graphics Since the Sixties. Phaidon.

by selina.pichler -

12*BRANDING POLITICS: The basic politics of design – colour, typography and ideology

At first glance, design choices often appear aesthetic rather than political.

A blue poster is just blue. A serif font is simply elegant. Bold typography is supposedly just “good graphic design.” But political communication has never been neutral, and neither are the visual systems it relies on. Colours, typography, composition and visual style function as ideological shorthand long before audiences consciously process a message.

Politics, in many ways, is learned visually. Which we established quite well (at least in my very extremely humble opinion) last semester.

The association between colour and political identity is perhaps the clearest example of this process. Across much of Europe and North America, red has historically become linked to socialism, labour movements and revolutionary politics, while blue frequently signals conservatism, nationalism or institutional stability. Green has become inseparable from environmental politics. Black often appears in anarchist or anti-authoritarian contexts.

These associations are not biologically fixed. They are culturally constructed through repetition.

Political theorist Murray Edelman argued that political symbols gain power through emotional conditioning rather than rational understanding (Edelman, 1964). In other words, colours become political because societies repeatedly attach ideological meaning to them over time. Eventually, recognition becomes automatic.

This visual conditioning explains why certain political campaigns feel immediately legible even before any text is read. Audiences subconsciously decode ideological cues through aesthetics. A minimalist sans-serif campaign using soft gradients and inclusive photography communicates something very different from a poster built around aggressive typography, national symbols and rigid composition.

Typography functions similarly.

Fonts carry cultural histories. Serif typefaces are often associated with authority, tradition and institutional legitimacy due to their long relationship with newspapers, academia and governmental communication. Sans-serif typography, particularly geometric modernist fonts, frequently communicates progressiveness, accessibility and contemporary thinking.

These associations become politically significant because typography shapes emotional interpretation. Design theorist Ellen Lupton describes typography as a “visual form of language” that structures tone before content is consciously understood (Lupton, 2010). A slogan written in a clean modern grotesk feels fundamentally different from the exact same slogan written in a decorative script font.

This becomes especially visible in political propaganda.

Authoritarian political communication historically relies heavily on bold, condensed typography, strong geometric composition and limited colour palettes. Soviet constructivist posters, fascist propaganda and nationalist campaign materials all utilised highly controlled visual systems designed to communicate strength, urgency and collective identity.

Contemporary political branding continues these traditions, although often in more subtle ways.

Progressive political movements frequently rely on softer aesthetics, participatory visuals and inclusive colour systems intended to signal openness and diversity. Conservative campaigns often prioritise visual stability, tradition and national symbolism. These design strategies are not accidental – they are carefully constructed emotional frameworks.

Importantly, audiences do not need formal design education to interpret these signals.

Visual literacy develops culturally. Through repeated exposure, people learn how political ideologies “look.” This process operates almost automatically. You may not consciously analyse typography when looking at a campaign poster, but you still respond emotionally to its visual tone.

And this emotional response matters politically.

Communication scholar George Lakoff argues that political persuasion relies heavily on framing rather than factual argument alone (Lakoff, 2004). Visual design contributes directly to this framing process. Design shapes whether political communication feels trustworthy, threatening, rebellious or institutional before any policy position is evaluated.

This becomes particularly important in digital political culture, where audiences consume information rapidly and often superficially. Visual impressions are formed within seconds. Political branding therefore relies heavily on recognisability and immediate emotional clarity.

But these systems are never universal.

Colour associations differ internationally. In the United States, red is associated with conservative politics, whereas across much of Europe it remains linked to socialism and labour movements. Typography trends also shift culturally and historically. What feels progressive in one context may feel corporate or outdated in another.

Political design is therefore not fixed ideology translated visually.

It is negotiated perception.

And perhaps this is what makes political branding so powerful.

It rarely convinces through argument alone.

Sometimes, it simply teaches audiences what a political idea is supposed to look like.

And the more consistently these aesthetics are repeated, the more natural they begin to feel.

This is precisely why branding in politics becomes so effective. Visual language creates familiarity long before ideological understanding develops. A person may not fully understand a movement’s policies, but they can still recognise whether it appears modern, radical, patriotic, rebellious or trustworthy through design alone.

The danger, however, is that visual coherence can easily be mistaken for political coherence. A professionally branded campaign may appear organised and convincing even when its ideological foundations are weak or contradictory. Likewise, movements with less polished communication may struggle to gain legitimacy despite strong political substance.

Design therefore does not simply support political communication.

It shapes political perception itself.

And in a media environment increasingly built around rapid visual consumption, this influence becomes difficult to separate from politics entirely.

Before audiences evaluate arguments, they evaluate aesthetics.

Before they process policy, they process feeling.

And feeling, more often than not, begins with design.

Sources:

  • Edelman, M. (1964). The Symbolic Uses of Politics. University of Illinois Press.
  • Lakoff, G. (2004). Don’t Think of an Elephant! Chelsea Green Publishing.
  • Lupton, E. (2010). Thinking with Type. Princeton Architectural Press.
  • Crowley, D. (2013). Graphic Design and Protest. Design Issues, 29(3).

by selina.pichler -

BRANDING POLITICS: Look again – questioning politics, branding, and the choices we make

By now, one thing should be undeniable: politics rarely announces itself clearly. It doesn’t always arrive as a policy proposal or a campaign speech. More often, it slips in quietly – through visuals, voices, aesthetics, platforms and vibes. It disguises itself as lifestyle, taste, entertainment or common sense.

That’s exactly why questioning matters.

Especially for creatives.

If you can identify branding tactics, you can identify persuasion. If you understand visual language, tone and emotional framing, you can see how power is communicated – and how it is normalised. Political movements rely on design to simplify complex realities, mobilise emotion and create belonging. Sometimes this is empowering. Sometimes it’s manipulative. Often, it’s both.

Questioning doesn’t mean disengaging. It means becoming literate in the systems shaping perception. Asking who benefits from a particular visual language. Whose voices are amplified. Whose experiences are aestheticised. And whose realities remain invisible.

This is where creative skill becomes political responsibility.

Design, media, communication and storytelling are not neutral tools. They structure what is seen, what is felt and what is remembered. As branding logic increasingly dominates political communication, the ability to recognise it becomes a form of power. To see branding is to see strategy. To see strategy is to slow it down.

And slowing down matters.

Because political branding thrives on immediacy. On emotional shortcuts. On recognition before reflection. Questioning interrupts that flow. It creates distance. It makes space for complexity.

This brings us full circle – back to where this series began.

Politics doesn’t start at the ballot box. It starts earlier. Smaller. Quieter. With a repost. A purchase. A design choice. A silence. A black or white shirt at H&M.

Everything is political – not because everything is dramatic, but because everything participates. Every choice exists within systems of power, culture and meaning, whether we acknowledge them or not.

The real question isn’t whether you’re involved.

It’s whether you’re looking closely enough, at how involved you actually are.

Sources:
• Foucault, M. (1980). Power/Knowledge. Pantheon Books.
• Hall, S. (1997). Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices. Sage.
• Couldry, N. (2012). Media, Society, World. Polity Press.

by selina.pichler -

BRANDING POLITICS: Politics as lifestyle – when ideology becomes everyday practice

If politics truly permeates everything – and by now it should be clear that it does – then lifestyle is where it settles most comfortably. Not loudly, not dramatically, but quietly. In routines. In habits. In choices that don’t feel political until someone points out that they are.

What we eat, wear, watch, share and buy increasingly functions as political expression. Ethical consumption, sustainability, boycott culture, conscious branding, “voting with your wallet” – these practices allow individuals to align ideology with daily life. Politics becomes something you do without necessarily noticing you’re doing it.

This shift reflects a broader transformation in how political identity is constructed. Rather than being expressed primarily through formal participation – voting, party membership, protest – politics is increasingly embedded in personal identity and self-presentation. Being political is no longer just about what you argue for, but about how you live.

Sociologist Pierre Bourdieu famously argued that taste is never neutral. Our preferences in food, clothing, art and media reflect social positioning, cultural capital and power relations (Bourdieu, 1984). In contemporary culture, taste has become explicitly political. Aesthetic choices signal values. Consumption communicates alignment. Lifestyle becomes ideology, translated into everyday practice.

This is precisely why branding plays such a central role in modern political movements. For a cause to last, it must integrate seamlessly into daily routines. It must be wearable, shareable and repeatable. When politics becomes habitual, it becomes resilient. A movement that fits into everyday life is harder to abandon than one that only exists in moments of crisis.

But lifestyle politics also exposes deep contradictions.

Who gets to participate in ethical consumption? Who can afford sustainable fashion, organic food, or locally produced goods? When political engagement is tied to purchasing power, participation becomes uneven. What presents itself as moral choice can quickly slide into exclusion.

There is also the question of effectiveness. Critics argue that lifestyle politics risks reducing systemic issues to individual responsibility. Buying the “right” products may soothe personal conscience without challenging structural inequalities. Political action becomes symbolic rather than transformative.

And yet, dismissing lifestyle politics entirely misses its cultural power. Everyday practices shape norms. Norms shape expectations. Expectations shape politics. What feels normal today was often radical yesterday.

Lifestyle politics operates in the slow lane of change. It doesn’t replace institutional reform or collective struggle – but it does influence how those struggles are understood, supported and sustained. It turns abstract values into visible behaviour.

Politics doesn’t only live in institutions or protests.
It lives in habits.

And habits, once formed, are hard to break.

Sources:
• Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste. Harvard University Press.
• Giddens, A. (1991). Modernity and Self-Identity. Polity Press.
• Micheletti, M. (2003). Political Virtue and Shopping. Palgrave Macmillan.

by selina.pichler -

BRANDING POLITICS: Beyond the feed – other media channels shaping modern political movements

Social media dominates contemporary discussions of political activism – but focusing exclusively on feeds, algorithms and platforms obscures a crucial reality. Modern political movements are multi-channel by necessity. They operate across digital and physical spaces simultaneously, adapting their messages to different media logics.

Street posters, stickers, murals, banners and wheat-pasted flyers remain powerful political tools precisely because they resist digital ephemerality. You don’t scroll past them. You encounter them. Public space becomes a medium, and a battleground.

Cultural theorist Henri Lefebvre famously argued that public space is never neutral, it is produced through power relations, regulation and resistance (Lefebvre, 1991). Protest media that occupies physical space interrupts everyday routines and asserts political presence without requiring consent or algorithmic approval.

Zines and independent print publications function in a similar way. Historically rooted in feminist, queer, punk and anti-capitalist movements, zines prioritise depth, intimacy and community over reach. Their aesthetics – imperfect, handmade, intentionally “unpolished” – reject corporate design standards while still operating within recognisable visual languages.

Community radio also plays a vital role, particularly outside metropolitan centres. It sustains local political discourse, amplifies marginalised voices and maintains continuity between moments of heightened protest visibility. Unlike social media, it is less driven by virality and more by presence.

Even fashion operates as a political media channel. Clothing transforms bodies into mobile communication surfaces. Slogan T-shirts, pins, patches and colour-coded accessories allow individuals to signal political alignment in everyday life. Once again, branding logic reappears: visibility, recognisability, repetition.

What unites these channels is not nostalgia, but strategy. Modern movements do not choose between online and offline media. They occupy all of it. Each channel fulfils a different function – mobilisation, education, identity-building, memory.

The feed is loud.
But the street still speaks.

Sources:
• Lefebvre, H. (1991). The Production of Space. Blackwell.
• Duncombe, S. (2008). Notes from Underground: Zines and the Politics of Alternative Culture. Microcosm Publishing.
• Couldry, N. (2012). Media, Society, World. Polity Press.

by selina.pichler -

BRANDING POLITICS: Press record to protest – podcasting as a political movement

Podcasting doesn’t look like protest – and that’s precisely why it has become so politically powerful.

There are no marches, no placards, no visually striking crowds filling public squares. Instead, there is a voice. Sometimes just one. Conversational and opinionated. “So here’s the thing…” And suddenly, politics unfolds in your headphones while you’re cooking dinner or commuting to uni.

Podcasting has emerged as one of the most influential – and underestimated – political media forms of the 21st century. Unlike social media platforms that reward speed, outrage and brevity, podcasts thrive on slowness. They offer time, continuity and deeper narratives. In an attention economy built on fragmentation, this temporal commitment is, in a way, radical.

Media scholars argue that podcasts foster strong forms of parasocial interaction – one-sided relationships in which listeners feel emotionally connected to hosts (Llinares, Fox & Berry, 2018). This perceived intimacy generates trust, loyalty and long-term engagement. From a political perspective, this is an incredibly powerful mechanism.

Political podcasts do not simply distribute information. They construct ideological worlds. Over time, listeners adopt not just the host’s language, but also references and interpretive frameworks. The podcast becomes more than content – it becomes a brand, a community and a shared worldview. Intro music functions like a logo. Catchphrases become insider language. Live shows and merchandise transform listening into belonging.

Unlike traditional broadcast media, podcasting bypasses institutional gatekeepers almost entirely. Anyone with a microphone and internet access can participate. This accessibility has allowed marginalised voices to build substantial audiences without relying on mainstream media approval. At the same time, it has enabled the formation of highly insulated ideological spaces.

Podcasting mirrors protest branding in an unexpected way: it replaces visual symbolism with sonic identity. Tone of voice, rhythm, pacing and repetition become political tools. Where protest movements rely on imagery in public space, podcasts occupy private space – directly inside people’s heads.

This private consumption does not make podcast politics passive. On the contrary, it often deepens ideological commitment. Listening is sustained, habitual and intimate. Political ideas are not encountered accidentally, they are chosen, returned to and internalised.

Political change does not always shout. Sometimes, it whispers – consistently, convincingly, and every single week.

Sources:
• Llinares, D., Fox, N., & Berry, R. (2018). Podcasting: New Aural Cultures and Digital Media. Palgrave.
• Spinelli, M., & Dann, L. (2019). Podcasting: The Audio Media Revolution. Bloomsbury.

by selina.pichler -

BRANDING POLITICS: Same fight, different fonts – movement interconnectivity in modern politics

At first glance, political movements tend to present themselves as singular, distinct and morally unique. Each cause claims urgency. Each struggle insists on its own language, symbols and priorities. Climate activists block streets and glue themselves to infrastructure. Feminist movements organise marches and online campaigns. Labour unions strike. Nationalist movements rally under flags and slogans. Different demands, different enemies – different aesthetics.

And yet, once you start paying attention to how these movements communicate, the differences begin to blur.

Political movements rarely invent themselves from scratch. They emerge within existing cultural, political and media environments, borrowing tactics, visuals and narratives from those that came before them – and from those they oppose. Social movement scholars describe this process as movement spillover, where ideas, organisational forms and symbolic repertoires travel across movements, even across ideological boundaries (Meyer & Whittier, 1994).

A slogan migrates. A colour palette resurfaces. A gesture becomes universal.

The clenched fist is perhaps the most recognisable example. Originally associated with labour movements and anti-fascist resistance, it has since been adopted by feminist, anti-racist, queer and climate justice movements. In each context, its meaning shifts slightly – empowerment, solidarity, resistance – but its emotional core remains intact. Symbols accumulate histories. Movements inherit them whether they want to or not.

What becomes particularly striking is that opposing movements often rely on remarkably similar branding tactics. Uniform clothing. Simplified messaging. Strong emotional narratives. Clear distinctions between “us” and “them.” Even when political goals are fundamentally incompatible, the communication logic remains the same. Everyone is competing within the same attention economy.

This mirroring effect is especially visible in polarised political landscapes. Progressive and reactionary movements alike frame themselves as authentic, silenced or under threat. They claim moral urgency. They mobilise fear, hope or nostalgia. Communication theorist Paolo Gerbaudo argues that contemporary mobilisation is less about rational persuasion and more about emotional identification – movements succeed by making people feel part of something (Gerbaudo, 2018).

Belonging, however, requires recognisability.

This is where branding becomes essential. A movement must be instantly identifiable, repeatable and scalable. Limited colour palettes, recognisable symbols, consistent tone of voice – these elements allow movements to circulate across platforms and contexts without losing coherence. Whether it’s climate justice or nationalist populism, the mechanics are often identical. Same fight, different fonts.

Interconnectivity also becomes visible through coalition-building. Climate justice movements increasingly align themselves with labour rights, feminist politics and anti-racist struggles, recognising shared structural enemies. These alliances reshape visual language too. Messaging becomes broader. Symbols soften. Aesthetics adapt in order to accommodate multiple identities without collapsing into incoherence.

Yet this process is never frictionless. Interconnected movements must constantly negotiate whose priorities are foregrounded and whose are marginalised. Branding choices become political decisions.

Ultimately, movements do not operate in isolation. They exist within shared cultural systems, media infrastructures and design logics. Same platforms. Same visual languages. Same struggle for attention.

Different politics. Same design rules.

Sources:
• Gerbaudo, P. (2018). The Digital Party. Pluto Press.
• Meyer, D. S., & Whittier, N. (1994). Social Movement Spillover. Social Problems, 41(2).

by muhammad.turk -

The Trap of Perfection: Why “Easy” is the Enemy

Design & Research | Master Thesis Log 09

In my last post, I told you I was going to spend some time experimenting with my smartphone camera—really pushing the AI settings to see what they could do. I wanted to see if I could find a way to love the automation.

Well, I tried. And I found something interesting: I hated it.

The Experiment I went out with just my phone. No heavy gear, no lenses, just the device in my pocket. I took pictures of architecture, people, and shadows.

Technically? The photos were incredible. The AI balanced the highlights perfectly. The “Night Mode” saw things my eyes couldn’t even see. The colors were vibrant and sharp. I didn’t have to think about shutter speed or ISO. I just tapped the screen.
It was effortless. It was perfect.
And that is exactly the problem.

The Missing Ingredient I realized that when the camera does everything, the satisfaction disappears.

When I use my manual camera, I am constantly solving problems. Is the light too harsh? Do I need to lower the shutter speed? Is the focus right? When I finally get the shot, I feel a rush of dopamine because I solved the puzzle.

With the AI phone camera, there was no puzzle. It was just… consumption. I wasn’t making an image; I was just collecting one.

The “Happy Accident” I also realized that automation kills the “happy accident.”

Some of my best photos happened because I made a mistake. Maybe the shutter was too slow and created a beautiful blur. Maybe the exposure was dark and created a moody silhouette.

My phone refused to let me make those mistakes. It “fixed” everything instantly. It sanitized the creativity right out of the process.

The Realization This experiment taught me more than any interview could. It taught me that friction is necessary for art.

We don’t play video games that are impossible to lose. We don’t watch movies where everything goes perfectly for the hero. We need the struggle.

So, as I move toward my final design concept, I know one thing for sure: My solution cannot just be “easier.” It has to be “harder” in the right way. We need to bring the struggle back.

by selina.pichler -

BRANDING POLITICS: How branding strategies are implemented in political communication

If politics look like brands, protests act like campaigns, and social media functions as the main distribution channel – then political communication today is, at its core, strategic branding. Just with significantly higher stakes. But who’s counting, eh?

Political actors have long understood the importance of image, messaging and symbolism. What has changed is not whether branding exists in politics, but how central it has become. Research in political marketing shows that voters increasingly relate to parties, movements and leaders through emotional identification rather than detailed policy alignment (Scammell, 2014). Before arguments are processed rationally, signals are already doing the work.

Colours, typography, slogans, tone of voice, platform choice – these elements function as shorthand. They communicate values instantly. Authority. Relatability. Stability. Urgency. Hope. Fear. Branding allows political actors to compress ideology into something immediately recognisable.

This is visible across ideological spectrums. Progressive movements often employ inclusive language, participatory aesthetics and softer colour palettes. Their visuals emphasise community, openness and horizontality. Conservative political communication, on the other hand, frequently relies on visual stability, national symbols, traditional typography and authoritative tone. These differences are not ideological coincidences – they are branding strategies designed to resonate with specific audiences (Lees-Marshment, 2019).

What makes this especially powerful is that branding operates before conscious evaluation. You don’t have to agree with a message to feel something about how it looks. Political branding bypasses rational debate and moves straight into affect.

The parallels to commercial branding are impossible to ignore. Political identities are consumed, displayed and defended in ways strikingly similar to lifestyle brands. People wear slogans, share logos, defend movements with brand-like loyalty. As theorist Arjun Appadurai argues, consumption has become a primary site for identity construction in modern societies – and politics is no exception (Appadurai, 1996).

This does not mean politics are fake, hollow or superficial. It means they are communicated through the dominant cultural logic of our time. Branding becomes a translation tool – turning abstract ideologies into emotionally resonant visuals, narratives and experiences.

But branding also simplifies. It creates coherence by excluding complexity. Political movements must decide what to highlight and what to leave invisible. Which stories become central. Which identities are foregrounded. Which contradictions are smoothed over.

This is where power enters the design process.

Who controls the branding of a movement often determines whose realities are represented. Marginalised voices can be aestheticised without being empowered. Radical demands can be softened for broader appeal. Branding can unify – but it can also erase.

And yet, opting out is rarely an option. In a media environment saturated with visuals and competition, unbranded politics risk invisibility. The question is no longer whether politics should be branded.
They already are.

The real question is who gets to design them – and who is forced to live with the consequences.

Sources:
• Appadurai, A. (1996). Modernity at Large. University of Minnesota Press.
• Lees-Marshment, J. (2019). Political Marketing. Routledge.
• Scammell, M. (2014). Consumer Democracy. Cambridge University Press.

by selina.pichler -

BRANDING POLITICS: I’m liking this! About political movements in the 21st century and the role of social media in modern protest

If protest movements were once built in meeting rooms, universities and city squares, today they are built in comment sections, reddit forums and for-you-pages. The architecture of political participation has shifted dramatically – not away from collective action, but into platforms designed primarily for entertainment, advertising and endless scrolling. Likes, shares, reposts and saves have become political tools, and whether we like it or not, social media has fundamentally reshaped how movements grow, who participates, and what “political engagement” even means.

Social media platforms enable mobilisation and global visibility on a scale that would have been unimaginable to earlier protest movements. A single video, image or hashtag can circulate across continents in minutes. Research on digital activism highlights how platforms lower participation thresholds, allowing individuals to engage politically without formal membership, organisational structures or physical presence (Bennett & Segerberg, 2012). This shift has profoundly altered who gets to participate in political discourse.

Movements like Black Lives Matter illustrate this transformation clearly. Initially propelled by user-generated content – videos, eyewitness accounts, personal testimonies – BLM bypassed traditional media gatekeepers entirely. Social media did not just document protest, it produced it. Visibility became a catalyst. Outrage became connective tissue.

But this transformation comes at a cost. What “cost“, you might ask?

Online political engagement is often criticised as shallow or performative. The term “slacktivism” captures the fear that low-effort actions – liking a post, sharing a story, changing a profile picture – replace sustained political involvement (Morozov, 2011). Clicking “like” feels political, but its tangible impact remains contested. Does engagement translate into change, or does it simply generate metrics?

This critique is not unfounded. But it is incomplete.

What it often ignores is how political identity itself is formed today. Political participation is no longer confined to voting, protesting or party membership. It is deeply entangled with self-presentation. According to media scholar Zizi Papacharissi, online political engagement operates through affect – emotion, visibility and personal expression – rather than through formal political action alone (Papacharissi, 2015). In other words, sharing is not just communication, it is meaning-making.

Your feed becomes a political space. Your reposts signal alignment. Your follows imply morals and values. Your silence is read as a statement. Political movements now exist not only as collective struggles but as curated presences within individual timelines. Activism becomes part of personal branding – whether intentionally or not. There’s always that one influencer unwilling to comment on relevant political matters for the sake of their following, and on the other side there will be another influencer ditching their content niche and giving protest a platform, seemingly selfless, but alas also for the sake of their following.

This is where social media fundamentally reshapes protest logic. Movements must now be algorithmically legible. They must perform well within systems designed to reward speed, emotional intensity and visual clarity. Anger spreads faster than nuance. Images outperform text. Moral clarity outperforms ambiguity.

As a result, political movements increasingly adapt their messaging to platform logics. Protest becomes content. Messaging becomes modular. Visual identity becomes essential not just for recognition, but for survival.

Yet social media is not a neutral stage. It actively shapes what kinds of politics are visible, rewarded or suppressed. Algorithms prioritise engagement over accuracy, virality over complexity. Protest movements do not just fight institutions anymore – they fight platforms. They fight shadow bans, content moderation, demonetisation and algorithmic invisibility.

And sometimes, they win.

Digital platforms have allowed marginalised voices to bypass traditional power structures, challenge dominant narratives and build global solidarities. But they have also fragmented movements, encouraged internal policing and intensified performative pressure. To be political online is to be constantly visible – and constantly judged.

Modern protest exists in this contradiction. It is both empowered and constrained by the platforms it depends on. Participation is easier than ever, but sustaining momentum is harder. Engagement is measurable, but impact is not.

Social media did not make politics superficial. It made visibility unavoidable.

Sources:
• Bennett, W. L., & Segerberg, A. (2012). The Logic of Connective Action. Information, Communication & Society.
• Morozov, E. (2011). The Net Delusion. PublicAffairs.
• Papacharissi, Z. (2015). Affective Publics. Oxford University Press.