The past decade has seen political polarisation, exacerbated by social media's filter bubbles and echo chambers, deepen and mutate across the globe, from South Korea to France. But now the era of a polycrisis, marked by rising income inequality and widespread economic anxiety and insecurity, is shattering any remaining social consensus. From gentrification pushbacks to violent riots, disenfranchised people are turning to both fringe and conventional voices and content that risk dismantling the system and elevating the pain caused by structural inequities and economic hardship.
Yet ideological rifts are expanding beyond the confines of politics and economics. Polarisation is becoming an undercurrent that runs beneath everyday life, a defining element of the broader belief systems that determine the pop culture people consume, where they live, where they shop, and who they date. At the same time, political parties are acquiring qualities better associated with fandoms, with people projecting their desires and fantasies onto leaders and in the process creating distorted images and even fuelling extremism.
In this climate of heightened societal divisions and heated debates about everything from fashion to regional wars, cancel culture has emerged as a powerful tool for both social justice and social division. While it can be a means to hold individuals and institutions accountable for harmful actions, it can also be weaponised to silence dissent, promote conformity, and reinforce existing and new biases. As technology accelerates, unchecked AI can also fuel misinformation and amplify polarisation, leading to a further erosion of trust and a deepening of social fractures.
Simultaneously, a desire for reconciliation is growing. Although some people are drawn to divisive content creators, others are turning to podcasts, film festivals, and playful digital personalities that encourage balanced discussions, eclectic humour, and a more nuanced understanding of complex issues.
