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During his 2016 presidential campaign, Donald Trump was speaking in Ohio when a man rushed the stage, prompting Secret Service agents to intervene. Fortunately, no one was hurt, and the incident proved inconsequential.
But the then-candidate insisted at the time that the man in question had ties to ISIS, pointing to online evidence that turned out to be false. As longtime readers might recall, NBC News’ Chuck Todd asked the Republican about his willingness to substantiate odd claims with bogus evidence.
“What do I know about it?” Trump replied. “All I know is what’s on the internet.”
It was a powerful, pre-election example of one of Trump’s most important flaws: He has no meaningful critical thinking skills, and he lacks the ability to assess the reliability of random nonsense he finds online. Before, during, and after his presidency, the Republican has shown that he's not much different from that weird guy you know via Facebook who keeps sharing wild-eyed, all-caps tirades about some new conspiracy he uncovered in the fever swamps.
Six years later, however, it’s much of the GOP that’s increasingly defined by Trump’s “all I know is what’s on the internet” refrain. Take this Politico report, for example.
Even as Republican leaders condemn the brutal assault on Speaker Nancy Pelosi‘s husband, other GOP figures are broadcasting a much different message on social media — at turns downplaying, mocking and trading in disinformation about the attack.
Among the offenders was Republican Rep. Clay Higgins — who’ll likely chair a House Homeland Security Committee panel in the next Congress if voters put the House in the GOP’s hands — who briefly promoted a bogus anti-LGBTQ conspiracy theory surrounding the attack on Pelosi.
Of course, in reality, the Justice Department’s criminal complaint against the alleged assailant utterly shredded every far-right theory surrounding the case, but there’s no evidence of Republicans expressing any regrets. All they know is what’s on the internet.
This Semafor report stood out for similar reasons
It was the talk of Republican candidates over Halloween weekend: A rumor that their trick-or-treating kids might get candy-colored fentanyl from strangers. “The cartels, they’re dressing up this fentanyl like candy,” GOP U.S. Senate nominee Blake Masters told the crowd at a Halloween-themed family rally on Friday evening. “I know we’re all going to be vigilant and protect our kids here this Halloween.”
In reality, there was no credible evidence to bolster these fears — drug dealers tend to sell their products, not give drugs to children for no reason — but these rumors spread quickly online, and all these Republicans know is what’s on the internet.
Meanwhile, prominent GOP candidates such as New Hampshire’s Don Bolduc continue to claim that schools are providing children with litter boxes if they identify as cats. It’s an utterly bonkers myth, rooted in anti-trans bigotry, but Republicans keep repeating it anyway. All they know is what’s on the internet.
Ask Republicans why they continue to believe ridiculous election conspiracy theories, and they’re likely to point to nonsense they found online. Ask them about their opposition to Covid vaccines, and you'll probably get a similar response. Ask those caught up in the QAnon delusion how they slipped into the madness, and many will say the same thing.
The point is not that all online news is wrong. I publish online commentary for a living, so I’m the last person who’d encourage folks to reflexively disregard information from the internet.
Rather, the point is that major political parties and politicians seeking the public’s trust need to be able to distinguish between credible information from legitimate outlets, and sheer madness that happens to reinforce preconceived ideas.
Republicans, in other words, need to choose good information over bad. It’s a skill too much of the party seems to lack right now.