Revenge of the Silent Male Voter What I learned about Trump's landslide victory from one night in New York City. On election day, I caught the subway from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Sitting across from me an elderly woman wore a t-shirt with the image of Trump pumping his fist in the air with the words “fight, fight.” A small "I Voted" sticker was pressed onto her lapel. She sat with an easy confidence. There were no disapproving glances from other passengers. There was no tension. No conflict. It struck me that in 2024 it was now perfectly acceptable to express support for Trump in a deep blue (Democratically held) city. As I travelled to my destination I wondered: if one could support Trump this openly in New York City, what might support look like in the rest of the country? A few hours later I attended an exclusive well-heeled party. I spoke to various professionals who said that they had never voted Republican in their lives, but had voted for Trump that day due to his support—in their words—“for the Jews”. These Manhattanites told me that Kamala was too sympathetic to the “pro-Hamas contingent” of the far-Left, and at a time of rising antisemitism, they couldn’t bring themselves to support her. This small group of cosmopolitans represented a contingent far-removed from the stereotypical MAGA voter. And yet listening to their views, it again occurred to me: if I could find such support for Trump in the middle of a Democratic heartland—what might it look like in the rest of the country? When I arrived at my final stop of the evening—a private underground bar in the Lower East side of the city—a celebratory atmosphere had begun to explode. The betting markets tipped a Trump win, and online supporters of Harris started to express acceptance of defeat. The beer here had already run dry. It was so bustling that it was hard to move, with young men in their twenties and early thirties outnumbering women by 2:1. These men were diverse: white, black, Hispanic, Asian. A few wore Trump caps, but the aesthetic was more like a university dorm than a MAGA rally. “This is the counter-culture” one party goer told me. "This isn't just about Trump," another said. "It's about Vance and Musk. It's about American dynamism." In the coming days, much will be written about working class concerns—issues that have become familiar focal points for those seeking to understand Trump’s support. But while inflation and border policies will have no doubt played a role in the Republicans’ landslide victory, we might also want to look at the sentiments expressed by young male voters—voters who represent a new and emerging contingent in American politics. Nothing about the young men I spoke to appeared particularly conservative or “right-wing”. Yet it was easy for them to explain why they voted for Trump. And if we zoom out and look at broader cultural trends, it should be easy for us to understand too. If we take a macro perspective, we see that such young men have never known a culture in which males are not routinely described as “problematic,” “toxic,” or “oppressive”. Going to university, and working at modern companies, they live in a world of Diversity Equity and Inclusion policies—many of which promote an insidious and pervasive form of anti-male discrimination. Yet to talk about it in public invites social ostracism. To criticise DEI is to risk being called a Nazi. These young male voters know about theories of patriarchy and white supremacy, but they have never known a culture which celebrates the Great Man Theory of history. Thomas Carlyle’s nineteenth century framework for understanding the past is seen as an anachronism, not worthy of serious thought. Today we acknowledge historical figures not for their feats, but for their crimes. Whether it is due to slavery, colonisation, racism, or sexism, we tear down the monuments of our past, while building no new heroes for our future. The problem with this way of viewing the world is that it is alienating and self-defeating. It is also wrong. By any objective standards Elon Musk is a great man of history, who is influencing the course of human civilisation for generations to come. As one party-goer told me “he caught a fucking rocket with mechanical chopsticks.” Yet despite his achievements, Musk is more likely to be scorned than celebrated by the Democratic establishment. This tension between achievement and resentment explains much about our current moment. The young men I met that night in Manhattan weren't just voting for policies. They were voting for a different view of history and human nature. In their world, individual greatness matters. Male ambition serves a purpose. Risk-taking and defiance create progress. This is why the Trump victory transcends conventional political analysis. It represents more than a rebuke of border policies or inflation rates. It signals a resurrection of old truths: that civilisation advances through the actions of remarkable individuals, that male traits can build rather than destroy, and that greatness—despite our modern discomfort with the concept—remains a force in human affairs. The elderly woman on the subway, the Manhattan professionals, and the young men at the underground bar all sensed a shift. They saw in Trump not just a candidate, but a challenge to a psychosocial orthodoxy that has dominated American institutions for a generation. Their votes marked not just a political preference, but a cultural correction. As the final results came in that night, it became clear that what I witnessed in New York was playing out across the nation. The election wasn't just a victory for Trump. It was a victory for a way of seeing the world that many thought dead: one where individual achievement matters, where male ambition serves a purpose, and where great men still shape the course of history. Read the full article here--> quillette.com/2024/11/06/the…

Why did the voice referendum fail? If you ask prominent advocates in the Yes campaign they will tell you it failed because of misinformation. During the campaign and after it, Marcia Langton, Tom Calma, Linda Burney and Noel Pearson, among others, all referred to misinformation being a crucial reason the Yes position failed to win a majority of votes. Of course, false claims and rumours were disseminated. Nevertheless, proponents of the voice also had a tendency to brook no dissent. In a fact check published in October last year, Guardian Australia deemed claims about the voice’s legal risks, potential for division and lack of detail to be misinformation. But opinions are not facts, and personal judgment cannot be subject to the same standards of accuracy as empirical claims. And on the topic of the voice, opinions differed. In a document published by La Trobe University, Challenging Misinformation about Sex and Gender Diversity, Australian academics have described terms such as “biological woman” and “biological man” as “harmful myths”. In this case, it is not merely a difference of opinion that is being labelled false – as in the case of the voice – but words and concepts that have long-established scientific and cultural meaning. In another document published by the University of Melbourne’s Trans Health Research group, a diverse range of claims is characterised as misinformation. They include linking transgenderism to poor mental health, suggesting that puberty blockers may have irreversible effects or suggesting that a significant subset of young people who do transition may come to regret it. Misinformation, according to this health group, also leads trans youth to have an increased risk of suicide. In this case, the use of the term misinformation is being used to foreclose inquiry. The term has been instrumentalised to present hypotheses as proofs. It’s not only academics who have instrumentalised the term to service their own credo. Federal Climate Change and Energy Minister Chris Bowen has accused the Coalition of spreading disinformation about nuclear energy. One journalist for Guardian Australia has accused Australian Nuclear Science and Technology Organisation former chief executive Adi Paterson of “peddling misinformation”. Paterson’s crime? Critiquing the economic modelling of the CSIRO. It’s easy to see how such a term can be exploited for political ends. Even so, misuse of the term does not negate the fact false information exists and spreads rapidly online. Misleading content is published in print and online every second of every day, in every region of the world. But while all of us have a responsibility to challenge falsehoods in the public domain, it is not the government’s role to act as an authority on what is true. Similarly, it is not the government’s role to deputise such an authority to platforms it seeks to regulate. Yet this is precisely what Communications Minister Michelle Rowland’s Combatting Misinformation and Disinformation Bill proposes to do. ... The bill “will lead to a culture of pre-emptive censorship and chilling effects”, Sydney barrister @GrayConnolly told me. ... It is possible to recognise that the spread of false and malicious information is a problem, while also recognising that any centralised top-down control of information is a bigger problem. This bill will embolden those who already exploit the term to brook no dissent, foreclose inquiry and declare commonly shared words and concepts to be harmful. The context and timing of the introduction of the bill is significant. The government is scarred by its experience of the voice referendum, when a proposal that had been nurtured for years was rejected by 60 per cent of Australian voters. The first stage of the Kubler-Ross cycle of grief is denial, followed by anger, then bargaining, then depression and acceptance. We can see denial at play in the proposal of the bill. The government fails to grasp the complexities of regulating online speech, with all the conflicting interests and interpretations that go along with it. Denial results in legislation that appears woefully overbroad for its stated purpose. We can also see anger and bargaining at play. The government’s actions could be seen as a calculated response to its perceived loss of control over public discourse. The anger is directed at those it views as purveyors of misinformation, (social media companies) while the bargaining takes the form of redefining the rules of engagement in the public sphere. By seeking to instrumentalise misinformation in the lead-up to the next election, it is trying to negotiate a more favourable position for itself in the court of public opinion. Rather than accepting that the way we share information has changed forever, the government is stuck in the earlier, more reactive stages of grief. The misinformation bill is an attempt to bargain its way back to a past where it held greater sway over public opinion. Read my full article in the @australian today 👇 theaustralian.com.au/comment…