The podcaster has become a political force—and helped push the ‘manosphere’ toward Trump.
How popular is Rogan?
He’s the world’s biggest podcaster, and it’s not even close. The Joe Rogan Experience, recorded two or three times weekly in Rogan’s $14 million Austin mansion, is downloaded about 200 million times a month. On Spotify, which since 2020 has paid Rogan an estimated $350 million for rights to the show, Rogan has 14.5 million followers—nearly triple his nearest competitor’s numbers. A tattooed, muscular stand-up comic who’s worked as a sitcom actor, Ultimate Fighting Championship commentator, and host of the NBC reality show Fear Factor, Rogan has an audience that skews young and, according to one study, is 80 percent male. Each podcast episode typically features a single guest, whom Rogan genially engages in hours-long, free-form conversations, sometimes fueled by whiskey and marijuana. His pre-election three-hour interview with Donald Trump has been viewed more than 52 million times on YouTube. (Vice President Kamala Harris chose not to go on the show, citing scheduling conflicts.) That sit-down, plus Rogan’s last-minute endorsement of the Republican, led UFC president and Trump ally Dana White to publicly thank “the mighty and powerful Joe Rogan” at Trump’s election-night victory party.
What are Rogan’s politics?
His show, which launched in 2009, isn’t overtly political. His favored topics include comedy, mixed martial arts, alternative medicine, aliens, and psychedelic drugs. Many guests are UFC fighters or fellow comics; he also hosts musicians and actors, Silicon Valley billionaires like Elon Musk, as well as neuroscientists and bioengineers. Until recently, Rogan, 57, called himself a leftist: He endorsed Sen. Bernie Sanders in the 2020 Democratic primary and has supported gay marriage, abortion rights, and a universal basic income. “I go left on everything,” he said in 2019. “Basically except guns.” But Rogan, who once called Trump “an existential threat to democracy,” says he was driven away from the Democratic Party by government Covid restrictions and the censorious progressive left; both figured into his decision to leave Los Angeles for Austin in 2020. We’ll soon face a society, he said in 2021, where “straight white men are not allowed to talk.” Such pronouncements have made Rogan a hero for many disaffected young men, and a villain for critics who say he spreads misinformation and pseudo-science.
Does he spread misinformation?
During the pandemic, Rogan hosted crank scientists such as virologist Dr. Robert Malone, who claimed “mass formation psychosis” led people to believe in the efficacy of Covid vaccines, and cardiologist Peter McCullough, who said the pandemic was “planned.” Rogan treated his own case of Covid with the anti-parasitic drug ivermectin—studies show it has no effect on the virus—and said healthy, young people don’t need to get vaccinated. Such comments led 270 doctors and scientists to write an open letter to Spotify in 2022, asking that the company “moderate misinformation on its platform.” Rogan has also drawn heat for hosting conspiracy theorist Alex Jones, and for saying the 1969 moon landing was faked (he’s since changed his mind) and that U.S. intelligence agents acted as “agent provocateurs” during the Jan. 6 Capitol riot. Rogan counters criticism by calling himself “a f---ing moron” whom nobody should consider “a respected source of information.” But many listeners do consider him just that, and also place trust in the influencers and podcasters who make up the wider “manosphere.”
What is the ‘manosphere’?
It’s a cluster of young male social media stars who share Rogan’s irreverence, humor, and massive influence among young men. They include Will Compton and Taylor Lewan of Barstool Sports’ Bussin’ With the Boys podcast, the Southern California–based prank troupe known as the Nelk Boys, streamer Adin Ross, comedian and podcaster Theo Von, and Logan Paul, a pro wrestler whose YouTube channels have more than 30 million followers. These influencers crack jokes and banter about sports, fighting, women, pop culture, and video games, and share Rogan’s disdain for a society they see as too “woke” and feminized. Still, the content they produced for years wasn’t overtly political—until the run-up to the November election.
What happened then?
They embraced Trump, and Trump in turn courted bro podcasters to boost his support among young men. He discussed the existence of aliens with Paul (it’s “very possible,” said Trump), accepted a Tesla Cybertruck from Ross on a livestream, and queried Von about cocaine. (It “will turn you into a damn owl, homie,” Von told him.) Trump golfed with the Nelk Boys, who promoted Send the Vote, a $20 million PAC aimed at registering young male voters. While it’s hard to draw an exact line between his appearances and his electoral victory, Trump this year won men under 30 by 13 percentage points after losing them by 15 points to Biden in 2020. Some pundits have called this the first “podcast election” or “influencer election”—and say political campaigns must adapt to this new media environment.
Is legacy media still important?
TV news continues to draws huge audiences at important national moments, but its ability to shape political discourse is waning as Americans turn to new sources of information. While Trump buddied up to Logan Paul, he turned down the CBS stalwart 60 Minutes, which once had vast influence. “Legacy media is dying,” said Jess Rauchberg, a communications professor at Seton Hall University. Politicians are now “chasing the podcasters and the independent news creators.” Trump’s success will accelerate that trend, as will demographic shifts. About 37 percent of 18-to-29-year-olds say they regularly get their news from social media, according to a Pew Research survey. Charlie Ricker, a 23-year-old from Montana, told The New York Times that he follows politics through the Nelk Boys and other online personalities. “Kind of like older people do with the news,” he said.
A progressive Joe Rogan?
The boost Trump received from Rogan and the right-wing manosphere has led to hand-wringing among Democrats, and driven a question to the forefront: Could progressives create their own equivalent? The consensus view is that it’s not so easy. Rogan and his offshoots draw their power in part by being dissenting voices in a media landscape that’s perceived by many Americans as dominated by liberals. And these podcasters didn’t set out to create politicized brands, which is key. “These are people who are influential to young men through culture,” said Democratic influencer Brian Tyler Cohen, “and then politics comes along with it.” Conservative commentators point out that Rogan’s willingness to speak his mind and not care about the consequences is central to his appeal. A progressive who strayed from liberal orthodoxy would be “subject to cancellation,” said National Review editor Rich Lowry. “If progressives created their own Joe Rogan, he’d likely be a bore.”