In the early days, memes started slowly and stuck around longer. (Seriously, Nyan Cat was around for literally years. Years.) But the speed of social media meant memes could blow up and be over in the span of a week, if not a day. Moments like #TheDress could come and go almost overnight. (Do you remember where you were when that happened?!) Events like the Olympics or political debates could launch memes that would be over at the conclusion of a 24-hour news cycle. Ideas, as Dawkins had noted decades ago, could launch an online inside joke instantly—and have a Twitter account, Tumblr, and dedicated hashtag in mere hours. And then they were gone.
The Future of Memes
These days, memes are about more that just LOLs. They’ve picked up two new purposes: to pledge allegiance to your in-group and to make you lots of money. Memes used to appeal to humanity’s fundamentals—everyone feels awkward sometimes, everyone likes watching a kitten acting a fool. But now people flash political memes like gang signs. Modern-day American memes are about political correctness or the Second Amendment, about the emptiness of offering thoughts and prayers to shooting victims or the satisfying inclusiveness of Black Panther. These memes are seen as a public declaration of your political positions and cultural identity, and, increasingly, an invitation for people with opposing viewpoints to come sass (or harass) you in the comments. Is combativeness a symptom of how contentious and polarized the internet has become? Heck yes. Memes are just snapshots of culture. Does it seem likely to stop anytime soon? Heck no.
Letting everyone enjoy their own jokes in peace doesn’t sound so bad, and to a point, it wouldn’t be. But both ISIS and the so-called alt-right also use their memes to recruit new followers. Cartoonish in-jokes turn out to be an effective, nonthreatening entry point for even the most extreme ideologies. If you’re an isolated person looking to feel a sense of belonging, there’s no better way to project that you’re in the know than sharing a meme. The trouble is that it doesn’t end with taking “the red pill” and sharing a Pepe the Frog meme or two. Once you’ve swallowed one idea, your internet landscape and the algorithms generating it change. Suddenly you’re seeing memes about threatening to throw Jewish people out of helicopters, and gradually, that will stop shocking you.
The success of memes like the alt-right’s Pepe the Frog and ISIS’s one-finger salute points to political memes’ probable future function: spreading propaganda. They’re visual, and pictures often skip right over reason and punch your brain right in the truth center. Images and videos will only become easier to manipulate as AI gets smarter. Furthermore, something isn’t shareable because it’s objectively true. It just has to be relevant, to feel true. That space between truth and truthiness is where both memes and propaganda live. (If you’re thinking that you’d never share propaganda, remember this: Thanks to Russia, you probably already have.)
It’s not just propagandists: Every brand wants a slice of the hottest new meme. If it trends, it’s instantly a cheap Halloween costume, a catchphrase on a Forever 21 T-shirt, and all over fast–food company Twitter. Their reasons are pretty obvious. Companies like making things that project how socially adept they are, and people like buying those things for the same reason. Don’t expect that to slow down any time soon—the rise of cheaper bespoke manufacturing and 3-D printing will make it even easier to churn out a tsunami of short-lived trendy products, and it’ll thus only get easier to turn memes into money.