When progressive journalism becomes spectacle.

The spectacle as a trap

There is something profoundly wrong when journalism that calls itself progressive begins to echo the same mannerisms as self-help coaches and corporate motivational speeches. Shouting, slogans, theatricality, verbosity: all of this may generate immediate engagement, but it does not produce critical thinking. What should be a trench of education and awareness becomes a cheap show, packaged by the logic of the attention economy.

The irony is that, in the name of “modernity” and “interactivity,” some left-wing journalism is now imitating precisely what it has always criticized in corporate media: the transformation of information into spectacle. Walter Lippmann, at the beginning of the 20th century, already defended a journalism molded to teach the people to think according to the vision of the elites—an aesthetic of manipulation disguised as pedagogy. When progressive sectors incorporate this mold, even unconsciously, they fall into the same trap.

The left doesn't need media gurus to tell the public how they should feel or react. It needs journalism that recognizes the reader as a thinking, critical subject, capable of understanding the complexities of their time. Infantilization, disguised as accessible language, is merely a sophisticated form of disrespect. And, within the progressive camp, this stance is even more serious: it not only weakens the struggle but also trivializes the very idea of ​​journalism as a strategic instrument of emancipation.

Between Lippmann and Gramsci: manipulation or critical formation

Walter Lippmann, considered by many to be the father of modern journalism in the United States, argued that the function of the press was to modulate how people think, shaping public opinion according to the interests of the elites. In his elitist view, the average citizen lacked the capacity to understand the complexity of the world and, therefore, should be guided by a "responsible" press—responsible, of course, to those in power. This logic paved the way for neoliberal journalism, which reduces information to a tool for manipulating the masses.

At the opposite extreme, Antonio Gramsci saw communication as a strategic terrain for political struggle. For him, the battle for hearts and minds was not fought through sensationalism, but through critical thinking and revolutionary pedagogy. Journalism, in this view, should be didactic without being paternalistic, accessible without being vulgar, pedagogical without being dogmatic. Gramsci knew that class consciousness is not born from shouting or sensationalism, but from the patient construction of a political culture.

When sectors of the progressive press abandon this Gramscian horizon and, in pursuit of audience, slide into the aesthetics of Lippmannian spectacle, they not only lose their strategic function: they become caricatures of themselves. It is at this point that the left risks infantilizing itself, treating its own base as incapable of thinking for itself. The result is perverse: the neoliberal logic of attention infiltrates the progressive field, transforming trenches into stages and activism into spectacle.

Personalism as caricature

Progressive journalism, when reduced to personalism, ceases to be a collective tool and becomes an extension of the ego of whoever conducts it. The figure of the journalist or communicator becomes a brand, a guru, an absolute protagonist, and the content begins to revolve around their performance and charisma. It is no longer about informing and educating, but about enchanting and captivating.

This personalism is the negation of politics as a collective construction. In place of a plurality of voices and emancipatory critique, a centralized narrative arises, often cloaked in false humility, but deeply rooted in the logic of self-promotion. The coach aesthetic, imported from corporate culture, is the most refined form of this logic: simplistic slogans, a professorial tone, the illusion that there is a "right path" revealed by the master who speaks louder than everyone else.

The problem is not merely aesthetic. It's strategic. Because, by transforming journalism into a cult of personality, the terrain of the contestation of ideas is abandoned to enter the spectacle of idolatry. And idolatry does not emancipate—it infantilizes. When the left falls into this trap, it loses what differentiates it: the capacity to recognize within its base a critical, creative, thinking mass. Personalism converts militants into followers, and information into a consumer product.

The illusion of independence

In progressive circles, the narrative that certain journalistic projects are "free" because they don't depend on large corporations or big tech companies is often repeated. This self-proclaimed independence, however, frequently hides an uncomfortable reality: the transformation of information into a consumer product, sustained by a market logic disguised as political engagement.

The rhetoric of financial freedom becomes a convenient showcase. Behind it, fundraising empires are built that move significant sums of money, selling dreams of transformation and illusions of critical thinking. There is criticism of the dependence on state advertising or small donations that keep combative and precarious groups alive, but the idea that "true independence" arises from a continuous flow of private capital coming from the militant base itself is normalized.

The problem is that this model, far from representing autonomy, merely recreates the exploitative logics that the left should be confronting. It is not advertising that vulgarizes journalism, but the use of activism itself as a captive market, as a mass of consumers of content packaged in a spectacle aesthetic. False independence is, therefore, just another form of dependence: dependence on attention, immediate engagement, and the constant theatricality that keeps the machine running.

The price of vulgarization

The consequences of this model are not superficial. When progressive journalism surrenders to spectacle, it not only weakens its own credibility but also disarms the trenches of political and cultural struggle. What should be critical thinking is diluted into slogans for quick consumption; what should be revolutionary pedagogy is reduced to entertainment; what should be class consciousness becomes short-term collective catharsis.

This process generates three perverse effects. First, the disqualification of the public, treated as incapable of understanding the complexity of their own reality. Second, the trivialization of the struggle, transformed into a show, a performance that serves the personal prestige of the communicator more than collective construction. Third, the erosion of trust, because the public perceives—even if diffusely—when information does not emancipate, but manipulates.

The result is devastating: instead of strengthening the progressive camp in the face of the global advance of the far-right, this sensationalized journalism weakens it. It creates illusions of mobilization, but does not build real power. It produces noisy engagement, but does not solidify critical awareness. And in the hybrid war in which we live, where the struggle for hearts and minds is the essence of the battle, this error is not merely aesthetic—it is strategic.

Towards the construction of strategic journalism.

Progressive journalism was not born to compete with corporate media in terms of spectacle. It was born to be a counterpoint, to offer depth where there is superficiality, awareness where there is alienation, strategy where there is distraction. Its role is not to infantilize, but to summon; not to entertain, but to educate; not to sell illusions, but to reveal structures.

If the left wants to rise to the challenges of this century—from the rise of the global far-right to the hybrid warfare that corrodes democracies—it needs to abandon its addiction to sensationalism and reclaim the strategic seriousness of communication. This doesn't mean rigidity or aridity, but rather didacticism without paternalism, visceral engagement without vulgarization, passion without spectacle.

Progressive journalism that treats the public as a thinking and critical mass is the true antidote to the neoliberal logic of attention. It is this ethical and emancipatory journalism that can fulfill the role of a trench in the battle for hearts and minds—not the spectacle disguised as revolution.

The warning is clear: spectacle may produce immediate applause, but it doesn't build history. What builds history is the lucidity, responsibility, and courage to speak to the people as subjects, never as an audience. Progressive journalism will only be revolutionary if it is able to refuse the temptation of the stage and assume the commitment of conscience.

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