Introduction
In an era dominated by social media and polarised discourse, outrage has become a currency of influence. Right-wing narratives often amplify grievances against marginalised communities, portraying them as threats to societal norms or resources. This phenomenon is not organic; it is frequently manufactured, or “astroturfed,” by powerful interests to sow division and distract from systemic inequalities. The core argument is that much of the outrage propagated by right-wing accounts, many of which are small but artificially boosted, deliberately targets vulnerable groups such as transgender individuals, refugees, Muslims, and Indigenous peoples. These groups are selected as “easy marks” due to their perceived lack of broad societal support, allowing agitators to rally bases without significant backlash.
Behind this “canned outrage” lies big money from mega-corporations and wealthy elites who profit from societal fragmentation. Organisations like Advance Australia exemplify this, channelling funds to fuel campaigns that exacerbate divisions while advancing exploitative agendas, such as undermining Indigenous land rights for resource extraction. This essay explores the mechanisms of astroturfing, the specific targeting of vulnerable populations, the role of amplification on platforms like X (formerly Twitter), the funding networks sustaining these efforts, the broader societal impacts, an examination of the manipulation surrounding the recent murder of conservative activist Charlie Kirk, and a call for unity against the true manipulators. By examining historical precedents, contemporary examples, and economic motivations, we reveal how division serves as a tool for profit, urging a collective resistance to reclaim social cohesion.
Astroturfing, a term coined in 1985 by USSenator Lloyd Bentsen to describe fake grassroots campaigns funded by insurance companies, has evolved into a sophisticated strategy in digital politics. It creates the illusion of widespread public support where none exists, often through coordinated online efforts. In right-wing contexts, this manifests as amplified outrage against minorities, diverting attention from elite exploitation. The thesis here is clear: these campaigns are not about genuine concern but about maintaining power structures that benefit the few at the expense of the many, perpetuating cycles of inequality and harm.
Understanding Astroturfing and Manufactured Outrage
Astroturfing represents a deliberate deception in public discourse, where powerful entities simulate grassroots movements to influence opinion. Defined as the mobilisation of sympathetic publics to create a facade of consensus, it relies on hidden funding and coordination to flood media with manipulated content. Historically, astroturfing traces back to ancient tactics, such as in Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar,” where fake letters mimicked public sentiment to incite action. In modern times, the internet has democratised but also weaponised this practice, making it cheaper and more pervasive through bots, fake accounts, and algorithmic amplification.
Political astroturfing has been evident in various campaigns. For instance, during the 2009 US health care debates, liberal critics accused opponents of engineering protests against reform, labelling them as “Astroturf” events orchestrated by conservative groups. Similarly, the Tea Party movement, often portrayed as a spontaneous uprising, was bolstered by funding from organisations like Americans for Prosperity, tied to billionaire interests, to oppose progressive policies. These examples illustrate how astroturfing masks elite agendas as popular will.
In right-wing politics, astroturfing frequently manifests as outrage campaigns. A 2022 study on online political astroturfing across the world revealed coordinated efforts where political actors incentivise agents to mimic citizen behaviour, spreading disinformation to polarise societies. In the US, groups like the National Federation of Independent Business (NFIB), described as a conservative astroturf organisation, have lobbied to roll back child labour protections, framing it as economic freedom while serving corporate interests. On platforms like Reddit, users have documented astroturfing as “fake grassroots” to promote ideologies or products, highlighting its ubiquity in digital spaces.
Corporations have long employed astroturfing for profit. In the 1990s, Philip Morris created the National Smokers Alliance to feign public support against tobacco regulations, funded by tobacco giants to protect revenues. More recently, Entergy paid actors to simulate support for a power plant in New Orleans, fined $5 million for deceiving regulators. These tactics extend to social issues, where division distracts from corporate malfeasance, such as environmental exploitation or labour abuses.
In the context of right-wing outrage, astroturfing amplifies narratives against vulnerable groups. Tiny accounts, often bots or paid influencers, post inflammatory content that algorithms boost, creating echo chambers. This manufactured rage serves to rally conservative bases, but its roots lie in elite funding aimed at maintaining status quo inequalities. By understanding astroturfing’s mechanics, we can dissect how it perpetuates harm under the guise of organic sentiment.
Targeting Vulnerable Groups: Trans Folks, Refugees, Muslims, and Indigenous Peoples
Right-wing outrage disproportionately focuses on groups with limited institutional power, framing them as societal burdens or threats. Transgender individuals, for example, face amplified campaigns portraying gender-affirming care as a danger to children or traditional values. Investigations reveal that a significant portion of anti-trans organisations receive funding from fossil fuel billionaires, linking environmental deregulation agendas to social conservatism. Groups like the Alliance Defending Freedom distribute funds to fringe anti-LGBTQ+ entities, attacking trans rights under a religious veneer.
Refugees are similarly vilified as economic drains or security risks. In Europe, far-right figures like Tommy Robinson incite marches against immigration, sparking violence and outrage. This rhetoric echoes US policies under Trump, where bans on refugees from Muslim-majority countries fuelled fear and division. Such narratives ignore refugees’ contributions, instead amplifying isolated incidents to justify exclusionary policies that benefit private detention industries.
Muslims endure Islamophobic campaigns, often tied to terrorism fears. In Denmark, outrage over cartoons led to global protests, with right-wing media framing it as a clash of civilisations. European-born Muslims experience “victimisation by proxy,” fostering anger that right-wing groups exploit for political gain. This manufactured fear distracts from economic issues, allowing elites to push austerity or deregulation.
Indigenous peoples face outrage over land rights, often portrayed as obstacles to progress. In Australia, campaigns against Indigenous recognition serve mining interests seeking exploitation. Globally, Indigenous groups are targeted for resisting resource extraction, with right-wing narratives dismissing their claims as special privileges.
These groups are chosen for their vulnerability: limited media representation and societal empathy make them ideal scapegoats. Outrage campaigns erode their rights while elites profit from unchecked exploitation, such as fossil fuels or land development.
The Manipulation of Public Sentiment Around the Murder of Charlie Kirk
The assassination of Charlie Kirk, the prominent conservative activist and founder of Turning Point USA, on September 10, 2025, at Utah Valley University, serves as a stark example of how astroturfed outrage can be weaponized to manipulate public sentiment on a massive scale. Kirk, known for his fiery rhetoric against progressive causes and marginalised communities, was shot during a speaking event, an act captured on video and rapidly disseminated across social media. The suspect, Tyler Robinson, was apprehended shortly after a manhunt, charged with aggravated murder. While the tragedy itself sparked genuine grief among Kirk’s supporters, the ensuing discourse revealed layers of orchestrated manipulation, where right-wing networks amplified selective reactions to portray the left as inherently violent and morally bankrupt, further entrenching divisions for political gain.
Immediately following the shooting, platforms like X erupted with a mix of condolences, conspiracy theories, and outright celebrations from some quarters. Right-wing accounts, many small and seemingly grassroots, flooded timelines with screenshots and videos of individuals—often identified as teachers, nurses, or liberal activists, expressing schadenfreude or even justification for the killing. Posts highlighted a teacher allegedly showing the murder footage to students and claiming Kirk “deserved it,” or Democrats purportedly calling for the deaths of “millions” in the wake of the event. These narratives were not random; they were curated to evoke outrage, framing the left as a bloodthirsty mob radicalised by their own ideology. For instance, viral threads accused figures like Nancy Pelosi of hypocrisy for decrying “Trump’s words as violence” while allegedly excusing Kirk’s murder, a juxtaposition designed to rally moderates toward conservatism.
This manipulation fits the astroturfing playbook: tiny accounts with low follower counts posted inflammatory content, only to be retweeted by larger influencers and bots, creating the illusion of widespread leftist depravity. Semantic searches on X reveal patterns of coordinated amplification, where keywords like “Charlie Kirk murder celebration” trended alongside calls to “hold leftists accountable.” Elon Musk himself weighed in, labelling the left as “the party of murder,” a statement that supercharged the narrative and drove engagement. The goal was clear: transform a criminal act into a broader indictment of progressive values, radicalising “normies”, everyday, apolitical Americans, who might otherwise remain neutral. Posts from users like those sharing Substack articles or radio show clips emphasised how the event was pushing millions to the right, blaming Democrats for fostering an environment of hate through policies on crime, immigration, and social justice.
Behind this fervour lay opportunistic elites. Conservative media outlets and organisations tied to billionaire donors seized the moment to fundraise and mobilise, portraying Kirk’s death as martyrdom against “woke indoctrination.” Kari Lake, a prominent Republican figure, urged parents to pull children from colleges, linking the murder to campus “indoctrination camps.” This not only distracted from internal conservative fractures but also advanced agendas like defunding public education or tightening gun laws in ways that favoured private security firms. Meanwhile, the amplification ignored nuances: many on the left condemned the violence unequivocally, viewing Kirk’s death as a tragic escalation of polarisation rather than comeuppance. Yet, by cherry-picking celebratory outliers, often from anonymous or fringe sources, astroturfers painted an entire ideology as complicit, eroding trust and justifying retaliatory rhetoric.
The societal ripple effects were profound. Families like Kirk’s, already in mourning, faced compounded trauma from public glee, while the broader public grappled with desensitisation to violence. Conspiracy sites like “Expose Charlie’s Murderers” invited users to dox celebrants, fostering vigilante sentiment. Governors and officials, from Gavin Newsom to Spencer Cox, issued statements, but these were drowned out by the digital din. In essence, Kirk’s murder became a canvas for manufactured outrage, where vulnerable groups, now including conservatives framed as victims, were pitted against imagined leftist hordes. This cycle not only profited media conglomerates through clicks and ads but also shielded elites from scrutiny over issues like economic inequality, as attention fixated on cultural wars. The event underscores how personal tragedies are commodified in the outrage economy, manipulating sentiment to perpetuate elite control.
The Role of Social Media and Amplification in Spreading Outrage
Social media platforms are the battleground for astroturfed outrage, where algorithms prioritise engagement over truth. Tiny right-wing accounts, often with few followers, gain visibility through amplification by larger networks or bots. On X, semantic and keyword searches reveal patterns of anti-trans and anti-refugee posts, many from coordinated sources. Studies show right-wing communities on Twitter intertwine anger and feel-good emotions to sustain division.
Amplification occurs via retweets, hashtags, and paid promotions, creating viral outrage cycles. For instance, Russian astroturfing on social media during US elections used fake accounts to inflame divisions. Corporations benefit indirectly, as polarised users consume more content, boosting ad revenues for platforms owned by mega-corps.
This digital ecosystem enables elites to orchestrate narratives cheaply, targeting vulnerable groups to maintain social hierarchies. Without regulation, platforms become tools for manipulation, exacerbating real-world harm like hate crimes.
Funding Sources: Big Money and Elite Profiteers
The financial backbone of these campaigns reveals elite motivations. Advance Australia, a right-wing lobby group, doubled donations to $5.2 million in 2022-23, with nearly half from unknown sources. Funded by wealthy donors like Simon Fenwick and connected to the Liberal Party’s Cormack Foundation, it targets progressive groups with a $14 million war chest. Activities include anti-Indigenous campaigns, such as criticising grants for Welcome to Country ceremonies.
Mega-corporations profit from division by distracting from regulations. Fossil fuel interests fund anti-trans groups to ally with conservatives against environmental laws. Companies like CVS and AT&T donate to anti-LGBTQ+ politicians while sponsoring Pride, hedging bets for favourable policies. In a corporatocracy, profits trump social responsibility, with stock buybacks prioritising shareholders over societal good.
Elites exploit division to weaken unions and regulations, as seen in poverty profiteering where firms like Maximus earn billions from welfare privatisation. This astroturfing sustains inequality, allowing wealth concentration.
Societal Impacts of Manufactured Division
Manufactured division erodes social fabric, increasing polarisation and violence. Affective responses like anger towards refugees correlate with policy support for exclusion. In societies, this leads to chronic confrontation, akin to Durkheim’s “moral anomie” from unchecked capitalism.
Economically, division benefits elites by fragmenting opposition to exploitation. Rising Gini coefficients stem from corporate concentration, with banks’ profits soaring while inequality grows. Vulnerable groups suffer most: trans youth face mental health crises, refugees endure detention profiteering, Muslims experience discrimination, and Indigenous communities lose lands to extraction.
Democratically, astroturfing undermines trust, as seen in election interference. Long-term, this fosters authoritarianism, where mega-corps act as de facto governments.
Call to Action: Uniting Against the Real Manipulators
To counter this, recognise astroturfing signs: sudden viral outrage from obscure accounts, as well as a lack of transparency in funding. Support independent media and fact-checking to debunk narratives. Advocate for regulations on social media and campaign finance to curb elite influence.
Unite across divides: solidarity movements can challenge exploitation, as historical labour coalitions did. Demand corporate accountability, pushing for genuine social responsibility beyond profit. By focusing on shared economic struggles, we dismantle the hype and target manipulators.
Conclusion
Manufactured outrage against vulnerable groups is a profit-driven strategy by elites, exemplified by groups like Advance Australia. Through astroturfing, amplification, and funding, it perpetuates division for exploitation. The impacts; social, economic, democratic, are profound, but unity offers a path forward. Rejecting canned narratives, we can build a cohesive society, holding power accountable. This requires collective action, ensuring outrage serves justice, not profit.
