The culture wars will not end tomorrow. They serve too many interests and generate too much political fuel. But what can change is how we understand them.
By Matthew A. McIntosh
Public Historian
Brewminate
Introduction: The Fire That Feeds Itself
In American politics, few strategies are as dependable as anger. But not all anger originates from the bottom up. Increasingly, it is designed, packaged, and distributed with precision. Political elites have mastered the art of outrage as a distraction, creating enemies that pose no real threat in order to avoid confronting the ones that do. When the economy falters, when healthcare breaks down, when public trust erodes, there is always a scapegoat waiting in the wings. Sometimes it is a book. Other times it is a teacher. And sometimes it is a drag queen.
We are not witnessing a spontaneous uprising of public values. We are watching the deliberate construction of a spectacle, one that deflects attention from deeper structural issues by inflaming moral panic. The pattern is not new, but its intensity and reach have grown, fed by partisan media ecosystems and a political economy that rewards attention more than truth.
The Book Ban Playbook
Over the past few years, school board meetings across the United States have transformed into ideological battlegrounds. Parents read excerpts from novels out of context, lawmakers circulate lists of “inappropriate” titles, and librarians are caught in the crossfire. In 2023 alone, the American Library Association tracked over 1,200 attempts to censor books, the highest number in decades. Many of the targeted works address race, gender identity, or sexuality, often through the lens of young adult fiction or memoir.
The push to ban these books is often justified as protecting children, but the selective nature of the bans reveals a more cynical motive. Books that explore the realities of Black life, queer identity, or historical injustice are the most frequent targets. Classic literature containing violence or trauma that aligns with more traditional narratives is rarely touched.
What emerges is a cultural script where discomfort is weaponized. By labeling difficult narratives as dangerous, political actors reframe education itself as a battleground for purity. In doing so, they shift the focus from underfunded schools, teacher shortages, and standardized testing pressures to a moral crusade that plays well on television.
The Politics of Drag and the Performance of Fear
Nowhere has the manufactured nature of outrage been more visible than in the recent wave of anti-drag legislation. Bills aimed at restricting drag performances have appeared in over a dozen states, framed as efforts to shield children from sexual content. In practice, many of these laws are written so vaguely that they could criminalize broad categories of gender expression in public spaces.
This rhetorical sleight of hand conflates adult cabaret shows with family-friendly story hours, invoking imagery of danger while ignoring the context. The result is not public safety but the creation of an imagined threat, one that evokes powerful emotional responses even when the evidence of harm is virtually nonexistent.
Polling shows that most Americans do not see drag performances as a major issue. Yet these laws become rallying points for political campaigns. They serve a dual function: asserting control over marginalized communities and mobilizing a base that feels its values are under siege. It is not the drag queens who are performing. It is the legislators, and the act is calculated.
Why Manufactured Outrage Works
Outrage, even when artificial, is powerful because it creates clarity in a world of uncertainty. It simplifies. It personalizes. It promises resolution through punishment. For political elites, it is also convenient. Cultural battles provide an emotional currency that can be spent again and again. They draw media coverage, energize voters, and polarize opponents. Best of all, they rarely require policy solutions that address material conditions.
In this context, issues like inflation, housing insecurity, or healthcare inequity fade into the background. They are too complex, too persistent, and too easily attributed to bipartisan failure. Culture wars, by contrast, offer a clean narrative of heroes and villains. They feel immediate and righteous. They turn politics into theater and citizens into spectators.
From Reagan to Today: A Recurring Script
The modern culture war playbook was not invented yesterday. In the 1980s, Ronald Reagan attacked “welfare queens” and “violent thugs,” invoking coded language to frame systemic economic inequality as a matter of personal failure or criminality. During the post-9/11 era, fear of Muslim Americans served as a powerful tool to unify a nation under surveillance.
What has changed is the speed and precision with which outrage can be manufactured. Social media provides real-time amplification. Fundraising emails convert outrage into revenue. Cable news hosts cycle through the culture war du jour with slick graphics and coordinated talking points. The outrage is not only constructed. It is monetized.
The Real Cost of Distraction
While culture wars rage, the material conditions of many Americans remain precarious. In 2023, more than 11 percent of U.S. households were food insecure. Medical debt continues to be the leading cause of personal bankruptcy. Public infrastructure in major cities is crumbling. These are not cultural problems. They are political ones. And they are not solved by banning a novel or silencing a drag performer.
In fact, these culture war tactics often exacerbate existing inequalities. Communities of color, LGBTQ+ individuals, and educators become targets, not just symbolically but legally. The laws passed in the name of “values” often carry real consequences, from job loss to imprisonment. And all the while, the actual architects of inequality face little scrutiny.
Conclusion: Reclaiming the Narrative
The culture wars will not end tomorrow. They serve too many interests and generate too much political fuel. But what can change is how we understand them. Manufactured outrage thrives on silence and distraction. It falters in the face of sustained attention and structural critique.
To challenge this pattern requires more than fact-checking. It demands a reorientation of public discourse toward the material realities that shape people’s lives. It means asking who benefits from outrage, and who pays the price. It means telling stories that do not reduce people to symbols or scapegoats. There is no shortage of genuine problems facing society. The question is whether we will keep falling for the spectacle, or start looking at the stagehands behind the curtain.
Originally published by Brewminate, 07.15.2025, under the terms of a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International license.
About the Author
