Politicians know how to reach Gen Z, but don’t understand our priorities
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When political campaigns try to understand Generation Z, they often start with what they see online. A debate over a cultural issue can produce thousands of comments, and a candidate’s response can circulate for days. Young people’s decisions about where they can afford to live and what work they should take don’t go as viral, even though heading into the 2026 midterms, these practical choices were at the top of many young voters’ minds.
In a Newshouse survey of 119 Syracuse University students taken the week before the midterms, 82% named cost of living as a primary concern, and 74% cited the job market. The same concerns showed up nationally. The economy and job market ranked first as a concern among young midterm voters in a survey by Tufts University’s Center for Information & Research on Civic Learning and Engagement. More than half put it among the top three issues facing the country.
These priorities are familiar to anyone trying to start a life post-grad, but the version of Gen Z that emerges when campaigns talk about how to reach us is less familiar. The conversation tends to start with where we spend our time, which creators we follow and what kind of videos make us stop scrolling. These are reasonable questions for a campaign’s social media team, but they tell a candidate very little about what we want them to do in office.
There’s a difference between holding a strong view on an issue and making it the deciding factor in an election. A student can be passionate about an ideology and still give more weight to which candidate has a credible plan for affordability. A candidate’s ideology is easier to see because it’s more likely to come up in a public debate. Their plans once in office may only become clear when that student sits down to compare candidates.
Campaigns risk overlooking that distinction when they approach young voters chiefly through shared ideological commitments. An appeal built around the assumption that young people already agree with a party gives those who are still weighing their options little reason to listen. It also takes for granted the voters who do agree.
In 2024, Democrats leaned heavily on cultural figures to generate enthusiasm for Kamala Harris. Megan Thee Stallion performed at a Harris rally in Atlanta, and the Democratic National Convention credentialed more than 200 social media creators. These choices gave the campaign access to audiences it might otherwise have struggled to reach but placed considerable faith in the idea that enthusiasm for a performer or creator would translate into a vote. A celebrity could give a young voter a reason to watch the rally. The campaign still had to give that voter a reason to support Harris.
President Donald Trump also drew on internet personalities, but his appearances on podcasts hosted by Joe Rogan and Theo Von gave audiences extended time to hear directly from him. Republicans made measurable gains with young voters that year. Pew Research Center found Trump’s share of the vote among 18-to-29-year-olds rose from 35% in 2020 to 39% in 2024, while the Democratic margin for that age group narrowed from 26 points to 19.
The challenge for Republicans entering the midterms was to build on that opening by making an economic case to the young voters they’d reached. By 2026, some of the party’s most visible online messaging showed how easily it could fall into the same habit of relying on cultural familiarity to carry a political argument.
A young voter who shares a campaign’s sense of humor may still be waiting to hear how its policies would help them earn enough to live on their own.Ella DeCamp, Columnist
The Trump administration offers a clear example of how fluency in internet culture can give Republicans a misleading sense of how well they’re speaking to young voters. Over Labor Day weekend, Trump and the White House circulated a series of memes, including an AI-generated video in which the president wielded Green Lantern’s ring to conjure factories. The clip turned a promise to revive American manufacturing into a superhero fantasy.
While the posts generated significant social media attention, the economic case would’ve been more useful to a young voter weighing where to look for work. Where would those jobs be created, what would they pay and how could someone entering the workforce qualify for them?
In 2024, Democrats led Republicans by 14 points among voters aged 18-20 in U.S. House races. In the 2026 midterms, Tufts’ preliminary analysis found that 66% of voters in that age group backed Democratic House candidates and 31% backed Republicans, widening the gap to 35 points.
These results make it harder to assume the younger audiences Republicans found in 2024 would become a durable constituency. Republicans had reason to spend more of their earned attention explaining how their policies would expand economic opportunity. A young voter who shares a campaign’s sense of humor may still be waiting to hear how its policies would help them earn enough to live on their own.
Voters aged 18-29 made up roughly one in nine voters in the 2026 midterms. That’s a substantial share of the electorate, especially in close races, and the shift since 2024 shows how much room both parties have to gain or lose support. Taking Gen Z seriously means giving young voters the same kind of economic argument candidates make to older voters. Both parties must start by listening as closely to young voters’ primary concerns as they do to what gets their attention online.
Ella DeCamp is a senior majoring in English and textual studies. She can be reached at emdecamp@syr.edu..
