We don’t have to take people at their word unless we have overwhelming reason to do so. Normally, people do not say what they mean nor do they mean what they say. Instead, they say what is expected from them in a particular situation.
Groypers game and in online gaming, the shocking discourse follows the rules of that genre.
Do groypers kiss their mother with that mouth? Yes.
The takeaway from my report is that for many Zoomers, violating taboos is a separate cognitive dimension from holding racist, white nationalist and antisemitic political attitudes. On the Manhattan Institute survey, half of those who openly identified as racists endorsed affirmative action, while among those who said they were antisemites, more said white people are favored in society than said Jews are.
What is more disturbing than any group animus is young peoples’ nihilistic apolitical anti-authority orientation, which is breeding cynicism, mistrust, and unreason. Data from the long-running General Social Survey (GSS) and ANES show that, as of 2024, just 8 percent of Americans under thirty-five say that other people, and the federal government, can be trusted.
These numbers are the lowest in 50 years. Trust in institutions is at rock bottom.
Trust in government has been sliding for a long time, and Trump’s refusal to accept the result of the 2020 election, among other things, has undoubtedly worsened the situation. Yet the willingness of progressive-dominated institutions and governments to indulge moral panics over racism, sexism, trans suicide, and white supremacy, and to suppress wrongthink in the name of emotional safety, has also badly damaged trust. Against a backdrop of truth-mangling humanitarian extremism, conspiracy theorists and shock jocks have been able to present themselves as muckrakers who tell it like it is.
The Groypers’ power is overstated, but until elites recommit to a truth-based order, the worldview of too many young people will continue to be marked by nihilism, provocation and conspiracy.
Kaufmann’s final five paragraphs shift the focus from a specific “Groyper” threat to a much broader crisis of institutional trust and epistemological decay. His analysis suggests that the shock-jock antics of figures like Nick Fuentes are symptoms of a deeper rot rather than the primary cause.
I’ve hammered on this for years.
The problem is not usually the problem. It is usually a symptom of a deeper problem.
Kaufmann argues that for many Zoomers, the act of violating social taboos—such as making racist or antisemitic jokes—is often a “separate cognitive dimension” from actual political convictions. He uses striking data to illustrate this: half of those who openly identified as “racists” in his survey also endorsed affirmative action. This suggests that much of the far-right “new media” appeal is based on a nihilistic desire for provocation rather than a disciplined commitment to white nationalism or traditional antisemitism.
The core of his argument is that young people are increasingly “apolitical and anti-authority.” He cites the General Social Survey (GSS) and ANES data to show that trust in the federal government and fellow citizens has plummeted to 8% among Americans under thirty-five. This is a historic low over a 50-year period. When trust in mainstream institutions collapses, people don’t necessarily turn to a competing coherent ideology; they turn to “content-neutral conspiracism.” This explains why 9/11 “truthers” and moon-landing deniers are statistically the most likely to also deny the Holocaust.
The more people have to lose, the less likely they are to embrace nihilism and nonsense. The less you have to lose, the more dangerous you are because you are untethered, and the more attracted you are to claims that you see through the BS.
Kaufmann doesn’t let the establishment off the hook. He identifies two main drivers for this collapse in trust:
Political Rhetoric: He notes that Donald Trump’s refusal to accept the 2020 election results damaged the perceived legitimacy of the system.
Institutional Overreach: He criticizes “progressive-dominated institutions” for indulging in moral panics and suppressing “wrongthink.”
He argues that when the “truth-based order” is seen as a tool for ideological policing, it creates a vacuum. Shock jocks and conspiracy theorists fill that vacuum by branding themselves as the only ones “telling it like it is.”
The final paragraphs highlight the danger of “swing voters”—young and minority voters moving between parties—who are twice as likely to hold conspiratorial views. Because these voters are highly sought after by both parties, they have the power to force national politics to cater to their “unreason.”
Kaufmann’s conclusion is a warning: the power of the Groypers is overstated, but the nihilism and mistrust they exploit are very real. Until elite institutions prioritize objective truth over emotional safety or partisan narratives, the “muckrakers” and conspiracy theorists will continue to gain ground.
The link between Kaufmann’s data and the concept of “no-fly zones” regarding public critique of sacralized minorities such as Jews, blacks, Muslims, LGBTQ, in public discourse is direct. When institutions designate certain groups or topics as sacralized and beyond criticism, they create a friction between official narratives and the lived experience or observations of the public. This friction acts as a primary driver for the collapse in trust Kaufmann describes.
Kaufmann’s report illustrates that when mainstream institutions suppress “wrongthink” in the name of emotional safety, they do not actually eliminate the forbidden thoughts. Instead, they drive those thoughts into a “nihilistic content-neutral conspiracism.” When elites refuse to engage with sensitive topics—such as the complexities of group differences or the trade-offs of immigration—they cede the territory to figures like Fuentes or Carlson.
In this environment, the “muckraker” label becomes a powerful brand. People gravitate toward influencers who violate taboos not necessarily because they agree with the specific ideology, but because the act of violation itself feels like a signal of honesty. If the “truth-based order” appears to be hiding things through moral panics, any “forbidden” information is treated as more likely to be true.
Reality is porous. The buffered identity is a fiction (though useful at times). During the turbulent Trump years, we see a shift across the political spectrum from a “buffered” identity to a more “porous” and reactive one. When people feel that their epistemology is being managed by an elite class, they lose the buffer of institutional trust. They become porous to any narrative that challenges the status quo, no matter how wild.
Kaufmann’s data on Holocaust denial is a perfect example. He finds that denial is less about ideology and more about a general commitment to “anti-authority orientation.” If the authorities say the moon landing happened and the Holocaust happened, a person who has lost all trust in those authorities will reflexively doubt both. The “no-fly zones” established around sacralized groups essentially act as a catalyst for this total epistemic breakdown.
Perhaps the most significant part of Kaufmann’s analysis is the role of minority and young swing voters. These groups are moving toward a worldview marked by provocation and conspiracy precisely because they feel the disconnect between elite “humanitarian extremism” and their own realities. As these voters become the “kingmakers” in national elections, the political system is forced to bend toward their conspiracist epistemology.
The result is a feedback loop. The more institutions try to “clamp down” on what they perceive as rising hate or misinformation through further sacralization and “no-fly zones,” the more they validate the conspiracist’s claim that the system is lying. This erodes the possibility of a shared, truth-based public square.
I know about the joys of provocation. I have spent my life reveling in provocation because it made me feel excited and superior. Finally, I had a therapist who suggested to me that when I unnecessarily provoke people, I hurt them. That got through to me. The more connected and happy I feel, the more precious I consider my life, then I make more careful and considerate choices because I don’t want anything I say or do to hurt those I love.
On the other hand, if you have nothing precious in your life, and you are not invested in your community, you might find it exciting to burn everything down.
