A Nation on Auto-Pilot: Processing the 2025 Election (Part 2)
The Politics of Distraction: Memes, Manipulation, and Manufactured Consent
Did I mention I’ve been practicing restraint? Like, a lot.
I’m much calmer these days than I should be, much more que sera, sera unless provoked, A far cry from the person I was a decade ago, which is a good thing in terms of growth, but also unfortunate when I look around and see the passivity that surrounds me.
I can always tell my proximity by what people call me. Many know Dejon, but very few have known Flow, and those who understand know I can push that button quite easily if necessary. However, I choose not to because there’s already enough frustration, exhaustion, and quiet resentment in a leadership class that squabbles like the feral chickens outside the bus terminal—flapping, bickering, pecking—keeping Bermuda trapped in a strange, warped Twilight Zone of stagnation—purgatory even.
The world has felt like a fever dream for the past few years. And the best way we’ve all learned how to deal with it?
Memes.
Make it laughable, make it into a joke. Cope.
Make it digestible and less painful—anything to look at instead of sitting down and processing.
Because to take it seriously means to acknowledge our condition, and in a culture of avoidance, where personal responsibility and accountability are rare commodities, sitting alone with ourselves, stepping outside the loop, is terrifying.
Political Meme Culture & The Cost of Civic Engagement
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good joke and a good meme just as much as the next person, and what I’m noting isn’t necessarily demonizing the method, it’s more directed towards awareness of their saturation, and the cost of it.
Memes are great icebreakers, great ways to pass a lot of information, and can quickly generate conversation, but when they replace conversation entirely, we stop thinking critically.
They are a double-edged sword in political discourse, which we can easily distinguish over the past month during the election period..
At its best, it can make politics more accessible, digestible, teachable, and engaging. At its worst, it infantilizes discussions, distorts reality, and enables people to disengage while believing they’re participating.
In her research on political memes, The Imitation Game, Marina Bulatovic explains that memes have replaced traditional political satire by offering an “alternative to the political humour of the traditional media”.
Rather than seeking out investigative journalism, analysis, or debate, many have turned to memes as their primary form of political engagement, news, and sometimes even education.
But when it comes to what we see in terms of today, and as a country, there has to be a point where we have to recognize the reduction in decorum, literacy, and discourse merely to the fact that people prefer poorly shopped photos, video snippets and soundbites, which are very useful in amplifying community awareness, but also, spreading misinformation and rhetoric, turning every day survival into punchlines.
But at some point, the joke wears off, and the Belco bill is still due.
At some point, jokes about the cost of living become insincere when people struggle at the register and others offer to pick up the rest of the tab.
It’s time to pay closer attention to our finance and economic ministers' policies.
At some point, jokes about the hospital aren’t funny when you realize you’re asked to buy some disinfectant, bandages, and more for a houseless man because they refuse to go to the clinic or hospital to get attended to in fear of the tallied outcome.
It's time to pay closer attention to our housing and healthcare policies.
At some point, the accidents and potholes aren't funny anymore when your only reliable mode of transportation to your place of employment is off the road for a few days to be fixed, and then you see the bill.
It’s time to pay attention to public transport and our infrastructure and why there is no relief year after year, season after season.
I can go on, and all stories are true in recent months. The more you directly mediate community conflict, the less humor you find in the continuous problem.
I’ll never forget one message I received through Bermemes—a bit of a course correction after a parody regarding Bermuda being the most expensive place in the world to live. You know everyone likes to say, “I live where you vacation.”
Although this was years before my self-study, being aware of Bermuda’s dynamics locally and globally, that message stuck with me and flipped a switch. I'm thankful to the young lady for pressing me.
Of course, it’s easier to joke about the state of affairs than to acknowledge its reality, recognize our part in its path, and understand that our collective disengagement from political reality is entirely why we are here.
In The Memeification of American Politics, Yasmine Nahdi describes this further, explaining how memes often “shift attention away from the actual issues” and turn political discourse into a form of entertainment rather than serious civic engagement.
Much like alcoholism and other forms of substance abuse, the memification and parody of politics is a coping mechanism to make light of an otherwise heavy, deeply rooted issues and frustrating positions many have very little control of or are willing to put skin in the game to address.
It’s not to say that the world is all bright and all good, but the danger in this is that when everything becomes a joke, nothing is taken seriously. And when nothing is taken seriously, accountability dissolves into thin air like $800,000.
This is how this stagnant, warped loop has persisted, how an administration riddled with mismanagement, cyberattacks, arrests, disappearing money, frivolous parties, and laundering scandals remains unchecked and the people disorganized.
It is how the issues that affect us, our children, and possibly our children’s children are pushed further down the line while Bermuda’s leadership has remained virtually unchallenged.
Arguably, I should be one of the last people to say this. However, more importantly, I bring credibility to this conversation, and these strategies that are employed through lived experience and growth, which segues into my next point or ghostly questions I haven’t openly addressed.
Where’s Dejon? What happened to Bermemes?
The easy answer?
Ah, I’m still around, just not around certain people that engage in the bullshit…
It’s a question I’ve heard more times than I can count, but I’ve only ever answered it to a trusted few. The truth is, it depends on whom you ask. But for me, the answer is threefold: I learned too much, I lost my heart for it, and my spirit was broken.
Bermemes was a beautiful thing. It taught me pride, and it taught me love; it taught me about Bermuda, about myself, our history, and our community. It showed me what was possible for us, and what a community could look like through shared identity, appreciation of it, and the stories that build us up together on this tiny ass rock. I learned more through self-study and through the stories of people I met than I ever did in school. And a big part of my self-education was wanting to give that love back, to share what I learned, to teach, to create, and it was exciting to share.
Most people saw the satire. Few recognized the strategy. It was never just humor, and with time, it was designed to keep people aware, create a sense of belonging, and educate through entertainment. Looking back, there are things I would have done differently. But you know what you when you do and when something becomes bigger than you, it’s hard to walk away, especially when it creates opportunities for others, even at your own expense, mental health, and eventually demise.
Why does this matter? Because of apathy. Because of disengagement. Because of social avoidance. Because of the mental well-being and stability of our community.
Bermemes was always about the people, but as it grew, so did outside interests. Over time, those interests influence the people involved; the same people who once treated it as a joke began to see its influence. The more the brand reached, the more it became a battleground for who could use or control its voice..
You see, among the stories that were told, there were also the ones the government sponsored. And over time, when the government, its ministries, and its quangos become your biggest and most consistent employer, particularly under a Burt administration, as we can all see, it becomes harder to disagree in direction.
The deeper you get, the harder it is to step back and see the extent of the interference, especially when you aren’t involved in the meetings. And by the time you take notice, it's either far too late, you’re far too isolated, and a decision has to be made, one where you decide to be complicit but fed or stand for something greater—collaboration, education, and socially conscious elevation.
These decisions are not taken lightly. However, they are rampant if you open your eyes. The recent coverage of Bermuda Tourism Authority is another example if you can put the pieces together over the years.
We can all see the results around us, and as for me, and as for Bermemes as it was, it had to be removed so it could no longer be used the way it was, and not the way it was founded and evolved into. It could no longer be a distraction to control narratives, and it was my hope that the community could see itself for itself.
I explained this above without historically touching on Bermuda’s deeper relationship with racial dynamics, satire, and minstrelsy, a discussion in its own. Maybe another time, but also another reason why I lost heart in my work and in the community. People preferred more memes and less educational content. The balance was always the tricky part.
Unfortunately, some distractions still exist.
This interference and alienation aren’t unique to me, and it’s a well-worn pattern that ties into the broader struggles of national identity, vision, direction, and belonging. There is disillusionment without a sense of these, and people leave for better pastures and opportunities where they lack.
And historically, the PLP has dealt with dissension the same way throughout its legacy—silence, sideline, and erasure. Whether in scrubbing media, politics, or community leadership, independent voices are only tolerated if they serve the party’s long-term strategy and gain. The moment they become a liability, they are cast aside.
As I discussed power dynamics and the laws of build-destroy, for me, if something is ending, something must begin, and like here with the soup, I must allow its space.
And that is why I bring light to the shadows.
God knows
It is a reminder that everything taken must be returned, justice in one form or another.
Because when 40% of Bermuda’s adolescents cannot recognize depression or social anxiety in their peers, how can we expect to build a politically and socially conscious community if they are depressed and distracted?
When education is consistently disrupted and understaffed, how can we expect to create leaders, voters, and engaged citizens when mental health, education, and the community's overall safety are neglected?
If we wish to see prosperity, it must be independent of government welfare and direction because support from PLP governance is rooted in paternalism, nepotism, and racial division. That’s why you always see the same creators, the same voices, the same faces circulated—until they step out of line.
Then, they are erased.
The Hypocrisy of Political Allegiances
Part of that has been my last two years, and it allows me to move to my following observation, my election endorsement.
Ironically, the one person I endorsed during this election was someone I used to avoid in the freezer aisle at Marketplace. Not out of dislike but because of my own battles at the time. The social anxiety. The broken spirit. And the simple fact is that if we started talking, twenty minutes to half an hour would easily pass when I was only probably there to pick up French fries.
That person met me at a time when I was at my lowest and at a period I can only describe as a spiritual transition. It was a time when I had lost faith in myself, in my community, in community leaders, in love, and in humanity itself.
Nowhere in Bermuda felt safe for me anymore; worse, I had no one I could trust to talk to.
But that’s the thing about “God” working in “mysterious ways” and dying flames; it only takes a spark to reignite them. Over time, I’ve returned that same fire.
Yet, the moment I endorsed them, I was met with an “All Lives Matter” deterrence and defense of the PLP simply because their associate was in contention running under their banner.
Strange. But that’s the thing about politics in Bermuda. People say, “Both candidates are good for Bermuda,” yet they refuse to vote for one because of the party he represents. They insist that their associate is entirely different from the party’s flaws but fail to recognize that same nuance in the opposition.
So, no, I don’t do well with hypocrisy. Especially when it’s framed in a way that insists two things can be true, but only one is held accountable.
Like my vote, it is why my one endorsement in this election wasn’t based on any party loyalty but on principle. It reflected what I value in a person, value in the community, in leadership, and what I have intimately witnessed over time, which I wish and hope everyone can experience for themselves and be inspired by.
Dwayne Robinson was someone who reminded me of myself while reminding me of myself.
He is someone I have watched grow, persevere, and stay grounded in his convictions despite the nuance, racial dynamics, senate taunts, ugly decorum, and the misunderstanding the public has regarding how Bermuda operates and the consequence of engaging in politics here—especially at his age.
And yet, the response to my endorsement exposed how political allegiance often trumps character, and at other times, any logical reasoning where one side can be scrutinized to exhaustion and, in contrast, the other gets a pass, no matter how flawed.
This is why we are here and stuck with this governance for now, leading to my following observation.
The Template Politician
When discussing candidates, particularly Mr. Mischa Fubler, Mr. Shomari Talbot-Woolridge, and many other fresh, young faces the PLP has rolled out, one has to ask: What model is being created or replicated? What template is being imposed?
Because make no mistake; it is a template. It is a meticulous, carefully curated, factorized model of what a possible PLP politician can be. It’s a system designed to mold candidates to ensure ideological and structural continuity of the brand rather than diversity of thought or leadership styles, i.e, the plight of Mr. Curtis Dickinson.
Yes, all political parties curate their candidates in a way that aligns with the brand identity and values, but not all do so with the same bizarre control that the country has endured since 2017. Elections aside, the PLP’s approach is different because “looking underneath the hood,” it is about maintaining a cultural and psychological monopoly over political legitimacy.
This is why you find contradictions when you compare the historical PLP to its modern-day iteration. Nowadays, the party attracts the same personality types so much that their values, between legacy and present-day, feel disconnected and misconstrued.
This formula becomes evident with Owen Darrell’s expedited ascension, or better yet, Jache Adams, and even more apparent when the PLP strategically placed Mr. Fubler in the Senate late last year. The exact green train track Mr. Fubler now choo-choos along.
So, excuse me for having “o ye of little faith” when it pertains to changing structures from inside when one participates in exactly how the green machinery is systematically and structurally designed.
It’s funny how one will warp reality to fit the narrative. However, it reminds me of a question shared by an elder:
How does a fish know it is in the water?
The senate placement was an opportunity within a tragedy or chaos, very much on brand with strategy, with or without it, as it wasn’t necessarily about giving Mr. Fubler a role then. It was an attempt to box Dwayne Robinson’s contention for the House by matching his youthfulness to position Fubler as the PLP’s bright young Black intellectual and to expedite his national profile. It was a calculated move, designed to make him a direct parallel to Robinson in public perception and, at times, a deliberate attempt to force his name into the same breath as Robinson’s.
That is how manipulative this administration is.
MP Chris Famous was one of the biggest offenders when it comes to this and crafting this illusion. As he would know, rhetoric in Bermuda is very easy to curate and even easier to distribute.
However, this tactic was, at times, blatantly disrespectful. Disrespectful because, for all of Fubler’s emergence, Mr. Robinson, only thirty years of age, has been in the trenches of politics for nearly a decade. He has survived two general elections. He endured the brutal defeat of the OBA in 2020, which was so massive that it would have discouraged most young politicians from ever stepping forward again. Yet, through it all, he endured and remained through all the fire that descended on his character.
He still works for the people of his community.
He still puts on his shoes and steps outside to meet people.
He still gives his time, even when it takes away from personal relationships, mental stability, and what makes a life outside of politics whole.
But this is the nature of politics here, right?
Rather than supporting and empowering our talent at home, we alienate it, especially if it doesnt fit the mold. But who crafts the mold? Who determines it?
It doesn’t have to be this way, yet so many adhere to the okey doke status quo of the green machinery, hoping to for their granted opportunity of misplaced power.
Do I have anything against Mr. Fubler, Mr. Talbot-Woolridge, or the other young PLP candidates per se?
No, I do not, not personally.
But I despise the insidious methodology of what they represent underneath, which is the patterned, calculated game they are being used for, and even more, I despise the masks they wear for it. Especially when, just months ago, a particular candidate publicly referred to the Premier and his party leader openly as a clown, only to then stand beside him as a PLP-endorsed candidate. Yet I am supposed to trust him as an advocate for social justice..
It is a game that many can’t see, and many core supporters don’t care to see as long as they get theirs or get their turn, regardless of what happens to the rest of the island.
Because as long as they win, and as long as they have power, the truth, the tactics, and the actual ability of their candidates do not matter. They just have to fit the formula.
This made Dwayne Robinson’s victory in C30 significant in renewing hope for Bermuda. If the PLP had indeed implemented its templated approach, then, by all logic, it would have effectively perfected the template for its election model, shaping the party’s future dominance.
But it didn’t.
And C30, alongside the rise of his senate colleagues in C7, Robin Tucker, and C25, Douglas De Couto, became the pillar in this election's ideological battleground.
Why? It represented a break in the formula, a test of the Green Machinery. When it was finally challenged realistically and based on the resulting data, it faltered.
The Media’s Selective Accountability
And now, I find myself asking: What happened to Arianna Hodgson?
Where did she go? What did she do? Is she still in politics?
She was once positioned as a rising star in the PLP, yet now, she has all but disappeared from the scene after abandoning C25 and failing to secure C5. And since we’re here, let’s talk about that same formula—the one the PLP used to pair opposing senators against each other in election campaigns.
They placed Hodgson against De Couto, just like they placed Fubler against Robinson. But in this case, the racial dynamics were more explicit—the young, intelligent Black mother against the reinforced White boogeyman and the narrative of the UBP.
However, she must have seen the writing on the wall after her rollout in early December and the announcement of Derrick Burgess's retirement. Rather than fighting for her seat in C25, she attempted to pivot to C5, a safer option. But as we know, that move obviously backfired, seemingly leaving her lost in the political wash and noticeably absent from the final thirty-six candidates.
So now I wonder—has she become a political pariah like Justin Mathias? Or is she waiting to cross the floor, positioning herself like Vance Campbell for a later political resurrection?
Independent maybe?
This brings me to my next question:
What is the role of the media in holding power accountable?
Because here’s the thing, when it comes to internal PLP matters, the party simply refuses to engage, and their standard response is, "We don’t discuss internal matters in the media or the public."
And that’s it—no further questions. No investigation. No follow-ups. Just good ol trustworthy Burty’s words.
But it's an entirely different game when it comes to any of the “combined” opposition. The media digs its claws in. They grill them to the third degree over issues big and small, and the stories carry on the news cycles for weeks on multiple platforms.
So why does this happen? Why is there a blatant imbalance in political journalism and scrutiny in Bermuda?
More than ever, local media plays an extremely crucial role in public accountability, yet it has been far too lax in holding the PLP to the same standard.
There’s no denying that journalism worldwide faces challenges, and there is always work to be done. But let’s be honest, the complacency of Bermuda’s media has directly contributed to the decline of political discourse, political accountability, the erosion of public trust, and, by extension, the same moral decay of the community that allows leaders to operate unchecked.
Because when journalism and a people become passive and power goes unchallenged, the public is left to navigate a warped reality shaped by whatever those in control decide will be accepted as truth.
And those narratives are dangerous, and those narratives are frequent, especially in how we, as a people, engage with them and pass them along without much, if any, media literacy, debate, or critical thinking.
To end this, and to put it simply,
Kendrick Lamar said it best: Turn the TV off.
Up Next, The Hangover
In Part 3, we’ll step back, grab some aspirin, some mozzarella sticks and fries from Ice Queen, reflect, and ask: What’s next?
Will the next generation break free from the cycles, or are they already falling in line?
Time to sober up.
Wow.
Nailed it on every point.