For young, radicalized internet users, the Malfoid provides a ready-made, pop-culture-literate mascot for ethno-nationalism. She is the ultimate “guy’s girl” updated for the digital age, injected with a dark, pop culture edge that makes her more appealing to a terminally online demographic than traditional political propaganda. It’s an effective way to package white supremacy and conservative purity ideals into a highly shareable, visually appealing internet aesthetic.
Prominent right-wingers using fantasy and fiction to promote their ideals is not a new phenomenon. For years, J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings has been relentlessly co-opted by several prominent figures on the political right, including Peter Thiel and Elon Musk. Similarly, the Trump administration has normalized communicating to the public via memes. Trump’s own feed on Truth Social is a constant stream of AI-generated meme imagery, and various government departments, such as DHS, have previously utilized memes and Tolkien’s work to make light of deeply serious issues like ICE raids. Since dropping the Malfoid meme, the Department of Education has continued its “There is Magic in Learning” X posts with images referencing The Lord of the Rings and Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Leslie Hahner, a communications professor at Baylor University, says the “collapse of boundaries between internet subcultures and mainstream institutions” is a defining feature of modern politics. “Symbols that once circulated in niche online communities now regularly appear in political campaigns, government communications, and major media coverage,” she says, noting that while memes might have a bigger reach, this strategy becomes dangerous when adopting toxic internet culture.
She says the use of “incel imagery” raises uncomfortable questions. “Is the agency unaware of the symbol’s cultural baggage, or does it believe these associations are useful for attracting engagement from relevant audiences? Either possibility is significant,” Hahner tells WIRED. “If officials are unaware of the connotation, it suggests a lack of cultural literacy or an inability to safeguard learners from toxic symbols. If they are aware, it raises questions about why a federal institution would choose to amplify imagery tied to dehumanizing online discourse.”
In response to WIRED’s request for comment, the Department of Education quoted Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: “Of course it’s happening inside your head, Harry. Why should that mean it’s not real?”
By utilizing the visual markers of the Malfoid, the institution signals continuing cultural alignment to a radicalized, terminally online base without ever triggering the alarm bells of traditional media oversight. It is an algorithmic wink, assuring the most extreme corners of their constituency that the institution shares their foundational worldview.
We are witnessing the end of traditional political persuasion. Policy papers, detailed legislative agendas, and traditional campaign speeches simply do not enthuse the youth anymore; aesthetic identity does. Modern political operatives understand that young voters have been trained on platforms like TikTok and Wattpad to consume information through hyper-specific tropes rather than cohesive, logical ideologies.
The internet is no longer a reflection of our political reality. Our political reality is simply executing the tropes of the internet, and the state is perfectly happy to play along.
