Amal Ali: How Social Isolation is Influencing Youth Politics

The rise of far-right political standing being held by young people is often explained as a sudden ideological shift, an abrupt passion for extremism driven by ignorance or rebellion. In reality, it is far less dramatic and far more troubling. What we are witnessing is not simply the spread of ideas, but the political mobilisation of loneliness, frustration and alienation – particularly amongst young men. Despite being the most digitally connected generation in history, young people today are also among the most socially isolated. The presence of a ‘third space’ or community centres has eroded. There is no longer a home away from home. With youth clubs disappearing and stable employment proving difficult to access, young adults may have technological advancements at their fingertips but they lack human communication. With social interaction migrating online, many young people struggle to hold a conversation in today’s day and age. Struggling with something as simple as small talk or holding eye contact. While this may seem as if it’s second nature, the action hasn’t been practiced with online communication not needing these usual tasks. In this there aren’t real connections being formed, just surface level friendships through a screen. Resulting in many young people who although their relationships may seem abundant, reside with a strong feeling of loneliness. 

Isolation breeds vulnerability. Human beings quite naturally crave an understanding of the cause of the discomfort. When individuals feel disconnected from their communities and uncertain about their futures, they search for explanations. Politics becomes a natural outlet for that search. The far right has been particularly effective at recognising this emotional gap and filling it with narratives that transform personal frustration into political resentment. Young men, in particular, have become a key audience. Many face economic precarity, declining job security, and diminishing social status compared to previous generations. At the same time, cultural conversations often discuss young men as a problem to be managed rather than a group to be understood. This does not mean that progressive politics is inherently hostile to men, but it does mean that many young men feel unseen by mainstream political discourse. In that vacuum, far-right movements offer something deceptively powerful: recognition. 

Rather than encouraging self-reflection or structural analysis, these movements provide external targets. Failure is no longer individual or systemic but someone else’s fault. This is where political buzzwords become crucial. Terms like “woke” “elite” “globalist” or “censorship” are not designed to clarify reality. They are emotional shortcuts. They play on vagueness purposefully, allowing anger to be directed without requiring understanding. Buzzwords function as substitutes for ideology. They compress complex social and economic issues into easily shareable labels, turning politics into a language of instinct rather than analysis. To say something is “woke” is not to explain why it is wrong, but to signal opposition and identity. And in an online environment driven by speed and virality, this kind of language thrives. The combination of isolation and buzzwords creates a culture of radicalisation. An isolated individual encounters content that validates their frustration. They are introduced to a vocabulary that names their unease without actually challenging it. Online communities reinforce this language, offering not only political explanations but also social belonging. What begins as casual consumption becomes identity formation. The young person is no longer simply unhappy; they are “aware” / “awake” or part of a group that claims exclusive insight into how the world really works. 

Crucially, this process rarely feels extreme to those experiencing it. It feels like clarity. The far right does not present itself as radical; it presents itself as common sense in a world gone mad. By framing itself as the ‘defender of truth’, masculinity or free speech, it positions dissent as censorship and critique as persecution. This further strengthens in-group loyalty and deepens alienation from broader society. Social media platforms accelerate this process. Algorithms prioritise content that provokes strong emotional responses, and anger is among the most effective. Buzzwords are optimised for this environment: they are short, emotive, and endlessly repeatable. Nuance does not trend. Structural explanations do not go viral. Politics becomes less about solving problems and more about assigning blame. Extremist politics thrives not because young people are irrational, but because isolation and uncertainty are easily translated into resentment. In this environment, political language does not need to offer solutions – only targets. Any serious response to this trend must begin by recognising how isolation, language and digital incentives interact. Until mainstream politics grapples with those conditions, it will continue to lose ground to movements that are better at naming frustration than resolving it.