Are Podcasts the New Think Tanks?  

“I want to thank some people real quick. I want to thank the boys Adin Ross, Theo Von, Bussin’ with the Boys. And last but not least, the mighty and powerful Joe Rogan. And thank you, America. Thank you. Have a good night.” 

That was Dana White thanking podcasters at Trump’s victory speech last year. 

Obama’s presidential speech optimistically asked that ‘if there is anyone who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible … tonight is your answer”. 

Fast forward seventeen years and we are all confronted with the words: Bussin’ with the Boys. 

It’s initially funny, then surreal, and then deeply unsettling.  

How did the once fringe hobby of podcasting become a kingmaker in Washington?  

Why is there a “mighty and powerful Joe Rogan”, and why is he now wandering the corridors of influence once reserved for think tanks?  

It’s 2012.  The London Summer Olympics are on, Obama has just been re-elected, and everyone loves “Gangnam Style”.  The great temples of American policymaking, Brookings, Heritage, and the Centre for American Progress, still carried real weight.  They wrote reports nobody read but everyone quoted, and so shaped debates in Washington and therefore the rest of America. 

But 2012 also saw the first tremors of the podcasting quake.  

Steve Bannon took over Breitbart News Network, and turned it into a forum for his bombastic, right-wing political commentary.  Meanwhile, Alex Jones began to bombastically shout on air about a whole host of ridiculous things, like “horses are psychic, that’s been confirmed”, and suggesting that Sandy Hook was a hoax.  The whole affair was, quite rightly, viewed as a spectacle for crazy people, made by even crazier people.  

These shows were unfiltered, stream-of-consciousness rants, which laid the groundwork for the political podcasting we know today. 2012 also marks the moment a stand-up comedian turned MMA commentator named Joe Rogan got himself an actual producer for his niche, low-budget podcast. 

By 2015, perhaps emboldened by Marc Maron’s podcast with Obama in the same year, Rogan had one of the world’s most popular podcasts just by having interesting guests and unexpected conversations.  Meanwhile, that same Steve Bannon who spent his time shouting about conspiracies on that fringe online show got appointed as Trump’s campaign CEO.  Around this time, Trump appeared on Alex Jones’ show, praising the man who insisted the government controlled the weather as having an ‘amazing’ reputation, and promised that he “will not let [Jones] down.” 

And so, Trump won that election in 2016 – made Bannon his chief strategist in the White House, and personally thanked Jones, reportedly saying:  “I just talked to kings and queens of the world … but it doesn’t matter, I wanted to talk to you … we know what you did early on, throughout this campaign, standing up for what’s right.”  With Trump in 2016, the fringe became mainstream, and with that – podcasting had found a pathway into politics.  

By 2019 and 2020, Rogan, the self-described “social liberal”, was questioning presidential hopefuls like Sanders and Yang.  Yang went from averaging 62 donations per day pre-Rogan, to 2,100 and so suddenly, this weird podcasting thing could be seen as a legitimate political amplifier.  

And then 2021 rolled in.  Covid still grinded on, Trump supporters stormed the Capitol and England made it to the finals of the Euros.   For Rogan, the pandemic marked a pivot.  His commentary started drifting closer to the Alex Jones–Steve Bannon orbit we glimpsed back in 2012.  Lockdowns, he argued, only worsened the spread because people “go inside … and that’s where it spreads.”   He described mRNA vaccines as “gene therapy” and questioned whether young adults should even bother getting jabbed at all. 

By the time Covid had supposedly ended, Rogan conceded that Jones was “right about 80% of the time.”  Rogan went further than just Covid though.  He called Putin a “strong leader” and criticised Zelenskyy saying, “you [expletive] people are going to start World War Three”.  

Fast-forward three more years of Biden’s presidency, and three more years of echoing fringe right-wing talking points, and Trump was on Rogan’s show, insisting the election was “so crooked … I lost by, like, I didn’t lose.”   Podcasts had officially become the political pulpit they’d always quietly aspired to be. Over the course of his campaign, Trump would guest on nine major podcasts, from Logan Paul’s Impaulsive to the Nelk Boys’ raucous show. So effective had this strategy proven that the Trump administration helped set up the Nelk Boys sit-down with Netanyahu earlier this year. 

And so here we are, the water in the pot turned up so gently over two decades that most of us barely notice it’s boiling. Fringe conspiracy talk has crept into the mainstream, influencing millions and even shaping legislatures – as think tanks once did.  Ted Cruz wields his podcast – yes, even Ted Cruz has a podcast – to push policy, most notably co-sponsoring legislation to keep AM radios alive in cars.  Pod Save America, run by Obama-era aides, repeatedly mobilised grassroots phone banking and voter engagement, turning podcasting into a practical engine of action.  

All-In, hosted by Silicon Valley figures like Chamath Palihapitiya, now draws lawmakers to live events and summits, and Ezra Klein’s podcast and the 5-4 podcast has been cited in actual policy debates. 

Think tanks operate with a mandate: inform legislatures and ground advice in research.  Podcasters don’t. 

This became glaringly obvious on Joe Rogan’s show when comedian Dave Smith debated British commentator Douglas Murray.  Murray critiqued Smith’s arguments as unfounded; when pressed, Smith and Rogan pivoted, deflecting with jokes or claiming, “he’s just a comedian”, thus erasing responsibility.  Murray shot back: “it’s like punching jelly”.  

Nothing can be falsified or pinned down, and comedy and its ambiguity becomes a shield by default. That kind of conversational melting-pot is, of course, incredibly entertaining, but it’s also incredibly dangerous. 

During COVID, misinformation slipped through on the basis of being ‘common sense logic’, punctuated by crude jokes and laughter, yet all the while undermining public trust in things think tanks were trying to inform on via research and fact-checking.  

The democratization of audio means anyone with a microphone can become a de facto voice of authority.  And that is great for representation and immediacy. But they use half-truths, charming emotional manipulation and slippery reasoning to get their points across.  And thus funny, charismatic, or compelling people can dominate the discourse, even if their factual foundation is thin. We’ve seen it with COVID, elections and other policies affecting millions. 

Joe Rogan and Theo Von are now more popular and influential than any think tank – and that was intended.  Rigorous, peer-reviewed studies were never meant to entertain or be popular; Joe Rogan’s podcasts were never meant to inform or be factual.  Rogan was never meant to sit down with Trump, yet here we are – with Dana White and the rest of the world ready to applaud them for doing so.  And so, podcasts have become more popular and more effective than think tanks, without the factual basis or research. 

They reach more people, say things in a funnier tone, and influence bigger outcomes – like the election of Trump. And there is very little we can do to stop that now.

Edited by Charlie Windle. Cover Illustration by Haris Khan.