The Politics of Control: The Hunger Games, MAGA, and the Rebranding of Dissent

 President Donald Trump (Left) and President Snow from The Hunger Games (Right). Source: The New Republic

The greatest form of control isn’t censorship, it’s the illusion of freedom. 

This form of control relies not on suppressing information, but on shaping how it’s delivered and received, a tactic increasingly visible in political media ecosystems. These ecosystems consist of interconnected platforms, news outlets, influencers, and algorithms that influence what information circulates, how it’s reframed, and who it reaches. Instead of blocking content, they guide attention and shape interpretation. This soft power is central to The Hunger Games, where the Capitol controls not only what the public sees, but how they think about it, a form of disinformation that doesn’t hide the truth, but distorts its meaning. 

In The Hunger Games, power is sustained through fear and visible, deliberate neglect. The Capitol’s wealth is staged against the districts’ poverty, not as a contradiction, but as design. That contrast becomes its form of messaging: a constant visual reminder of who controls resources and who goes without. This isn’t just about inequality; it's a political strategy. A version of this logic was visible in 2017, when Trump visited Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria. As residents faced food and water shortages, the president tossed paper towels into a crowd at a relief center. The act, widely circulated, wasn’t staged like the Games, and the comparison isn’t exact, but the moment still reflected a striking disregard. It turned basic human needs into visual performance. Instead of addressing systemic failure, the response became a kind of spectacle that, for many, felt less like aid and more like mockery.

But neglect alone is not enough, it has to be emotionally weaponized. In The Hunger Games, the Capitol doesn’t just control resources, it crafts narratives that dictate public perception. Tributes are transformed into symbols–heroes, villains, martyrs–through stylized interviews and orchestrated storylines, ensuring that the suffering serves the regime's agenda. This manipulation of emotion is central to maintaining control. A similar strategy can be seen through the MAGA movement. The campaign harnessed fear and nationalism to construct a narrative of a nation under siege, positioning itself as the bulwark against decline. Symbols like the red MAGA hat and chants such as "Lock her up" functioned as identity tools, delineating insiders from outsiders and fostering a sense of belonging among supporters. This wasn’t merely political branding. It was an emotional spectacle designed to mobilize and polarize. In The Hunger Games, the Capitol uses a similar tactic. Its citizens are immersed in stylized narratives that reinforce loyalty and separate them from the realities of the districts. Public rituals, like the Games, function less as governance than performance. Both systems rely on emotional control, not through facts or dialogue, but through repetition, identity, and spectacle.

This manipulation of emotion, however, reaches its peak when spectacle replaces substance entirely. During the 2024 presidential debate, Trump falsely claimed that Haitian immigrants in  Springfield, Ohio, were “eating the dogs” and “eating the cats,” a statement immediately denied by local officials but widely circulated online. The goal wasn’t factual accuracy, it was emotional impact. A similar tactic is used in Mockingjay, when the Capitol broadcasts edited footage of Peeta Mellark to undermine the rebels and control public perception. These broadcasts don’t reflect truth; they reflect strategy. The Capitol’s messaging is designed to influence loyalties and perceptions through emotional distortion rather than information. 

The Hunger Games makes clear that the media isn’t just a tool of power; it is the stage performed. In Panem, the Capitol turns control into spectacle, using scripted narratives and emotional manipulation to maintain dominance. Trump’s political strategy operates the same way. From rally chants to viral disinformation, the goal was never to be accurate. The media becomes a delivery system for identity, outrage, and control. And just like in Panem, the audience plays a role. We consume, share, and react, often without realizing that participation is part of the mechanism. That’s the real warning The Hunger Games leaves us with: when performance becomes politics, and media becomes the method, control doesn’t need to silence dissent, it just needs to direct the feed.