It was a small act of defiance with an intended massive message. Human rights advocates in New York City, appalled by the Trump administration’s decision to remove anything “woke” (which seems to include anything promoting democracy or human rights) from federal spaces, sought to restore the tribute to those brutalized or killed during the darkest modern era days for the LGBTQ community. A rainbow Pride flag had been taken down from the National Stonewall Monument in Greenwich Village, a particularly sneering insult, since the monument was designated during the Obama administration to laud the brave protesters who fought off police after a raid on the gay bar there.
Activists raise their fists in victory as they raise the LGBTQ+ Pride flag on the permanent flagpole with the American Flag. The National Park Service removed the LGBTQ flag earlier in the week due to a memorandum declaring only the American flag and US Interior flag can be flown on federal property. (Photo by Derek French / SOPA Images/Sipa USA)(Sipa via AP Images)
Days after the weekend in early February when the flag was removed, advocates staged a take-back, raising the Pride flag in a manner that recalled the image of victorious Marines raising the U.S. flag at Iwo Jima. It might have been a profoundly unifying event for LGBTQ activists – for that matter, all Americans who believe love trumps hate. Instead, it spawned outrage from within the human rights community. Why was the pride flag a little lower than the U.S. flag next to it, they complained. Why did the protesters settle for a Pride Flag, instead of a “Progress” flag that included a nod to trans people?
“It just felt extremely performative because it wasn’t an inclusive pride flag. Like, where are the trans colors? Trans people are dying, Black trans women and Brown women are the reason that our rights exist in the first [place]. What are we doing here?” trans activist and playwright Mika Kauffman told The Guardian newspaper.
Performative is the operative word, but it’s not about the design of the flag. It’s about the outrage over the perceived slights. And not coincidentally, the outrage over the placement and design of the flag nudges aside the real outrage, which was the government erasure of LGBTQ history.
There’s no shortage of genuinely outrageous events and remarks by elected officials and so-called influencers. Wars of choice, and the attacks on democracy in America. People sick and dying because they do not have health insurance that is a basic right in most developed countries. A disparity of wealth that is returning the country to a Gilded Age. Attacking migrants and separating children from their immigrant parents in an act of deliberate cruelty. Whitewashing rape and sexual abuse inside a cabal of social, political and financial elites, who now may feel reassured that their privileged status will spare them accountability.
So why are people fueling their outrage vessels with matters that are at worst just oversights? If a TV announcer, covering a marathon, says “everyone” can run such a long race with determination and training, is that perhaps just an overstatement, instead of an “ableist” slur worthy of an entire blog post? If American Eagle peddles its denim with a clunky pun, saying actor Sydney Sweeney, modeling the pants, has “great genes,” is that really a racist dog whistle, suggesting only the blonde and blue-eyed can look great in a pair of jeans? Are there no more obviously deliberate expressions of racism deserving of public outrage?
Indeed, there are. And importantly, they are by design.
When Donald Trump posted a video online depicting former President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama as apes, he knew exactly the kind of reaction it would get (and, one suspects, the fact that the public outcry over the appalling racism he implicitly endorsed by posting it would take some attention away from the Epstein files). When right-wing “influencer” Nick Fuentes went online and said “women are made to be f*****, literally… women are either mothers, whores or nuns, no other options,” and questions the value of an age of consent for sex, he does so knowing the attention it would get — and the promotion social media apps would provide. Because they are designed to do so.
Design plays a powerful role in shaping what captures attention and what provokes reaction. Visual symbols—from protest graphics to political campaigns and viral memes—can ignite reaction faster than the intended ideas behind them. And when social media algorithms reward posts that trigger the strongest emotional response, outrage has become the most reliable currency.
Stoking outrage on X (formerly known as Twitter) pays — literally. Those who pay $8 a month to get “verified” can make money back if their “likes” and re-posts reach a certain level. End Wokeness, a provocative, right wing X account with 3.9 million followers, claims it made $10,400 from its in-your-face posts.
If there’s greed behind the outrage machine, there’s science as well. While Americans cited polarization as the country’s second-biggest problem in a New York Times-Siena College poll (above the state of democracy and inequality!) they are drawn to it, as well. And the algorithms of social media apps are designed to exploit that attraction.
For designers, particularly those working in political communication, this raises an important question: when visual language becomes a trigger for algorithmic outrage, who is actually controlling the message?
Hate speech online is on the rise, according to numerous analyses. And it’s not simply because people are now more hateful, a study in Nature notes. It’s because platforms like Facebook (now Meta) and YouTube promote incendiary comments, because they drive engagement —and therefore, profits.
A Yale University study found that platforms like X are changing the tone of political interactions online, since users find that their posts are rewarded with “likes” and reposts if they express moral outrage. “This is the first evidence that some people learn to express more outrage over time because they are rewarded by the basic design of social media,” one of the Yale researchers, William Brady, said when the study was published.
This is the first evidence that some people learn to express more outrage over time because they are rewarded by the basic design of social media.
William Brady
Daniel Mochon, a professor of business administration and marketing at Tulane University, came to similar conclusions in a 2024 study. “The goal is to generate engagement,” he said. “And outrage is a very powerful form of engagement.” That works for the social media apps (and explains why they encourage it).
And the people themselves? “There’s probably a small population of very active users who enjoy the outrage,” Mochon said. “And probably a larger silent majority that does not like it. But the machine will still be showing them this content.”
Outrage can be good, in manageable doses, and it can bring about change, when it is targeted. George Floyd’s murder, for example, created a public outrage that led not only to convictions of law enforcement responsible for his death, but police reforms and a renewed attention to dual systems of justice for white and Black people.
But outrage, like fear, can be used to control the population as well. A little fear can be useful; it makes us run away when we’re threatened, or decide against jumping across a deep morass when the distance is too far for comfort. But on a bigger scale, it paralyzes us. After 9-11, the federal government helpfully (for them) gave us color-coded guides each day to tell Americans how frightened they needed to be on that day. Yellow? Eyes front, people! Red? Say your good-byes to your family. There was no real purpose of the danger colors. It’s not as though individual Americans could do anything about a potential terrorist attack. But it sure kept people on edge — and note paying attention to the bigger picture — when the Bush administration plotted a debacle of a war in Iraq.
In this March 12, 2002 file photo, Homeland Security Director Tom Ridge unveils a color-coded terrorism warning system in Washington. The Homeland Security Department says it will review the multicolored terror alert system that was created after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks. (AP Photo/Joe Marquette)
Living in a constant, and sometimes manufactured, state of outrage is overwhelming. It doesn’t motivate us to demand change; it exhausts us. It makes us feel powerless. When X and other social media platforms amplify division and reward people for their outraged posts, they encourage people to react with outrage, whether the provocation is large, small or utterly meaningless.
New banners highlighting “Heroes of Education” including one for former political activist Charlie Kirk, hang on the Department of Education on March 4, 2026. Photo by Olivier Douliery/Abaca/Sipa USA(Sipa via AP Images)
When the president of the United States posts racist memes or speculates openly about acquiring other countries, he knows people will be outraged, and he knows it will keep people off-balance. When he hung banners with his picture on federal buildings in D.C. (and, for added provocation, a banner of slain right-wing personality Charlie Kirk on the Department of Education building), he knew the outrage would come with the intended, disempowering message: I’ll do what I want, and you can’t stop me.
That is the true outrage. And perpetually-enraged Americans may not have the bandwidth to use it for change.
Header Image: A banner of U.S. President Trump hangs from the U.S. Department of Justice building in Washington, D.C. on Monday, February 23, 2026. (Photo by Annabelle Gordon/Sipa USA)(Sipa via AP Images)
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