You’re scrolling through your preferred social media platform, anno 2025—what Gen Z and Millennials call doom scrolling—when you stumble from a cooking video into a stylised montage glorifying a historical villain. Not only has it amassed millions of views, but the comment section is disturbingly full of admiration. What’s going on?

By Joseph Shumunov
Wholly ignored by older generations as something beyond their social media tact, this trend reveals a more profound crisis of meaning and identity among young men—one that is increasingly shaped not by institutions or ideas, but by algorithms and aesthetics.

 Welcome to the world of “reels”.

Whether on TikTok, Instagram, or YouTube Shorts, these dopamine-charged, short-form videos are now the dominant mode of content consumption. Their purpose ranges from entertainment and brand promotion, simple humour, to ideological persuasion. But within this genre lies a new, even more condensed trend: the edit.

An “edit” is a hyper-stylised, 5-to-15-second video crafted for maximum emotional or aesthetic impact. Using dramatic transitions, music synced with visuals, filters, and cinematic cuts, creators use tools like CapCut to churn out eye-catching clips at scale. What once took hours can now be produced in minutes—with AI doing much of the heavy lifting.

Moreover, these “edits” are especially common among fan communities, where users create tribute-style videos that often showcase travel, fashion, and celebrities—such as an innocent one of actor Pedro Pascal cued to moody music, which amassed more than 1,000,000 views on Instagram. But this format—seductive, visceral, shareable—has also become fertile ground for far more political, if not dangerously radical, content.

Take one recent edit of none other than Adolf Hitler, for example. It begins with shots of uniformed German youth waving flags, then cuts to Hitler marching alongside his Nazi cadre, and finally crescendos with him delivering a speech to thunderous applause—each clip syncopated to the dreamy, upbeat rhythm of the popular indie rock track “Let It Happen.”

 The reaction? Over 300,000 views. More than 22,000 likes. And then, the most chilling part—the comment section: “ I’d vote for him,” “ Greatest leader in history .” These aren’t anonymous bots or fringe trolls. They’re real users—many with public profiles—expressing admiration for the man responsible for the industrialised murder of millions.

That such content not only exists but also flourishes reveals how the aesthetic power of edits can distort historical memory, package genocide in glossy transitions, and sanitise hate for mass consumption.

But this phenomenon isn’t merely about misremembering or aestheticising historical figures. It reflects a deeper romanticisation of leadership itself — and more specifically, of what young people, especially young men, are looking for in a leader. This is why the edit-making ecosystem is not only popularised by but overwhelmingly produced and consumed by young men.

Yes, that forgotten demographic—young men across the West whom modern conservatism has been eager to champion. In recent years, concerns over the supposed “feminisation” of men, rising male loneliness, and a rejection of postmodern or “woke” liberalism have given rise to a reactionary embrace of what’s seen as “based” or “trad” (short for traditional) politics. But beyond the slogans lies a hunger: for strength, for rebellion, for a model of unflinching masculinity.

These appeals are reflected directly in the content consumed by young men. Not all of the featured figures are outright despots. Often, they are leaders from the past or present who are seen as controversial, defamed by liberal institutions, or positioned as rebels against the neoliberal status quo. The range is telling: from Saddam Hussein, Vladimir Lenin, Putin, to Italy’s Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, Hungary’s Viktor Orbán, and the leaders of Germany’s AfD party.

But the formula rarely changes: stitched-together clips of these figures acting “strong,” “based,” or irreverent—smirking in interviews, walking in slow motion, yelling in parliament—cut to booming, bass-heavy “phonk” music. It’s cinematic, stylised, and aggressively shareable. One search, and hundreds—if not thousands—of similar videos flood your feed.

The result? Millions of views, millions of likes, and endless comment threads nostalgizing their personalities and performances. But more than anything, these edits normalise. Admiring figures like Hitler or Stalin is no longer confined to fringe message boards on X and 4Chan. Instead, they appear on the “For You Page” of any teen with a smartphone. The alt-right no longer needs to recruit youth—these young people are now producing and consuming the content themselves, churning out fan accounts and tributes with algorithmic efficiency.

Of course, not all edits are sinister. Some are uplifting—even moving. One widely shared example features Jesus Christ, set to ambient music and overlaid with quotes about love, forgiveness, and sacrifice—transforming traditional messages of salvation into something emotionally resonant. Others feature figures like Jordan Peterson, whose speeches about discipline, responsibility, and purpose are set to echoing reverb, designed to inspire young men in search of direction.