Since 2020, many voters have been increasingly primed to see elections as unfair and potentially rigged. Lasting election denialism has fanned mistrust in election administration, particularly among Republicans. After Donald Trump questioned or rejected the validity of results of both 2016 and 2020 contests, it could be especially difficult for his supporters to accept a potential loss in such a tight race in 2024.
As researchers of rumors and rumoring, we study how people make sense of what’s going on in highly uncertain scenarios like elections. In the coming days, we expect thousands of rumors to circulate on (and off) social media. Though some may be built around kernels of fact, misleading rumors distort the truth and context, obscure solutions, and fuel conspiracy theories of an intentional voter fraud scheme.
Fledgling versions of this infrastructure were present in the 2020 and 2022 elections.
What is striking about the 2024 election is not the prevalence of rumors, but the maturation of an “evidence generation infrastructure,” consisting of political organizations, partisan media, social media, technological platforms, and a growing legal apparatus. The collaboration is loosely organized, but also strategic, and works both to promote “proof” of fraud and motivate political and legal action to contest the results. Fledgling versions of this infrastructure were present in the 2020 and 2022 elections — but now the machinery is well-oiled and ready for action. It operates through three C’s: convince the public of election fraud, collect perceived “evidence” of alleged fraud and contest election processes and results using this “evidence.”
Last week, we saw the “three C’s” at work. On Tuesday, Pennsylvanians faced long lines at the Bucks County election office to register for a mail-in ballot before the deadline that afternoon — inciting rumors online.
Law enforcement had told people in the queue that they were closing the lines down early — an action that goes against the standard protocol of letting those in line before a deadline stay in line to vote. Aspiring voters quickly posted videos of their arguments with police and poll watchers. Political actors and influencers packaged these videos and promoted them, misleadingly, as evidence of a larger, nefarious effort by Democrats to rig the election. They urged those in line to submit reports to election integrity groups. To counter these claims, a few voices on the left baselessly accused the right of hiring actors to play police officers.
Ultimately, Trump’s campaign filed and won a lawsuit that extended the deadline for those in line. Influencers celebrated the win and the work of watchdogs, who posted the videos and made them go viral.
Like many voting-related rumors, this one was based upon a real issue, and one that was eventually remedied. But the misleading narrative that closing the lines down was an intentional effort to suppress Republican votes as part of a larger conspiracy? That unfounded story is likely to persist.
At their best, election integrity observers can serve to quickly surface real issues. At their worst, they can incite misleading or baseless rumors that can increase mistrust in election procedures. Self-described election integrity organizations, many of which are sympathetic to Trump, have developed new tools and repurposed existing infrastructure to encourage the capture and digital sharing of “evidence” of perceived election fraud — evidence often intentionally mischaracterized to peddle a narrative that the election is rigged.








