In an age of growing wealth disparities, politicians on both sides of the aisle are sounding the alarm about the fading American Dream. Yet despite all evidence to the contrary, many still view the United States as the land of opportunity. The American Mirage, by Eunji Kim, an assistant professor of political science, addresses this puzzle by exposing the stark reality of today’s media landscape, revealing how popular entertainment media shapes politics and public opinion in an increasingly news-avoiding nation.
Drawing on an eclectic array of original data, Kim demonstrates how, amid a dazzling range of media choices, many Americans simply are not consuming the news. Instead, millions flock to entertainment programs that showcase real-life success stories, such as “American Idol,” “Shark Tank,” and “MasterChef.” Kim examines how shows like these leave viewers optimistic about the prospects of upward mobility, promoting a false narrative of rugged individualism and meritocracy that contradicts what is being reported in the news.
By taking seriously what people casually watch every day, The American Mirage shows how rags-to-riches programs perpetuate the myth of the American Dream, glorifying the economic winners, fostering tolerance for income inequality, and dampening support for redistributive policies that could improve people’s lives.
Kim discusses the book with Columbia News, as well as how she’s spending her summer and who her ideal dinner guests would be.
Why did you write this book?
For a long time, I wanted to write an important book. A few years in, I realized that ambition might be too daunting. So I shifted my goal: What if I just wrote a fun book—one people might actually read? That, it turns out, was just as hard.
In the end, I wrote a book, still unsure which adjective best captures its spirit. Looking back, I see that this tension—between the important and the fun—is something I’ve long wrestled with, both in life and in scholarship. I’ve often felt like a tourist who wants to get lost in Renaissance sculpture or abstract painting, but feels most alive in a bustling street market, watching how people live. For a while, I wondered if my humble roots had kept me from developing more refined tastes.
As a younger scholar, I also believed that serious academic work meant studying formal institutions or elite discourse. I was convinced the central puzzle of our time was income inequality—and how, despite the widening gap between rich and poor, public demand for redistribution hadn’t shifted much. I thought I had to follow in the footsteps of the intellectual giants and study the usual suspects to understand public opinion.
To my surprise, that journey led me to entertainment media. The focus felt true to me, but I worried others might find it trivial—or worse, not real political science. For a long time, I felt the weight of skepticism, as if I had to confine myself to what everyone else agreed was serious and canonical.
So writing this book became, in many ways, a process of self-acceptance. It helped me embrace my enduring fascination with how people make sense of the world through the rhythms of everyday life. I’ve come to appreciate that my perspective is shaped by having one foot in the polished, ivy-covered campuses where I’ve studied—and the other firmly planted in the unvarnished, hard-worn places I call home.
This book is about the American Dream and entertainment media, yes. But it’s also about finding my voice—and trusting that it has something worth saying. For that reason, this book—a book I once swore would be my first and last—carries a piece of my young heart.
How does popular entertainment like reality TV shape politics and public opinion?
Studying entertainment media is tricky, partly because not all shows tell the same story. If you told me you love “House of Cards” and “The West Wing,” I couldn’t tell you how those two shows shaped your view of politics: They offer completely different portraits of Washington.
But when entertainment consistently promotes a dominant narrative across multiple shows and seasons, it becomes easier to study its effects. Take competitive reality TV: Whether you’re watching “Shark Tank,” “American Idol,” “America’s Got Talent,” or “MasterChef,” you’re absorbing a remarkably consistent message—that anyone with talent and determination can get ahead. These shows sell a version of the American Dream through rags-to-riches stories: Ordinary people breaking through with a great pitch, a powerful voice, or a mesmerizing dance move.
This message—that success is just hard work—directly contrasts with the sobering headlines about inequality we often see in the news. But it’s not just about mood. It’s about reach and reception. While news content often gets filtered through partisan lenses, these entertainment stories cut across political lines and reach broader audiences. They deliver a powerful narrative about economic reality—one that is often uninterrupted, unchallenged, and emotionally persuasive.
Why do so many people tune into these sorts of shows instead of the news?
The short answer? Most people simply aren’t that interested in politics.
And when they do encounter the news, it’s often upsetting or stressful. (In fact, decades of research in political communication tell us that news is heavily biased toward negativity.)
But back in the ’80s and ’90s, Americans didn’t have as many choices. Watching the evening news was part of the routine for many families. In the broadcast era, dominated by just three major networks, even those who weren’t politically engaged ended up consuming news by default. Walter Cronkite’s voice echoed across living rooms. “60 Minutes” topped the ratings.
Today, the media landscape is entirely different. We have endless options—and for most people, that means choosing entertainment over information. The result is that many Americans now go about their daily lives barely touching political news.
What did you teach in the spring semester?
Two classes. One, Persuasion at Scale, was an interdisciplinary course I co-taught with Chris Wiggins from Columbia Engineering (he’s also the chief data scientist at The New York Times). The other was a smaller seminar called American Public Opinion.
What will you teach in the fall?
A graduate seminar—Political Communication.
What are you working on now?
A field experiment with two fantastic political science collaborators—Professor John Marshall and PhD student Kirill Chmel. We randomly assigned young people to follow either predominantly political or predominantly apolitical social media influencers throughout the 2024 election season.
With all the recent conversation about figures like Joe Rogan or Alex Cooper shaping public discourse, our study offers what I believe is the first large-scale evidence on how social media creators might influence political attitudes and behavior. It’s been an exciting project to work on.
What books have you read lately that you’d recommend, and why?
Lately, I’ve found myself returning to dystopian fiction—maybe because of the times we’re living through. I recently re-read 1984 by George Orwell and Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. These books are chilling, but also incredibly clarifying.
What’s next on your reading list?
Careless People, a memoir by Sarah Wynn-Williams, a former Facebook executive. I’m curious to see how someone from inside the tech world reflects on the platforms that shape so much of our public life.
Summer plans?
I’ll be presenting our field experiment on social media creators at a conference in Milan, which I’m really looking forward to! I’m also taking my mom to Spain. It’ll be her first time seeing Antoni Gaudí’s architecture in person, which feels really special.
Which three scholars or thinkers, dead or alive, would you invite to a dinner party, and why?
Alexis de Tocqueville: Because, like me, he observed American democracy from the outside. His foreign perspective made his insights sharper, and that always resonated with me as a non-American studying American politics.
Walter Lippmann: Not just because I cite his work on public opinion so often, but because I think his intellectual journey and political life were fascinating.
Neil Postman: His critique of media and technology was so prescient. I’d love to hear what he thinks of today’s information environment, and what kind of advice he’d give.
Reposted from Columbia University
