The "Fachosphere" as a political business

The so-called “fascist sphere” is neither a spontaneous nor a marginal phenomenon. It is the result of a profound transformation of the public sphere, where politics has been absorbed by the logic of digital platforms and turned into fast-paced, emotional, and highly polarized content.
When the head of the Spanish government, Pedro Sánchez, used that term, he was not merely naming a political adversary; he was pointing to—perhaps without elaborating—a media architecture that today shapes how news is reported, how debates unfold, and how millions of people are mobilized. It is not just about YouTubers with right-wing views, but about creators who have understood better than anyone else the rules of the new digital ecosystem: to provoke, simplify, and polarize.
Isaac Parejo, a well-known Spanish commentator in the "far-right sphere," sums it up with brutal clarity: "My hallmark is verbal aggression. I defend the insult." He does not seek to convince, but to trigger reactions. His goal is to "make the left angry." Verbal aggression, far from being an excess, is a hallmark of these political actors.
In an environment where algorithms reward interaction, conflict becomes a strategy. The more visceral the message, the more it circulates; the more it polarizes, the more profitable it becomes. The consequence is a degradation of political language, which ceases to be a space for deliberation and becomes an emotional battlefield.
This pattern is not exclusively Spanish. It is part of a transnational circuit in which the far-right ecosystem in Miami stands out, organized around digital media, influencers, and platforms that focus their agenda on the systematic attack on the Cuban government and the discrediting of any voice perceived as sympathetic. In this space, insults, defamation, and reputational destruction are not aberrations but operational tools, replicated and adapted by creators in other contexts.
This phenomenon cannot be understood without considering the shift in news consumption habits. According to the Reuters Institute at the University of Oxford, only a minority of young people now access information through traditional media, while a growing number do so exclusively through social media. News ceases to be a crafted product and becomes a snippet, a clip, a stimulus. In this format, "fachatubers" have an advantage, because they speak the language of the platform, master its codes, and exploit its dynamics.
But reducing the analysis to form alone would be insufficient. Content matters—and a great deal. The themes are recurring: anti-feminism, rejection of immigration, systematic attacks on the left, and the construction of a diffuse internal enemy. Added to this is the use of historical references laden with symbolic violence, which do not seek to understand the past but to reactivate it as a political weapon.
What emerges is a community united by identity and grievance. Faced with media portrayed as manipulative and a left described as hegemonic, these creators position themselves as authentic, persecuted, and necessary voices. This narrative not only builds audience loyalty; it also constructs a political subjectivity based on mistrust, hostility, and oversimplification.
The "fascist sphere" is not, therefore, a passing fad. It is a symptom of a structural shift in which politics is waged on a battlefield dominated by algorithms, platforms, and market logic. To ignore it or reduce it to a caricature would be a mistake. Understanding it means accepting that the cultural battle is fought on screens where every click, every comment, and every video helps shape public opinion. In this arena, whoever controls the emotions holds a decisive advantage today.