They Can’t Put Anything on the Internet That Isn’t True

At least according to the woman in my favorite State Farm commercial. The ad introduces State Farm’s online claim-filing app, but the real humor comes when the woman explains her worldview to her neighbor: she believes anything she sees on the internet. To prove it, she introduces her “French model” boyfriend—someone she met online and is absolutely convinced is legitimate. The punchline comes when he quietly offers a half-hearted “Uhh, bonjour,” signaling exactly how believable he is. The humor works because the audience immediately recognizes the exaggeration and irony—we get the joke before the characters fully do. That shared understanding is why this commercial makes such a useful lens for examining the divide between the Frankfurt School and the Birmingham School of cultural and critical theory.

The Frankfurt School—most notably Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer—argued that popular culture functions as a “culture industry” designed to suppress the masses and maintain capitalist dominance. In their view, mass-produced media strips art of its value, promotes conformity, and creates pseudo-individuality: the illusion of choice in a system that ultimately offers none. Audiences, in this framework, are largely passive. Individuality is an illusion, critical thinking is dulled, and popular culture becomes something done to people rather than something they meaningfully engage with.

There is value in this critique. The Frankfurt School was responding to a media environment that was centralized and profit-driven. Their concern about standardization and commodification remains relevant. However, their perspective assumes a fixed and pessimistic view of the audience—one that leaves little room for awareness, resistance, or personal responsibility- and I don't completely buy it. 

The Birmingham School offers a more flexible and realistic alternative. Scholars such as Raymond Williams and Stuart Hall rejected the idea of the passive audience and instead emphasized interpretation, negotiation, and agency. Meaning is not simply transmitted from producer to consumer; it is actively constructed. Popular culture becomes a site of struggle rather than suppression, where dominant messages can be accepted, challenged, or reworked.

The State Farm commercial depends entirely on this assumption. The joke would not work if viewers were truly uncritical. Instead, it assumes a media-literate audience—one that understands online deception and can laugh at the absurdity of believing everything encountered on the internet. The audience is not being fooled; they are being invited to recognize the manipulation.

This challenges the Frankfurt School’s claim that popular culture inevitably dulls critical thinking. Awareness changes the relationship entirely. Once a message is understood, its power can diminish. Awareness leads to understanding, and understanding allows individuals to choose how much influence a message holds over them. Popular culture, from this perspective, is not inherently dangerous—it can be reflective and even corrective when audiences are encouraged to engage critically.

While the Frankfurt School’s warnings about commodification remain important, their complete dismissal of audience capability feels increasingly outdated. The Birmingham School allows consumers to rise to the occasion, assuming people are capable of learning, resisting, and choosing better. Ultimately, popular culture doesn’t lose its power when it’s consumed—it loses its power when it’s understood.

If popular culture were truly designed to suppress us, why does so much of it rely on our ability to “get the joke”?