When Conservative Influencers Go Silent: The Politics of Strategic Disengagement

When Alex Pretti was killed during an immigration enforcement operation in Minneapolis, Instagram's algorithm served up an endless stream of outrage. But amid the fury, something unexpected happened: some of the platform's most vocal conservative voices suddenly went quiet.

The Anatomy of Strategic Silence

Blake Guichet, who posts as "thegirlnamedblake," has never shied away from political commentary. During last year's government shutdown, she criticized SNAP benefits as a "system of reliance." When Charlie Kirk was assassinated, she posted about it seven times. "The enemy would love for believers to stay silent under the guise of being apolitical," she once wrote, "but silence doesn't bring change."

Yet this time, Guichet chose differently. On butter-yellow Instagram slides, she wrote: "There's a difference between compassion that is grounded and compassion that is hijacked. You do not owe the internet a statement on the current tragedy." She had decided to "opt out of the cycle of Internet outrage."

She wasn't alone. Sadie Gannett, Erin Wilkins, and dozens of other conservative Christian lifestyle influencers shared remarkably similar messages. They spoke of protecting peace, avoiding emotional manipulation, and focusing on family rather than current events. The formula was consistent: vague references to Minnesota, warnings about peer pressure, and advice to look inward.

The Conundrum of Influence

This coordinated response reveals a strategic calculation. As Mariah Wellman, a Michigan State professor who studies social media influencers, explains, these creators found themselves in an impossible position. Aggressively defending immigration enforcement—including the shooting of a restrained man and detention of children—would appear inhumane to many followers. But criticizing the administration risked alienating their conservative base.

So they chose a third way: "virtuous disregard." This approach allows them to maintain their status while avoiding the uncomfortable specifics of policy outcomes. It's political positioning disguised as spiritual wisdom.

The language traces back to conservative commentator Allie Beth Stuckey, whose book "Toxic Empathy" argues that progressives manipulate Christian compassion for political gain. When Hillary Clinton recently criticized "hard-right Christian influencers waging war on empathy," Stuckey responded by claiming women's emotions were being "hijacked," just as they were during 2020's George Floyd protests.

The Audience Responds

The followers' reactions tell their own story. Guichet's post received 92,000 likes and 3,300 comments—far exceeding her usual engagement. Many welcomed the absolution. "I'm emotionally exhausted from everything happening in my real life," one wrote. "Can't be bothered with online anything right now."

But dozens expressed dismay. "It's crazy that these accounts are all in lock step," wrote one self-described conservative. "We are supposed to be the free thinkers." Another challenged Guichet directly: "You helped sway people's opinions and votes and now you're deciding it's no longer your problem."

Guichet's response was telling: "I am not a news source anymore. God called me out of that season."

The Weaponization of Wellness

This retreat into domestic bliss isn't apolitical—it's deeply political. By framing engagement as emotional manipulation and disengagement as spiritual wisdom, these influencers are making a statement about whose suffering deserves attention. The message is clear: caring about immigration enforcement is a form of manipulation, but caring about your sourdough starter is virtuous.

This strategy transforms lifestyle content into ideological positioning. When Riley Gaines appeared on Fox News arguing that "words like compassion and empathy have been weaponized against us, especially as women," she was codifying what these influencers practice daily: the elevation of personal comfort over collective responsibility.

The coming months will test whether this strategy of virtuous disregard can sustain itself as more uncomfortable events demand response. The answer may depend less on their convictions than on their follower counts.