Watch out for political BS during 2026 midterm elections

When I was a kid, my favorite card game involved lies. Players took turns putting down cards in sequence. If someone tried to sneak in the wrong card, another player could call “BS.” If they were correct, the bluffer had to take a penalty. We called the game “BS” because we weren’t allowed to say the adult word.

Philosopher Harry Frankfurt once said that communication comes in three forms: truth, lies and something else — what he bluntly called by the name that wasn’t allowed in my childhood card game. 

Texans understand BS, whether it’s in cards or in politics. It has a long history in Texas storytelling.

A lie acknowledges the truth enough to conceal it. Both truth and lies can be tested against reality. BS is different: It’s speech that sounds important but doesn’t have any actual content — more like nonsense than deception.

These statements sound factual, but they’re impossible to test. Which Texans are increasingly concerned? What exactly are we going “back” to? How are we defining “common sense”? In Texas politics, almost every proposal is described as “common sense.” If that were true, Austin would be the most sensible place in America.

People who study misinformation call these statements “zombie claims” because they cannot be killed with facts. If you try to address them, you’re accused of being “woke,” “soft” or “complicit” — labels that are just as hard to pin down.

The problem isn’t confined to one side of the political spectrum. Just a few years ago, building a border wall was “racist” and taking off your surgical mask was “murder.” 

This pattern is most apparent during primary election cycles, when campaigns target a relatively small slice of voters. When turnout is low, rhetorical signals – emotional language, vague claims about what Texans “want” – carry more weight than evidence. 

Today’s information environment makes the problem worse. Words like “deadly” and “racist” travel farther than an explanation backed by data. The algorithms that shape our news feeds don’t distinguish between truth, lies and gibberish. They just promote whatever keeps people clicking.

The political philosopher Hannah Arendt warned decades ago that a flood of lies on its own can undermine a democracy. Such a flood doesn’t just mislead people, it creates so much confusion that people begin to mistrust reality itself. The story becomes so chaotic that people stop trying to make sense of it all.

That cynicism has real consequences. A recent Pew survey asked people around the world whether they believed their fellow citizens were generally moral. The U.S. was the only country surveyed where more adults described their fellow citizens as morally bad (53%) than as morally good (47%).

That’s remarkable in a country that has a long history of shared civic institutions like schools and volunteer organizations that once reinforced trust.

In Canada, 92% of people said their fellow citizens were generally good; in Mexico, 83% said the same. Even countries with a lot of internal conflict like Nigeria and Kenya fared better than we did.

In the U.S., we have tools to identify lies. Journalists run fact checks, and social media companies can flag demonstrably false claims. And of course, people can use their own experience to judge whether something is true or false. But BS is harder to detect because it lives in the space between truth and lies – baloney, packaged as meat.

Texans pride themselves on plain talk. But plain talk only works when voters are willing to call out BS when we hear it. 

The next time a politician says “Texans are increasingly concerned,” ask a simple question: according to whom?

When you hear about “common sense solutions,” ask what the solution actually is.

When someone says they want to “take back Texas,” ask how that would affect your neighbors.  

In my childhood card game, calling BS was part of the fun. In civic life, it may be the first step in restoring trust.

Scott Walters is a public health professor, researcher and educator.

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