Show Notes
There is a practice in American journalism that has done more to destroy public understanding of reality than any propaganda campaign, any conspiracy theory, or any social media algorithm. It is practiced every day, on every major network, by journalists who believe they are doing their jobs correctly. They put a liar on screen next to an expert and call it balance. One person has decades of research behind them. The other has a talking point funded by the industry that benefits from the lie. The journalist puts them in matching chairs, gives them equal time, asks them each to make their case, and lets the audience decide. The audience does decide. They decide that the truth is somewhere in the middle. Because that is what the format taught them to believe. There is now experimental proof that this format does not inform people. It destroys their ability to tell the difference between facts and lies.
What Rapp Found In 2022, psychologist David Rapp at Northwestern University, along with his colleague Megan Imundo, published three experiments testing what happens when people are exposed to false balance reporting about climate change. The design was precise. Participants read articles about climate change. Some articles presented only the scientific consensus: human activity is driving global warming and the evidence is overwhelming. Other articles presented the same scientific consensus alongside a contrarian view that climate change is either not real, not man-made, or not a significant problem. Equal space. Equal treatment. Both sides. The results across all three experiments were consistent. Participants who read the falsely balanced articles showed significantly reduced belief in the scientific consensus. Their perception of how severe climate change is dropped. Their sense of how important it is to act dropped. The mere presence of the contrarian view, given equal platform, was enough to undermine decades of scientific agreement in the reader’s mind. The format did the damage. Not the content of the contrarian argument. Not the quality of the evidence behind it. The format itself, the visual and structural equality of the two positions, told the reader’s brain that this is a legitimate debate between two reasonable positions. It is not. Ninety-seven to ninety-nine percent of climate scientists agree that human activity is driving global warming. Putting one scientist next to one denier and calling it a debate tells the audience it is a 50-50 split. Rapp said it plainly: if 99 doctors told you that you needed surgery to save your life and one disagreed, you would listen to the 99. But the media keeps presenting it as though the split is even.
Why the Brain Falls for It The reason false balance works is not that people are stupid. It is that the brain uses format as a shortcut for evaluating credibility. When two people are placed on screen in matching chairs with matching microphones and given equal time by a journalist who treats them both with equal seriousness, the brain receives a structural signal: these two positions are equivalent. They are both worth considering. The truth is probably somewhere between them. This is a cognitive shortcut that works perfectly in most situations. When two reasonable people disagree about a genuinely ambiguous question, the truth often is somewhere in the middle. The brain learned this shortcut because it is usually right. But false balance exploits that shortcut by placing a position with zero evidence into the same structural frame as a position with overwhelming evidence. The brain reads the format, not the footnotes. It registers two voices, two chairs, two sides. And it splits the difference. Rapp’s research showed that this is not a matter of education or intelligence. The format effect operates on everyone. The structural equality of the presentation overrides the informational inequality of the content. You can know, intellectually, that one side has all the evidence. But the
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There’s a familiar ritual that happens every time an authoritarian movement begins to collapse. The supporters disappear. Not physically. Psychologically. They scrub the evidence, rewrite the timeline, and emerge on the other side with a story they’ve rehearsed just enough to almost believe. “I never really supported him.” “I just voted against the Democrats.” “I don’t talk about politics anymore.” This is happening right now across America. The yard signs are coming down. The hats are going into drawers. The Facebook posts are being deleted. And millions of people who spent a decade loudly and publicly cheering for cruelty are quietly trying to exit the building before someone turns the lights on. The companion video to this piece says what needs to be said plainly: they’re not confused. They’re lying. They know what they did. They know what they defended. And they’re trying to erase the evidence before accountability arrives. This Substack examines why that matters, why it won’t work this time, and what history tells us about populations that try to pretend they were never part of the thing they spent years supporting.
Most political analysis starts with policy. Voters chose this candidate because of the economy, immigration, healthcare, taxes. And for most voters in most elections, that’s probably true. But Donald Trump is not most candidates. And the question that keeps surfacing isn’t why people agree with him. It’s why they love him more every time he does something cruel. The mockery. The insults. The attacks on disabled reporters, Gold Star families, and women. Behavior that would end any other political career has somehow become the foundation of his. In 2021, psychologist Matthew Yalch at Palo Alto University published a study in PLOS ONE titled “Dimensions of pathological narcissism and intention to vote for Donald Trump.” And what he found should make everyone uncomfortable, including the people it describes.
In February 2025, researchers at the University of Amsterdam published a study in Social Science & Medicine that should have rewritten every conversation about why people join the far right. They tracked over 40,000 people across nine countries, with data spanning fifteen years. They controlled for income, education, immigration attitudes, and political ideology. They wanted to know what actually predicts whether someone will support the populist radical right. The answer wasn’t immigration. It wasn’t economics. It wasn’t religion. It was loneliness. Lonelier individuals were consistently more likely to support radical right movements, with the association holding across all fifteen years of Dutch data and appearing across multiple European countries. The researchers noted that the effect sizes were comparable to the known health correlates of loneliness, meaning that the connection between loneliness and far-right support was statistically as meaningful as the connection between loneliness and heart disease, high blood pressure, and depression. A 2021 RAND Corporation study of former extremists and their families confirmed this from the other direction. Half of the former extremists surveyed said feelings of marginalization drove them toward radicalization, with most citing isolation and loneliness specifically. Individuals reported that the social benefits of joining extremist organizations, the friendship, the camaraderie, the sense of finally belonging somewhere, were among the most powerful forces keeping them in. These people didn’t join a movement because they were convinced by policy arguments. They joined because someone finally made them feel like they weren’t alone. And that tells us more about what MAGA actually is than any analysis of tariffs or border policy ever could.
A woman stood up at a political rally and asked a sitting congressman to create a federal law that would force her adult daughter to let her see her grandchildren. Not a therapy session. Not a family mediator. Not a phone call to her daughter asking what went wrong. A federal law. That single moment contains more psychology than most textbooks. Because what she revealed, in front of cameras and a cheering crowd, wasn’t a grandmother’s heartbreak. It was a narcissist’s playbook when someone finally tells them no. How a boundary becomes a theft. In 2002, psychologist Roy Baumeister at Case Western Reserve University published a theory that combined two existing psychological frameworks into something new. The first was narcissism, the personality structure built around an inflated self-image that requires constant validation. The second was psychological reactance, a concept developed by Jack Brehm at the University of Kansas in 1966, which describes the motivational state people enter when they perceive their freedom as restricted. Brehm found that when people believe a choice or behavior has been taken from them, they experience an intense drive to restore it, often wanting the restricted option more than they did before it was restricted. Baumeister’s insight was that narcissism supercharges reactance. When an ordinary person encounters a boundary, they may be disappointed, but they can process it. When a narcissist encounters a boundary, they don’t experience disappointment. They experience theft. The boundary isn’t perceived as another person’s valid choice. It’s perceived as something that belongs to them being taken away. And they feel entitled to take it back by whatever means necessary. Baumeister called it narcissistic reactance. This grandmother didn’t process her daughter’s boundary as a painful but legitimate decision by an autonomous adult. She processed it as her property being stolen. Those grandchildren aren’t people her daughter is protecting. In her mind, they are hers. Access to them is her right. And no one, not even their own mother, gets to take what’s hers.
There is a specific kind of frustration that comes from watching something fall apart in exactly the way someone told you it would. Not vaguely. Not in broad metaphorical strokes. In order. Step by step. With the stages so clearly defined that anyone paying attention can call the next one before it happens. Plato had that frustration 2,400 years ago. He lived through it. He watched the Athenian democracy, the most advanced political experiment in the ancient world, turn on itself. He watched it execute Socrates, his teacher, arguably the sharpest mind in the city, for the crime of asking uncomfortable questions. And instead of moving on, Plato spent the rest of his life trying to explain how a society capable of producing genius could also be stupid enough to kill it. The result was The Republic. And while most of the book covers justice, education, and the nature of reality, Book Eight is something different entirely. Book Eight is a manual. It is Plato at his most concrete, walking through the specific sequence of events that takes a functioning democracy and turns it into a dictatorship. Not in abstract terms. In stages. With causes, mechanisms, and outcomes laid out in an order that has repeated across civilizations for two millennia.