Show Notes
In 2012, researcher Brené Brown at the University of Houston published Daring Greatly, the result of over a decade spent studying shame across thousands of interviews. What she found about men was not what she expected. Brown went into her research focused on women. Shame in women, she found, orbits around appearance and motherhood. The pressure to be perfect while making it look effortless. That was the pattern she expected to find everywhere. Then the men started talking. At a book signing, a man approached her after a talk. He told her that his wife and three daughters would rather see him die on top of his white horse than watch him fall off it. That moment reframed her entire understanding of how shame operates across gender lines.
Brown found that men carry a different set of shame triggers than women. Three primary ones: failure, being wrong, and appearing weak or afraid. But underneath all three was a single unrelenting message that showed up in every interview, every focus group, every data set. Do not be perceived as weak. Not “be strong.” That would imply there is a version of strength that includes emotional honesty. The message is more specific than that. It says: do not let anyone see anything that could be interpreted as weakness. Ever. Under any circumstances. This is the message conservative culture builds its entire model of masculinity around. Therapy is weakness. Asking for help is failure. Crying is something women do. Talking about your feelings means you can’t handle life. The boys who grow up in these homes don’t learn how to be strong. They learn how to perform the absence of vulnerability. And those are not the same thing. Brown’s research on shame resilience theory lays out what happens when people can’t process shame in healthy ways. Her model identifies four elements of shame resilience: recognizing your shame triggers, examining why those expectations exist, reaching out to other people, and speaking about the shame out loud. Shame, she found, cannot survive being spoken. It thrives in secrecy, silence, and judgment. The moment you say it out loud to someone who responds with empathy, it begins to lose its power. Conservative culture systematically removes every single one of these four elements from a boy’s life.
You don’t recognize shame because you were never taught to identify your own emotions. You don’t examine expectations because questioning authority gets you punished. You don’t reach out because asking for help is weakness. And you don’t speak about shame because the people around you will use it against you. What’s left is a person with no tools to process emotional pain. And pain that has nowhere to go doesn’t disappear. Research from Tilburg University on shame and aggression found that unprocessed shame converts directly into aggressive behavior. The brain treats shame as a threat to social survival. When it can’t discharge that threat through connection or language, it redirects the energy into the only emotional channel still open. Rage.
Conservative culture permits men exactly one emotional output: anger. Sadness is weakness. Fear is cowardice. Confusion is stupidity. But anger is masculine. Anger is strong. Anger means you are not to be messed with. So every emotion a conservative man feels gets compressed and filtered through the only acceptable outlet until rage is the only thing that comes out. This is why Brown’s work matters beyond therapy offices and self-help books. When you raise an entire generation of men to suppress every emotion except anger, you don’t get strong men. You get men who fall apart when life gets hard. Men who can’t maintain relationships because they were never taught how to be honest in one. Men who can’t process failure because they were taught that failure means they are worthless. Men who can’t ask for help because the people who were supposed to love them made help feel like humiliation. And then someone comes along and gives all that unprocessed
More from The Lucas Bean Show
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.