Show Notes
In 1951, psychologist Solomon Asch at Swarthmore College ran an experiment so simple it barely seemed like an experiment at all. He put a person in a room with seven other people. He showed them a card with three lines on it and asked which line matched the one on the left. The answer was obvious. One line was clearly the same length. A child could see it. But the seven other people were actors. And every single one of them pointed to the wrong line. Deliberately. Confidently. Without hesitation. One by one, they all chose the same wrong answer. Then it was the real participant’s turn. They looked at the card. They knew the right answer. They could see it with their own eyes. And 75 percent of them said the wrong answer anyway. Because every other person in the room had said it first. That finding, published over seventy years ago, remains one of the most replicated results in the history of psychology. And it explains more about MAGA than any political analysis ever written.
What Asch Actually Proved Most people know the basic outline of Asch’s experiment. Most people interpret it as proof that people lie to fit in. That social pressure makes cowards out of otherwise honest people. That is true, but it is only part of what Asch found. Asch conducted extensive post-experiment interviews with his participants. He wanted to understand what was happening inside their heads when they gave the wrong answer. He found three distinct patterns. Some participants knew the answer was wrong and said it anyway to avoid standing out. They were conscious liars. They chose social comfort over accuracy and they knew they were doing it. Some participants assumed the group must be right and they must be wrong. Even though they could see the correct answer, the unanimity of the group made them doubt their own perception. They genuinely believed they were the ones making the mistake. And some participants reported that they actually saw the lines differently after hearing the group’s answer. Their perception shifted. The wrong line started to look right. The group did not just change what they said. It changed what they saw. This third category is the one that should terrify everyone. It means conformity does not just suppress the truth. In some people, it replaces the truth at the level of perception itself.
The Brain Scan That Proved It In 2005, psychiatrist Gregory Berns at Emory University put Asch’s experiment inside a brain scanner. He wanted to answer the question that had haunted psychology for fifty years: when people conform, are they consciously lying, or has something changed in how their brain is actually processing the information? Berns used a mental rotation task instead of lines, but the structure was identical to Asch’s design. A participant saw a shape. A group of confederates gave the wrong answer. Then the participant answered while an fMRI machine recorded what was happening inside their brain. The results were decisive and disturbing. When participants conformed to the group’s wrong answer, the brain activity was not concentrated in the prefrontal cortex, the region associated with conscious decision-making. If people were simply choosing to lie, the decision-making centers would have lit up. They did not. Instead, conformity activated the occipital-parietal network. The regions of the brain responsible for visual and spatial processing. The perceptual areas. The parts of the brain that determine what you actually see. The group pressure was not overriding the participant’s judgment. It was altering their perception. The wrong answer didn’t just feel socially safe. It started to look right. But the most important finding came from the other direction. When participants resisted the group and gave the correct answer independently, the amygdala activated. The brain’s threat detection center. The same region that fires when you encounter physical danger. Going against the group did not just feel uncomfortable. The brain regis
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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.