The Uncomfortable Truth About Changing Your Mind
Losing a loved one unexpectedly can shatter one’s worldview. For Daryl van Tongeren, a lifelong Christian, the sudden death of his 34-year-old brother plunged him into a crisis of faith. Raised with a belief in a benevolent God who rewarded the good, the loss felt senseless. How could a loving God allow such a tragedy to befall a good man, leaving a young family devastated?
“I was very angry at God,” van Tongeren admits, not just at the divine but also at the rigid understanding of God he had been taught. His entire framework for making sense of the world was destabilised. This disorientation and fear were profound, and it took years to navigate the grief. Fortunately, as a psychology professor, van Tongeren possessed a unique understanding of how and why people change their minds – a process often far more arduous than it appears.
The Brain’s Protective Mechanisms
Professor of Human Development Keith Bellizzi explains that changing our minds is incredibly difficult, not necessarily due to stubbornness, but because of deeply ingrained biological, psychological, and social mechanisms designed to safeguard our identity. When a core belief, such as “I’m a good parent” or “I’m a smart person,” is challenged, the brain reacts with the same intensity as it would to a physical threat.
To prevent a complete breakdown in our understanding of the world, our minds often resort to creating exceptions to rules rather than abandoning core tenets. For example, a deeply ingrained racist encountering a kind and moral Latino neighbour might rationalise the experience by thinking, “My friend is an exception,” rather than confronting the broader implications of their racist beliefs. Similarly, a Christian taught that God protects those He loves might interpret a tragedy as divine anger or personal unlovability, rather than questioning the foundational teachings of their faith. These protective mechanisms are vital for maintaining a stable identity and a coherent view of the world, preventing us from succumbing to overwhelming confusion and ensuring we fit within our social groups. However, these same mechanisms can also be profoundly detrimental.
Why Genuine Change is So Rare
The reality of changing one’s mind – truly, fundamentally shifting one’s perspective – is far from the enlightening experience often portrayed. Decades of neurological and behavioural research reveal that our brains are not wired for dramatic revelations. Instead, we tend to form in-groups and out-groups, resist persuasion, and dig our heels in further when confronted with contradictory facts. Shaming individuals for their beliefs often causes them to retreat deeper into them, while attempts at direct education frequently prove futile. This phenomenon is starkly evident in today’s highly polarised political landscape.
Individuals like Daryl van Tongeren, who undergo profound shifts in their worldview, are exceptionally rare. Yet, their experiences offer invaluable insights into how minds can be changed – our own, those of others, and even those of individuals with whom we believe we have nothing in common. If facts fail and shame backfires, what truly works?
The Genesis of Our Beliefs
Understanding how to foster the conditions for genuine change is a complex question, as Bellizzi notes, partly because “there are certain beliefs that are harder to change.” Politics is a prime example, often characterised by emotional and divisive discourse. However, behavioural science suggests that people are more amenable to change when they feel psychologically safe. To grasp this safety for those entrenched in their political beliefs, we must first understand the origins of their convictions.
Van Tongeren explains that we often perceive our experiences as objectively normal, projecting our way of moving through the world as the accurate one, despite inherent cognitive limitations that colour our perception. We are heavily influenced by the beliefs of those we respect, starting with our parents and expanding to influential figures in religion, politics, or ideology as we mature. Positive social reinforcement creates a comfortable feedback loop, sometimes leading individuals to adopt the stances of leaders within their chosen groups, such as political parties.
Both circumstance and personality play a role. Psychological research indicates that individuals less open to new experiences tend to be more conservative, while the opposite is true for those more open. This suggests a potential genetic predisposition in our political leanings. Furthermore, an individual’s level of “agreeableness” influences their willingness to challenge the status quo or upset others with dissenting opinions. While less agreeable personalities might be more challenging to interact with, they are also less susceptible to groupthink and cultish behaviour. Significant political shifts, like John McCain’s vote against repealing Obamacare or Kyrsten Sinema’s stance on the filibuster, can be attributed to this trait.
When generally agreeable individuals embrace a belief, it often forms a “mental framework” or schema, which psychologists find notoriously resistant to change, even when presented with contradictory evidence. The common response is to create a sub-schema or exception: “This person is different.” This explains the racist who rationalises their prejudiced views based on a positive encounter with a Latino neighbour.
Despite our potential frustration with others’ reluctance to change, van Tongeren reminds us that our brains are wired to prioritise anxiety reduction and fear management. Understanding social dynamics, identifying allies and adversaries, and adhering to group rules are crucial for safe coexistence. Constant shifts in belief would be profoundly disruptive.
Beliefs as Identity Anchors
“Beliefs really become part of who we are,” states Bellizzi. “So [holding onto a belief] becomes about protecting one’s identity.” This is further reinforced by confirmation bias, our tendency to favour information that validates existing beliefs and to be suspicious of contradictory evidence. Our social connections, news consumption, and chosen influencers all serve to bolster our pre-existing convictions.
Politicians and media figures adept at leveraging these psychological processes have long capitalised on them. They understand that the potent combination of social pressure and confirmation bias drives behaviour, often investing heavily in tactics that exploit these tendencies on social media and in public forums. By framing beliefs as integral to core identity, they appeal to people’s sense of self. Arguments devolve into dichotomies of “patriots” versus “bootlickers,” or “grafters” versus “freeloaders,” reducing complex issues to stereotyped identities. This compels individuals to align with leaders who speak to their self-perception, posing questions like, “How can you be a true patriot if you disagree with this person who fought for his country?” Meanwhile, those observing these dynamics often reinforce their own preconceived notions about the “other side,” solidifying their own in-group identity.
Pathways to Transformation
When considering political polarisation, Keith Bellizzi often draws parallels with individuals who have extricated themselves from cults. These are individuals who have been subjected to intense psychological manipulation within isolated environments, where social pressure is immense and critical thinking is suppressed. They are often given new identities and subjected to constant positive reinforcement. The fact that anyone escapes such an environment is, in many ways, remarkable.
Yet, as Bellizzi points out, “it does happen.” The resilience of those who leave cults offers a crucial lesson: “Cult members change their minds when doubt opens the door and safe, compassionate connection pulls them through it.”
Most individuals encounter information that challenges their beliefs regularly. However, their capacity to engage with this information is contingent on their environment. They need to be in a space where they feel accepted and are not at risk of losing their entire social standing or life’s work by shifting their perspective. This requires the ability to shed certain opinions without feeling as though their entire identity is collapsing. To foster such change within society, a compassionate and curious approach is essential, even when confronted with views we find abhorrent. Otherwise, we inadvertently reinforce those very beliefs.
Profound belief system changes rarely stem from a single moment. Instead, they are typically the result of a gradual accumulation of unsettling experiences that highlight contradictions within a group’s tenets and one’s own core values. For instance, a feminist participating in a cult led by a male figure with questionable relationships with women might become increasingly disengaged. Similarly, someone identifying as a traditionalist and family man might have their faith in conservative political heroes shaken by revelations of deviant behaviour.
Nicki Clyne, a former member of the NXIVM cult, initially defended cult leader Keith Raniere against allegations of abuse, believing they were fabricated by his enemies. She recounts on her website how she, like many others, sacrificed years believing in Raniere’s supposed noble intentions and victimhood. However, she details 30 separate controversies that gradually eroded her faith, ranging from his demonstrably false claims of mystical powers and his inappropriate “mentorship” of a teenage girl, to his attempts to silence critics and his significant financial losses. It took years of such revelations for her to fully break free from the group. Raniere is currently serving a lengthy prison sentence for sex trafficking, racketeering, and forced labour.
NXIVM members believed they were joining a self-help organisation designed to address childhood trauma and domestic violence. Raniere exploited the vulnerabilities of these women, subjecting them to tactics intended to weaken their mental fortitude, such as extreme cold exposure, sleep deprivation, and starvation. They were subjected to constant demands for immediate responses to text messages, with collective punishment for any delay. Yet, they were simultaneously assured that this was the only path to mental well-being.
Cultivating Psychological Safety
Creating psychological safety for someone who believes they are in the sole source of salvation seems an insurmountable challenge. While encountering someone from a cult as severe as NXIVM at a family dinner might be unlikely, the reality is that most people are driven by a desire to contribute to a cause. This motivation can manifest as protecting their families from social ostracism, preventing economic ruin, safeguarding their country from invasion or democratic collapse, or preserving the planet from environmental destruction. In such deeply held convictions, engaging in open and honest conversation becomes incredibly difficult.
Bellizzi advises that when presenting new information, it should be done in a manner that avoids making the recipient feel judged or attacked. Respectful engagement, ideally by connecting the new idea to one of their existing core beliefs, is crucial. Otherwise, the individual may feel compelled to defend their entire belief system, leading to an emotional doubling-down and a suspension of rational thought.
“I think we need to empathise with people, especially people who are different from us,” says Daryl van Tongeren. “By empathy, I mean emotionally attuning to what they’re going through, and then working really hard to understand the perspective and to see their perspective as valid.” Genuine empathy, he adds, arises from interacting with individuals from diverse backgrounds and engaging with what they find interesting. To cultivate open-mindedness, one must actively diversify their social circles and consume media they might typically avoid.
“Most people have a particular brand of news that they like to consume, and our algorithms are set to satisfy that particular proclivity,” van Tongeren notes. He encourages actively seeking out other perspectives, not to deride them, but to genuinely understand them, assuming good faith and recognising that others’ concerns are as valid as our own. This practice can broaden one’s perspective. He urges continuous self-reflection: “How might I be wrong and what am I missing? What’s the viewpoint I’m not seeing?”
Embracing the possibility of being wrong is a skill that can be developed, as everyone has experienced being mistaken and, crucially, has changed their minds before.
“When people find out that I study humility, they think: Oh, that’s great. That’s what my father-in-law needs, not me,” van Tongeren says with a laugh. “What we actually need to do is say: No, no, this is what I need. I need to practice humility even if other people aren’t going to do it.” This can feel like a prisoner’s dilemma, with fears of exploitation. However, he questions how we can expect others to engage with decency and respect if we don’t initiate it ourselves.
While we cannot entirely avoid cognitive biases, we can consciously reflect on them and understand their significance to us. Van Tongeren observes, “I think that so many of us have conflated our worth with being right, that we’ve totally ignored the fact that all of us are a little bit wrong about everything.” Furthermore, even when acknowledging bias, we tend to perceive ourselves as less biased than others. Accepting that we can and will be wrong, often, is a lifelong mental discipline.
The Power of Shared Experience and Uncertainty
Sometimes, a small measure of trust can yield significant results. Daryl van Tongeren’s research on humility has explored how individuals become more open to those with different political viewpoints. In one experiment, pairs of individuals with opposing political leanings competed in a trivia contest. Initially, the questions focused on popular TV shows like “Duck Dynasty” (associated with a more conservative audience) and “Stranger Things” (leaning liberal). As pairs realised they needed to rely on each other for answers, they became more receptive to discussing other issues honestly. “By working together, you realise: ‘Oh, my — there are things that this person from another group who doesn’t share the same political identity as I do might know. I can learn from them’,” van Tongeren explains. This intervention strategy has proven effective in opening the door to productive dialogue between individuals with deeply entrenched disagreements.
Keith Bellizzi shares his approach with family and friends who hold different political beliefs: “I really try to focus on the things that we have in common as opposed to the things that divide us. Because the reality is, we have more in common with even those that are on the other side of the political aisle than we do that actually divide us. So I focus on that kind of, that shared humanity… I try really hard to listen without judgment and ask them questions, so have them question their own beliefs, and ask them to kind of critically evaluate where their beliefs come from, and sometimes in doing so, they might recognise the hypocrisy in their thinking. They might recognise the lack of logic, perhaps, in their thinking.”
He also discusses the concept of a growth mindset versus a fixed mindset. A fixed mindset views the world simplistically, in black and white, struggling with nuance. A growth mindset, conversely, involves continuous reflection, openness to new ideas, and a commitment to development. Sharing one’s own journey of changing beliefs can make it more acceptable for others to begin questioning their own.
Bellizzi’s personal resilience, forged through four battles with cancer since the age of 24, has instilled in him a profound optimism about individual and collective capacity to overcome challenges. He has researched individuals who have navigated trauma, loss, and life transitions, consistently finding that “people can get through it.” This experience fuels his hopeful outlook, even amidst political division, leading him to believe that “this too shall pass.”
Following his brother’s death and subsequent faith crisis, Daryl van Tongeren came to accept that he might never fully understand the “why.” After approximately ten years, he found peace in embracing uncertainty and the state of not knowing. He can now honestly say, “I don’t know” when asked to make sense of his brother’s death, and he is “actually OK with that.” This acceptance, though not always seen as comforting or satisfactory, has brought him a greater sense of authenticity.
Van Tongeren’s embrace of uncertainty offers no simple answers, no cosmic plan, and no righteous certainty. It represents a willingness to live without the perceived armour of being unequivocally right. In the current political climate, such humility is often met with derision, seen as weakness, and algorithmically penalised. Yet, without the willingness to acknowledge “I don’t know,” genuine belief transformation remains elusive.
Bellizzi suggests that opportunities for change can arise when respected individuals within certain groups begin to break away. “And then when those cracks do appear, that might be an opportunity for a family member or a friend or a work colleague to step in and allow the individual to process what they’re seeing and what they’re observing and how they’re feeling.”
Shifting someone’s political affiliation or challenging their high regard for certain figures is “challenging. It’s really challenging,” Bellizzi concedes. However, he remains optimistic on a macro level, believing that “it’s going to take a lot of time and many different cracks to really break it open.”
