Cognitive Dissonance in Red Hats: The Psychology of Unshakable Trump Support
We’re not just battling disinformation. We’re fighting a mass psychological trap—and the future of truth, justice, and democracy hangs in the balance.
Introduction
Here we are in April 2025, and I find myself asking the same question that's been nagging at me for years now: What in the world is going on? How are we still here?
The evidence pile is mountainous. Multiple indictments. Two impeachments. Civil findings of sexual assault. A daily barrage of incoherent rambling speeches. The name-calling. Tanking markets. January 6th. The constant stream of falsehoods that can be disproven with a quick search. The chaos.
Yet millions of Americans still stand firmly behind Donald Trump.
When I look at this phenomenon through a psychological lens, I see something far more complex than simple politics at play. We're witnessing the intersection of basic human needs, information manipulation, and deep-seated fears all converging at once.
The Psychology Behind the Loyalty
Let’s get real: supporting someone like Donald Trump should be a psychological impossibility for most Americans.
We’re talking about a man whose words and actions would raise red flags in any workplace, courtroom, or family dinner table. If your neighbor acted like Trump, constantly lying, belittling people, bragging about assault, deflecting blame, you’d keep your kids away from his lawn. You’d avoid him at the grocery store. You wouldn’t hand him the keys to your house, let alone the country.
So what’s happening here?
This is where psychology pulls back the curtain. What we’re witnessing isn’t rational evaluation, it’s cognitive dissonance on a national scale.
Cognitive dissonance is that uncomfortable tension we feel when our beliefs and our actions, or in this case, our support for someone, don’t quite align. And to reduce that discomfort, we bend reality instead of reevaluating our choices. We rationalize. We minimize. We deflect.
Trump’s genius (if we can call it that) lies in how he’s weaponized this. Back in 2018, he said, “Just remember—what you’re seeing and what you’re reading is not what’s happening.” That’s not just gaslighting. That’s a full-on psychological strategy. A direct invitation for his supporters to ignore their own eyes and ears.
Because if you believe the media is lying, the courts are corrupt, and all critics are enemies of the people, then you never have to confront the painful reality that the person you once believed in is dangerously unfit.
And here’s the thing about humans: we hate being wrong, especially in public. Once someone has emotionally and socially invested in a leader, once they’ve argued on Facebook, worn the red hat, maybe even lost friends or family over it, it becomes harder and harder to walk it back. The cost of changing your mind gets steeper with every passing year.
So people dig in.
They double down.
They recast their loyalty not as allegiance to Trump the man, but to Trump the symbol. The fighter. The outsider. The guy who “tells it like it is” (even if what he says is complete fiction).
It’s not about reason anymore. It’s about self-protection. It’s about avoiding the shame of being wrong. It’s about belonging to something, even if that something is built on a house of lies.
And that’s what makes this so dangerous. Because when truth becomes optional, democracy becomes fragile.
So no, the loyalty isn’t about policy. It’s about psychology. And until we name it, understand it, and learn how to gently, but firmly, pull people out of it, we’ll be stuck fighting shadows while the real danger marches forward.
So why the disconnect?
Identity and Belonging
Facts are loud, but feelings are louder.
That’s why truth so often gets drowned out. And why, for so many Trump supporters, it’s not really about logic in the first place. It’s about emotion. Identity. Belonging.
Facts might show up with charts and citations, but feelings show up with a gut-punch. And when someone’s worldview is tied to how they feel, not what they know, even the clearest truth can bounce right off.
Supporting Trump isn’t just a political choice for millions of Americans, it’s become a core part of who they are. It’s fused to their sense of self. That red hat? It’s more than a slogan. It’s a tribal marker. A declaration: This is my team. This is where I belong.
And once politics becomes identity, all bets are off.
Because now, criticizing Trump doesn’t feel like disagreement, it feels like a personal attack. It's not, “I don’t like your political views.” It’s, “I don’t like you.” That’s how it’s heard. And when people feel attacked, they don’t reflect. They defend. They dig in. They radicalize.
This isn’t accidental. Trump’s entire political brand has always been about “us vs. them.” It's not a platform, it’s a fortress. Inside are the “real Americans.” Outside? The elites. The immigrants. The journalists. The “others.” The moment you accept that framework, stepping outside the Trump tent doesn’t just mean changing your vote, it means being exiled from the group you found purpose in.
Think about it this way: we are social creatures. We need belonging. We seek out communities that give us a sense of meaning, pride, and emotional security. For some folks, Trumpism isn’t about policy at all, it’s about finally feeling seen. Heard. Included.
And when you build your social world around a leader, the cost of leaving is enormous. Relationships. Community. Sometimes even family. That’s not just politics. That’s identity warfare.
This is why rational debates so often fall flat. You can’t argue someone out of a worldview that meets their psychological needs. You have to first understand what need it’s serving.
Is it belonging? Is it purpose? Is it power in a world where they’ve felt invisible?
If we want to reach people trapped in this cycle, we need to stop assuming they’re simply misinformed. Often, they’re emotionally invested in something much deeper.
And that’s the battle we’re really in: not for votes, but for the soul space where people feel safe enough to ask hard questions, and brave enough to evolve.
Economic Anxiety and Displacement
People aren't crazy for being anxious about their economic future. They're not irrational for wondering why their wages have stagnated while corporate profits soar. They're not wrong to feel left behind when entire industries vanish from their towns like a ghost in the night.
Economic anxiety is real, and it’s deeply personal. It’s losing your job and not knowing how you’ll pay the mortgage. It’s watching your town hollow out, your kids move away, your local grocery store replaced by a dollar chain. It's feeling like the American Dream has been put on clearance… and somehow, no one told you.
That kind of anxiety doesn’t just hit the wallet. It hits the soul. It disrupts identity. It disrupts dignity. And in that vulnerable space, Donald Trump came in like a wrecking ball, with a message that felt simple, strong, and direct: You’ve been screwed. And I’m the guy who’s going to unscrew you.
He pointed fingers: immigrants, China, Washington insiders, globalists, “elites.” He gave people something to blame. Something tangible. And in a world flooded with economic complexity, offshore policies, and digital transformation, a clean-cut villain is easier to grasp than structural nuance.
And here’s where it gets dangerous: Trump didn’t just name the pain, he weaponized it.
Instead of offering actual solutions, he offered emotional release. Rage. Nostalgia. A fantasy of returning to “the good old days”—no matter how fictional or exclusionary that past may have been. He turned economic pain into identity politics. Into grievance. Into us vs. them.
And when people are hurting, when they feel powerless, unseen, and economically insecure, they’re more likely to follow a leader who talks tough, promises the impossible, and tells them their struggle is someone else’s fault.
This is human behavior 101: fear makes us susceptible to simplifiers.
But here’s the truth voters deserve to hear, loud and clear: real economic renewal doesn’t come from scapegoating. It comes from smart policy, structural investment, and collective will. It comes from leaders who level with you, not lie to you. It comes from refusing to let anyone exploit your pain for their own power.
So yes, economic displacement is real. But the cure isn’t a strongman with slogans. It’s a community with courage. A nation that honors work, respects workers, and builds an economy that works for all of us, not just the billionaire class and their political puppets.
Information Ecosystems and Reality Distortion
Here’s the hard truth most people don’t want to say out loud: we no longer live in the same reality. We’re not just politically divided, we’re informationally divided. And that fracture is one of the greatest threats to our democracy.
Once upon a time, Americans argued over opinions, now, we can’t even agree on facts.
Why? Because we’re swimming in separate information ecosystems, tailor-made, algorithmically reinforced, and strategically manipulated. And no one has exploited this more effectively than Donald Trump.
In Trump’s world, losing an election becomes “winning by a landslide.” Being indicted becomes “being attacked by the deep state.” Clear video evidence of bad behavior becomes “fake news.” He didn’t create this environment, he perfected it. And he taught his followers how to live inside it.
Psychologically, here’s what’s happening: when people are fed a constant stream of content that confirms what they already believe, and shields them from anything that challenges it, they begin to feel certain. That certainty becomes armor. It protects them from doubt, discomfort, and cognitive dissonance. It feels good.
That’s confirmation bias in action. And Trump’s media allies have built an empire on it.
Fox News. MAGA influencers. Fringe “news” sites. Facebook echo chambers. YouTube rabbit holes. TikToks edited to remove the incoherence and insert the illusion of strength. Together, they create a curated, alternate reality where Trump is a genius, a victim, and a messiah—all rolled into one.
Meanwhile, those of us grounded in actual evidence, court documents, audio recordings, economic data, common sense, are labeled as liars, traitors, or part of some grand conspiracy. It's Orwellian. It's gaslighting at scale. And it’s working.
Here’s why that matters: democracy only works when people agree on a shared set of facts. Once that disappears, we lose the ability to hold power accountable. We lose the ability to reason with one another. We lose trust. And when trust dies, democracy doesn’t trail far behind.
We’re not in an information age, we’re in an information war. And every voter needs to ask themselves: Who benefits when truth becomes irrelevant? Who gains power when facts are dismissed as attacks? Spoiler: it’s not you.
If we want to reclaim our country, we have to reclaim reality first. That means being brave enough to ask hard questions about where our information comes from. It means valuing truth over tribe. And it means calling out distortion for what it is: not just a difference of opinion, but a deliberate, dangerous assault on the foundation of democracy.
The Comfort of Authoritarianism
Now I’m going to say the quiet part out loud: authoritarianism feels good to some people, especially when the world feels overwhelming.
When life gets uncertain, economically, socially, culturally, we don’t just crave answers. We crave control. Simplicity. Stability. Someone who stands on a stage, points a finger, and says, “I alone can fix it.” That’s not politics. That’s a psychological sedative.
Authoritarianism offers what chaos can’t: the illusion of order.
And that’s exactly the emotional space Donald Trump speaks to. He doesn’t ask people to think, he tells them what to believe. No gray areas. No hard truths. Just absolutes. Winners and losers. Patriots and traitors. America First or America Last. The simplicity is comforting, especially for those who feel left behind by the speed, diversity, and complexity of modern life.
From a psychological standpoint, this isn’t new. We’ve seen it throughout history. In times of fear, people are more willing to trade freedom for reassurance. They don’t always want democracy, they want predictability. And Trump knows how to play that chord like a maestro.
His language is authoritarian to the core. “Only I can fix it.” “They’re not after me, they’re after you.” “I am your retribution.” These aren’t just crowd-pleasers, they’re psychological hooks. He positions himself as the strongman protector. The father figure. The one who’ll punish your enemies and restore your status. All you have to do is stop asking questions, and obey.
But here’s the problem: authoritarian comfort comes with a steep cost. It asks you to surrender your critical thinking. Your dissent. Your democracy.
It replaces constitutional checks with personal loyalty. It trades complexity for control. And once that trade is made, it’s hard to undo. History is littered with societies that learned this lesson too late.
So when people cheer for Trump’s strongman persona, it’s not because they hate democracy. It’s because they don’t trust it anymore. They don’t trust that a free, diverse, complicated system can still work for them. And Trump exploits that distrust to consolidate power, not serve the people.
If we’re serious about protecting democracy, we have to understand this allure. We have to offer something better than fear and fantasy. We have to be the voice that says: You don’t need a savior in a suit—you need a system that serves you. You need truth. You need transparency. You need actual strength, not a theater of cruelty.
Because comfort that depends on obedience isn’t peace, it’s submission.
The Role of Racism and Status Anxiety
We need to also stop tiptoeing around the simple fact that racism isn’t just a side note in the Trump phenomenon. It’s central to how and why his support persists.
Now, that doesn't mean every Trump voter is racist. Let’s be clear. But it does mean that his political rise has been built, strategically, on activating racial grievance and inflaming status anxiety, especially among white Americans who feel like their place in society is slipping.
Here’s what the data tells us: racial resentment, more than economic hardship, has been the most consistent predictor of Trump support. Multiple studies have confirmed it. When you control for income, education, geography—the variable that keeps showing up is race-based identity threat.
Why? Because in a rapidly diversifying America, some people don’t just see change—they see loss. Loss of status. Loss of dominance. Loss of center stage. That fear isn’t always articulated out loud, but it lives under the surface. And Trump gave it a voice. Loud. Unapologetic. Unfiltered.
“Build the wall.”
“Shithole countries.”
“Very fine people on both sides.”
“Go back to where you came from.”
These weren’t gaffes. They were signals, deliberate messages to those who felt their cultural primacy slipping. For some, that was deeply validating. Finally, someone was saying what they were thinking but afraid to admit.
This is what psychologists call status threat. It’s the fear that “others” are gaining power at your expense. That you're being pushed out, erased, forgotten. And when that fear is stoked by a leader who positions himself as the last bulwark against cultural displacement, it becomes combustible.
But here’s the twist: most Americans don’t walk around thinking, I’m racist. That’s not how it works. What they feel is discomfort. Resentment. A loss of familiarity. And instead of being helped to process that through empathy and growth, they’re handed a scapegoat: immigrants, Black Lives Matter, “woke” culture, “the left.”
Trump tapped into those anxieties and rebranded them as patriotism. As loyalty. As “common sense.” He turned racial fear into a political identity, and gave people permission to stop evolving.
That’s the real danger. Because once you convince people that equality is a threat, democracy starts to break down. You get voter suppression. You get gerrymandering. You get January 6.
So, no, we cannot talk about Trumpism without talking about race. Not because we want to shame people, but because we need to wake people up. We need to understand how racism doesn’t always look like hate. Sometimes it looks like fear. Sometimes it looks like nostalgia for a past that never really worked for everyone.
Here’s the truth: fighting for equity is not a zero-sum game. Lifting others up doesn’t diminish your worth, it affirms our shared humanity. But to get there, we have to be honest about what’s being exploited.
Trump didn’t invent these anxieties. He weaponized them. And the only antidote is courageous conversation, real education, and a recommitment to the idea that America’s best future is one where everyone gets a seat at the table, not just those who’ve always had one.
The Sunk Cost Fallacy
We’ve all been there, investors, lawyers, everyday Americans alike. You see the red flags. You feel the gut check. You know it’s not working… and yet, you stay. You can’t walk away.
That’s the sunk cost fallacy, and it's one of the most powerful psychological traps we fall into, especially in politics.
Here’s how it works: once we’ve invested time, energy, emotion, or God forbid, our public reputation, into something, we double down, even when the evidence says we should cut our losses. Why? Because walking away means admitting we were wrong. And that kind of reckoning? It’s painful. It’s embarrassing. It’s personal.
Now imagine that investment isn’t a failed business venture or a toxic relationship, it’s your political identity. It’s years of defending Trump at Thanksgiving. It's hundreds of Facebook arguments, MAGA hats, lawn signs, donations, and maybe even storming the Capitol or justifying those who did.
At that point, reversing course doesn’t feel like changing your mind. It feels like betraying yourself.
So people twist themselves into psychological pretzels to justify what they can’t morally defend anymore. They ignore indictments. They rationalize the cruelty. They say, “He’s rough around the edges, but he fights for us.” Or worse, they pretend not to see it at all.
This isn’t about stupidity. It’s about ego preservation. It’s about the very human desire to stay consistent with who we said we were, even when it’s clear that we’ve been conned.
But here’s the empowering part: the sunk cost fallacy only wins if you let your past dictate your future.
We’ve all made bad calls. We’ve all trusted the wrong person. The mark of integrity isn’t never being wrong, it’s being brave enough to change course when the facts change.
And the facts? They’ve been screaming at us for years: criminal indictments, civil judgments, a full-blown attempt to overturn democracy. At some point, loyalty to Trump becomes disloyalty to the truth, and to the country.
So if you or someone you love is still clinging to that investment, let me say this as clearly as I can: walking away isn’t weakness. It’s strength. It means you care more about the future than about being right in the past.
And that? That’s the kind of courage this country desperately needs right now.
Where Do We Go From Here?
Honestly, if this didn’t move the needle, you have to wonder, what ever will?
We’ve watched Donald Trump get impeached. Twice. Indicted. Multiple times. Found liable for sexual abuse. Exposed for trying to overturn an election he lost. We’ve heard the rambling, the threats, the lies, more than 30,000 of them during his presidency, according to fact-checkers. We’ve seen him praise dictators and attack judges. His business record? A graveyard of bankruptcies and fraud. His leadership? A masterclass in chaos.
And yet—millions still cling to the illusion.
So the question isn’t just “Why do people support Trump?” anymore. The real question, the one that will shape our future, is: What kind of country are we willing to be?
Because this isn’t about red versus blue. It’s about reality versus delusion. Accountability versus lawlessness. Truth versus performative power.
Here’s the hard part: we’re not going to reach everyone. Some people are too deep in the psychological quicksand, too invested, too afraid, too ashamed to admit they’ve been lied to. But we don’t need everyone.
We need the persuadables. The fence-sitters. The quiet ones who are watching, waiting, wondering if it’s safe to say out loud what they already suspect: This is not normal. This is not okay. This is not who we want to be.
To those Americans: you’re not alone.
And here’s what you can do, right now:
Ask questions. Not to argue, but to invite reflection. “What would you do if a co-worker acted like Trump?” “Would you trust someone like him with your business? Your kids?” These are grounding questions that cut through the fog.
Speak up. Silence is complicity. Whether it's at the dinner table, on social media, or at the ballot box, use your voice. Say what you see. Say what you believe.
Reconnect with reality. Seek out sources that challenge you. Break the algorithmic bubble. Read across perspectives. Truth survives scrutiny, conspiracies don’t.
Model courage. If you’ve changed your mind, say so. If you’ve seen the light, stand in it. People are watching you. Let them see what growth looks like.
And finally, remember that democracy is not self-cleaning. It doesn’t fix itself. It relies on us. On citizens who are willing to be brave. To be uncomfortable. To hold the line when it's easier to look away.
Because this moment. right now, is not just about one man. It’s about the standards we choose to accept. It’s about the future we’re creating for our kids and grandkids. It’s about whether we’re building a culture of accountability, or enabling a culture of excuses.
Trumpism didn’t break America. But it revealed the cracks.
So where do we go from here?
Forward, with eyes wide open, spines straight, and truth at our backs.
Let’s get to work.
Mitch Jackson, Esq. | links
Related:
Loving Someone Who Chose the Red Hat: A Story of Quiet Resistance
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Best read of the day! Well done. Thanks
Boy, there are so many topics in this post, I am not sure where to begin. Years ago I was told there were two major visions of a President: a benevolent leader who will guide you into making good decisions and the stern father that tells you what to do and expects no protest. People who prefer the stern father or authoritarian were probably raised by stern parents and they are comfortable with being told what to do. People who were raised with parents who encouraged them to investigate and make their own decisions are uncomfortable with such a leader. I understand how an authoritarian leader may be attractive. Under such a leader, I would not have to investigate or think for myself. I could devote myself to other endeavors and just follow along. Democracy takes work and requires its citizens to learn, investigate and make decisions about their future. It requires one to think and engage in analysis. Of course, that may be difficult if a person chooses to follow one news source that is slanted toward a specific political viewpoint. While we may cherish democracy, there are those who feel democracy does not work for them. And there are those who would love to blow up democracy. I think there was big segment of voters who chose Trump out of financial insecurity. They were having trouble making ends meet and Trump promised a better future. Some could easily blame diversity or affirmative action. Those people may be persuaded to reconsider their choice given what is happening in the world. Then you have the MAGA hard core supporters and they may admire Trump as a cult leader. I doubt you will change their minds. Think Jim Jones and being willing to drink poisoned koolaid because you feel the world is against you. I would throw White Supremacists into that group, who see Trump as fulfilling Biblical prophecy and capable of making us into a white Christian nation and reversing the trend that minorities will become the majority. Good luck changing their minds. Then you have the billionaires who believe they know best and want to preserve and increase their wealth. They will follow the money. And remember that millions failed to vote at the last election, again believing that democracy does not work for them and all politicians are essentially alike. It’s hard to sympathize with people who did not even vote. Bu we also had a system of checks and balances, which has been eliminated as Republicans stand behind Trump - is it blackmail or insider trading - and Democrats who are now starting to speak out. Then you have the rule of law, which so many respect but it is being systematically dismantled. While many Dems would even agree to the deportation of violent criminals, they might insist on obeying the rule of law and providing due process to the accused. The courts are trying to hold off the actions of Trump. Finally, you have the people who are banding together to speak out. Their voices are getting louder every day and the protests are getting larger. Did anyone contemplate an evil person such as Trump becoming President? It shocks the conscience but I am not ready to give up hope. We are fighting back and more will join in.